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5-elements · 11 months

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Buy Kaftan Online at the Best Price in India: Embrace Comfort and Style with 5-Element

In today's fast-paced world, where fashion trends constantly evolve, finding the perfect combination of comfort and style can be a challenge. However, there is one timeless garment that effortlessly blends both elements - the kaftan. With its loose-fitting silhouette and elegant designs, kaftans have become a wardrobe staple for fashion-conscious individuals across the globe. If you're in India and looking to buy a kaftan that meets your style preferences and budget, look no further than 5-Element. With an extensive collection of kaftans and a commitment to providing the best shopping experience, 5-Element offers a wide range of options for every taste.

The Allure of Kaftans :

Kaftans have a rich history that dates back centuries. Originating from the Middle East, this loose-fitting garment has evolved into a versatile fashion statement embraced by cultures worldwide. Whether you're lounging at home, strolling along the beach, attending a casual event, or even dressing up for a special occasion, a kaftan can effortlessly elevate your style. Its loose, flowing fabric allows for maximum comfort, making it ideal for the warm Indian climate.

5-Element : The Destination for Kaftan Shopping

When it comes to purchasing kaftans online in India, 5-Element is a name that stands out. With its dedication to quality, style, and customer satisfaction, 5-Element has established itself as a trusted online retailer. Their collection features a diverse range of kaftans that cater to various preferences, ensuring there is something for everyone.

At 5-Element, you'll find an extensive selection of kaftans crafted from high-quality fabrics such as cotton, silk, and chiffon. Each piece is thoughtfully designed, taking inspiration from both traditional and contemporary fashion trends. Whether you prefer vibrant prints, intricate embroideries, or minimalist designs, 5-Element offers a wide array of choices.

To further enhance your shopping experience, 5-Element provides detailed product descriptions, size charts, and high-resolution images, enabling you to make an informed decision before purchasing. Additionally, their user-friendly website and secure payment options offer convenience and peace of mind.

Furthermore, 5-Element provides fast and reliable shipping services, ensuring your kaftan reaches your doorstep promptly. With their easy return and exchange policy, you can shop with confidence, knowing that your satisfaction is guaranteed.

Conclusion :

When it comes to buying kaftans online in India, 5-Element offers an exceptional shopping experience. Their extensive collection, competitive prices, and commitment to customer satisfaction make them a go-to destination for kaftan enthusiasts. Embrace comfort and style with their diverse range of kaftans, designed to suit every taste and occasion. Whether you're looking for a casual piece for everyday wear or an exquisite kaftan for a special event, 5-Element has you covered. Shop at 5-Element today and discover the joy of owning a timeless garment that combines comfort, style, and affordability.

#Classic and elegant #Enjoy comfort and style #Fashion just a click away #Express your unique style #Upgrade your wardrobe #Luxurious looks at affordable prices #Stay on-trend effortlessly #Fashion that's easy and convenient #Effortlessly stylish #Fall in love with kaftans

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thatcurlychic · 1 year

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5 Easy Ways to Up Your Style Game For Fall

Finally, an excuse to shop! 5 Ways to Up Your Style Game For Fall The season is Fall and style is forever changing. Now is the time to up your style game! As the weather cools down, it’s time to start thinking about your fall wardrobe. But don’t worry, you don’t have to break the bank to stay on trend. Here are a few tips to help you up your style game this season. First, take inventory of…

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#fashion tips and tricks #how can I spice up my style #how do you get out of a style rut #how to level up your style game #how to up my style game #step up your fashion game #step up your style #style game #style game this fall #up your fashion game #up your style game #upgrade wardrobe

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libertysmithmk · 1 year

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Transitional trenches are the closest essential you need for Spring and Fall.

Here’s my top 6 Amazon finds to boost your wardrobe!

As an Amazon Associate I may earn commissions from qualifying purchases.

Makkrom Women's Double Breasted Long Trench Coat Windproof Classic Lapel Slim Overcoat with Belt

Sebby Collection Women's Soft Shell Trench Coat with Detchable Hood

CREATMO US Women's Trench Coat Double-Breasted Classic Lapel Overcoat Belted Slim Outerwear Coat with Detachable Hood

FARVALUE Women's Waterproof Trench Coat Double Breasted Windbreaker Classic Belted Lapel Overcoat with Removable Hood

FARVALUE Women's Long Trenchcoat Double Breasted Trench Coat Water Resistant Classic Peacoat with Belt

SaphiRose Women's Water-Resistant Trench Coat Double-Breasted Long Peacoat with Removable Hood

#spring wardrobe #fall wardrobe #capsule wardrobe #trench #trench coat #fashion #closet #upgrade #style #classic #high fashion

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jaxters · 6 months

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I have 2 theories on how Ozzie and Fizz met.

Most of the fandom agrees Fizz worked for Mammon and then met Ozzie afterward. Because it makes the most logical sense. Plus Fizz's "I have you thanks to Mammon" quote.

But here are my 2 main issues with that:

1. Fizzarolli's main outfit

His outfit is clearly meant to match with Ozzie. From the same colors to the hearts.

2. Fizzarolli's limbs

Ozzie maintains Fizz's prosthetics. Fizz established that back in "Ozzie's". Which makes sense, considering Ozzie owns a factory that even Mammon needs to use. Ozzie is a mechanic, an inventor.

So, with that being said...

What does Fizz look like when he wins the clown pageant and starts to work for Mammon? Not "pre-explosion Fizz." But "Ozzie's Fizz."

And, sure, I'm not saying it's impossible that Fizz had the matching colors and heart aesthetic before meeting Asmodeus. Or that someone else made his prosthetics, and Ozzie maintained the same design and function. But it certainly feels convenient.

