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mpregtales · 1 month ago

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Luke & Owen Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] ⬤ [Part 4] [Part 5]

By 24 weeks, Luke’s body had changed dramatically. His belly was now a full, round curve, a constant reminder of the life growing inside him. Every time he looked down, he could see the gentle swell peeking from underneath his shirt, now tight and stretched to its limits. The skin on his belly felt taut, as though it was being pulled to accommodate the baby’s rapid growth. He had begun rubbing stretch cream on his belly twice a day, trying to ease the itching and the constant sensation of stretching. His reflection showed the unmistakable signs of pregnancy, not just in his belly but in the way his hips had widened, and his once-athletic glutes had filled out into a more pronounced, rounded shape. His jeans clung to him in ways they hadn’t before, emphasizing the curve of his now bubble-like butt, which caused a noticeable sway when he walked.

Getting dressed had become more of a challenge. Luke found himself fidgeting with his pants, trying to adjust the waistband so it wasn’t digging into his softening waist. Even his boxers felt tighter, stretching across the roundness of his glutes. He’d stand in front of his mirror, pulling on shirts that barely reached over his belly anymore, leaving an awkward gap between the hem and the waistband of his pants. It felt surreal—his body was changing so quickly that he hardly recognized himself anymore.

And it wasn’t just the physical changes. The emotional weight of it all was starting to press on him too. On a college campus, a visibly pregnant man was bound to attract attention, and there were moments when Luke wished he could just disappear, blend into the crowd the way he used to before all of this. But with his belly now protruding significantly, that was impossible.

His friends had been supportive—at least, most of them. Jenna and Matt, two of his closest friends, had stuck by his side, treating him like the same Luke they’d always known. But even with their support, things felt different. Jenna would offer him a seat before he could even ask, her eyes darting to his belly as if it might explode at any moment. Matt, though well-meaning, would make awkward jokes about “eating for two,” which only made Luke more self-conscious when they went out to eat.

It was strange to navigate college life like this—pregnant, dealing with stares, trying to keep up with schoolwork, while also adjusting to the relentless changes in his body. His appetite had grown too. He was constantly hungry, and the craving for hearty meals became a running joke among his friends. But every bite reminded him that he was nourishing more than just himself now. When he’d sit with his friends at the dining hall, plates piled high, he couldn’t help but notice how their eyes flickered toward his belly whenever he leaned back in his chair, rubbing the taut surface absentmindedly.

That’s when Owen entered his life.

Luke first noticed Owen’s warm smile from across the campus. It was hard to miss Owen—tall, dark-haired, with a natural athletic grace that made him stand out. But what caught Luke’s attention wasn’t just his looks. It was the way Owen approached him without hesitation, with no awkward glances at his belly or whispered comments about his condition.

“Mind if I sit?” Owen had asked that day near the library, his eyes bright with friendliness, not judgment.

“Sure,” Luke had replied, trying to gauge whether Owen had heard the rumors or was just being genuinely kind. But Owen had this easygoing confidence, a sincerity in his eyes that immediately put Luke at ease.

As they sat together, talking about random things like classes and their favorite spots on campus, Luke found himself drawn to Owen in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Owen was different. He wasn’t interested in gossip or prying into Luke’s personal life. He seemed to genuinely like Luke for who he was, not for the rumors that swirled around him.

For Owen, Luke was fascinating for reasons that had nothing to do with his pregnancy. He admired how Luke carried himself—strong, grounded, and intelligent. Owen had heard the whispers around campus, but he never saw Luke as an anomaly. Instead, he saw someone who was navigating an unimaginable journey with strength and vulnerability. