#(i MISSED them did you know that i MISSED them i've only said it seventy thousand times i'm gonna say it seventy thousand more) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyedmiller · 4 months ago

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When in Positano | Javier Peña

javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: light alcohol consumption, smut (fingering, f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, major breeding kink, ass slaps), talks of starting a family, an insane amount of fluff, javi is a romantic at heart, bits of spanish with translation, frequent pov switching, no use of y/n.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: honeymooning in italy with your husband is a dream, especially when he reveals he wants to start a family with you.

a/n: this has been in my wips / drafts since january- and then i ultimately decided to change the whole plot of this bc i've been in a soft mushy mood for husband x reader lately. shoutout to @ilovepedro (ily) for beta'ing this baby for me. hope you enjoy <3

It was times like this that you could hardly believe this was your life.

The morning sun had shown her golden rays through the linen curtains that danced with the wind, illuminating your villa brilliantly. The first thing you get to see when your eyes flutter open is your husband, unknowingly basking in the golden light of the morning.

You stretch your sore limbs, the glint of your wedding ring in the light catching your attention. You can't help the smile that spreads across your lips, eyes shifting down to the man next to you once again.

You study his peaceful features as if you were sketching him from memory — tan, warm skin; dark, thick hair; a mustache that always tickles the tiniest bit when he’d kiss you anywhere on your body; a strong, angular nose; long lashes that fan his cheeks; and plush, pink lips that were slightly parted as he breathed steadily.

The only thing you miss dearly in sight at that very moment are his beautiful brown eyes. The same eyes that had you hooked from the very first time your gaze fell upon them.

Your eyes travel down to his muscular arms — the same arms that always hold you tight and protect you, all the way down to his torso and his naked, but covered, lower half.

Your eyes snap up to his gorgeous face once more, reaching your hand out to trace featherlight lines over his smooth skin. You cup his cheek, leaning forward in the slightest to kiss his nose. His brows scrunch in reaction as he finally stirs awake.

He groans softly as he instinctively wraps an arm around you, bringing your bare body flush to his. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, taking advantage of your proximity to him as you start peppering kisses all over his face.

You pull back and he peeks one sleepy eye open, a half smile immediately forming on his face.

“Buenos días, mi amor.” [good morning, my love] He whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Buenos días, mi esposo.” [good morning, my husband] You beam, and he gently grabs your left hand — the one that decided to caress his face once more — and looks down at it with pride, seeing the wedding band and engagement ring together. It’s something he’ll never tire of.

“Still can’t believe you said ‘I do’.” He chuckles, bringing your hand up to his lips so he can kiss your ring.

“I’d say those two words in a million lifetimes with you, Javier.” You whisper, and his soft brown eyes look up at you in pure adoration.

“Mi vida.” [my life] He shakes his head in disbelief, an undeniable grin etching itself upon his plush lips.

You said I do to each other just seventy-two hours ago, and you both have been luxuriating in the blissful feeling of forever.

Javier surprised you with your dream vacation destination as your honeymoon, and you cried in happiness on your twelve hour flight as you both made your way to Italy.

You don’t know what you did to deserve such a man as Javier, and you truly don’t think you’ll ever comprehend how you got to marry him. What you do know, is that you’re the luckiest woman alive.

Little do you also know, he feels the same exact way about you.

“I love you.” The words flow naturally, easily, and he gives you a look that makes you want to give him the whole universe. Fuck, if you could, you would.

This man—the man that has endured so much in his past, only to open up his heart to you and only you—to protect you, cherish you, and love you the way he does, is a man that deserves everything gracious and peaceful this world has to offer.

And if you told him those exact words, he’d kiss you searingly and tell you that you are his grace, his peace, his god-given solace. You are the reason his heart beats, his days are brighter, his world spins on its axis. You’re everything to him and he’d show you time and time again just so.

“I love you too, cariño.” [honey] His voice is softer, a voice only reserved for you. Underneath the harsh exterior and the stern brow he always wears, there’s a softness that he carries when it’s just you two in the confines of your own space. You always greet him at the door when he comes home, pressing a kiss between his furrowed brows, wrapping your arms around him before telling him “welcome home.” He always relaxes under your touch, and knowing you’re his peace makes pride bloom in your chest.

Your heart aches in the best way possible with how much you love your husband, and your faithfulness and devotion to him will never, ever waver.

Javi buries his face into your neck and leaves a trail of kisses up to your jaw, mustache hairs tickling your skin as he nibbles on your chin playfully.

“What’s on the agenda today, baby?” He asks, hand gliding up the soft skin of your torso, thumb brushing just beneath your breast. The ghost of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you grin lazily as you look at him.

“I was thinking about the street market we passed yesterday, and maybe a new restaurant?” You say, running a hand through his thick brown locks. You twirl a longer piece at the nape of his neck around your finger, and he begins to kiss your collarbone languidly.

He hums in thought, kisses trailing down to the swell of your breasts. You cradle the back of his head gently, not particularly wanting him to stop, but also aware that you should really get out of bed and enjoy the beauty of Positano while you can. Your fingers release his head and skate down to his back, gently double tapping the space between his shoulder blades.

“We should really get up, amor.” [love] Your tone isn’t convincing enough even to yourself, and Javi rests his chin on your sternum as he looks at you with a glimpse of mischief in his eyes.

“Can I enjoy the sweet taste of my wife first?” His tone is more of a statement than a question, and you can’t help but laugh at his eagerness. Truthfully, if it were up to him, you two probably wouldn’t leave the bedroom very much in the week and a half you get to spend here. To you, Italy was paradise, but to Javier, you were his.

He could spend days with his face – or cock – buried between your thighs, savoring every moment of your addicting taste and tight cunt.

“Only if you let me pick the restaurant.” You negotiate poorly, and even then, Javier sports a grin that lights up the whole room. The sun and her radiance doesn’t even nearly hold a candle to your husband’s smile.

“Deal.” He murmurs, lips marking their territory down your sternum. Before he gets any further, he kisses both of your breasts before enveloping a nipple into his mouth. You suck in a breath at the feeling, the sensation shooting straight down to your already needy and aching core.

Something of a whine escapes you, tugging on his hair as you arch your back off the mattress. You can feel his smug smirk against your skin before he switches sides, relishing the other pert bud before letting go with a small pop.

The anticipation is building up much quicker than you expected, and you’re squirming beneath Javi as his lips ghost your stomach, moving down the bed before uncovering your bottom half.

A lazy grin appears on his lips as he takes in the sight of your puffy, glistening pussy, ready for his tongue to drink you up like you’re the finest nectar on the planet.

Javier tsks at the sight teasingly, swiping his middle finger through your folds, preening at your receptiveness to his touch as your hips buck toward his mouth involuntarily. “Now who made my beautiful wife this wet and needy, hm?” He asks, moving his face down to kiss the supple skin of your thigh before biting down gently.

You yelp in surprise, looking down at him only to find him sporting a shit-eating grin. The word wife makes you even needier, loving the fact that you belong to him.

“You, mi corazón [my heart]. Solo tú.” [only you]

Javi closes his eyes at the endearment, nestling his cheek to your thigh as he breathes in a few times. He feels like he’s in an alternate reality where his dream woman just dropped out of the sky, and he gets to spend the rest of his life with her.

But this is real, you’re real, and he nearly has to pinch himself to prove that you aren’t a figment of his imagination. He gets to spend eternity with you, and he deems himself the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

He opens his eyes and his gaze meets yours once more, and you can’t help but reach out for his face. You look so ethereal to him as the golden rays fall upon your body, making you glow like a goddess. Your head is back against the pillows as you watch him with an adoring gaze from above, and he truly has no words to ever conjure up just how much he loves you.

And, for a moment, as he’s watching you watch him, his eyes flicker down to your stomach. Javier never thought he’d be a man who wants to have kids in his life. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d ever be able to get married, let alone to a gem such as yourself.

You’ve given him a softer life; a life full of love and happiness—a complete one-eighty from his time in Colombia—and a house to call a home, albeit you being his home no matter where you two are. You’d also be the one to be able to give him the ultimate gift: fatherhood.

He sweeps his reeling thoughts to the back of his mind for now, his main focus averting back to you and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name.

With that thought in mind, he wastes no more time before he gives your pretty, glistening pussy a kiss, delving his tongue into your folds right after.

You gasp at the sensation, eyebrows pinching together as his muscle works your nerves expertly as he’s done countless times before. He traces the tip of his tongue through your folds, up to your clit and flicks it a few times before moving back down to your entrance. He prods the muscle inside and dutifully fucks you with his tongue, the pace delicious as his nose bumps your clit repeatedly in the process.

You grip onto his hair, hips bucking into his face in tandem with the stroke of his tongue.

You can’t help but cry out his name repeatedly, and he feels prideful that he’s the only one that can make you feel this good.

Javi’s mouth separates from your dripping cunt, bottom half of his face shiny with the taste he loves oh so much.

“Taste like a dream, muñequita.” [doll] He breathes, sliding his hand down to grip your thigh as the other toys with the slick on your pussy. He kisses your thigh again and he looks up at you trying to catch your breath. Your head already feels fuzzy at the immense pleasure your husband’s tongue brings you, and to top it off, he slides his middle and ring finger into you.

He keeps his eyes on your face and watches as you unravel, pumping his fingers in and out of you. He makes sure to curl his fingers to hit the very specific spot he knows you like, and when he does, you lose all resolve. You crumble under his touch as your arousal seeps out of you and down his fingers, coating his wedding band in your juices as they flow down to his wrist.

“So fucking pretty, baby. You like when I fuck you with my fingers?” He asks, and you nod without hesitation.

“Words, corazón.” [heart]

“Fuck–fuck, yes, Javi, oh, god-” You cry, and he squeezes your thigh before diving back down to lap up your pussy once more. The combination of his tongue and fingers is absolutely lethal—you know you aren’t going to last much longer.

Javier is the matchbox to your match, dragging, dragging, dragging you along. The coil in your core is wound up so tight that within seconds, you break and light aflame.

You cry out his name, the sound of your own desperate plea reverberating off of the four walls of the villa’s bedroom eagerly.

You feel like you’re gushing everywhere—his fingers, his mouth, the bedsheets—and it’s pure ecstasy when he blows out the flame, your body the smoke as you dissipate into the luxury of a devastatingly euphoric bliss.

Javi drags his lips up your thigh, to your torso, all the way up to your jaw before capturing your lips in a searing kiss as you both share the taste of you on his tongue.

He hums into the kiss and separates from you, bringing his slick-coated fingers to your mouth. You huff a laugh as you eagerly lick the arousal off of his wedding ring and up his digit, popping both of them into your mouth and suck them until they’re clean.

Javi’s cock is impossibly hard now, but he knows how badly you want to explore the beautiful city. So, he pushes his urges down for now, though you’d likely gladly take his cock into that pretty mouth of yours and suck him dry.

He groans as he gets up from the bed, giving you another chaste kiss before he trudges to the bathroom to retrieve a towel to clean you up. Your eyes follow him as you lay on your side, head propped up by your hand. You study his figure unashamedly, admiring your husband and his bare form in all of its glory. Long legs, toned arms, tan skin, and of course, that insanely cute ass of his—and he’s all yours. Every inch of his beautiful body, face, and mind is yours.

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel in hand, and you can’t help but admire his impressive length. He teasingly throws the towel at you and you catch it, and before you can protest, his body is hovering over yours.

“Someone can’t keep their eyes to themselves, hm?” He quirks a brow at you.

“Well excuse me for admiring my husband and how sexy he is.” You retort, and he can’t help the guttural laugh that escapes his belly.

“You’re something else, you know that?” His tone is playful, snatching the towel from you as he cleans you up.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as you give him a stern look, and he meets your gaze with a boyish grin.

“You’re the one who married me. That’s on you.” You say, and he grabs your shoulders after tossing the towel onto the floor before giving you a light shake.

“And it’s been the best decision of my life, muchas gracias.” [thank you very much]

You roll your eyes before leaning up and giving him a kiss, tapping his thigh as you pull apart.

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Italy is waiting for us.”

You watched Javi as he bought some fresh fruit from a vendor at the street market, patrons bustling on the side as they enjoyed the beautiful weather and scenery before them. The water was a brilliant hue of blue, tying in the bright colors and coastal landscaping Positano had to offer.

Javi holds out his arm for you after he purchases the fruit, and you gladly cling onto his bicep as you make your way down the street. You stop for a moment to look at him and admire his outfit—bright blue shirt that contrasted beautifully against his tan skin, and some white pants paired with brown loafers.

He gave you a face when you originally suggested the shoes to him because it simply wasn’t something he’d ever wear, but they were insanely comfortable and undoubtedly great for walking, deeming you right once more.

“Mi esposa always knows what’s best,” [my wife] He’d said.

Javi peels an orange for you both to share, splitting it in half and hand feeding you the slices. You bite the tip of his finger playfully, and he can’t help but admire the buttery sweet sound of the laugh that emanates you.

You hum at the citrus taste of the orange, closing your eyes in delight at how fresh it is.

“That’s delicious.” You say aloud, and Javi looks at you while sliding his aviators down the bridge of his nose.

“It is, but nothing compares to the taste of you.”

Your face heats up at his words, hiding it in the crook of his neck for a second while letting out a mumbled ‘behave’ from you.

He’s smug when you pull your face back from the warmth of his body, and you lightly swat his chest in mock-chastise.

“You hungry, mamí?” He pulls a food guide of local restaurants out from his back pocket, and you nod eagerly.

“For more than just food.” You murmur, slotting your arms onto his broad shoulders, letting one hand dangle and the other play with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands instinctively grab onto your waist and he pulls your body flush to his.

“Now who needs to behave, hm?”

“Still you.” You beam.

“Smartass.” He retorts with a chuckle.

“Maybe. But you love me.”

“That I do, bebita,” [baby girl] He leans in for a kiss before handing you the food guide, and you briefly scan the options.

“How about some pizza?”

The restaurant reminds you of your first date with Javier. You remember how much he tried to impress you, and even then, you knew he was someone special. To end up here with him in Italy eating the most delicious pizza and drinking the crispest glass of wine four years later seems like a total fever dream.

Javi raises his glass up to you, giving you his infamous puppy dog eyes and the softest smile you think you’ve ever seen on him. “Cheers to you, amor de me vida,” [love of my life] “You make me the happiest man alive. You’ve given me everything I could wish for and then some, and your beautiful heart and soul never ceases to amaze me.”

Tears prick your eyes as you raise your glass to clink against his, sipping the Prosecco in your glass. You reach for his left hand across the table, bringing his knuckles up to your lips as you kiss them and his wedding band repeatedly.

“I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for giving me a life well beyond my wildest dreams. I’d do anything for you. It’s me and you against the world, baby.”

“I’ll never know how a bastard like me got so goddamn lucky. You’re a godsend, corazón,” [heart] “What if we had an addition to our world?” He asks, voice almost shy as he tries to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean, mi amor?” [my love]

”How do you feel about starting a family? With me?”

He’s hopeful with the way he stares at you, squeezing your hand as he awaits your answer.

“Is that something you want, baby? I know a while back you said you weren’t too sure.”

You’d love to have a family with Javier. The thing was, he wasn’t too sure of that awhile back when things really got serious between you two. You were a little crushed by the prospect of not having kids with the love of your life, but you’d learn to make do. It was never a dealbreaker for you specifically, but you’ve always felt like you were meant to be a mom.

“I’m sure now. I love the sound of having a little one of us running around. We don’t need to rush into it, though. I just—I want this with you, and I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Well, besides asking you to be mine para siempre.” [forever]

You try to not let your emotions overwhelm you in the moment. The man sitting in front of you has you in pure awe, with the way a softness has wrapped itself around his heart, showing him that this side of life is full of warmth and love. He’s gradually learned to accept it, unlearning all of the harsh stoicism that seized his being in the past.

“You’d be the best daddy, Javier Peña. No doubt in my mind.”

His face gleams with joy as he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle individually.

“And you’d be the best mommy, Mrs. Peña.”

Your heart flutters at the sound of your new last name. You still genuinely cannot believe you’re married to this man.

“Chucho is probably going to ask when we’re going to give him grandbabies.”

Javier can’t help but laugh, knowing full well his father would undoubtedly ask that question as soon as you two get back to Texas.

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you. “We should start practicing now then, mamí. Wouldn’t wanna keep him or the rest of the family waiting.”

A sheen of sweat coats your brow and chest as you arrive back to your villa with Javi. The walk itself wasn’t far but the warm weather was starting to get to you. And yet, as soon as you walked through the doors of the bedroom, he was on you.