So here are my 2 theories:

Theory #1: The accident happens. Since Fizz was already popular, he is sent to Ozzie to get his top-notch prosthetics. This still works in canon because Fizz always dreamed of working with Mammon. Meeting Ozzie first wouldn't change that. If anything, it would deepen those insecurities so that he could feel worthy enough to stay with Oz. Even furthering it if Ozzie and Fizz didn't enter a romantic relationship until Fizz started working for Mammon. Also, it gives a deeper insight to some Ozzie's comments. If he knew Fizz before Mammon began to abuse and manipulate him, he would have the full picture and truly see the damage Mammon did.

Theory #2: Arguably the most popular but helps me ease the issues I had. Fizz wins the pageant due to his already semi-celebrity status and talent. Mammon introduces Asmodeus to Fizzarolli when he commissions the dolls. Ozzie falls in love and gives Fizz an upgraded wardrobe and limbs. Then, Mammon's "Fizzy commercial" releases some time later. All the dolls needed time to be produced anyway. Giving them time to get to know each other as Ozzie incorporated Fizz's personality into the robots. Fizz soon becomes "Ozzie's business partner" after his celebrity status hits the roof.

I love the breadcrumbs we've been getting, and I'm really eager to see more of their backstory. 👍Obviously theory#2 makes the most sense, but I like to have an open mind!

#helluva boss #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss mammon #fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus #helluva boss theory

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hugsandchaos · 3 months

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Swagger Bishie headcanons (nice Dash AU)

• He’s embarrassed about it, but Dash likes to watch “little kid cartoons” with Danny, and Danny doesn’t mind it very much, he might end up actually liking the plot or complaining about all the plot holes, but he mostly doesn’t care much

• Dash’s love language is acts of service, and he’s a surprisingly great cook, so it’s not uncommon for him to make Danny a snack after a particularly long day, and he loves when Danny does things for him

• Danny’s love language is physical touch, which honestly surprises Dash a bit since he looks so mad and unapproachable 67% of the time and how he used to reject it, but now he’s glad to accept it

• Both are nervous mfers with zero dating experience (Dash can and will get lost in a trance ranting about how great he thinks Danny is, Danny’s internally screaming and trying not to explode whenever he talks about his growing crush)

• Dash fell first

• Both Sam and Tucker went “SERIOUSLY??!!” when he told them he think he’s fallen for the blondie and shook their heads, Jazz was supportive

• Dash also started falling for Phantom, did his best to ignore those feelings because he was determined to get with Danny, and was really happy when Danny told him (especially since he trusted him with the secret)

• Dash tried the mistletoe thing once, and only once, because Danny tried to set it on fire (he also discovered his apparent hate for the holiday)

• Dash may not always understand what he’s saying, but he loves it when Danny starts ranting about space

• Danny’s poor brain malfunctions when he’s held and kissed

• Soon after Danny ended up becoming the next king of the ghost zone (essentially a prince in the meantime), he got a bit of a wardrobe upgrade and showed up to a date wearing it (he thought he overdid it, but Dash was absolutely smitten)

•Danielle and Cujo both disapproved at first, Danielle because that’s her big brother, and Cujo because that’s the halfa he’s protecting

•There’s no way Danny didn’t introduce him to Clockwork and Clockwork was judgy towards Dash

#swagger bishie #teddy ghost #danny phantom #danny fentom #dp dash #dash Baxter #lil extra: Danny has resting b!tch face and it scares Dash sometimes

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queercoshon · 5 months

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I wrote another thing! This one has been in the works for a while. It is also posted on my deviantart. It's a little bit softer than the usual content I post. As always, please feel free to leave suggestions/ideas

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When I first moved into your spare room, I was definitely on the smaller side. Adult life had bulldozed me, and I learned quick meals and protein bars were the easiest way for me to eat. If I had to make something more complicated, chances are I would just forget to eat entirely.

You, on the other hand, loved to cook, bake, and create different cocktails. Every overindulgence in the past few years showed on your body, curves cascading down your back and flaring at your hips, and your belly often hanging over the waistband of your pants.

You quickly picked up on my food habits, and were quite frankly appalled.

"How can you not love food? Every flavour, every texture? Food is art to me. Have you had good food before?"

I shrugged, because, no, not really. My experience with food thus far had been boxed pastas, cans of soups and chilis, whatever frozen meals were on sale, and various boxed snacks. Eating them didn't bring me a fraction of the joy you got just from talking about food.

Thus began your mission of making me fall in love with at least one dish.

You really could have stopped at the first dish. The leek and potato stew blew my mind. I had never had leeks and found potatoes flavourless mush. But somehow you managed to make such mundane ingredients into a symphonious dish, tastes layering over one another. I could not get enough. The warmth spread from my stomach to encompass my body, and in my cozy bliss I just kept eating, chasing the high of this delectable experience.

I had eaten so much my stomach didn't even slosh when I painstakenly got up from the table.

Your first success spurred you into overdrive. You sought different flavour profiles and combinations, testing to see which ones would make me melt. Most of them did.

Most days I was coming home to the scent of dinner leading me down the hall, with an underlying sweetness hinting at dessert.

You tried a wide range of cuisines. Pot pies, various proteins with rice and veggies, curries from all around the world, and so many different types of pasta. Desserts include cobblers, doughnuts, pies, cakes, and a variety of pastries. I could not believe how much flavour was in everything, and was desperate to get as much of it as possible. Every meal ended with me breathing shallowly, hand caressing my overburdened gut, and you with a satisfied smirk on your face.

With your increase in cooking came your increase in eating. Slowly your body started to billow outward, filling out all your clothes, finally forcing you to look at specialty stores to restock.

My weight gain was not so slow. My body was so used to running on minimal to average calories, it didn't know what to do with the sudden influx, now having to process at least twice what I used to eat in a day.

The first place it was noticable was my gut. It only took a week or two before I had a cute little pot belly. It would push open the buttons on my shirt, and cause issues when buttoning my pants. The rest of my body followed suit. My thighs and ass started to swell, my arms felt constricted in my t-shirts, and a double chin was quickly noticable. I barely noticed. I was so caught up in a whirlwind of culinary pleasure that I paid no mind to my tightening waistbands and my gut starting to peak out of my shirt.

Soon you started cooking breakfast, too. The table would be covered in food, from pancakes to bacon, hashbrowns to quiche. Each day there was something different, and each day I gorged until nearly comatose.

Eating like this every day rapidly changed my body, I had put on 100lbs in 11 months, from the first time you made that stew. I had upgraded my wardrobe 4 times, and was needing to again soon.

And then is was December. The month of overindulgence. Holiday parties every weekend. Potlucks, cocktail parties, hearty meals, sometimes multiple events in the same day.

This was the first time I truly appreciated food; the tastes, the textures, and the stories behind each dish. I tried everything, and then I tried everything again. Most nights I struggled to waddle from the car to my bed. On the rare occasions I wasn't fit to burst, you sat me down on the couch and made me try your creations for the next party. On those nights, I was bound to pass out in the living room, eyes glazed over, gut too stuffed to think about getting up.

Despite all the socializing and gatherings, Christmas day was quiet, just the two of us. I didn't want to fly across the country to see my few relatives, and you were going to do a late holiday dinner with your family at the end of January, when work slowed down for your parents.

I received two sets of pajamas that year. One from you, plaid pants and a red flannel top. It was a little big, but we both knew that wouldn't be the case for long. The other pair I got was from a childhood friend I hadn't seen in person in over 2 years. The pants were baby blue with snowflakes, and the tank top had a cheesy graphic and the phrase "Let it Snow!"

When you went to go work on the feast planned for the day, I tried the second pair of pajamas on. Despite being incredibly stretchy, I could barely get the pants past my thighs. My ass was hanging out the back, and the drawstrings were instantly lost in the waistband. The graphic on the shirt was horrendously distorted, and I could feel a breeze on the bottom of my belly. I was about to change back into the first pair of pjs when you called me for Christmas meal. My mind now only focused on one thing, I stopped what I was doing and lumbered to the table.

You called it Christmas Meal, because it was past noon, but well before dinner time. With the amount of food you made though, we could be there well into the night. There was the traditional fixings; turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, honey roasted carrots, sweet potato casserole, and dinner rolls, but you also added a baked ziti dish, homemade pizza rolls, and cottage pie. Bottles of wine, apple cider, and sparking water lined the middle of the table. There was enough food for 10 people, and we were just 2. I could smell desserts being baked to perfection in the other room.

"This looks amazing! I've never had anything like this. I'm sorry I couldn't help..."

You patted my stomach and laughed. "The only help I need is getting it all eaten. Load up and dig in!"

I piled my plate high with everything I could fit. It would take me at least 2 plates to try everything, probably 3 with the portion sizes I was taking. I looked over, and saw your plate faced the same overburdened fate as mine.

You ladled me a generous glass of mulled wine from the crock pot.

"Cheers!"

And then we fell into a frenzied silence, only the cacophony of two gluttons enjoying a sinfully indulgent feast, and the tv still playing Christmas special reruns in the other room made noise in our tiny apartment.

I still don't know how you did it, but every bite I took had me holding back a moan.

My family had attempted to make a turkey once in my life, and it resulted in a tasteless hunk of disappointment, the bird so dried out that the white meat was somehow pointy and sharp. The one you made was opposite to everything I expected. It was nearly falling apart in my mouth, the seasoning from the brine and rub made it to every bite. Different levels of flavours washed over me, and my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head.

Every dish you made was like this. Some of them I had equally dismal expectations of, like the green beans, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, and pizza rolls, all things my family had made sacrilege of once. Everything else I either hadn't had, or only had store bought. Even the best store bought ziti bake didn't come close to yours.

I was put into a trance. There was not a moment where I was still, constantly chewing, swallowing, and reaching for the next bite. Everything was washed down with copious amounts of wine and cider.

My shirt was pushed up by my rounding gut, bunched up under my chest by the end of the 3rd plate, my cheeks were warm, and every gurgle my belly let out just pushed me to eat more.

Your clothes had given up containing your belly. It sat naked on full display, hanging out of your defeated shirt, pushing your thighs apart as it sank further. You were absent-mindedly rubbing the crest of your gut as you shoved another role in your mouth. I poured the last of the 2nd bottle of wine in your glass, and popped open the 3rd to serve myself.

It wasn't until just after starting my 7th plate that I realised how overstuffed I was. It all hit me at once, the bottom of my belly itching as my skin stretched around my stomach swelling forward, my breathe shallow and pained, my lungs given no room to expand, pushing out a burp with every other gasp of air. I couldn't lean back without getting a stitch.

You were in a similar state. Hiccups jolting your body shaking out burps, your hands gingerly massaging your gut which was red and almost shiny.

I don't know how long we sat there, just rubbing our guts and moaning. There was still food left, but maybe enough for 1 averaged-sized meal for both of us. Everything else was crammed into our bellies.

Firmly drunk now, the sensation of rubbing my belly was sending sparks along all my nerves. Between that and riding the high of the first Christmas meal I had ever enjoyed, I was lost in my own little world of bliss.