He was kissing your pulse point while his hands roamed over your body with fervor, skimming over the cotton material of the sundress you were wearing. You giggle as his mustache tickles your neck, playfully nudging him.

“Javi, baby, I’m all sticky and sweaty. Let me take a shower first.”

He hums at your words, continuing the assault of his lips down your jugular before nibbling on your hot skin. His grip on your waist tightens before he leads you backwards into the bathroom, hands moving down to your ass before giving it a playful slap. He spins you around so you’re both facing the huge mirror above the double vanity, and his hands settle onto your stomach.

His eyes travel down to where his hands are as he starts to rub his thumbs back and forth. The look of pure love in his eyes was enough to tell you how badly he really wants to be a father. You reach an arm back to cradle the side of his face, craning your neck to the side to give his cheek a kiss.

“Can you just imagine growing a life that’s half you and half me in here? Nuestro hijo o hija. You’d be glowing even more than you do now, mi amor.” [our son or daughter ; my love]

Your gaze snaps back up to his face, his usual stoic brow softened at the idea of you carrying his child. You didn’t think you could fall in love with this man even more, but picturing him taking your newborn baby out of the carseat after coming home from the hospital and seeing their tiny body resting against his chest in comfort, against someone so loving and so familiar, gives you an indescribable amount of butterflies.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror once more, and you can’t help but give him a soft smile. Both of you are well aware that no words can ever come close to describing the emotions that flow through your minds and hearts, but somehow still connect perfectly like a puzzle piece.

It’s sacred, your love with Javi, and it’s something you’ll both pour into your future child endlessly.

Javi’s lips find your neck once more, fingertips skating over the sticky flesh of your arms before settling on the straps of your dress. His lips move to your shoulder as he slips one strap off, then the other, and tugs down gently so the fabric falls and pools at your feet.

You’re bare on top, and Javi takes advantage of the beautiful sight and kneads your breasts with his hands. You can’t help the way your head lolls back onto his shoulder, biting your lip as he tweaks both nipples simultaneously.

“My beautiful wife.” He whispers, trailing a hand down your torso and over the fabric of your panties, teasingly rubbing you through the thin material. A gasp evades you as the familiar low ache bubbles in your core once again.

“Javi,” You gasp, hand flying up to steady yourself as you grab the side of his neck.

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.”

Your ass presses against his front, and you feel his cock harden in his pants. You turn around to face him and he grabs your hips instinctively before pulling you forward so you’re flush to his body. He leans in to kiss you ferociously, hands sliding down to grab your ass as you toss your arms over his shoulders.

You stay like that for a minute just enjoying the simplicity in the art of kissing your husband before reaching down to unbutton his shirt. You slide the material off of his shoulders before moving down to his pants, palming his cock teasingly. He groans into your mouth and kisses you like a starved man, backing you toward the shower. You slide his jeans off of his hips once he’s stagnant and he steps out of them, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Before you two can continue your escapades, he gives your forehead a kiss before turning on the shower to a temperature comfortable for you both. You slide your panties off and he mirrors your actions, sliding his boxers off before you both step inside.

The lukewarm water cools your skin briefly before Javi steps under the stream, face up toward the water. You watch as the droplets stream down his face, to his neck and shoulders, down his torso and down down down into the dark, wiry hairs that sit below his navel and above his delicious length.

Your mouth is practically salivating at the sight before you, and you need to have a taste of your husband.

Your hands are gentle on his torso before they drag down, your body lowering with them until you’re on your knees. Javi looks down at you with his lips parted and a wild look in his eye.

You lick your lips and smirk at him before pushing on his thighs, backing him up so he sits down onto the bench in the shower. You scoot forward on your knees, admiring your man from below as his thighs spread wide and his hard cock is already furious and leaking pre-come, slathering itself onto his torso.

Your nails scratch his thighs lightly before you lean down to kiss them each once, looking back up at him before taking his cock into your hand. You pump his silky flesh a few times before swiping your thumb over his slit, spreading his arousal over the head of his cock before lowering your mouth.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the taste, absolutely entranced by this man and his cock that you love oh so much.

“My wife is so pretty with my cock in her mouth.” He says, stroking the side of your face with his thumb.

You separate from him as you sit back on your heels, pumping his length as you quirk a brow. “I think I look prettier when your cock is in me, papí.”

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, thumping his head against the shower wall. “Got a dirty fucking mouth, bebita. Christ.” [baby girl]

“Just wait to see what it’ll do to your cock.” You can’t help but giggle at the way your words were easily affecting him, but you decide to cease your teasing.

You slowly take him into your mouth, gagging as you reach the hilt. You swallow around him as best as you can manage before bringing your mouth up once more, swirling your tongue around his tip before taking him all the way into your mouth again.

He’s heavy and warm against your tongue, twitching with every bob of your head as you set a steady rhythm. You squeeze your lips around him and he cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements up and down his cock in haste.

“Your mouth feels so– fuck– fucking good, corazón.” [heart]

He struggles to vocalize a coherent thought, babbling on about how good you make him feel and how much he loves you.

The broken praises only spur you on further as you begin to deepthroat him with every pass, tears pricking your waterline as you control your gag reflex. He’s nearly bucking his hips up into you at this point, fucking your mouth at a pace that drives him insane.

“Shit– yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck you’re so perfect, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You hum around him and squeeze your lips even tighter, gripping his thighs as he tenses up. His spend shoots onto your tongue and he can’t help the loud groan that rumbles through his chest, the feeling of your mouth so heavenly around his cock. You swallow everything he gives you, enjoying the view of your husband’s post-orgasm glow.

The late afternoon sun seeps into the bathroom and illuminates him in such a way that even the Greek Gods have nothing against. He looks picturesque like this; mouth parted and panting—a wild and untamable rasp, eyes shut as he comes down from the orgasm he’s been pining after all day long. His wet curls stick to his forehead in disarray, but it suits him.

His eyes slowly peel open and peer down at you, and you know better than to give him a smug smile. Instead, you lean down and kiss his inner thigh a few times without breaking his heady gaze.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, pulling you up by your elbows. You’re standing now, and he leans forward to kiss your stomach a few times before he pats his thighs. You straddle his hips, hands landing on his chest as you trace small patterns.

His hand slides down and in between your thighs where it’s slick with your arousal. You were so lost in pleasing your husband that you didn’t notice the incessant need growing stronger by the minute. It wasn’t a low, bubbling thing anymore—it was a full-fledged monstress clawing her way to the surface, begging to be tamed.

The carnal desire for Javi couldn’t be held off anymore. You leaned in to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as your hips rock against nothing in particular. Javi is already half-hard again, and ever the gentleman that he is, he angles you down to where your dripping core is gliding against his warm, thick length.

A strangled moan leaves your lips as you toss your head back, and Javi leans forward to nose at your jaw before peppering your neck in kisses. He nibbles on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips up onto you simultaneously.

You whine his name as you loll your head forward, eyes blinking open and gaze locking with his.

You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to say your next words—maybe it’s the look in his eye, maybe it’s a mixture of desperation and desire, maybe it’s just pure, honest truth. Hell, maybe it was all of the above.

“I want to make you a daddy, Javi.” Your voice is sultry and sickeningly sweet, dripping like honey.

And from that point, he was determined. Determined to make you the mother of his child, determined to start a family with you and grow it to both your heart's content, and determined to love and cherish you and your future child, or children—always—and Javier Peña was a man of his word.

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you forward so you both are chest to chest, and you’re reeling over the look he’s giving you. He notches his tip at your entrance, fully hard once again with the promising tone behind your words.

“Say it again.” He says.

“I want to make you,” You pause, moving your lips down to slot between his, pulling back just enough to whisper the rest of your sentence. “A daddy.” You sink down slowly onto him, and you kiss him again as you slowly adjust yourself to him.

You both moan into each other, pulling apart as he fully sheathes himself into you. You’re so full like this, content in every way possible at the feeling of your husband’s cock stretching you out so deliciously. You rock your hips slightly as a test, moaning at the sensation that surges through you.

You do it again, this time with more intent, and slowly set a rhythm with your hips. The feeling of his cock is otherworldly. A greedy, selfish part of you thinks that you’ll never be able to get enough of him or the feeling of this—being connected as so.

You fist a hand into his thick wet locks as the other grabs onto his shoulder, ensuring you can keep your balance as you rock your hips back and forth. He captures your mouth in a blazing kiss, groping your ass before slapping it once as he picks up the pace for you.

You’re panting into each other’s mouths as he increases the pace, now pounding his hips up into you. You cry out his name as your fingernails claw their way down his back and he hisses in pleasure, cradling the back of your head.

Your mind is fuzzy and your lungs are on fire from kissing him desperately, and the white hot feeling in your core is blazing.

“I–I love you, Javi– oh, god, I fucking love you. I love you and I want you to be the father of my child and I—” You’re babbling so much that you don’t even have a clue as to what it is that you’re really trying to say, but Javi gets the message, you think.

He kisses your jaw as you try and match the movement of your hips to each thrust up into you, but it’s genuinely no use. Your body wants to succumb to Javier and his strong body and delicious cock and beautiful face and his big, loving heart—so you let it. You fall limp in his hold, leaning onto him as your orgasm surges through you unexpectedly.

He can feel you pulsating around him and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Gonna make you a mama. Gonna be so good to our baby, the best mama ever.” He’s losing all self control, and you cradle his head as you ride out your prolonged orgasm.

“Please, Javi.” You beg, and that’s enough for him to completely come undone. His hips still as he comes in you, a string of ‘I love you’s’ spilling from his mouth. You’re both breathless and completely dazed, immersed in post-coital bliss. The sound of the shower water hitting the tile floor is a relaxing constant as you both try to control your breathing.

You sit like this for a while; you're perched in his lap as he leans against the wall, face tucked into the crook of his neck.

You smatter kisses along his pulse point as a silent plea of love. You’re both pruny and fucked-out, but being here with each other like this is truly a dream in itself.

The prospect of his dream woman giving him a child has him reeling, so perhaps leaving the room this week is an empty promise that flew out of the door the minute you told him you’d make him a daddy.

Even if nothing happens right away for the two of you, that’s okay, too. You’d get to relish in the unbelievable life you already share with him a bit longer, built from the ground up by you and a man who loves you unconditionally. A man that would individually pick out the stars from the brilliant night sky for you. A man that still cannot fathom that he gets to share this life with you.

And if that’s the case, you really wouldn’t mind at all.

tags: @punkshort @endlessthxxghts @javierpena-inatacvest @ovaryacted @northernbluess @clawdee @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 (since all of you were excited about me posting this. ily)

divider by @saradika-graphics

#javier pena fic #javier peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal characters

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ms-demeanor · 2 months ago

Text

So I have vision insurance again which means I was able to go to the optometrist and get glasses through insurance for the first time in 11 years (instead of paying out of pocket and getting glasses from zenni) and here are my notes:

It's *NOT GREAT* that Luxotica is mentioned by name on the insurance card printout

I know everything got more expensive in the last ten years, but frames also got a lot more expensive and for some reason there was a huge gap in prices - my insurance covered $130 for frames and the office had a bunch of frames for $70 and a bunch of frames for $150 but basically no frames between those two price points.

When you say "I can't afford to go over the allowance" on XYZ thing they are not even *considering* the cost of progressive bifocals. So I was like "no coating, cheap frames, no extras" and then they were like "okay so the progressive bifocal is going to be over a hundred dollars more" and I was like "how much is the bifocal with a line" and they were like "oh that's only $15 but we don't consider that appropriate for your age, we recommend this other kind of lens" and it doesn't matter what you consider age appropriate for me, I can't afford that so we're not doing that.

The seventy dollar frames are all kind of trash. Super thin, super bendy, and not in a good "flexible fit" way but more in a "if you fall asleep in these you will wake up with broken glasses" way.

They wrote down my reading prescription wrong? For the last ten years I've been slowly creeping up from +.25 to my current +2.50; they told me it had increased but the printout said +.75 so either my prescription has been wrong for a while or they missed the 2 at the front of that number and my glasses are going to show up with a low magnification. (I noticed after I'd left the office but before the glasses arrived).

Given all of that, with insurance: $25 for a pair of glasses, which included the office copay.

So then of course I went to zenni and ordered glasses anyway because I've been wearing the same frame design for seven years and want another pair that look exactly like that.

Progressive bifocals WERE the most expensive part of the order, and because my prescription is stronger they are getting progressively more expensive - initially the upgrade to bifocal cost something like $30 for a lower magnification, now they're $85 for the stronger prescription.

And that's it, that's the expensive part. Fifteen dollar frames, five dollar anti-reflective coating, total for bifocals was around a hundred dollars; I got a pair of single-vision sunglasses for under $20.

Part of the reason I decided to spend more at zenni than at my optometrist's office was because I was able to get good, sturdy frames that I know fit my face and will survive mosh pits and me falling asleep on them without cracking. In order to get the same thing at the optometrist's office I would have had to pay thirty dollars more for lenses as well as forty more for frames so I would have walked out of there paying more for a pair of glasses with frames that I wasn't super excited about (there was a pair that was *okay* but not great that were similar in construction to my current frames but more bulky and square) than I did for glasses that I know I like and a pair of sunglasses.

I did end up paying less out of pocket for the visit than I would have without the insurance, and $15 for a pair of back-up glasses isn't bad. But it was all-in-all a frustrating experience.

However: I've been wearing the same pair of glasses for three years and the anti-reflective coating is worn away in some places and they're so scratched that they're impossible to actually clean in some places and large bastard looked through them last week and was like "OH! No wonder you can't tell when you need to clean your windshield! You don't get to drive at night until those are replaced" so no matter what glasses I'm wearing next week they're going to be an improvement.

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wellhalesbells · 1 year ago

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Ummm was that a dinosaur I spotted in those Meg II gifs??? At first I thought it might have been a crocodile but after absolutely no scrutiny I was like: dinosaur.

I might need to actually watch this. Do I need to watch Meg I for it to make sense? Even if I don’t should I watch them both anyway? I’m not going to lie those gifs make it look incredible…

That is, in fact, a dinosaur because Meg 2 was like: well what's better than a seventy-foot shark? And the answer was watching a seventy-foot shark eat a Tyrannosaurus Rex. And they were right.

Yes, you 100% need to watch this and join me in my delusional fantasies - I have now watched this three times in three days, dialogue skeletoned a 5+1 fic and need to find time to watch it yet again so I can make sure my gestures and content are pitch perfect.

You do not need to watch Meg the first for this to make sense, it will just deepen your affection for the legacy characters, which is never a bad. Plus, there are a few callbacks (that make it more of a gay underwater romance) that I missed the first time I watched it (which obviously did not hinder my enjoyment) and on day two, I watched both back to back and caught them. (3.5. This is a movie about sharks eating dinosaurs, underwater research bases, giant carnivorous octopi, Fun Island, and two dads coparenting a teenager who can run circles around them - so just to note: it also does not need to make sense.)

That said, I absolutely recommend watching Meg the first. It was a hoot and it makes Meg the second more fun because once you start off that strong, you have to go wackier, right? Once you get to two, you're like: okay, I know why we are at this level of wacky and you have my stamp of approval.

It is, in fact, incredible. JOMING 5EVA (I gave them a ship name, I think I can do that when - at least last I looked, which admittedly was last week - I've got the only fic going [granted, it is unposted but nOT FOR LONG] and there are less than ten of us, haha.)

#meg 2 #meg 2: the trench #the meg #at least less than ten people have engaged with my exceedingly rambling and obsessed posts about jonas and jiuming lol #though that could just be a lot of smart people with good taste (for many reasons) steering clear of the unhinged girl #i do totally recommend this series though - they are a good time! also dads coparenting at 25000 ft below sea level??#WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE??#i'm about to go on vacation for a week and a half so hopefully that'll give me some rewatching/writing time #also sorry for the public reply - i usually go non anon private i know - but like EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH THIS SO #!ask

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womanofwords · 7 months ago

Text

The Poisoned Prodigy (Chapter 4)

After school, I went to Sandalwood Institute. I stuck out being the only one not wearing the Sandalwood uniform, but that didn't matter. I was looking for someone.

"Excuse me, have you seen Sally Kinley? I need to talk to her," I said, grabbing a scared looking boy and shaking him.

"Young man, you seem lost," someone said. A kind looking man approached me, hands behind his back as he walked. He walked like my grandpa used to, even though there was no way that he was older than forty. He also dressed like an old man, with a sweater and tweed slacks. Aviator glasses fresh from the seventies rested on the bridge of his nose. "And I'm fairly certain that you are not a student here."