A harsh timer bell going off in the kitchen jolted me out of my stupor, unleashing a string of burps and a new bout of hiccups. You groaned as you got up, supporting your back and belly like you were 9 months pregnant.

You looked at me with a wine-soaked grin.

"Ready for dessert?"

#queer feedism #feedism story #intox wg #soft feedism #stuffing literature #mutual stuffing #mutual gaining #stuffed fatty

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Hi, really love and enjoy your work. I wanted to request a Wednesday imagine. Its Wednesdayxreader but Platonic. The reader gets bullied and talked about and goes to Wednesday. She comforts her and cuddles them until they fall asleep. When reader wakes up Wednesday is still cuddles up to them, but later on they found out what she did to the bullies

A/n: since Wednesday ain’t the verbal type to comfort someone but I like to think that she shows her form in comforting someone by doing small mediocre things.

You reminded Wednesday too much of her brother; weak, lack the even the basic knowledge of self defence, susceptible to the manipulative nature of others and emotionally reactive in certain situations. So when you came to her one evening, soaked to the bone and looking like a wet dog. Wednesday couldn’t help but be remembered of the feeling she got whenever her brother got picked on, pushed over, forcibly tripped, shoved in a locker bound and gagged with a apple in his mouth like a roasted pig and or locked into the janitors closest.

The same protective feeling she got now as she looked into your sad, defeated eyes. Funny, she enjoyed seeing such devastation and disheartening on a persons face but whenever it came to you, Wednesday felt the exact opposite. She hated not being the primary reason for you grief and suffering much like she hated not being the reason her brothers suffering; after all it was her job to be a thorn in your side and she’d be damned if she let anyone else become the bane of your existence instead of her.

“What happened, you look as though you’ve just been thrown into Lake Eerie.”

“That’s because I have been thrown into Lake Eerie,” you told her as you squelched your way into the dorm, wet footprints trailing behind you, unceremoniously dropping your equally as soaked school bag to the floor; trying not to convey how cold you really were after being plunged into an unforgiving lake of pure ice. “By who?” Wednesday asked as she continued to type on her typewriter, uninterested but internally she was sharpening her throwing knives. “Some earwigging Harpies, why does it concern you.” You replied sourly and a little hurt that Wednesday didn’t seem all that perturbed, then again it was kinda your fault for getting hopeful about a potential upgrade of your relationship from aquatints to friends.

“You’re right,” Wednesday got up from her chair and moved over to her wardrobe where -with some help from Thing- she drew out a black long sleeved shirt along with some checkered sweats before placing them neatly on the edge of her bed, “it doesn’t concern me, what does however is the fact that your sogginess is going to make the floorboards mold.” You scoffed but before you could open your mouth Wednesday pointed towards the door that lead into the bathroom. “Take a shower, your chattering teeth are starting to irritate me.” Just as you were about to make your way towards the bathroom Wednesday spoke once more before sitting back down at her desk, “take the clothes I’ve prepared on the bed with you.” You did as you were told before closing the bathroom door shut behind you, locking it for good measure.

Once you emerged from the bathroom wearing the long sleeve and checkered sweats you noticed that during your much needed shower, Wednesday had prepared her bed as though she was going to call it a night but once she saw you from the corner of her eye, she drew back the covers and gestured to the bed before saying pointedly, “get in.” You blinked once, twice, three times before finding the voice to ask, “what?” Wednesday sighed, annoyed at the prospect of having to repeat herself although she was certain that the dunk you took didn’t do any vital damage to your hearing to hear her clearly. “I said get in the bed, you’ve exhausted your usefulness for today.”

Confused and unwilling to test her wintering patience, you walked over to her bed and began to make yourself comfortable as you drew the covers over yourself; just about ready to go to sleep when Wednesday did the most uncharacteristic thing you’ve ever seen her do and lay on top of the sheets next to you, her head rested just a mere centimetres from your neck but you could feel her warm breath all the same as her arm came across your waist, holding you there. “What’re you doing?” You balked, looking at Wednesday as though she might’ve been body snatched by something that obviously didn’t do their homework on how Wednesday Addams works. “I’m comforting you, now quit wasting your breath and sleep before I smother you.” You couldn’t help but allow a smile to slip across your face as you closed your eyes, eager to embrace sleep.

“You sure are something else Wednesday Addams, always keeping me on my toes.” You mused with a small chuckle.

“What did I just say about wasting your breath.” She warns, voice conveying a potential threat on your life should you continue to test her. “Alright, alright, I’m sleeping now. Geez, see you in the morning I guess.”

The next morning arrived and you were still breathing thankfully enough but to add on to that, Wednesday was sleeping soundly next to you in the same position as she assumed last night; However her head was now fully resting on your shoulder as her arm must’ve pulled you into her last night as it was fully encasing you almost like a seat belt. Just before you could say anything Enid bursted through the door with Yoko and Divina, who chose that they very much liked their tongues in their mouths and refrained speaking up on how Wednesday was practically laying on you like a cat. “Y/n! Wednesday! OMG you both need to come see what’s going off down at the Quad. Stat!” Enid cried, waking Wednesday, before darting back out into the hallway with Yoko and Divina as their chattered loudly.

“Remind me to threaten removing Enid’s canines should she wake me like that ever again.” Wednesday said as she hoisted herself up from the bed as you did the same and were about to leave the dorm for yours to change into some fresh clothes. “I’ll make a note of it and give it to you when I meet you at the quad.” You quipped as you left her dorm without another word spared between the two of you. Once you and Wednesday arrived at the quad, you both noted how crowed it was with students that it was almost impossible to see what everyone was gawking at; Luckily Xavier and Ajax were easily seen up at the very front with their height as they both laughed at whatever they were seeing.

“How are we meant to see what Enid was raving about when there’s too many people in the way obscuring the view.” You complained loudly, which caught the boys attention as they turned to look at you before they each grabbed ahold of you by the shoulders, positioned you in front of them so you could see what everyone was finding so funny. Standing there humiliated, was the group of harpies that shoved you into Lake Eerie but one would hardly be able in calling them Harpies when they looked like featherless newborn chickens with all their feathers removed. You almost chocked back on your laughter when you saw them before looking over at Wednesday who had a look of pride in her dark eyes.

You leaned over next to her, “thank you.” You whispered in her ear. Instead of out right denying your assumption that she was behind the Harpies humiliation, Wednesday merely shot you a glance and said “no one gets to torment you but me.”

#Wednesday imagines #Wednesday imagine #Wednesday fic #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday x reader #Wednesday x you #Wednesday Addams x reader #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine

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tetsunabouquet · 7 months

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Kanato Sakamaki NSFW Headcanon

(18+)

-You can expect some very freaky roleplay with him. -Kanato has a big wardrobe for his every fantasy. -Cute summer dresses for picnics, babydoll nightgowns, etc. -Ever since falling in love with you, he upgraded from his bridal fantasies to using you as a doll in every style he thinks is cute. -You're his doll, and if he happens to feel any arousal, it is a fuckdoll you shall be. -Which is why, often, he doesn't actually makes you wear any panties. -He often wants to fuck you in those very outfits he bought for you. -He won't even take your knee-stockings off, no. He needs the cute aesthetic. -Kanato worships you in lolita clothes, but he after a while he decided to seek out the simpler Lolita dresses because the many layers were difficult in bed. -He loves blowjobs when you're wearing hair ribbons. Your cute hairstyle really is the cherry on top that will make a boner pop. -Because of his creepy side, he often takes suggestive photos of you in those clothes, but styles you like a corpse before he snaps the picture. -He often makes you twist and bend uncomfortably to convey a dead body, clunkily sprawled on the ground. -After he takes the picture, he'll start jerking himself off as he plays with your clit. -He can be surprisingly sweet after those pictures, and really pampers you. -Has a gigantic pile of sweet treats for you if you want something after the sex. -Will feed you -Also wants to be fed -Might make a romantic comment comparing you to what he's eating. -Long kisses, because he wants to enjoy the taste of sweets on your tongue. -The way he goes from creepy, to sexual, to somewhat adorable has your heart do loops. -There is something about his sweet side, that makes you accept the creepy shit. -Sometimes, on the rare occasion there is a light-hearted, playful atmopshere between the two you can convince him to wear your accesoiries. -It's moments like these, were you feel like you're falling for him even more. -He takes aftercare for the two of your surprisingly seriously, and pretty much holds the maids at gunpoint to get them cleaning and restoring the outfits he defiles as he orders them around as he takes your clothes of in the bathroom.

#dl #diabolik lovers #diabolik brothers #diabolik boys #sakamaki brothers #kanato sakamaki #kanato x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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sashimiyas · 1 year

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Still Got It

Summary: you and Osamu are doing some spring cleaning and find a volleyball in the process

Word Count: 1k+

Genre: fluff; osamu x reader; established relationship; reads heavily self indulgent bc it is

A/n: it’s just about my life, you know? there’s really nothing else to it.

Spring may be here, but as the two of you clean a house that’s slowly accumulated an excessive mess, you can’t help but swipe at the sweat that rolls down your brow. You and Osamu, with all the luck in the world, were able to find a two bedroom apartment. The intention was to use it as a guest room for any visitors to use.

(Any meaning Atsumu because who else would abuse free food and a free room so liberally other than the other half to Osamu’s whole?)

But unfortunately, as the years passed, the guest (Atsumu’s) room eventually became storage. Random trinkets gifted over time that you don’t have the heart to throw away but don’t really have any use for gets thrown into its closet. When the two of you upgraded your living room TV for a larger one, Osamu and you decided that the older one is still good. You guys might need it one day so you placed it on top of the wardrobe. Osamu’s excess cooking utensils, Onigiri Miya’s paperworks, and your forgotten hobbies like your crochet hooks and yoga mat, it’s underneath the bed, stacked in piles on the floor, or leaning precariously against the wall.

You can hardly see Osamu with all the junk that stands between you two with you in one corner and him in the other. It’s been silent outside of the radio he’s got playing on his speaker, and you think he might have chickened out at this humongous undertaking you decided to take on this random and absolutely beautiful spring day.

“Osamu?”

There’s shuffling. A grunt. Then, a massive, elongated groan from what you assume is him trying to stand up again. Satisfied that he’s still helping you clean the place out, you go back to reading the paperwork at your feet, organizing them into separate piles.

“What?” he answers back to you after you don’t elaborate. After living with Osamu for so long, you end up ignoring him since you don’t have a real answer to provide.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, clearly interested now as to why you called his name, “what do ya want?”

You giggle lightly, “nothing.”

He grumbles and just that small, unintelligible sound makes it known that he’s irritated with you, if not already from the situation you’ve put yourselves in.

“I was just checking if you were here.”

“Where do ya think I would have gone?”

The response takes a while, your mind distracted as you read tax forms from Onigiri Miya that you can’t quite remember doing.

“Hello? Are you still here?”

You stretch your back out so you can peek your head over the bed, armed with a beaming grin. Osamu, as you expected, is giving you the most deadpan of looks, unamused and definitely, absolutely, 100% irritated.