I sighed and decided to be honest before he thought that I was a stalker. "I'm looking for Sally Kinley. She was friends with my best friend, Patton Reynolds, and I would like to talk to her."

A sad look took over his face. "Oh, goodness. By any chance, were you the boy sitting him up while he was on the floor?"

"You saw that?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, no, I wasn't there. I couldn't make it last minute. I heard about everything from my wife on the local news."

I felt the world tilt. "It's . . . on the news?"

"Yes. The media can be such vultures, you know." Words kept coming out of his mouth, but I couldn't hear them. I was just going

down

stop.

:-)

I woke up in a white room with the man and Sally waiting for me. "Did I go to hospital too?" I asked, sitting up on my elbows.

Sally laughed. It was melodious, sweet. "No, you're in the nurse's office. You fainted."

"My fault, really," the man said. "Hello, Vincent. I'm Dr Jacobs. We were talking about Patton and the news coverage when you fainted."

Everything came back to me. Patton being poisoned was on the news.

"I've seen Ernest's face all over the internet in the past few hours. More than he deserves," Sally said, toying with the sleeve of her school blazer like a cat toying with a mouse.

"Why is his face on the internet?" I asked.

"He got arrested, Vincent. The picture of him is his mugshot," Dr Jacobs said.

"I hope he suffers for what he did to Patton." Sally's voice was deeper with anger, syllables being growled out. "It's obvious why he did it. Patton was naturally incredible and charming and sweet, and all he had to impress people with was his parents' money."

"Miss Kinley!" Dr Jacobs gasped.

"Everybody knows it! Well, except Vincent here, of course, but he knows now."

"Miss Kinley, there is a time and a place for this kind of talk," the nurse said. I'd honestly forgotten she was there. "If you and your friend really want to talk about recent events, then you can do so somewhere else. Anywhere else, really. Patton was a sweet soul."

I always heard people say stuff like that about Patton. He made a place better. He was so smart. He was the sweetest young man. He was the sort of kid you wanted your kid to be like.

I already knew what people said about me. It used to be the same word every time from different mouths, getting progressively worse every time.

"Who?"

James was meaner about it. "Dude, you're the lamest teenage boy in the world. And I've met some pretty lame ones."

"I'll escort Vincent out of the school once he's ready to leave," Sally said, snapping me back to reality. "Why did you come here, exactly?"

All eyes were on me. "Just . . . wanted to talk about the events that happened with someone who knew Patton in school. Sally's was the only name he mentioned."

"Of course. Do whatever you need to cope with this horrible situation," Dr Jacobs said. "Lots of students have been to counselling over this event. Patton had a wide and strong impact over everyone."

"He's not dead, you know!" I yelled. Everyone stared at me. "He's in a medically induced coma, but he's not dead! He could live!"

"Vincent's right. We shouldn't treat Patton like he's already died," Sally agreed. "Come on. This isn't exactly a nice place to be."

She took my wrist like I was a little kid and dragged me out of the school, people whispering off to the sides as they stared at us. She kept dragging me until we got to a convenience store. "Thanks for getting me out of here," I said, once we were out of sight.

Sally looked at me with a hardened expression on her face. "Why did you really come here?"

"What?"

"Why did you really come here?" she repeated. "I know that you didn't really come here for Patton, no matter what you told Dr Jacobs. Spoiler alert: you look away when you lie. Why are you really here?"

"I wanted to look for you. You know all these people and you've definitely met this Ernest guy already. Also . . . also . . ." My words failed me.

"Spit it out!" Sally grabbed my neck and squeezed for a cruel, hard second. This must be what Patton felt when the poison began to take effect.

"I don't think Ernest did it!" I blurted out. Sally let go of me in surprise. "It's stupid, but it got cleared up so easily! I keep thinking about it!"

Sally stood still. She was giving me a weird look. Then she smiled.

"You know something, Vincent?" she asked, smiling at me. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

:-)

A few minutes later, we had exchanged Instagram details and phone numbers, and I was walking to the bus stop to get home. Something was off about what happened to Patton. Ernest seemed like a prick, but he wasn't a murderer. Maybe he was just an idiot who hated Patton and wasn't very personable. But that just left so many questions.

If Ernest didn't do it, who did? Why would they frame Ernest? And why would they hurt Patton?

If you want to read the other chapters, see Masterlist.

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #the poisoned prodigy #murder mystery

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asukaskerian · 1 year ago

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🌧️☔

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

... IS there. uh. hm. hmmmmmmm.

you know what, the only bunnies i'm having at the moment that i'm not writing OR gonna write are all SVSSS dramatic reveals, because the canon is PRIMED for diverging-from-canon with all the near misses and the misunderstandings, but i always end up, like, having them kissing in about five minutes and then the narrative tension goes ffthp. they're all very vague and mostly about kissing and crying and crying while kissing.

i've got this one idea that is a little more detailed but i just don't have the spoons for it, where, as sqq self destructs to save lbh, lbh desperately grabs on bodily and mentally. then he ends up in a weird room having a qi deviation and being rescued by... some guy he doesn't know. ensues tense cat and mouse "haha no i'm nobody you know and have no idea why we're stuck here together either" interaction (is this shizun?? it has to be shizun because i was holding onto him but he acts nothing like shizun. is it an amnesiac shizun? previous incarnation?? or is it like a dream demon who stole lbh for nefarious purposes???) and i have NO IDEA how it would end. it's mostly identity porn and emergency dual cultivation and confused cuddles.

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

bloodsport!

"Ichi-nii--"

'Fuck off, Karin,' he swallowed back somehow, strangling fear spiking up past the heat of his rage. She was too close, five steps behind, well in his range, and he couldn't, couldn't, fuck.

"Who was that guy?"

"Aheh, some guy we met on a mission one time! He shot me through several relatively vital organs, very unpleasant. All past now that we're at peace, of course."

Askin was there too, warier, the solid flesh of him and his dense psychic field echoing just behind Karin's more vaporous presence. Ichigo closed his eyes tight, stopped behind an aileron where the ground crew would be less likely to see him, and didn't look at her, didn't look at Askin holding his little sister back.

"Le Varr, come on, he's not gonna--"

"Of course, of course, but give it five minutes, kiddo, yeah?"

"... Ugh. Okay." A moment of silence, bar the farther-off noises of the crew unloading the luggage, as they positioned themselves at the end of the aileron, like sentries, or like warnings for other people Ichigo liked less to keep away. "So... If it's all past, why did he get in your face?"

"Iiii would suspect it's because he might be an asshole," Askin said drolly, mouth pursed. "Just a hunch."

Ichigo let out a sharp little huff, and resented the man for making him laugh now, when he was still a hair's breadth away from growing all his monster parts.

"Don't tell your dad I said that."

"I'm sixteen and I already know that word and mom's the one who's paying you anyway. So he's like, an asshole above and beyond general war bullshit, then?"

Ichigo breathed, again, and again. Tried not to -- he hadn't been. Grimmjow hadn't been, above-and-beyond, was the thing, had he? Or -- not much. Ichigo hadn't expected an enemy combatant to break him out before he could go through seventy trillions rounds of fucking medical torture or --

Breathe. Breathe. He was punching claw holes into the spaceship. His claws weren't going to make it through the first layer of plating but it was the principle of the thing. They needed that spaceship, for going home, if they ever got to go back home one day, if Ichigo ever got to go -- fuck, shit, fuck, why couldn't he calm down, he'd been fine all through the whole dethroning Ywhach thing, why now?

It couldn't be just because of some guy he'd committed the mistake of fucking once. Maybe -- the air in the hangar smelling off, a bothersome magnetic field, whatever. He kept getting so fucking angry --

"Do I have to send the sister away?" Askin mused, voice casual and energy field rippling with readying mind-claws. "Maybe both of them? I'm sure the little contingent of Arrancar bodyguards can--"

"Over my dead body."

"Can play cat and mouse until your inner lizard needs a nap, of course, what did you think I was about to say?"

Ichigo cracked open an eye to glare, knowing that whatever he'd been about to say, it had not been that. He flinched, then, looking at Karin to make sure she hadn't seen -- and Karin was staring back, forcefully casual with her little usual, judgy frown.

"Yeah, yeah, the tryhard black sclera contacts, I'm very scared. You grew like four inches of orange roots there, Ichi-nii, I'm all for the death metal look with the mane and all but the bicolored part looks kinda stupid. Do I gotta get Yuzu's scissors?"

Ichigo couldn't help his grimace, more of a pout than anything, as years of fending off bratty younger sisters finally made it through the wave of bite-bite-tear-bite. "I'm good," he said, and unshouldered his backpack, swinging it around to land at his feet. He hadn't grown any back or shoulder quills through it, very good. The training had held at least that much, then. He hated the back quills, they looked so stupid and never did more than tear up his clothes. Oh, and bristle like a deranged mangy cat whenever he had an Emotion.

"--Oh no, Yuzu's gonna cry, you know she hates it when you use the cheap stuff, come on, Ichi-nii!"

With a defiant look, Ichigo fished out the can of black dye spray and started liberally smothering his hair in the stuff.

It helped, this ridiculous little thing. Dyeing his hair black had just been about passing for Ishida from afar at first but through the weeks of travel he had gotten used to it, gotten used to not recognizing himself in the mirror at first glance.

It helped, growing his hair down to his knees for his sisters to play with, then shaving it all to the skull to get the knots out, or whenever it was too hot to sleep. It helped, hacking off any bits that fell wrong, just because it was his body and he didn't have to care about having to look stupid for a month. It helped, letting Mom braid it heavy and tight, holding him back, the tufted end beating against his thighs. Making use of this unwanted ability to change his body at a whim for something silly and safe.

It helped, looking like a stranger, because at least then it became alright to feel like one.

#writing meme #teaser

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 2 years ago

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ooo ooo do you have any fics with groaning/moaning/complaining about being full? Bucky or Steve or Stucky or anyone else even non-Marvel? I LOVE your blog and how you always make your boys so loud and noisy 🤭

Thanks ❤️

I, unfortunately, can't think of any fics specifically like that. As you said, usually I make my boys pretty loud because... what can I say 🫣 I just like them that way 🥵🥴 so a lot of my fics have that as, like, a side thing but...

I can write you something like that 😏

Stucky belly kink, unbeta'd, under the cut. Warnings for belly kink, kink discovery, bloating, belly sounds (gurgles, burps, y'know), dirty talk, etc.

Steve and Bucky are chilling at home in their 21st-century apartment, somehow back where they started after seventy-odd years, and they're celebrating by... well, by doing nothing. After all they've been through, they don't need to do anything. So, they're just lazing on the couch, watching pop culture shit they missed. This afternoon the only reason they're getting up is to go to the bathroom, or, more interestingly, mill around the kitchen. Refilling their snacks.

Steve has to use the bathroom this time, which means it's his turn to go get something to eat. They're not intentionally stuffing themselves or anything (not yet 😏), they're just grazing. Mouth-to-hand while catching up to the current day, y'know? Besides, neither of them had lunch today. They're just snacking enough to keep themselves from feeling hungry. So, when Steve comes back from the kitchen with more drinks and some sweet candy instead of savory chips or whatever, he's not expecting to be told no.

"What do you mean we can't have these?" Steve hugs the 2-liter of coke to his chest like a little kid, pouting because he's an asshole when he's not posing as propaganda. As he squishes the bottle to his rock-hard chest, his fist tightens around the roll of mentos he grabbed with it. "Are you saving them for something?"

"What? No," Bucky furrows his brows, "you just can't have coke and mentos."

"Well, why not?" Steve relents, setting the coke down on the coffee table and keeping the mentos in hand as he sits. Apparently, he's really invested in having both, at the same time... or he's just investing in being an annoyance. Wouldn't be the first time in Bucky's stupidly long life.

"Clint told me your stomach will explode," Bucky huffs, no longer paying any attention to the film on screen, "those candies-" he points to the mentos in Steve's hand "-make the soda extra fizzy and it's, like, some chemical reaction. You can't."

Steve makes a face.

Bucky knows what he's thinking; Clint? Really? It's not that he's unreliable or unbelievable but... he's also not the first person Steve would trust.

"When did this come up?"

"Nat was trying to convince me to try pop rocks when I was at SHIELD last week, saying that they weren't actual bombs but they did explode in your mouth. She likes them for some fucking reason. Then, Clint walked in and said he hoped she wasn't going to make me drink soda afterward. Apparently pop rocks and soda or mentos and soda, especially coke, both make you explode."

"I don't believe that for a second," Steve smirks, leaning forward to grab the 2-liter again, unscrewing the cap and taking a few gulps straight from the bottle. When he starts unwrapping the little tube of candies, Bucky makes a squawking sound and smacks his hand.

"No!"

"Buck," Steve turns his big, blue eyes on him. Somehow making them even bigger. Even bluer. A fucking kicked puppy. "C'mon, I'll be fine." He's whining, because, well, he's Steve. "Future candy is weird, yeah, but... it's not gonna make me explode. If they did, they wouldn't sell 'em! And I've got the serum! Whatever chemical reaction happens I bet my iron stomach can handle it," Steve pats his flat, defined stomach.

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, fine, he won't stop this bad idea. If Steve wants to explode, let him.

"I've had these before too," Steve finishes opening the package and pops a few into his palm, holding them out for Bucky to see.

They do look pretty harmless. But...

Bucky has also seen less than a few small, round candies and a few swallows of soda do massive damage. He looks at them with distrustful.

As he crunches them between his teeth, Steve says, "'ey taste good 'oo!"

Bucky wrinkles his nose. And-

Tries not to visibly react when the second after Steve finishes chewing, he opens the bottle of coke again. Drinking.

Ugh.

"Stupid-" Bucky mumbles under his breath without heat.

Steve just laughs.

...

Steve knocks back some more coke, somewhere, somebody told him that when you drink soda because it's not really hydrating your body, not like water does, so your brain keeps you drinking, wanting hydration. Soda makes you more thirsty than you'd be otherwise. Steve feels that now. Mouth wanting more. These days coke doesn't taste the same as it used to, but it's still good.

As Steve is swallowing his last sip, his belly gurgles. Carbonation shifting around in his stomach. Steve can feel it. It doesn't matter what it feels like though. It's mostly what it sounds like.

It's fucking loud.

In fact, his belly gurgles loud enough that it's louder than the movie they have going.

Sheesh.

Bucky turns to look at him, and he can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face. He can feel how Bucky's eyes immediately drop to his stomach, where the sound had come from. And where another gurgle, just as loud, comes from. Actually. The second might be even louder than the first.

But, before Bucky can say anything (probably I told you so, followed by more mother-henning, worrying about him actually exploding) Steve burps.

He doesn't mean to but, oh, jeez, whatever his stomach did to make that sound brought up the gas from the carbonation to the top of his gut and the pressure demands to be let out. Steve can't even try to swallow back the next burp building up in him. It just comes out. It's loud and surprisingly long.

Bucky is still looking at him.

Steve looks back, sheepish. Not because he's suddenly convinced he's gonna explode, but because, well, his Ma embedded manners somewhere deep in him. And they're still there.

Bucky's mouth is hanging open.

Steve shrugs, "soda fills you up with bubbles, y'know? I don't feel anything." He smiles. But... he's lying. He kinda does feel something... he felt that pressure but it's practically gone, it must've just been those burps! He's fine! So fine that he's going to have another mento. He likes the way they crunch between his teeth.

"St-" Bucky starts, never actually making words though. He just stutters over the start of a few more words.

Steve laughs at Bucky's reaction. But. Fuck. He swallows two of the three mentos he popped whole. Oops. Now, he can feel them in his throat. He coughs a little and gestures to his throat. Now he has to wash them down with coke.

Bucky mumbles something, probably something like, "serves you right."

Steve chuckles a little at the thought.

Finally, he feels the candies slide down his throat, into his belly. Then, as he sets the bottle down, he realizes just how much of it is gone. Woof. Has he really finished 3 quarters of the bottle? By himself? When?

Oh, well.

Thoughtless eating. It's fine. Everyone does it when they're not paying attention.

He's fine.

...

Steve may not be fine.

His gut sounds like a washing machine. It's gurgling and groaning and complaining. Steve is trying to not burp despite the pressure and sloshing happening. Yeah, Steve knows Bucky can hear his stomach, his gut is so loud he'd be able to hear it without his enhanced hearing, but... Steve doesn't want to admit, more than his uncontrollable body functions, that he's beginning to maybe have some problems. So. He's not burping. He's...

He's blowing up.

Steve sneaks a look down from the TV screen, playing a movie he's pretending to pay attention to, to his own body. His stomach. All that noise and...

Yup.

Uh-oh.

His stomach is bulging.