“Hello!” you sing too happily which makes him even more annoyed. His jaw tightens and your eyes stay focused on his face, particularly handsome with that beautiful sheen upon his skin. You try and ease the tension, “how are you doing?”

Osamu is not impressed. He holds out a ball of yarn, “how do ya think?”

“Oh hey! I was going to make a scarf with that.”

“Mighty nice scarf.”

You frown, now standing up to make your way to him. You have to dodge piles of random items, tiptoeing over them carefully lest they topple over, “you are grumpy.”

“Am not,” but he says it too quickly, looks away when he does.

You can’t help but laugh at him and with your distraction, you trip over a gift box full of tissue paper. Osamu’s wingspan is able to reach you, grab a wrist before you fully succumb to a hit from the ground.

“Be careful,” he mumbles as you reclaim your footing. Your fall had loosened the foundation of multiple stacks and a volleyball bounces to Osamu’s feet. The sight of it is a surprise because as much as volleyball is a part of Atsumu’s, the sport has gone to the wayside since Onigiri Miya’s popularity had grown.

He’d been able to manage playing recreationally with the neighbors in the beginning, but now, since the restaurant has become a franchise, Osamu spends most of his days with a carefully structured schedule of traveling to all the separate locations and overseeing its activities. He hardly has time for himself which is probably why he’s annoyed by spending his only day off cleaning.

He picks up the volleyball, rolling it in his hands with a curious look. There’s something in his expression, a longing that you want to help him reach.

“Should we take a break?” you offer. Osamu looks at you dumbly, laughing once more. “Let’s go downstairs and play in the field for a little bit.”

It doesn’t take much to drag Osamu outside where you can fully enjoy the perfect harmony of winter and spring’s kiss. The field isn’t being used by anyone else. It isn’t an actual volleyball court, just a large square of grass for the neighborhood to enjoy, perfect for a picnic or, for your purposes, an impromptu outdoor volleyball court. You stand opposite of him with a good distance as Osamu directs you, all of a sudden in his element and annoyance completely forgotten.

“Make sure ya throw the ball up high with a nice arch.” He provides an example and you nod, heeding his instructions studiously. “Alright, ya ready?”

“Yup!”

With his signal, you do your best to throw it high. Osamu’s approach looks instinctual. He’s not even thinking about it. In just a blink of an eye, you see him hit it and it slams into the grass. The softness of it absorbs most of the impact, but it still bounces twice before rolling to a stop. You look at Osamu, thoroughly impressed and ready to congratulate him, but he’s already puffed his chest out, complete with a smug smile across his features.

“Heh. I still got it.”

You can’t help but giggle. Of course he doesn’t need any affirmation from you after hitting it perfectly even with so much time in between. Still, you go over to him and give his butt a squeeze.

You nod emphatically, “yup. You still do.”

#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#for future reins: you were cleaning out the garage with the husband and he found his skateboard and got on and wondered if he could still do #a ‘pop shove it’ or whatever. verdict: yes he still can

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sotwk · 1 year

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Breathe (Boromir x femReader)

Summary: You have harbored a deep, secret crush on Boromir for years, and have now been asked by him to dance.

Word count: 1.5k

Content: Romance, pining, yearning, longing (you get the point) Regency-inspired dance, fluff, started as a drabble but got way out of hand

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: This was supposed to be a Dance of Romance + Scars from @fellowshipofthefics’s January Trope Roulette, but the “Scars” part just never came out. Whoopsie. I guess I can’t claim credit for fulfilling the challenge, but FotF can claim credit for providing the prompt!

Update: This one-shot has been formally upgraded to the prologue of a multi-chapter Boromir x OC fic. More to follow soon!

Dedication: For @scyllas-revenge, a fellow Boromir stan whose talent I admire. My first ever Boromir fic is just a small thank you for being a cheerleader to me and other writers.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphicsphics

Breathe

Third Age 3008

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“I cannot breathe,” you whimpered to Anarlas, grasping at the sleeve of his tunic as he guided you from the edges of the crowd towards the center of the Great Hall.

But your brother knew you too well and merely chuckled at your dramatics. “That is a bit problematic, given that a good air supply is necessary for dancing." He felt you pull back in resistance and stopped to examine you closely. "Do you really not wish to do this?" he asked softly. "Should I not have accepted the invitation on your behalf?"

You stared up at him, wide-eyed as you struggled to process the last two minutes. One moment you were puttering back and forth aimlessly behind the pillars, content at the fringes of all the merrymaking, with just a cup of wine and your daydreams for company. All of a sudden Anarlas appeared and asked you to come with him, which you did in full trust…until he started to lead you into the noise and commotion instead of saving you from it, dashing your hope that he had decided to go home early, as you had implored for from the start.

"There must be some mistake," you stammered. "Perhaps you heard him incorrectly."

"The Captain was clear about his request. He could not have spoken more plainly: ‘Might I ask your sister for a dance?’.” Anarlas squeezed your arm and grinned. “And since he knows well that I have only one sister, there can be no mistake.”

You bit your lip before you could blurt out a ridiculous argument, that you still believed it possible Lord Boromir had you confused with some other woman. What other explanation could there be for him asking for you? On the evening of a kingdom-wide celebration, when every fair lady in Gondor was clamoring to gain even just a few moments of his attention? Who were you? Just a produce vendor with your own little stall in the lower markets of the White City.

Your family, at least, was worthier of note. Your brother served directly under the Captain of the White Tower, and your father had been an even closer friend to him. He had trained the Steward’s young son in swordsmanship before falling in battle almost twenty years ago. You had been a mere infant then, still nursing at your mother’s breast. Then a few short years later on a particularly harsh winter, your mother succumbed to consumption, leaving you with Anarlas.