Steve's...

Steve's never seen it do that before- his stomach.

His stomach isn't flat anymore. It's rounding out. And. It feels tight. Steve feels tight. All that soda and snacks, it's pulling his abs taut. He wouldn't be surprised if when he pulled his t-shirt up (which is suddenly clinging to him ever more like a second skin than normal 🥴) his abs wouldn't be as defined as they normally are. He feels all stretched out.

Oh.

Steve... Steve is feeling it.

He doesn't... it doesn't hurt. It kinda,, it kinda feels good? Like. Like when he manages to work out hard enough to get his muscles to ache from use.

It's tight and Steve knows if this keeps going it's going to hurt but, for now, it's... heavy. Present. Steve feels... Steve feels his body.

Bucky clears his throat.

Steve realizes he's been spacing out, staring at his own stomach. His-

His growing stomach?

Yeah. His growing stomach. Because. His stomach is growing.

Bucky clears his throat again, "you believe Clint now?" He doesn't sound thrilled about being right. For once.

Steve shakes his head after a second of hesitation. He's finding it hard to pay attention to anything but the bubbles in his stomach. He can feel his stomach pulling tighter.

"What? You're not gonna admit defeat yet?"

"No." Steve taps his gut with his right hand, then tries to hide his gasp behind his left. He's so tight. It's like thumping a watermelon. "I'm fine."

"You're so fine." Bucky deadpans.

"I am."

"Fine. Suit yourself." Bucky says.

Silence spreads between them. Well. Silence other than the movie and then, of course, other than his gurgling, sloshing gut. It sounds angry.

...

Steve sits until he can't take it. He sits with one hand on his gut, feeling every added inch of swell in excruciating detail. Inching forward. Becoming rounder. Steve slowly realizes he's sweating. He's panting a little. He feels huge.

And he looks huge, staring down at his belly.

How much bigger can I possibly get? How far will the serum let me stretch?

A shiver goes down Steve's spine, but, he doesn't know if he's feeling pricks of fear or... arousal? His cheeks heat just thinking that- that this can possibly feel good. He feels like a shaken can of soda... just waiting to pop.

It's maybe another two seconds before he's opening his mouth and admitting, "Buck, Buck," he shifts under his swollen tummy, "I- wait... I'm getting so big," his voice is an embarrassing whimper.

Bucky is looking at the TV still.

"Okay," Steve whines even more, "maybe you were right. Maybe- maybe I am gonna explode." He can't help but rub his belly with both hands now, trying to soothe it but also... trying to feel it. Tighter and tighter. Hotter and hotter. Bigger and bigger. "You," Steve swallows, "can you look it up? On your phone? It's... it's like I can feel myself swelling up. Oh, God."

Bucky is now looking at him, pleased with finally hearing him call 'uncle'. But also, Bucky is looking at him. And Steve suddenly becomes aware that his tight shirt has rolled up to expose the bottom half of his gut. Pale, freckled skin pulled taut. His poor abs! Stretched. Trying their hardest to hold him together, holding the mass of soda and candy and snack food back.

"Oh, God," he whines, rubbing frantic circles on his gut, pulling his shirt up higher incidentally, "I'm so big."

Bucky frowns, then he bites his lip. Silently, quickly, reaching for his phone and typing as fast as he can.

A few moments pass between them.

Bucky murmurs out loud to himself as he reads. Steve makes uncontrollable noises. His gut gurgling as well as his mouth letting go of little moans and groans.

He still is swelling.

Bucky blows out a relieved breath, "fucking Clint," he says under his breath. Then, louder, "it's a myth. You're not gonna explode-" Bucky eyes his stomach heavily "-probably."

Steve whines. Petulantly adding, "probably not but... it doesn't feel-" that good. Was how he was going to finish that sentence. Except. It kinda does. Under the heft of his gut, his dick is swelling too. Something about the fullness. The pressure. It's. It's not the same as being full of Bucky's cock when he's being fuck but it is fullness and it is weirdly erotic.

"It's your own damn fault," Bucky teases. Now that it's apparent he's not in danger, Bucky is perfectly fine to take the piss out of him.

"Ngh," Steve puffs out a noise that he doesn't have control over. The bubbles are driving him insane. Fuzzy and fizzy inside him. Ticklish,, kinda.

It's a weird feeling. Weird good though.

Steve shifts this way, then that way, trying to get comfortable under the dome that his abs have suddenly turned into. It doesn't work. Moving only makes more bubbles appear. Bloating him more, making it harder to sit upright.

His gut doesn't have enough room!

"I," Steve can't swallow back a small moan. A moan! Because, somehow, despite all the gas building up in him, he can't burp. "I think I might have to go lay down. I- I'm so bloated I can't breathe."

It's true.

Steve isn't even being dramatic!

It's like there's no room for his lungs. His gut is taking up all the space in his body. He feels a bit like there's a watermelon attached to his front- his gut is just as hard as the outside of a melon would be. But. It's just the inside that's different. Sloshy liquid. Not soft fruit.

He wants to go lay down, go give himself room to grow (why does that thought make him shudder?), yet... the idea of trying to get to his feet by rocking, heaving, himself up. Oh, fuck. He doesn't think he can do that. Like, God - embarrassment stains his cheeks - like how a pregnant woman can't get up once she's sat down.

Swallowing another stupid noise, Steve finally bites the bullet and asks, "help me up, Buck? Please?"

Bucky jerks his eyes up from his belly to his face. He's also blushing. Huh. Interesting. "Yeah," he licks his lips, "yeah, sure."

He gets up. Even the shift of the sofa changing with Bucky's weight leaving makes Steve groan. He's so full. His belly is so sensitive.

"You, uh, ready?" Bucky asks, looking down at him, hands held out, watching with heavily lidded eyes.

Steve is just rubbing his exorbitantly swollen gut. Nothing, too exciting, unless...

Maybe.

Maybe Steve isn't totally weird for being into this 👀

Any teasing thoughts about testing the water instantly leave his mind as he stands up though. Bucky grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet. Taking one arm and draping it over his shoulders like Steve is battle injured and not just enormously bloated.

Gravity... gravity is a thing.

Steve can't not moan loudly, obscenely at the change.

He quickly grabs his gut, hand slapping down onto the side unexpectedly. He's dizzy. He... he feels weird. All sensitive. He moans again.

"Dramatic," Bucky tells him, trying to be teasing but sounding... God. He sounds turned on. Voice rough.

Steve wants to tell him that it's not being dramatic when his whole center of gravity has shifted. His stomach is swollen. Bulging. Still swelling. Growing. And pulling him forward. Wanting him to crawl on all fours if he needs to go anywhere.

Oh.

Steve's knees feel weak at the idea of crawling like this. His gut pulling heavily on his spine, making it arch. His gut, full of liquid, swaying back and forth as he ponderously moves. All that swaying and jiggling and moving would make more bubbles. Steve would grow more.

More.

"I'mm so round," comes out of his mouth without him even meaning to say it. All breathy and weak, the wind taken out of his sails by how hard he is. So turned on.

It feels good to be so round. So full. It really does. Steve is reveling in it. Right now. Walking so slowly. Bucky warm against his side. Taking care of him, one of his arms around Steve's waist... so close to his gut. So close to touching.

Then-!

Yes!

Bucky pokes the side of his gut, voice matching his. They both have to be into this. It's not just Steve anymore. "And so tight. Your gut is all shiny, pal."

Steve wants to whine and tell him to shut up, cheeks flaming. But all that comes out is a burp. Long and low. His sore belly deflates probably half an inch. From being prodded.

Bucky chuckles, "well, maybe not so tight now."

Steve hisses out a few more baby burps. Gasping as it happens. His knees really are weak now. Its lucky that they've made it to the bedroom.

As Bucky is helping him onto their bed, his voice gets reeeal low and dark, mismatched hands coming up to pet his stomach, "I bet you could fit more soda now, huh?"

Steve shakes his head. But, he also, he moves from lying completely flat to putting his weight in his elbows, sitting up... looking up at Bucky, he bites his lip. "There- oh, boy," he pants, feeling all that added weight, "there was some soda left in the bottle?"

Bucky doesn't say anything. He turns tail and practically runs to go get it.

When he returns, he's got a dirty look on his face. He has the bottle in hand and he snatched the last few mentos from the roll.

"Buck-"

"You said you'd be fine. You can't pop. The serum." He flushes a dark red. Softly adding, "I wanna see how big you can get, sweetheart. I... I don't know what this is doing for me. It's just- doing something."

Steve nods, still precariously balanced on his elbows. He opens his mouth.

Bucky settles on the other side of him on the bed, resting a gentle hand on his tummy and using the other to feed him two mentos.

Steve swallows them whole. That seemed to speed things up last time.

"Jesus Christ, baby."

Steve whines.

Bucky brings the bottle to his lips.

Steve swallows until tears sting his eyes. He can't breath. He can feel the mentos like little volcanos in his gut. Fizzing. Adding pressure. So so much pressure. He. is. so. full.

Overfull. He's not even just full anymore.

Bucky stops funneling him soda, he pets his gut "you alright?"

Steve doesn't know the answer to that, he can't even see straight. He might be crying, he's so full. But. There's only a tiny bit left in the bottle. There's one single mento left. He... he wants to finish. He needs to finish. Just that little bit left. His shirt has rolled up to the bottom of his pecs. The waistband of his gym shorts has been pushed under the balloon of his gut. He's already so large. His body already pushed to the limits. He just...

Just wants a little more.

"The-" he can barely talk. He's so full. "-The last little, God, oh, God, bit. Please?"

Bucky swears. Eying him carefully.

Steve whimpers, afraid he'll say no. All he wants is that last mento and a few more swallows of coke.

But, he doesn't say no.

He gives it to him.

Tipping the bottle back and letting it pour into his hungry, gaping mouth.

Yes.

By the end of it Steve really really feels completely, entirely full. Impossibly bloated. So tight. So much pressure. So fucking hard. He can't breathe. He can't move. He is fucking round. Massive. All he can do is moan, "Jesus, 'm so full it hurts. Unnngh."

Bucky is trembling next to him with repressed, horny energy. Now empty-handed. No more mentos. No more coke. "What-" he huffs, "what can I do? I," he growls, "you're so big. I wanna. Christ. I want you like this so much." His metal hand is at the front of his sweatpants, squeezing himself. He's so hard.

Steve's mouth waters.

Fuck.

Steve shudders as much as he possibly can with a gut the size of an over-inflatdf beach ball attached to me. He whines. Overwhelmed. Overfull. He wants Bucky too. He wants-

"You can't fuck me like this," he pants desperately, "I'd actually pop. God. I want it but I fuckin' can't. If you were inside me. I'd burst! I... I don't care what other than th-that. Just get me off, Buck! I wanna come. I feel so big and full and hard. Please! It hurts and it feels good and I need you. I need to come. Cause. Ohh, I'm so full."

Bucky growls and lunges for him.

His hands press everywhere. Not too hard. But not as gentle as he would be if he weren't drunk on arousal.

He's pressing and squeezing and Steve can't stop saying "oh, oh, oh," with the way his hands are making pleasure shoot through him. He's so sensitive. All over. He also can't help but let out little hisses and burps and groans. He's too full. He feels too good. Bucky is climbing all over him. Worshipping his swollen gut and then taking half of a second to touch Steve's desperately hard cock.

It is no time at all before Steve is coming in his gym shorts with a high pitched scream.

He fucking swears he blacks out for a moment, his muscles tensing for an orgasm but being too heavy and stretched out to do anything. It's like he can't hold himself together.

Fuck.

He definitely blacks out.

But, at some point, Bucky rips down the waistband of his sweats and gets himself in his hand. Fisting his leaking cock for one, two, three- three and a half strokes before he's coming all over Steve's full, shiny gut.

The heat and claim of Bucky's come on his balloon of a belly makes Steve's still-hard cock twitch against the underside of his gut. Oh, fuck, yes, he is going to need to go again.

In conclusion:

I hope you enjoyed 😳

End note: yeah, I know mentos would've been around before WW2, so Steve and Bucky could have had them and coke-a-cola has been around Way longer than mentos BUT... since mentos were only recently released (1932) when stucky went to war... I have plausible deniability that they would not have actually had them (or been able to afford them, since, y’know, The Depression)

#ask #belly kink #text #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #chubby steve #bloating #belly sounds #mylevisdontfitanymore

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ollieofthebeholder · 2 years ago

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Also on AO3 || Next >

Chapter 1: October 2015

It was, quite frankly, probably the worst day Martin had had since getting moved to the Archives, which was saying something. His alarm hadn't gone off for some reason, so he'd had to rush out the door without eating in order to make his train on time; there'd been trouble on the Northern line that had caused him to miss his connection and have to wait for the next one, meaning he'd only just made it to work before he would be considered late; Tim had accidentally knocked over his tea and it had barely missed the stack of files Martin was trying to research (he just knew that would have been his fault somehow); he'd been hung up on three times trying to verify statements; and when he'd tried to call his mother to wish her a happy birthday, the nurse on duty had been the bossy one who'd never liked him anyway and had told him, condescendingly and specifically and with a spiteful emphasis on the last word, that Miss Liliana doesn't want any calls from you. He was stressed, he was tired, he was strung out. He was on his fifth cup of tea and hadn't brought one to Jon all day, he'd forgotten to pack a lunch and didn't have the money to buy until payday, and at this point he was just counting the hours until he could leave, something he hadn't done in months—not that being home would be any better, just that he could at least bury his face in his pillow and scream his frustration out.

He was the last one back from his lunch break, clutching his cup in both hands. Tim and Sasha were hard at work, Tim frowning and Sasha intent, but she was the one to look up and wave at his desk when she saw him. “We got a statement that mentions a Leitner. Jon wants you to check it against whatever catalogs you can come up with so we can figure out how his edition is different than the original. Says it's top priority.“

Martin made a noise of what he hoped came across as acknowledgment and agreement and sat down at his desk, opening the laptop and reaching for the sticky note with Jon's familiar loopy handwriting on it. He glanced at it, and his day went from lousy to full-on shit when he saw the words Ex Altiora.

“Oh, bloody hell,“ he muttered under his breath.

Tim looked up briefly from his computer. “You know the book?“

“Never read it, but I've heard of it.“ Martin began calling up all the catalogs he could think of, but he knew it was going to be hopeless. They'd never known much about Ex Altiora, but they'd all known it was never mass-produced; there had only ever been one copy, and that much sought-after. The old bag had been furious when…

He terminated that thought quickly. His last encounter with…her…hadn't been pleasant and wasn't one he wanted to relive. Not today. Not at work, anyway.

“How many Leitners are there, anyway?“ Tim asked, sitting back and stretching. “I mean, how many books did he have in that library of his?“

“Nine hundred seventy-eight,“ Martin said automatically. “According to rumor, anyway. Not like he ever let people have access to his collection.“

Tim let out a long, low whistle. Sasha cocked her head at him. “How do you know that?“

“I did my master's thesis on Leitners.“ It was a lie. An old lie, one Martin had trotted out rather a lot in the last eleven years. It had always served him well, but just then, he wished he hadn't said it. Tim knew he didn't have a degree, and he was sure to press Martin about it later.

Fleetingly, Martin gave a thought to cluing Tim in on what was really going on. What was out there. At some point he would need to tell them anyway; they were going to get too close, sooner rather than later, and it was better that they be prepared. Elias hadn't seen fit to tell them, apparently, if Jon's skeptic act was anything to go by (he had to be faking it, nobody could work for the Magnus Institute and disbelieve that hard), but surely he wouldn't have assigned Martin down here if he didn't want them to know. That Elias might not know had never once crossed his mind. It was definitely possible to work for the Magnus Institute without some idea of what it was about, witness the other three people in the Archives, but no way would he be able to head it up if he didn't.

At the moment, however, he put his head down and kept working.

“Martin.“ Jon's voice jerked Martin out of his work haze. He looked up to find Jon scowling at him…or at least in his direction. For once, Martin didn't actually think it was directed at him. Yet. “Have you been able to find anything on Ex Altiora in the catalogs?“

“No, sorry. I don't—it was a pretty rare book,“ Martin hedged. “I mean, there was only one copy.“

Jon's scowl deepened. Now it was for Martin. “Just because it hasn't turned up on any lists so far doesn't mean it isn't on any of them. You're going to have to try harder than that. We can't just give up because it isn't easy.“

Normally, Martin would have apologized, stammered out an excuse, something, but he was tired and overwhelmed and stressed all to hell and gone, and it all combined to make him snap back at Jon in a way he normally only did with people he trusted implicitly not to punish him for it, or didn’t care what they thought of him. “I'm not giving up. It's not just that it won't be on any of those catalogs because it was unique, it's because it wasn't any kind of history or instruction book. It was just a story, somewhere between an epic poem and a fairy tale, about a monster threatening a village that turns out to be bigger than they think every time they start preparing until they throw themselves off a cliff to escape it. The people who understood what it was and what it meant had a vested interest in other people not knowing, so naturally they'd be keen to keep it off of any publicly-available lists, and since there was only ever one copy of the original because nobody ever survived owning it long enough to duplicate it, there aren't going to be other editions out there. Jurgen Leitner's library wasn't all special editions of books expurgated for the general public, you know.“

He stopped, partly because he was out of breath and partly because his brain had just caught up with his tongue and was trying to throttle it. Jon looked rather like Martin had slapped him, and behind him, Sasha and Tim were both gaping at him like he'd just stripped naked and sung a lounge song. His cheeks burned, probably a bright red, but he pressed his lips together tightly to keep himself from apologizing. He hadn't actually said anything he needed to be sorry for.

Finally, Tim reached up and manually shut his jaw, then spoke up in a voice that was almost his usual jovial tones, which told Martin that was as much an act as his own usual soft-spoken awkwardness. “Martin's thesis was on Leitner's library, remember, boss? I think he knows what he's talking about.“

“I—yes, that's right, I'd forgotten.“ Jon sounded slightly off-balance and…almost subdued. “I—I apologize for doubting you. Undoubtedly you're correct about this.“

Was it Martin's imagination, or did he put slight emphasis on the word this? He decided not to mention it. “It's all right,“ he said, and he wasn't sure if it was true or not.

Slowly, he felt himself calming, at least a little. His computer beeped softly at him, telling him he needed to plug it in, and he twisted around to get at the cord. As he did so, Jon turned to Tim. “Have you had any luck in tracking down Gerard Keay?“

Martin fell off his chair.

#ollie writes fanfic #the magnus archives #tma #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#the project that tumblr enabled #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #jonathan sims #implied emotional abuse #hey look it's been posted for less than two hours and I already had to make an edit #whoops

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atlantablack · 1 year ago

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You know, i've been reading a lot of steve/tony fic the past month and i love them both a lot but i've been seething mad all day just thinking about how so much of this fandom treats him and purposely mistreats his character and Steve Rogers is this skinny kid from Brooklyn who signed up for a war over and over again despite knowing it would kill him because he didn't like knowing that other men were out there dying and when Erskine asked if he wanted to kill Nazis he said no and he spent years fighting in alleyways and causing trouble and getting beat up and probably would have ended up dead if Bucky hadn't been there to pull him out of shit because he doesn't like bullies and he refuses to back down and "Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man." and grenade get back get back and azzano and i have to put her in the water and "Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free. This isn't freedom, this is fear." and "the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not." and "we're not at war, captain" "they are" and he gets up and he gets up and he gets up over and over and over and he's seventy years out of time and everything keeps changing and every time he gets comfortable something destroys that comfort and he's always losing people, losing friends, losing soldiers, and there's never a clean break with Peggy because he misses their dance and then has to lose her in a separate more permanent way as well, and he loses bucky and finds him and loses him over and over and wants to trust people and keeps getting betrayed and he's trying to be a good man but it gets so complicated but he's still trying even when it would be so much easier to just not try at all and he hurts people because he's human and unfortunately being a superhuman with superhero friends means the capacity for hurt is wider and deeper than anything you or i could dream of but he keeps going and keeps fighting and loses the biggest fight of his life and lives with that every day for years when there are reminders of the biggest failure ever around every corner and then he just keeps going. He's twenty seven when he's unfrozen in 2014, younger than i am now, and the reasonable thing for him to do would have been to get out. leave the fighting and the aliens and the bullshit to someone else. But he's a good man and to him, sometimes, that means being a good soldier and sometimes good men hurt people but that doesn't mean they aren't still good men, it only means they're human and i think people could stand to sit the fuck down and think about what it would feel like to wake up in a year where every single person you knew is dead or close enough to it that they might as well be. there's no option to go make up with a family member he doesn't like, there's no old friends to become new again, everyone he knew is dead and he is still reeling from the fresh grief of losing bucky and somehow, instead of having a perfectly understandable breakdown, he picks himself up and keeps going.

and while i'm here, Tony Stark wouldn't thank anyone bashing on Steve in his defense. You destroy his character in your defense of him and he wouldn't even thank you for it.

#steve rogers #should i post this?#i meannnnnn #no probably not #but still mad about it #he just doesn't deserve even half of the hate he gets #and for what? because he wouldn't fucking sign the accords #he wouldn't fucking hand his best friend over to the fucking government #has is not been established by that point in the universe that we can't trust the fucking government???#the same government that was like yes we shall simply bomb NYC :D that's a totally reasonable solution to an alien invasion #like lowkey not sure i trust anyone who thinks people should go blindly signing government agreements like a good little citizen #anyways i'll die on a hill protecting steve rogers #which is hilarious because i think i'm most like tony and i get him i do but i get why he was behind the accords and why Nat was #and they had points but they went about it wrong #and if you think Steve “let me run off to azzano to save Bucky” Rogers was going to do ANYTHING #except exactly what he did #then you have literally no understanding of this man #mcu

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dreamersinthedaylightinspo · 2 years ago

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A Spring Wedding

They had been having this argument for approximately thirty-six hours now - only, arguing with Nomi was pointless, because she always insisted that she never argued outside of work hours. It was a debate, she said. A spirited but loving debate.

Tamlin was prepared to tear his own hair out - with the claws.

"I'm just saying," said Hart, stabbing listlessly into a bit of toast, "do you have to be debating at breakfast?"

The Day Court apparently did not believe in table manners or polite small talk. Nomi had caused a stir with more than one gathering of the small council by simply refusing to state her opinions in a way that made them feel like opinions. So, Tamlin was not the least bit surprised when Nomi turned to Hart and matter-of-factly replied:

"We can and should. This is too important to go unanswered another day."

At least the members of Tamlin's own household were used to this by now. Bronn merely rolled his eyes and muttered about more bacon before he meandered off to the kitchens, leaving Donatella and Fiacha to stare somewhat pitifully at his empty seat. Rosheen merely smiled and sipped at a spun glass full to the brim with juice.

"We have decades to resolve this," said Tamlin, for what felt like the millionth time. "Decades."

"Hardly! I'm nearly two hundred years old now, and we're not getting any younger."

Tamlin glared at Hart, who immediately concealed his smile.

"Are you suggesting that I'm getting old?"

"I'm suggesting that only one of us requires a legal heir to their throne," Nomi replied.

Unhelpful, Fiacha chose this moment to thoughtfully reply: "Well, Lord Tamlin is still very active! That's always a good sign, isn't it?"

"A very good sign," Rosheen murmured. "But don't take my word for it."

"Thank you, Fiacha," said Tamlin, while Hart snickered. "I'm not worried about heirs."

They'd discussed having children at length, multiple times. This was so far beyond the point - and besides, Tamlin simply refused to make any further allusions to his sex life at breakfast.

"You're legally bound to the other six Courts," Tamlin reminded Nomi. "I won't have you jeopardizing your entire life's work for the sake of some hypothetical scenario."

"Its very much not hypothetical," Nomi continued, gesturing with her fork as she spoke. "And I do have an apprentice."

Tamlin snorted.

"An apprentice who is quite adequate!"

"Do you really want the next Keeper of Laws and Scales to be just adequate?" Tamlin shook his head. "Enough, already."

"Speaking of hypothetical -" Tamlin groaned as Nomi pressed onwards. " - what in the nine worlds makes you think I'd need to give up my position in order to get married? My duties are -"

"You can't afford to take that risk just to -"

Donatella raised her hand as if they were in a classroom. "Forgive me, but I'm confused."

Everyone looked at her.

"Don't be confused," said Hart. "Its fine if you missed the start, they'll circle back round to it in a few minutes."

Tamlin opened his mouth to admonish him but Donatella looked anxiously at Nomi.

"No, no I understand the point but - I thought - aren't you two already married?"

Rosheen smiled widely as Fiacha's jaw dropped.

Tamlin shook his head. "We've discussed it numerous times, as I've said but -"

"But - but you're handfasted! Haven't you?"

The realization hit Tamlin like a clap of thunder. He sat back in his chair.

"What," said Nomi, tilting her head, "is handfasting?"

"Its - well -" Donatella seemed somewhat distressed by the reaction she'd caused, and gestured vaguely with her hands. "Its - you know? It's a type of marriage -"

"An old Spring Court custom," said Rosheen, helpfully now. "Essentially, it refers to a private commitment between two individuals that takes place outside a temple - you might know it as a common marriage or some other name."

"Yes!" Donatella seized this, and explained, "You've been publicly committed for the last seventy five years and between all your visits here, you've more than satisfied the ten year cohabitation requirement, and basically all of the other priestesses already recognized it so - so I just assumed -"

"So, you're saying that..." Nomi frowned as she worked it out. "Legally speaking, at least where the Spring Court is concerned, I'm already recognized as Tamlin's wife?"

Dona and Rosheen both nodded.

Nomi visibly relaxed. "Oh. Good. Well, then, I suppose that settles that."

She picked up her silverware and began to eat.

"Oh... well, then, I suppose..." Fiacha considered this, and then smiled. "Thats wonderful news! Congratulations are in order, my lord!"

"Indeed," said Rosheen, and toasted to him with her juice. "May the threads of your life form a glorious tapestry."

Tamlin felt like he was about to faint.

Bronn chose this moment to reappear, a wide plate of bacon steaming in his hands. "Did I miss anything good?"

Hart burst out laughing.

Notes:

Tamlin you big dumb idiot who didn't realize that you'd been married for decades until someone else pointed it out to you -

Handfasting is a traditional custom similar to a trial marriage - a couple might live together for a year, and if at the end of the year, they decide that they like each other, they are then considered married. I'm sort of fudging it to be combined with the concept of a common law marriage, some.version of which exists in many cultures all over the world. Basically I think it would be funny if Tamlin was the last person to realize that he was actually married.

My computer is busted and I haven't had a chance to take it in for repairs! In the meantime - enjoy the snipet of Tamlin's future. (For explanation: Rosheen is the captain of Tamlin's sentries and Donatella is Bron's younger half sister.)

#my ocs #my fic writing #tamlin #acotar #acotar fanfiction #my fanfic #spring court

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snowbatsims · 2 years ago

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VAMPIRE INTERMISSION #4, part 2

It looks like someone is home.

RUNE: Huh. It's decorated? What day is it?

RUNE: Wait.... it's my birthday, isn't it. How old am I now, anyway? Seventy-something? Eighty? RUNE: ...eh, the number doesn't really matter. I'm old enough to have elderly siblings, I know that much.

RUNE: Hello? Anyone home? MORTEN: Hi!!!! Hello! You're home!! RUNE: I am. What's up? RUNE: No really, what's up with all the party stuff- RUNE: Did you set up a birthday party for me this year? MORTEN: Yeah!!! :D RUNE: Alright. MORTEN: Um, just one caveat though... I didn't know how to contact your family about it. I'm so sorry. I did invite a few other people, but- RUNE: It's fine, I'll invite them myself.

RUNE: Frøya! Hello! We're hosting a-- RUNE: Oh. You can't come?

RUNE: Aha. I see. So Odin and Frigg moved in? RUNE: Babies? RUNE: ...... RUNE: Alright. RUNE: I see. Great. RUNE: Fine, I'll see you all some other day then...

RUNE: Soooo when was this starting again? MORT: Oh, it already did! As soon as you got home... I think the guests should be arriving anytime now. RUNE: Oh. MORT: Also, you look like you just got back from a pride party? That's so perfect, hah. RUNE: Well, maybe I did! Someone at work arranged it. RUNE: Since it's autumn, it was hosted indoors, so I could actually attend for once. Got this shirt for free too. MORT: niiice :D

In the meantime, Einarr is preparing drinks.

And Rune spots a familiar face.

RUNE: ERWINNNN!!! DUDE!! I've missed you!! ERWIN: Me too! RUNE: I haven't seen you in what, ten years now? Man, we really need to talk more often. You have a Social Bunny, right? ERWIN: Yeah!! RUNE: Awesome, I'll make sure to add you then. RUNE: Isn't the trip from Strangerville to Brindleton really long?? ERWIN: Oh, it is! I just happened to be in the area this week.. and then I heard from Mort that it was your birthday, so I figured I'd drop in.

RUNE: Oh, come here you-

RUNE: Anyway... alright, just wanna make sure: you're not still mad at me, right? ERWIN: Wha-- oh, that! ERWIN: Yeah, no, Strangerville has been fine for years. It's all good, there are no mother plant zombies in sight, besides the Roswell guy, but we all agree he's the resident weirdo. ERWIN: We're fine. I think. RUNE: Only mostly. ERWIN: Hm? RUNE: Kvikindi got infected. Again. While she was at college. ERWIN: Kvikindi? RUNE: The green alien kid we brought along with us. See, she went back, and now she needs a cure again. ERWIN: Oh... ERWIN: How did that even happen?! RUNE: She said she drank from some guy... ERWIN: OH. ERWIN: THAT'S GOT TO BE, ERWIN: TED ROSWELL.

RUNE: Damn, of course somehow we forgot to cure the weirdest one of them all... ERWIN: Ah, don't worry! ERWIN: I've done a lot of research since then, and I've found that it's not exactly contagious, unless you literally ingest the spores, which can only be found in the blood of the infected these days... We will take care of this, right? RUNE: Yeah, we really need to craft up another set of cures somehow... ERWIN: You're always welcome at my place, my man.

RUNE: Wait, you have a place to call your own now? ERWIN: Well, kind of! Mr. Cahill died recently, and he left the Old Penelope in his will, to me. It's mine now. RUNE: Wait, that was the local plane wreck, wasn't it? ERWIN: Yep! RUNE: Oh, you live in a plane wreck now? ERWIN: Yeah! Isn't it cool! Definitely beats living in a dusty motel room! RUNE: I can imagine. Morten, downstairs: THERE'S FOOD!

MORTEN: Are you sure you want to eat that cake? I mostly made it for the human guests- RUNE: You made this cake for my party, and also I would feel really rude not to. RUNE: Also I'm curious. MORTEN: No seriously, you really don't have to!

RUNE: I still have tastebuds. I want to try something other than blood for once. MORTEN: Your weak stomach though?? RUNE: I can handle it.

He could not, in fact, handle it.

MORTEN: Dude... don't tell me you tried that cake too. EINARR: Apologies, curiosity for your baking got the best of me as well. Sadly, all I'm finding out is that my tastebuds are really not what they used to be. MORTEN: Einarr PLEASE- EINARR: Alright, no. I cannot stay here. Just excuse me for a moment-

MORTEN: ...Einarr? MORTEN: Good lord what have I done.

Rune discovered his pile of gifts!

RUNE: Oh?? Is all this for me? NEAT.

RUNE: No way... An embroidered rainbow! Cute!! RUNE: Einarr, did you make this? Thank you!!

RUNE: Wait, is he here at all? MORTEN: Last I saw him, he had to excuse himself for a bit... BAT: ????!

NICOLE: Hey, where did all your hair go? EINARR: Eh, just had an incident. Figured it would be quicker to simply chop it all off for a bit, instead of awkwardly taking a bath during a party. NICOLE: That seems a bit drastic, man. EINARR: It's really not. NICOLE: You sure?? That braid of yours looked like years of growth. EINARR: Not for me. It will all be back by tomorrow. I am serious - do not worry about it.

EINARR: Wait, did anyone here even want macaroni and cheese? EINARR: Why did i start doing this again? EINARR: Eh, too late to stop now.

ERWIN: Wait... you were that infected alien kid, weren't you? KVIKINDI: Who the hell told you that :)

MARIA-ELISE: Hey, so I've been thinking - since I'm your mother, and am also honestly getting a bit too close to the elder stage, would you mind if I moved in with you guys? MORTEN: Oh?? I'd love that! MORTEN: I do think I would have to check with the others before making any final decision, though. MARIA-ELISE: Great! I'll stay around when the party is over, then. MORTEN: Sounds good.

After the party was over, Einarr decided to pick up every stray plate around the house, which somehow included running outside.

Overall, a pretty successful evening.