Perhaps that was the logical explanation. Lord Boromir was granting you, a poor Gondorian orphan, this kindness in honor of your gallant father. Why he chose this particular occasion to do so, that was the greater mystery.

Anarlas chucked you under the chin to call back your wandering mind. “You look beautiful,” he said gently. “If you ever wonder what Mother looked like, just find yourself a mirror.”

Hope bloomed inside your heart at his words, hewing through the shadows of anxiety and doubt. You wore her dress that evening, the finest article of clothing in your wardrobe, and had been delighted to discover you had finally grown up enough to match her womanly form and fill out the bodice properly.

“If you refuse to believe in yourself, then believe in me,” your brother added firmly.

Confusion knotted your brow, but before you could ask his meaning, someone cleared their throat behind you.

“Forgive my interruption…”

You froze at the arrival of this voice, one you knew intimately despite having had barely any conversations with it. It was the light in the sweetest of your dreams, a sound you committed to memory, plucked from many years of brief and often stolen encounters. Public speeches, overheard conversations, and precious greetings from the incidental crossings of your paths.

“My lord Boromir." You dipped into a curtsy, tightly clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress as you willed yourself to channel her reputed grace and poise.

“My lady…” He bowed to you and spoke your name, ending all doubt of his familiarity. As it rolled off his tongue, the joy that thrilled inside you bolstered your meager courage.

Your mind had already sailed to the clouds and did not register whatever he else might have said or asked. But when he stretched out his hand for yours, instinct and years of pining took the place of thought and good sense, and you slipped your fingers over his, giving your consent.

The crowd parted to give respectful berth to the Son of the Steward as he led his chosen partner to the dance floor. Boromir released your hand to take his place on the side of the men, leaving you to stand with the rest of the women. Open stares of scorn and envy fell upon you, beating at you with silent hostility as you waited for the music to begin.

You wrenched your tearing eyes off the ground, and in trying to force your chin up high, you caught sight of Anarlas standing down the line of men. The love and pride that shone on your brother’s face revitalized your shaky confidence. Believe in yourself, you could imagine him saying. He tilted his head in a pointed signal.

Your gaze shifted to the right and fell straight upon Boromir, and found him staring right back at you, lips slightly parted. The second your eyes locked, he startled, caught off guard. His stare collapsed to his feet in discomfort and, to your amazement, he appeared to blush.

Your breath hitched and you pursed your lips to stifle a giggle that escaped your throat.

The music started. A slower tune, one familiar enough for you to coax the steps from your body’s memory. You loved to dance and did so as often as you could, but your shy nature limited your audience and partners to only Anarlas and yourself.

As the two lines stepped forward to begin the dance, Boromir raised his eyes to you again, defiant of his own embarrassment. As you glided by him in the first pass, you offered him your soft smile. His features immediately relaxed, and his lips curled back upwards, making you shiver.

You twirled and turned back towards him, reaching out with both hands. As his thick, calloused fingers encased yours, you thought you heard him draw a tight breath. Your own heart thundered madly in your chest as his light grasp slipped away once more.

As the spinning and swaying carried on, every reunion of your hands dizzied you with tingling, while each departure from his touch struck in pangs of yearning. The bittersweet longing you had borne for him from afar and for so long now surged sinfully into profound craving. For his touch, for his gaze, for the very warmth of his body next to yours.

His eyes never strayed from you, even as the routine separated you over and over. They were storm-grey, you realized, confirming what you had always fantasized but never truly saw. After every turn they quickly sought out your face again, as though ravenous for the sight.

When your hands joined for several prolonged beats of the song, you heard him murmur your name. In mindless insolence, you returned the favor and addressed him in kind.

“Boromir…”

His fingers suddenly closed around your hand, trapping and enveloping it and preventing you from slipping away again. With a soft tug, he urged you close and cupped his other palm on your hip, stalling you both in the middle of the floor.

“I…” You braced your hands against his chest, summoning the last dregs of strength in your legs to support yourself, when everything else within you begged to melt in his arms.

His hold around you tightened in painstaking slowness, as he ascertained your approval, watching for signs of objection that you never showed. The only distance that now separated you was his towering height, which he breached by leaning down, closer, closer, until you were drowning in his nearness, and felt the sweep of his sigh on your brow, the graze of his nose on your temple. Long dark lashes fluttered over those keen grey eyes that now seemed dazed with the wonder of you, of this moment.

Valar, he was more beautiful than anything your imagination ever conjured over the years.

“I cannot breathe,” you finally whispered.

A chuckle rumbled from his chest and his hands rose to cradle your face. "I know exactly how you feel.”

His thumbs savored the soft skin of your cheekbones, his fingertips explored the delicate shells of your ear. His ministrations were almost enough to eliminate all awareness of your surroundings. While the music carried on, several other couples had finally stopped to gawp at the Captain of Gondor's scandalous display. But for once in your life, the unspeakable, glorious joy that overflowed in your heart simply left no room for concern of anything or anyone else in the world.

“Perhaps we should continue this outside," Boromir suggested, his voice heavy with a promise that ran goosebumps through you. "Where we can have all the air we shall need.”

Tags: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard (Sorry if I missed anyone; I have no formal tag list but will likely put up a tag request form soon!)

For more stories, please see My Masterlist.

Requests are open! Please check my Guidelines and send an Ask.

Thanks for reading!