Continue ->

#gameplay #vampire intermissions #why do i keep writing these long parts lol #yeah rune has siblings named after norse gods. lol.#at least in the sims. i made them a bit more normal-sounding in comic canon #also yeah i did a little doodle #because none of the screenshots i had conveyed the exact emotion i was trying to capture #i do that from time to time #but yeah this part is neat i like it

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rengokugutspill · 1 month ago

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other merchandise assessment, hearing voices + delusions in mental illness & speaking at expansive length about buying bras lmao

A clarification for my last merchandise post; so I guess the special bromides for the set are only a special foil stamp over a repeat image. Imo this is a missed opportunity to do something cool. & surprisingly, this was a rare scenario where it appeared buying resale could have been cheaper. I'd seen people selling the basic bromides together as a set of just thirty for under seventy dollars. Another clarification is there's a ten pull button set that I didn't understand what they were trying to convey on the listing page, but when I'd seen someone post one they had bought on resale, I realized the pins are holographic ? I'm not sure if that's the correct word. They had advertised as animation pins, which I thought they were just saying it was associated with the anime, but no, they're really neat because they're made to look like they're moving. So some pins are scenes of Rengoku turning around & stuff like that. So I did end up making a couple pulls from those.

I'm currently trying to get the Halloween acrylic stand, the Mugen Train key visual acrylic stand, the flame breathing bromides, two of the special lottery limited location shikishi, & at least one place mat.

I'm annoyed because the acrylic stands aren't price dropping. I don't think either should be worth over twenty five dollars but both are selling for at minimum thirty. I'm especially annoyed because I'd said before people need to stop buying at these prices so the price will drop, but from my perspective, it looks like a vast majority of the Halloween ones are selling...

I'm confused about the flame breathing bromides because typically I think a single bromide sells for between five to seven dollars. I don't want to buy singles because then I'm paying two more dollars on top of that for service fee, so I'd really just rather get a lot. I think the lowest I've seen the flame breathing bromides drop to so far is eight dollars for one. I'd mentioned before people will sell singles for like seven dollars but then turn around & sell three for thirty dollars, which if it was seven per item then the price should only be twenty one dollars ?? & I see this all the time ! It doesn't make any sense to me !! It irks the Hell out of me because wtf are you doing ?? I could understand charging maybe twenty five, but thirty does not make sense to me in this situation. Or they even charge more than that.

I'm trying to get about five of the six & I am thinking my best bet is three for twenty & watching if the price keep dropping. I think everything is on sale for another two & a half weeks or so.

I'm also bothered because I'd seen a listing for two placemats for seventeen dollars, which was a definite steal compared to all the other prices. I'd bought, but since the seller mentioned they were listed at other marketplace, my order ended up being cancelled & I haven't been able to find the other one list for a reasonable price since.

Personally I haven't seen the shikishis list at all. I know there was a delay between some items, a part of me wonders if they just sell immediately so I never see them, but also I only just started seeing the bromide box bromides start to list like yesterday I think. So currently I'm not seeing new listings for the place mats, stickers or the Halloween acrylic stand.. I'm definitely feeling annoyed.

Also weird shipping problems; so first I guess, the Ebay seller I bought the Zak & Hiei dolls from messaged me to tell me the dolls have been shipped together & I was given a tracking number. Though this was Friday & so far the tracking number has yet to go live at all ? I've checked parcelapp, seventeen track, Ebay, & USPS. What's also weird about this one is it's a Chinese tracking number, but when parcelapp crawls it, they're pulling USA ? So I'm not sure if it's one where it doesn't track in China but only tracks when it switches countries ? Another weird thing I noticed is the seller, although saying they ship from China, on the tracking page says they're in Ohio ?? So idk. The reviews say when the item shipped it actually arrived really quick. I suppose I'm just waiting until Friday & I will mention I'm confused about the tracking number if it doesn't update yet.

This morning I received a different looking tracking number from the other seller I bought from for just the cat Rengoku. This one is too early to track, so we'll see. Otherwise these should be good happenings.

Now onto the really irritating one; I'd mentioned in my last post buying a cute blanket I had been wanting. The seller gave me an Ontrac tracking number which proceeded to never update for about a week. Yesterday, before the sun even rose, I got an email from Aliexpress saying there was a delivery update for the blanket. I'd assumed the tracking just finally got a scan but my stomach really drop when it says it was delivered the day before ?? I was home all day & so was my roommate & obviously we never seen anything. Not only that but now the tracking number has switched from the Ontrac one to a DHL one ?? Obviously I immediately go to DHL website to try to figure out where the package was delivered, but to prove my identity & prove that the package belongs to me, they ask me for my zip code, but when applied they tell me it's not the zip code on the package ?? So like, okay, the seller deadass put a completely different address on the package & did a bait & switch on the courier... But why ? So now I can't even contact DHL about the matter since the package was never sent to me in the first place.

I can't understand this because what is the point of this scam ? Because obviously there's no other way to look at it, they deliberately gave me the wrong tracking number & deliberately applied the wrong address to the package. But I had the incident with the other seller who I had bought from multiple times where one package got fucked up at the sorting centre & due to the confusion over the cardinal direction, got marked as returned to sender. That seller told me that Aliexpress does not give packages back to the sellers & allegedly the packages are apparently incinerated. I don't know that I believe that, but it definitely feels like there is nothing to gain from trying to scam someone, why do it ? Especially because they lose credibility as a seller & can get straight up booted from the platform altogether. Why would you even want to risk scamming someone then ? It just does not make any sense to me.

& of course, it's respectful to first communicate with the seller before opening a refund request. I went to message them to explain the situation & keep getting an error saying my messages can't be sent ? So now I can't even communicate with them ? How sketchy is that ?? So I applied all this information to my report.

I'm just feeling especially annoyed because not only did I want the blanket, but part of the reason why I was buying it was to use it as measurements to get an idea of what size I need to replace the one I bought wrong measurements for before. So now I still can't even replace the other blanket !

This isn't exactly the same, but I was supposed to get four packages from studio before the month rolls over. There's about eight days I think, I definitely have ants in my pants because I am excited & want my items to ship now. I don't know what they're doing. I'm also waiting for my sumall shirt. When will it arrive ?? :<

Also idk, I am having issues with Aliexpress app. I don't know if I'd mentioned this before, but I'd thought my phone was still updating properly, but I guess it succumb to forced obsolesce. Allegedly my provider has an updated sim card to make the phone work properly again, so they've apparently sent it to me in the mail. I would say for the most part, all my other apps work, but I have been wondering if all the issues I'm having on Aliexpress are due to the forced obsolesce, if my shit just can't update to the degree they're running. So I definitely hope the sim card will fix the issue.

First it started with I wasn't receiving updates when sellers would list new items. Then I just can't view seller pages altogether. Now I can't view product review images. So idk if being unable to message that seller is something on the seller's end or if it's a problem with my app, because recently I had been able to communicate with other sellers. I almost felt like that seller in particular purposely blocked me or something.

While I was at it, I finally reinstated my health insurance. Basically I was getting what were apparently scam texts saying my coverage wasn't going to renew & I would have to find a different provider. I actually thought it was because my coverage was through my health insurance & since it had lapsed, I was worried they thought I wasn't disabled anymore. But I ended up calling the provider directly to ask what was going on with the service & they said there are no service interruptions & those texts weren't from them ?? But also, they had sent me a message saying I hadn't used my phone at all this month which definitely wasn't true because I text my roommate every day & have spoken on the phone with my mom twice this month, so I asked about that & they confirmed yeah, those messages were from them but the information was inaccurate & to disregard ??

So I blocked the weird number that kept threatening me about my service & it's funny in a fucked up away that after blocking that number, then a new number started texting me telling me my provider has to go to court for illegally selling my data... ? Like, okay ?? Not only do I know it's a scam but tbh like yeah, I'm sure they are stealthily harvesting my data, so ??

& I was thinking about it this morning when I woke up. My mom had called the other day & I was telling her how I had to look something up related to delusions & it broke down the difference between bipolar & schizophrenia was bipolar has intense mood swings. She said if you have both delusions & mood swings together it's schizoaffective I think. I was looking at the difference between that & the schizotypal. Then yesterday I was watching the scary true stories on the Youtube & one of them was a person with diagnosed schizophrenia talking about how they received their diagnosis & what schizophrenia looked like for them.

I found it interesting because I feel like one of the major foundations for schizophrenia is the concept of hearing voices. So the person had outlined the different voices they hear. I remember when I was a child & had to see a psychiatrist to be a pharmaceuticals guinea pig, they were asking me about my illness, which then I had desperately wanted attention so I lied about hearing voices to make it sound more dramatic. I remember the man had asked me if the voices were inside my head or outside my head. I think I said both. But realistically, there have been times, though few & far between where I have heard voices calling to me that were neither in my head nor quite in the room with me either. Almost on the physical plane but as if in the distance. Maybe only heard six times in my life though.

I'd mentioned to some care professional that it was difficult for me to contend with being sexually abused because as an adult I do hear voices that mock me over it & needle me for it, & it is the whole thing where I can't control them or get them to stop, the only recourse is to like turn on loud music so I can't hear them.

Even to examine taking edibles as an adult, I felt like my base operating is multiple conversations going on inside my head at once. I'm not directly involved, they're passive & I just hear them. As if there are so many voices all bouncing off eachother, they mostly become easy to ignore because it almost seems to turn into static. When I was high, it was like a lot of the voices quieted but instead I was hearing different voices that say different things. I wouldn't say either are violent or disparaging, but there is something about the voices I hear when I'm high where I don't really want to hear those ones.

I'd mentioned before I have this other uncontrollable affectation that drives me fucking insane where I practice conversations in my head. & I can't turn it off, it happens completely against my will. I will just start talking to people & me at myself is like can you fucking stop ?? What are you doing ?? You're not really having a conversation with someone ??

But also, I'd heard posited the voices could be ADHD or OCD. It makes me curious about other people's inner monologues; do you have multiple voices talking to you at all times ? Because when I get hostile or aggressive dialogues, I always imagine it as more of OCD, because it feels like a compulsion. Like I am trying to fight off the tantalizing idea of cutting myself. Or when I have thoughts about cutting off a limb, it's like, I'm saying to myself “that's great, but you know you're not going to do that.” Or just positing otherwise redundant & annoying thoughts & I'm really at myself like “can you shut the fuck up ??”

I was thinking about the voices as a way to be like yeah, I have always heard voices all my life but never actually thought anything about it. Because the way a mind works, you don't have a lot to compare it to but say I guess this is normal & this is just how it is... I was thinking about the corresponding delusions & psychosis after addressing a lifelong of hearing voices. My mom had always criticized me for being paranoid & telling me to stop because no one wants to be paranoid. & it felt really weird for me to hear because I felt like damn I don't think people choose to be paranoid ?

But i'm always really wowed by the “the government is out to get me” delusions because I feel like damn, no one is that important for the government to care about you as an individual or what you're doing. It's a really grandiose delusion. I don't have that. I know the government doesn't care about anyone, I'd say more than half the time they don't have the jump on an active terrorist so like no, they're not trying to peep on just some guy in his home lol

Currently my hormones fluctuate because I do think I am about to get my period. I'm only really annoyed because it exacerbates my already crippling mental illness. I felt really silly about it earlier this month. I'd realized rather than acknowledging a mental illness I do talk about, I was scapegoating all my symptoms just onto hormonal fluctuations. I'm sure the hormonal fluctuations don't help anything, but realistically I'm going to be fucked up regardless. So I'm also trying to look critically at the differences between mania, depression & mixed episode. I think I'd heard in the past bipolar one had a higher risk for extreme aggression, which was tied to mania. During this fluctuation, I went from excessive exhaustion & constantly sleeping to now a period of insomnia, which especially sucks because I am tired & getting brain addled exhaustion, but I can't fall asleep or stay asleep, so it only makes the way I feel worse because it's getting no relief for my exhaustion. I'm active & doing things, but I do feel really angry all the while & really volatile. It's frustrating because it's like obviously I'm not asking for this, I'm not trying to do this to myself, I'm literally trying to put myself to sleep at a reasonable time.

I think I tell you before that I have the performance delusion. That all my existence is a little guy on a stage doing things for someone else's entertainment. But isn't that what god is for anyway ? It's definitely harder to talk yourself out of the delusion because hidden cameras exist, social media tracks you, but not only that, in my room right now there are three audio trackers; my laptop, my phone & my Amazon remote. Although I know whoever tracks these really isn't doing anything, I do kinda feel like damn, I can't ever just abscond from these unseen eyes. I can't have an intimate conversation with myself out loud lmao but surely they can't all be actively monitored ? That wouldn't make any sense.

I just kinda hate it. It makes it very hard to disagree with or mitigate the delusions by this point.

I guess finally I wanted to make kind of a funny complaint over something I'm excessively frustrated about. The preface is half in jest I had to accept being a breast fetishist. But whatever, it was a long time coming & honestly I think it's run in the family the entire time lmfao I was born into it ig but my cup size fluctuates & the condition of my breast fluctuates as well. To say the actual cup is back & forth from c to d, but body dysmorphia can really trick me into thinking they're like an f which I have to be real with myself, I don't think they have ever been lmfao but at the same time, they get really heavy, to the point where it feels like the connecting skin is just going to rip off my body. So because I am some kind of breast fetishist, I basically only wear push up bras with like two cup sizes of padding. (attributing to my f delusion lmao.) Yet because I obviously don't always want to wear underwire or padded cups, if they're really heavy & I need them to be lifted, I wear sports bras or bralettes.

I had one sports bra that I've had for probably ten years, maybe even more that I always wear. The cup area looks small but seems like it holds a d &/or e with reasonable adeptness. The band was tight enough to hold the booby up without feeling like it was crushing the ribcage. I feel like I got it at Walmart, but it's possible it could have come from Target or Kohl's. Only recently the band has finally given out & it won't hold the bosoms anymore.

I have a certain aesthetic in my head of what I want. I find lace to be reasonable, but I noticed lately I keep seeing this god awful textured floral lace that does not make any sense in practicality, because how the fuck are you supposed to wear that under a shirt in public without advertising to everyone your dumbass booby trap ? But it just looks like actual garbage to me imo. Then I think scalloped lace around the top cups makes zero sense. Again, it looks gaudy & ugly as shit, but why if I am wearing a low cut top would I want this grandmother lace spilling out ? Also, absolutely no halter bands because those shits grind the Hell out of your neck. & I have a lot of fuchsias & black, so I'd like to have new colors.

For sports bras, I am looking for smaller cup coverage, considered a demi. Basically, the part that covers the breast should cover just a bit above nipple & the reason this is important is because full coverage are apt to have this triangular segment towards the armpit that will grate on the armpit. If you get a bra that ends lower, you completely avoid that grinding altogether. You want the upper breast fat to breathe & be unbound since realistically it's not doing anything to anyone or getting in anyone's way.

I'm conflicted on adjustable straps because realistically both adjustable & non adjustable can blow out, however, I like hiking my shit up considerably high because although I hear it destroys the straps, it gives relief to the constant pull of the dense fat on my chest. I think I'd heard at some point when I was younger than it was considered unbecoming & trashy for women to wear their breasts on their shoulders (I'm exaggerating for joke) but I'm saying honestly idgaf how it looks, I care about how bad my chest hurts. I think now it's called a shelf bust & it's performative.

So I know for a fact my band is thirty four & cup is very difficult to discern because different brands do them differently & mine do fluctuate. I feel confident with c-d. I wanted to look for bralettes on resale hoping I could get a look I want for a decent price. I looked at probably thirty bralettes & sports bras & one or two of thirty had the corresponding cup & band size mentioned. So I'd asked about ten women what band & cup size the brassiers fit & when women would respond to me, mostly the response was incredibly nasty, to reiterate to me that bralettes & sports bras don't have cups & bands... But my whole thing is every single women in the world has a corresponding cup & band size. The band is of course your rib width measurement & the cup is the measurement of your actual boob. The cup on the booby trap is the pouch your breast is going to be held by. So yes, literally every single breast accessory is going to have a corresponding cup & band size. The only way it wouldn't have a cup size is if it were a fucking tank top.

I was in fucking awe how women seem to know literally nothing about what a boob is or how they work. It feels not unlike the child neglect seen in uncircumcised dudes realizing they actually have to wash their foreskin or else it rots...

A part of me wants to be like damn go to Aerie & make the woman feel you up & tell you your bra size, but then I realized I think I did that deliberately to be a pervert.

Plus I'm also being super careful during these discussions because I'm not trying to look like I'm secretly some perverted dude because these aren't meant to be invasive questions but I need to be able to make an informed purchase T^T I don't want to spend money on something that isn't even going to fit me that I can't wear. Because I doubt anyone wants to entertain returns or refunds. So I won't volunteer my own size until they tell me what size they think it is because I don't want them to be like “oh yeah, it will definitely fit you.” Saying only what they think I want to hear rather than actually trying to be helpful. & then I'm also asking everyone about straps on top of it, to make sure the straps aren't blown out since these are something I'm going to have to rely on.

I'm looking at Aerie & Gilly Hicks because I have had good experiences with these brands before, but also a number of other random brands. So I'm glad I been asking because I forget which was which now but the one brand it seems their small is like thirty two a-b but the other the small is thirty four b-c. So it is extremely helpful when they're actually willing to respond to me. There were two super cute ones I really did want but despite the seller being online, they just refused to interact with me at all.

& I can't help but feel some type of way because literally everyone I've had to message has under ten sales, meanwhile I'm just short of three hundred with five stars.

I'd thought about it before that I feel like a bra salesman because one of the items I sell the most of are bras & I always point out whether or not it's true to size or if I think the size is different & not once has someone had an issue with a bra or said they felt my assessment was wrong.

So far I'd only bought one bralette because the woman was able to answer all my questions & it sounded like it was going to fit, but then she just hasn't shipped it yet & it's a day short of a week. I'd messaged yesterday asking what was up & she said there was a family emergency (sure) & that she was shipping that day. It's still too early to tell whether or not she's lied, but I'm so aggressive & volatile over this that I'm ready to cancel the order just because.

& then neither here nor there but I happened to be thinking about a conversation I'd had in the past in regards to cleavage. I hear some women just naturally have the straight line of cleavage no matter what they do, yet other women don't. I'd posited in the past that I have a broad chest & that's what my problem is, but other people have been like nah, your body is normal. I ended up looking it up yesterday in the morning, but I'd already been really emotional & suicidal beforehand, I don't know if you can say it's the hormones or just a mental illness flaring up. I ended up reading an article discussing tubular breasts & it's a spectrum like autism or intersex, but I'd known someone who'd previously expressed having that as a birth defect & saying it's because all their fat distribution is at the lower end of the breast. So like, if you look it up, it looks like a horror movie imo with how deformed a bosom can look & I'm saying I'm bottom heavy & probably on the spectrum but in a way where it's possible you wouldn't really notice without looking hard. Or maybe I have to tell myself that just so I don't kill myself since I don't believe in breast implants.

It definitely made me want to die to understand no matter what I do I'm really not going to have a pristine boob & it's not a matter of working out or abusing hormone medications. Though I ended up looking up something to the effect of large breasts don't have cleavage & redirect to a reddit post which was mostly oriented towards g-h but I figured searching why don't my breasts have a cleavage line wouldn't yield any reasonable results. & the women there discussed the difference between top heavy & bottom heavy but also said rather than tubular defect some of the issue is just having a broad set chest because that's the make up of your muscles. & some women mentioned having teardrop shaped breasts, which I think is different from the tubular ones ? All I can really think of is being with ___ one day & he had a women who had a crush on him who he didn't feel anything for but he made her strip on camera & show off her boobies & I couldn't get over how when she leaned forward to be sexy, it just looked like she had heavy socks hanging from her chest. I made fun of her & I think in that moment I cursed myself.

I feel confused because I'd heard the difference was held within breast muscle rather than fat distribution. Growing up I was constantly being told you have to wear a bra all the time or else your tits will stretch out but then also being told don't wear a bra all the time because it will wear away your breast muscle & then your tits will fall off. I honestly don't feel like there was anything I could have done about my fat distribution, because it seemed like reading articles was saying your body distributes fat where your genetics have chosen to distribute fat... The one article I was reading said non full & round breasts were a super common genetic defect but that it had never been studied because women have no reason to report it unless they get breast augmentation because it's really bothering them. They tried to insist nearly twenty thousand women got breast augmentation surgeries for the “defect” just last year. It makes me wonder if that's actually the normal breast & if the fuller breast is a more rare lucky genetic draw ?

Though anyway, the reddit thread redirected to the defunct blog of another big breasted breast fetishist who, since being really into having breasts, apparently was very studied about different types & models of bras. She did a breakdown of multiple different boob looks & how to achieve them, but I don't really think it's feasible for me since I think she said she was an h. Though she'd mentioned stage boobs achieved via smoke & mirrors (doubling padded bras) saying anyone can have cleavage. Though other women in the thread had pointed out if your breasts are wide set & bottom heavy, the best you'll probably get is a v shape. I'm disillusioned. Though of course my problem is only cosmetic for personal preference, I stand by what I said before about genuinely being afraid to have boobs alone in a public setting.

Also during my bra q & a, one women told me a bra would likely fit me as long as I didn't have my boobs done & I felt kinda floored to hear such a response because when I was a teenager I was thirty two e which I know is unnatural but I feel like damn, some women be all boob & no body wtf ?? But idk, all the more reason to be buying bralettes & sports bras rather than actual bras. When your cup size fluctuates or is unnatural for your rib width, I think they're better because the cups have an array of sizes they can fit & accommodate, whereas tailor made bra cups are more stringent for what size they want to fit. Either way I think I am doomed to just eat bras unless I'm specifically buying ones with removable straps so I can keep replacing them every time I eat them.

Before I go ! I'd seen this morning when I was making my rounds to check my news that there is a teaser for merchandise for the upcoming pillar event ! They said more will be announced as time goes & I believe as the event runs. I'm really jazzed about a majority of what was advertised, though I couldn't help but be like “oh no !! My wallet !! >.<,”

They are advertising one hundred products per hashira ! Points I will cover briefly are what is English translated as emotional badges, maniac badges, phrase cards, & bond charms.

For the emotional ones, Tomioka is one of the best featured ! Mostly imo because he's expressive & makes very funny & cute faces. Tomioka fans are absolutely winning with this one ! I don't think there is a single bad pull in the whole set of forty ! I felt Tokito is slightly disappointing, though it's difficult as a non-emotive character. At first glance, a lot of his look too similar & mostly less compelling for me. Though I suspect people who really love Tokito will really key in on the subtle nuances of all his different expressions, probably making it as crucial for drawing doujinshi as my Rengoku pallets. Also, the product images are hard to see, which I am sure is by design since a lot of people steal their designs. Uzui is also comparable to Tomioka when it comes to his fans absolutely winning on this one, there is a vast array of appealing facial expressions from a multitude of different moments ! Both Tomioka & Uzui's make me wish I was a considerable fan of theirs. Though ! I'd imagine these are probably especially fun for people who don't collect certain characters & just love the series as a whole ! Uzui's facial expressions are great in the respect I don't really like Uzui, but all of his expressions are so compelling & I definitely see where people are coming from who do think he is the most handsome ! Though it would probably feel like a massive diss to be one of those people who want to fuck Uzui so bad & want to pull the hot Uzui expressions & instead pull his silly faces lol I feel ambivalent for Gyomei because I feel he is as non-expressive as Tokito, which results in a lot of his pins looking relatively close. I forgot how hard he went by the end of this season, so at first I was thinking maybe they don't have enough to work with for him, but actually, we are able to see a myriad of expressions for him. He does fall short just a tiny bit as a less expressive character who, although we will see him more coming up, we haven't really seen him in whole yet. Shinazugawa's is very well rounded ! It's easy to overlook how expressive he actually is when you're not seeing a pallet of his very unique & diverse expressions. It is something that I really appreciate about Shinazugawa. Intense eyes & smile for a very devious & villainous look ! He is compelling just as Tomioka & Uzui ! I'd complained in the past that his merchandise is not cute enough, while also acknowledging he isn't supposed to be cute either, his expression set turns out to be both fun & interesting. Is it me or are some of his expressions really giving Edboy Elric or maybe Soul Eater ? Pin set for those who really love an unhinged badass lol Shinobu & Mitsuri are also extremely well rounded ! Though I especially love the colors for Shinobu's set ! I think she is a bit like Tokito, a character with a more stoic expression, but goddamn her coloring kills it ! I feel like Shinobu reads as a really cool women character, but her pin set seems to go all in on her cuteness; an adorable small women. Also a lot featuring a dark shading over her, perfect for an emo or otherwise impossible to approach women lol Mitsuri's are precious as always, it may be hard for me to not want to pull her cuter expressions.

Rengoku is a little difficult imo but outstanding for what we have to work with. Initially I felt a bit frustrated to be like well all the other hashira really do more than him & exist more than him, though I would argue thus far we've really only seen Gyomei roughly the same amount. I do think Rengoku was able to get in more expressions in a shorter time than Gyomei was. Though we do see a couple reused. I feel like for having only six episodes to work with, maybe a grand total of fifty minutes of screentime altogether if even, we have a nice array of his different expressions. I'd really like to try my hand to pull from this set, maybe not an attempt to take home the whole set but... perhaps most of the set lol

Looking at these reminds me of the pog binder I had as a child... Or maybe it was Holly's since I never saw it again after she moved out lol

“Maniac” badge is a little bit difficult for me to discuss ! What were they going for here ? There is a lot of emphasis on hands. Though Tomioka & Tokito are featured topless & Uzui & Shinazugawa got zoom ins on their breasts lmao we also get knees, feet, back of their head, mouths & eyes. What did they mean by this ? As funny as it sounds, there is a lot of very subtle nuance to be found within these. In the context of highlighting what makes a character & what goes into their personalities, this is actually a really interesting look. In a way, it makes you really take a hard look at what makes these characters & what defines them as them.

The phrase cards are also difficult for me. I really like the idea, but again, it's really hard to see the actual product images. Rengoku's is posted in higher resolution to the Twitter, but I kind of don't like it just in a personal way. The cut up by the lettering is a really neat idea, for me personally, it looks a bit distracting. Though there are a lot of things they'd shown product images for that I was not sold on that actually ended up looking really rad irl what I will also say about this is if you are doing a binder like I'm planning on doing, like, if you store your cards & bromides in scrapbooks, then these are going to look super sick along side them ! Color wise I think Tomioka's was my favorite. He has a really loud contrast that really appeals to me. Uzui's got a really badass one & I like Shinobu's coloring a lot too, but it's not as dramatic as Giyu. I also think these would hit a lot harder for me if I would just buckle down & learn Japanese ._.” lol

I think the bonds keychains are my favorite with the expression pins. I'm super into these, I really love the way they look ! Rengoku gets a notable feature in Tokito's. Most of them are very difficult for me to see in the product images lol .///.' At least I can see Rengoku's pretty well & personally I feel like he looks fantastic ! Again, I wouldn't pursue the whole set, but probably six or seven lol hopefully I'll be able to find them

I'm so excited !! I can't wait to see what else they have in store ! I had a dream they did unveil more new artwork, not too much, just a few pieces of each character. But maybe that's only wishful thinking on my end. A longing & begging lol

I'm curious as well if this event is going to get a sequel ? Because I was thinking, during the next few movies, we're going to get a lot more scenes of the hashira & their emotions, especially for characters like Tokito & Gyomei who fell short a bit with their conveyance, I was thinking, I know they are going to have so many more expressions coming up... Though another conspiracy theory idea I'd had while looking at this was I'd mentioned a number of times about the prequel series & running a study for character popularity, as I think such a thing would play into the alleged prequel. I think doing this actually makes a good tally for a research group to discern what the most popular characters are. So will I be right that Rengoku is going to be the star of the prequel series ? Though I'm only slightly jesting to posit that.

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quacka-quacka · 2 years ago

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What was Paul’s relationship with his father ? And his brother ?

Although Paul's realtionship with his dad didn't seem awful according to Paul's own account, there's something weird about it besides the description from his stepmother Angie and stepsister Ruth:

'Paul wanted to smoke marijuana in the house. Dad gave him a hard time, but he still did it. In Paul's mind, it was his house and if he wanted to smoke, he could. But dad disapproved. Paul would blow hot and cold when he did drugs. He could be lovely one moment and nasty the next.'

[...]

'Jim was the only dad I knew. He got rheumatoid arthritis. Paul came over one day and flung open all the windows even though Dad was so frail by then he needed to sit by the fire to ease his pain. He told Dad, 'Don't be a cripple, get out of that chair and walk.' 'Poor old dad had tears plopping down his face, and he said, 'Back off son, leave me alone.' It sounds cruel, but I don't think he meant it to be. Dad got into debt towards the end and Paul bought back the house to allow him to pay his bills. He bought that house twice and, as far as I know, he still owns it.'

[...]

'Mum and I struggled [after Jim's death]. At one point I was holding down five jobs, including working as a barmaid and as an office cleaner. Looking back, I think he cut us off because we were part of his dad's world and when he died, that was the natural break for Paul.'

— Ruth McCartney

Ruth and Angie are not considered reliable sources, certainly not by Paul's fans. I don't know if they were telling the truth either, but after recollecting Paul/Beatles interviews and books I've watched/read, there's one thing I found pretty strange - he barely mentioned Jim's death.

It's such an unnatural thing for a person who's so used to taking about death in public (Mother Mary, John, Linda, etc. He may not good at handling death but he certainly talked a lot about it) choose to avoid the topic when it comes to his dad, especially after he missed Jim's funeral - what exactly make Paul, who never tire of justifying his motivation about John's death remark "it's a drag" feel no need to give a proper explanation about why he absented his own father's funeral? (neither European tour nor avoiding mob were mentioned by Paul himself, the only thing he said was *Jim hated funerals*, and it was said only once as far as I know.) In Many Years From Now, Paul's most important semi-autobiography, he did not forget to defend Mal Evans who was shot dead for pointing a gun at the cops and detail his last meeting with Robert Fraser who died of AIDS later while not a single Paul's word about Jim's death can be found but a summary by Barry Miles:

Shortly afterwards, Paul's father, Jim, died of bronchial pneumonia at his home in Gayton in the Wirral on 18 March 1976, at the age of seventy-three. He had been ill for several weeks.

Is Jim's death less important than Mal's and Robert's? Or is Paul deliberately avoiding the subject? If so, why would he do that?

We will never be sure what happened between Paul and Jim unless we can read Paul's mind. All we have are fragments of past from here and there, some of them indicates that the intimate Liverpool working-class family life he tried to maintain in public was not so idealistic because it's doubtful that Jim - his only parent after age 14, was a good father.

Jim had to be a father and a mother after Mary died. Bring up two adolescent boys on his own was not easy. It's too much to ask Jim to be a perfect parent. The things he did to his sons may not considered unaccpetable back in 1950s, though marks had been left on Paul and Mike after all these years, like corporal punishment. It was told several times by Paul and Mike that Jim used to bash them.

Even Jim himself admitted that he hit his son:

'I was once hitting Michael for doing something,' says Jim. 'Paul stood by shouting at Mike, "Tell him you didn't do it and he'll stop." Mike admitted he had done it, whatever it was. But Paul was always able to get out of most things.'

— The Beatles authorized biography by Hunter Davies

I'm surprised Paul didn't sidestep the issue most of the time even if it contradicats his *happy family* image. Maybe 1) the matter is too painful to rationalize that the perfect family image doesn't matter any more when he thinks of the physical discipline or 2) as a Scouser grown up in 1950s, he thinks corporal punishment is pretty common that it did not affect his family become *amazingly optimistic* even if he doesn't like it.

Physical violence is somewhat unbearable but I don't think it's the only reason for Paul's weird manner in late years. To Paul, Jim isn't "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". On the contrary, he is not only mentioned a couple of times on Paul's soical meida accounts but an essential element in Paul's version of his upbeat Liverpool upbringing that *not everyone can live like they did*. However, Jim barely existed beyond Paul's childhood and adolescence in Paul's account when it comes to something specific, even if he lived to his 70s when Paul was married with three children. Maybe he dosen't have much to say after not living with his father, but avoiding his death?

There's another thing Paul never mentioned - Jim's gambling problem.

Mike wrote in his book that Jim is an insatiable gambler who was seriously in debt. It's not a good news for a family whose only income source was one parent earning under £10 a week. I suspect Jim didn't quit gambling when his sons grew up - according to the authorized Beatles biography, Paul bought him a race horse as a birthday present in 1964. I doubt Paul would like it if he continue consuming large sum of money till the end.

As for Mike, maybe he's not that close to Paul but not hostile either? Family interest is much of his concern that he would insist on getting back Paul's award-winning primary school essay. Although he's not often mentioned by Paul, his photo was used as the cover of Chaos and Creation and The Lyrics. BTW, he has the sense of humor his brother lacks, I like him.

#jim mccartney #paul mccartney #mike mccartney

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years ago

Note

Hi wendy ! Would you do a cheating angst as you did for Sanzu and the Haitanis, but a longer one just with Kaku? 😊 also can you add a little bit of comfort please?

Take You Back: Kakucho Hitto x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.5k

tw: NSFW if you squint

masterlist

song recommendation:

Something's off.

You know it the moment you walk into your empty apartment.