#boromir #boromir fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #boromir x reader #boromir x you #boromir fanfic #lotr fanfic

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froggyliciouz · 5 months

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What I think happened in the final fifteen was…

•) the Metatron did convince Aziraphale to go back to heaven because Aziraphale fell into old patterns as well as wanted it to be true that heaven actually sees worth within him

•) what he said to Crowley was the result of him falling back into those old patterns (also him just being a bit of an idiot, a traumatized idiot, but an idiot nonetheless) HOWEVER

•) what Crowley told him (as well as the kiss) ended up changing his mind about wanting to go back to heaven, but his thought process wasn’t finished in the moment the argument between them was still happening

•) the „i forgive you“ was his attempt to remind himself what side „he’s supposed to“ choose, I don‘t think it was a deliberate choice of him to hurt Crowley, I‘m not even sure he realized what he actually said in that moment (or it was too late when he did)

•) when the Metatron came back to collect Aziraphale, he was still in the progress of sorting his change of mind out

•) the struggle you see in this scene isn’t to trick the Metatron but his real struggle of choosing between the believe system ingrained into him and the one he actually adapted himself through the time:

•) he made his choice, but hasn’t figured out how to get out of this situation / how he wants to deal with the situation:

•) he realized he can’t talk himself out of it, therefore comes with the Metatron to the elevator

•) in said elevator Aziraphale figured out a plan, determined to save the world (his world):

I don’t think he lied to Crowley about his reasons to go back, nor do i think that there was some kind of miracle or poison involved to get him to go back in the first place, the manipulation through the Metatron was enough to get him to consider it.

Aziraphale wants to do the good and right thing, so when his blind faith in heaven combines with the Metatron telling him how to do the right thing (becoming archangel), him showing him appreciation in form of a promotion as well as making him (possibly false) promises to get rid of an old misunderstanding aka Crowleys fall, which Aziraphale knows wasn’t the right thing to do, so of course he took the bait.

He repeatedly clings to old beliefs and patterns, hell, he doesn’t even upgrade his wardrobe for hundreds of years. Compared to an ever fluid Crowley he was always solid and never changing, so him actively taking the chance to do something and change something about a system he has finally realized isn’t perfect or toxic even is a big part in his character arc.

And most importantly: it‘s not out of character, because the struggles of change were present. Aziraphale was unsure in his next actions, he hurt people he loves in the process and he will come to realize more and more that there’s even more changes to be made not only in a belief system that only allows black and white thinking but also in his relationship with Crowley that still suffers through said system as well as ongoing miscommunications.

#good omens #go #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale good omens #crowley good omens #metatron #metatron good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #aziracrow #meta #my post

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yuristarz · 6 months

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Hello! Welcome to the first real chapter of Krampuslauf. I know i just posted the prolouge a bit ago, but I'm so excited about this concept right now that I just had to continue writing. I hope you guys like this one!

Prolouge

(English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes)

🌲Krampuslauf(2/?)🌲

Summary:

A nice Christmas getaway, this is what this should've been. An out from your regular stressful life, but things quickly turn from sweet to sour after a certain someone or something invites himself into your life.

A König x fem!reader fanfic inspired by the folktales of Krampus

Disclaimer: he talks about hurting reader but not in detail!!!

This is an 18+ story, so minors please dni!

The bathwater is luke warm when you get out, the wine glass is empty and you're well relaxed. After taking one of the fluffy towels you wrap it tightly around yourself and go towards the sink it's time to get ready for bed. Your luggage can wait, you'll have time for that tomorrow.

Reaching the master bedroom after quickly pulling your pajamas out of your suitcase you smile to yourself. This bedroom is a massive upgrade from yours back home. A king-sized bed a great view and even a fireplace. Yeah you can definitely manage with this place.

Falling into the bed felt like falling on a cloud, soft, warm, and fuzzy. The amounts of blankets and pillows comforting to the touch. Immediately the exhaustion sets in, the jetlag and the long drive finally catching up. After getting comfortable you quickly fall into a dream-less sleep.

You made it almost pitifully easy for him to stalk you. Leaving your curtains open like this, like you want someone to watch you be so vulnerable. His masked head tilts as he focuses on you. Leaning against the windowsill, his eyes glowed an ominous redish blue through the two holes at the front.

After a while of watching you a thought made its way to his head, he could just break in right now...do horrible things to you, unspeakable even. Make sure after he's done with you, people will fear him again. No, not tonight it's too early he tels himself. he'll let you live a bit longer.. let you settle in.

And when the time is right, he'll make you wish you had stayed wherever you came from...

The morning sun makes you squint your eyes as you slowly rise from the bed and stretch. You look around the room again, and your gaze stops by the window. Weird... yesterday an even coat of snow covered the windowsill. You were sure of it, maybe it was a bird or squirrel or it was always like that. Probably nothing to worry about.

After getting up and making your way downstairs you rummage through the cupboards and fridge. There isn't much to eat, mostly dry stuff and a few cans of fruit and onw with stew. You'd definitely have to drive to the small village at the bottom of the mountain to get some more things to eat.

After a quick meal consisting of crackers and some marmalade, you take your suitcases and drag them up the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the big doors to the wardrobe you start to stuff your clothes in it, making sure to put together an outfit together on the way. Now done with stuffing the wardrobe, you push your empty luggage under the bed and get changed.

You walk down the stairs once more and put your winter boots on by the door. As much as you'd love to just stay holed up here in the mountains for the next 14 days you still need food, so that meant driving down the snowie roads and getting enough food as to not make another trip down.

He watches silently as you walk out of the cabin and get in your car and start the motor. Good. That would give him some time to think about the best way to go about this.

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Hi! Thanks for reading chapter 1 of Krampuslauf! It's a bit short but I think as the story continues they'll get longer. I hope you guys liked it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated <3

Since you wanted to get tagged :) @kneelingshadowsalome

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