You've rationalized these thoughts before; you've hashed them out with yourself over and over again, explaining your intuition away.

But something keeps nagging at you: No, no. Something's really off.

You consider that you're just nervous after Kakucho's been gone for so long. This isn't out of the usual - his long absences - but this time...

You grunt once, dropping your purse onto the dresser and sitting on the bed you share with your husband. Maybe you should give him a call. But the instant you pick up your phone, it begins to ring, lighting up with the name: Sanzu.

"Hey," you breathe. "Is everything okay?"

"Um," Sanzu pauses. "Yeah. I'm only calling because I haven't been able to reach Kakucho. Is he there with you right now, or..."

"I thought he was with you all on a business trip."

The pause between the both of you belies nothing positive about the situation.

"Business trip?" Sanzu finally mutters, and you hold your breath. Sanzu's words rip through your chest, but you try to explain anyway.

"Kaku said you all were taking a five-day business trip. Were you not included in this?"

"Y/n... we're all here in Tokyo. We haven't been on a business trip in almost four months."

"Wait..." Your brain recalls all the times Kakucho mentioned he'd be going abroad or that he'd be staying late or that he was stuck in some city and wouldn't be home. All in the last three months.

"Give him a call," Sanzu mumbles. "I'll follow up soon."

The line goes dead, and you stare into your reflection in the mirror across from you. "Late nights"... "long trips"... "no-phone zones."

You don't remember dialing Kakucho's number, but you press the ear to your phone, hearing the dial tone ring for four beeps.

"Hey, babe."

His voice is enough to soothe your deepest fears, and you exhale shakily, trying to sound as calm as you can.

"Hey, sweetheart... How are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright... We're at the hotel waiting for the next arrival," he murmurs, and you can hear the softness of his voice, the way he's trying to keep it down. He's hiding something - and it looks like it's you.

"Oh? Is everything going well?"

"Just fine. Are you doing alright? How was work today?"

You're about to answer when you hear a female voice holler,

"Kaku! The bath's going to go cold!"

You freeze and hear Kakucho suck his breath in sharply.

You two don't speak for what feels like an eternity, and you hear the woman - much closer this time - state:

"Get off the phone and into the bath. I've been waiting all day to ride your dick, and you're making me impatient."

You can only imagine what his face looks like, how wide his red eye has blown, how unstable he now seems.

"What's wrong with you?" The woman mutters, grabbing the phone out of his hand. "Listen, Kaku can't talk right now. Can I take a message?"

"Tell him that I want a divorce," you breathe and then hang up the phone. When you drop the device onto the bed, you can feel every nerve in your body die; your body stuck on the edge of the bed, and mind going completely blank.

_____________________________________________________________

Seventy-six missed calls.

Twenty-five text messages, each more desperate than the last.

Forty voicemails.

All of them are pleading with you to answer, pick up, and discuss everything with him, that he was coming home, that he needed you.

But you're barely moving, finding a spoonful of strength to use the bathroom here, a cup of courage to make breakfast there, a milliliter of motivation to brush your teeth and wash your face.

But most of the day, you sit in the bed, wondering what you could have done. What you could have said.

Fingers trail across the crumbs of a stale cracker, brushing them off the bed in memory of the time you ate and then threw it back up.

Kakucho sent Sanzu, Kokonoi, and even Takeomi to come and check on you, but you never answer the door.

You just sit in the bed, wondering why.

A commotion at the door doesn't startle you at all, and you look over your shoulder at the figure bounding through, out of breath and out of time.

"Babe," Kakucho huffs, his hair wild and eyes full of anxiety. "I'm home. I'm home." He approaches you without concern for your fragility, pulling your chin toward him so you can look him in the eye. But when he finds your dead stare, something in him shakes violently, like an earthquake that'd been held at bay for too long.

"I want to separate," you whisper. "I want to be alone for a while."

Kakucho starts for a second but then kneels at the side of the bed, looking into your eyes.

"I understand. I'll get some things and go."

While he packs, you have the feeling that Kakucho is waiting on you to say, "No, wait. Stay." But you never do.

It's only when he's walking out the door that you inhale to speak.

"How long?" you ask, looking up at him sadly. Kakucho's guilty gaze tells you that he's been at this longer than you'd care to know, and some part of you wonders if he'll just go back to that woman and not give a damn.

You don't know the answer, and part of you doesn't care.

_____________________________________________________________

Kakucho showed up at your door needing something from his closet.

You let him in.

He looked disheveled and rugged as if he'd been sleeping in his car for the past six weeks. You had finally cleaned up, begun wearing nicer clothes, and got off your ass to take care of things around the house. You're still a homemaker, even though you're not entirely a wife anymore.

When Kakucho sees the place well-kept and beautiful, his eyes flood with tears, and he collapses on your couch in a heap of sobs and hiccups.

"Life isn't the same without you," he blubbers, his snot-covered lip trembling. "Babe, please--"

"What do you need from the closet?" you say, ignoring his pleas. "I'll get it for you while you get yourself together."

"Y/n!" Kakucho falls onto his knees, hands clasped together as tears course down his cheeks. "I'll do anything to come back. Anything. Please, I'm begging you."

"Beg," you snap. "Do it. But that's not how I'll forgive you."

"It's my fault," he huffs, leaning down to hold your ankles in his hands. "I'm a terrible husband. Give me another chance."

"Why?"

Kakucho looks up at you, his red eye rimmed in blood vessels. "I took you for granted; I know that now. Let me treat you like you deserve. Like a wife." Your heart wants to burst, but you keep your cool, inhaling deeply.

"You have one month."

"That's all I need."

_____________________________________________________________

"It's so nice to have you with me," Kakucho murmurs, his hands on your hips as you overlook the city below. It's not Tokyo, and it's not Japan, which is more than enough for you. "Can I get you something else to drink?"

"I'm okay," you reply softly, looking over your shoulder. "Maybe we should go inside." You abandon the view of the metropolitan landscape and shut the balcony door, exhaling.

"Are you tired?" Kakucho wonders, but you shake your head, shuffling into the bathroom. It's a month to the day, and you'd made up your mind - whether to stay or to go. Kakucho knows what day it is, too, and you can feel his anxiety through the door as you shut it softly. In that month, you hadn't made love, hadn't spent a day apart, and hadn't heard about any trips or late nights.

And tonight, you had a surprise planned.

You strip out of your clothes and find the robe and lingerie set you've stashed away, slipping the lacy thing on and then covering it back up. When you exit, you hear shuffling around in the living space and peek into it shyly.

"Kaku?"

"Oh," he whispers, tucking something into his pocket and straightening back up. "Come on; I have something for you." You sit on the couch next to him, and for a second, he admires your robe silently. But then he remembers his task and clears his throat, hand on your knee.

"I'm either about to make a fool of myself or be the happiest man alive." When Kakucho gets down on one knee, your eyes widen, shocked and slightly unsure of how to respond. "You gave the ring back at the beginning of the month," he begins. "And now, I want to know if you'll accept it again." Kakucho reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box, flipping it open to reveal the sapphire ring, reset, surrounded by aquamarines, and a silver band. "Will you be my wife? Again?"

Your answer is whispered among the sheets as Kakucho takes you for the first time in a long time, his hips driving into yours while he leaves sloppy kisses down your neck.

Your ring finger is heavy yet again with the band that ties you to Kakucho, your lover. And you're full of him, his scent, his cock, his kisses - all of them driving you insane.

"Yes... Forever, yes."

#kakucho hitto x reader #kakucho hitto smut #kakucho hitto #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers smut

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poguestvff · 3 years ago

Text

Used To The Cold — S. Cameron

In which Sarah Cameron comes to a realization after her girlfriend moves across the country.

taglist | main masterlist | 2.0k words

warning(s): none, fluff, i heart sarah <33

Have you ever lost something that held either so many memories or brought a sort of happiness that just warmed you immediately even at the sight of it? Most people have something like that. Such as for children when it comes to losing stuffed animals or action figures that were a source of comfort, they missed it like hell. Said children grow up and look for a new source of comfort. Some teenagers found it in weed and alchohol, others in sports. For Sarah Cameron, she grew out of the beautiful pink blanket her father had gotten her as a toddler. As she grew into a teenager, she found a new solace.

Her girlfriend.

Sarah made it very apparent to show her love to her girlfriend who, at one point, was just her best friend who she could hardly even bare to be away from. Sarah had known she'd loved Y/n before they even got together by the way Sarah had never felt claustrophobic in the friendship that she held with the other girl. She said the three words within the first six months of being with her, words she had never spoken to another being other than her family. It was a word she, personally, took seriously. For her to say it to Y/n showed the amount of trust she held within her. Trust to not feel so closed off with Y/n.

At the beginning of the relationship, Sarah was glad that not much had changed between the two of them. That Y/n let her have her space whenever she needed it without the dependent need to be together all day though it quickly became backwards. Sarah grew even more clingy to Y/n, hardly able to deal without her hands being stuck to her girlfriend like glue. Whenever they went out to lunch, Sarah played a one sided game of footsies that only brought a smile upon Y/n’s features, one of Sarah’s favorite traits about her. Sarah loved the idea of always having a person to call her own, Y/n seeming to be the one person who could bring out her newfound touchiness. Though, sometimes she pondered on whether Y/n herself was even handling it or if she just ‘put up’ with it. If she did have an indifference towards Sarah’s actions, she surely never showed her disinterest in it.

Though the last time Sarah had held on to her girlfriend felt soul crushing and gut wrenching. As the two of them stood on the creaky, wooden dock just before the ferry, Sarah felt drained. Between the amount of crying she’d done in just the past few days had been enough to make her want to sleep forever and the comfort of her girlfriends arms around her hadn’t helped that feeling. Tears held a steady stream down both of their faces though Sarah was the one who was unable to contain her sobs. People passed around them, solemn looks given to the two of them as they listened in on the sniffles and soft wails.

Y/n didn’t need to be a genius to understand that this was twice as hard for Sarah as it would be for her. Y/n was leaving, miles away that Sarah couldn’t even pin on when the next time she’d being able to hold on to her would be. All she knew was that this embrace that Y/n held on her would be the last one for months and there wasn’t a thing that would be able to make up for it between now and then.

It evoked an indescribable sort of fear within Sarah but she knew it was immutable. If Sarah could, she'd even drop her whole life within Outer Banks to follow her girlfriend across the world. There wasn't much Sarah wouldn't do and there wasn't much Y/n wouldn't do for Sarah either, including the moving date having already been pushed back a month because of Y/n's several arguments with her parents.

"I don't want you to go." sarah whispered as y/n kissed her neck. She could hear the blonde's pained and wavering voice, how affected she already was even as Y/n hadn't even stood on the boat yet.

"I know, lover." the y/h/c girl spoke in a low tone, only sarah able to hear her words of affirmation. Y/n was first to pull back, placing her hands on Sarah's cheeks. The sight of Sarah with puffy eyes and a quivering lip made y/n's heart throb and a guilty feeling blanket over her like a raising tide. "i'll visit. Every chance I get, you know I will."

"It won't be the same." she lamented. Y/n placed her lips against Sarah’s, delicately as if the blonde were made of porcelain. When Y/n's parents had called for her and Ward and Rose had called Sarah away from the dock, Sarah only seemed to want to cling further, fingers pressing further into the thin jacket Y/n worse, but their time had finally run out. Even after weeks of pretending that they had all the time in the world, like nothing could pull the two of them apart, it had happened.

The first few weeks, the whole Cameron house had known Sarah spent most of her nights crying herself to sleep and the entire Y/l/n house knew Y/n was not going to be speaking to them for a little while due to their newest decision. Both groups of parents hadn't known that pulling the duo away from one another would become such a quagmire for each of them.

When Y/n did finally decide to talk to her parents, it was usually to say she was leaving to explore the area in which she refused to get to know the first few days. With a driver license, it gave her just a bit of freedom from her parents who's impromptu decisions had still caused for a tearing in their familial relationship.

Y/n sat in her parked car, a hot beverage in hand to adjust to the cold in which she'd just stood in for five minutes. All of it for a drink that wasn't even that good in her opinion but she dealt with it. With the hand not holding the steaming drink, she opened her phone, smiling immediately at the photo of her and sarah as her background. She unlocked it, scrolling around to find Sarah's contact and setting her phone up against the dashboard. While it began to ring, Y/n situated herself to begin to drive. "Hi, Y/n/n!" Sarah shouted excitedly the second she'd answered.

At her tone of voice did Y/n laugh. The enthusiasm was no surprise but it was funny to Y/n every time. "Hi, baby." She replied, fhe smile remaining on her face as she looked towards the screen. Sarah sat at her desk, her hands under her jaw though a pencil between her fingers. She had focused all of her attention from the papers in front of her to the driver on the other end of the phone. "What are you doing?"

The sound of whizzing paper had made Y/n glance to the phone seeing a math sheet now replacing Sarah's face before she placed it back down, a frown appearing on her features. "Math."

"Didn't you just start like two days ago?" Y/n asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"Yes and this teacher is an absolute bitch. You're just lucky you don't start for another week. You would hate Mr. Henley."

Y/n let out an awfully dramatic gasp. "Um, hello, Mr. Henley was literally my home room teacher last year, I'll have you know. Show some respect." She said, almost missing Sarah's chagrined look as she smiled.

"You're supposed to be on my side here."

"Sorry, i don't believe in biases, Sar." She joked for sarah to let out a small snicker.

"So tell me, how's minnesota?" Sarah asked, trying to spark up a conversation even if the distance was the same thing she wanted to keep her mind off of.

"Oh, it's so great. So many hot people." she remarked.

"You're not funny, no one has ever found you funny." Sarah replied though unable to hold in her laugh along with her girlfriend. "I'm serious. we haven't talked much about it and i don't want to like... avoid your new life now."

Y/n sighed, looking towards the phone to see Sarah looking back down at her work in front of her. "Fine. Well, it doesn't particularly suck. The no surfing part definitely does, though, but what can you do. And the coffee here... no, its just so bad, babe. granted, i only had one, and it's in my cup holder right now but it's gross."

"My coffee making is better, right?" Sarah asked as Y/n gave a hefty nod.

"So much better, even if it is the only thing you're good at making." Y/n laughed and Sarah attempted to refuse a smile, her cheeks quivering from trying to keep it down. "But the weather dropped today, randomly. It was seventy yesterday, fifty today but i think i'm getting used to the cold."

Sarah lifted her head back to the phone, watching Y/n focus on driving, her eyes diverting on places away from the screen. Sarah but at her inner cheek, drumming her fingers against the white wood that rested under her forearms. "Used to it?" Sarah asked. She knew Y/n's move was permanent at least until she was eighteen but something about those words made it seem more realistic. She was getting used to a place that wasn't home.

Y/n hummed. "Yeah, i'm probably being dramatic. I saw a guy walking around in a tank top and shorts while i'm wearing double pair of socks right now." she grinned at her own comment though picking up on Sarah's sudden discomfort when she replied with a small 'wow'. "Lover?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, the car slowing to a stop at a red light.

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... the work. Keep your eye on the road."

"Sarah." The blond recognized the tone of voice quickly.

"Just... I just fully realized how permanent this is. I won't see you until, what? December? That's a long time, Y/n! And, i get it, it's your home now and i can't do anything about it but—"

Y/n was quick to cut her off. "I never said this is home. Sure I live here but it's just a couple walls and a roof. It's not home, Sarah." Y/n began. "Home is you. And trust me, i've been missing home the second i got on that ferry."

Despite them having to look at one another through a glass screen the feeling—the connection between the two of them was still felt. Sarah could feel the normal warm feeling she would've gotten whenever Y/n would simply hold her hand or brush her hair over her ear. she held that much of an effect on Sarah in person and somehow even thousands of miles away.

Sarah hadn't even realized she had been staring for a total of twenty seconds until a singular tear fell down her blushing cheeks. she quickly sniffled, recomposing herself as she wiped it away. "Are you seriously making me cry right now?" She muttered with the way the atmosphere had become though relishing in the way Y/n laughed in response.

"Yes, thank you for ignoring everything i just said, lover." Y/n put the car back in drive as the light went green. Due to the steets being relatively empty in her new small town, she took the time to look back over at the phone to Sarah. "I love you."

Sarah's smile widened in thag very moment, pursing her lips before pushing them out. "I love you more."

"And don't worry. I won't get to used to it. I'll be back home, to you, before you even know it." Y/n took a small glance to the phone, enjoying Sarah's gaze that showed even with the distance put between the two of them, they'd be fine.

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #sarah cameron fluff #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron #obx imagine #john b routledge #pope heyward

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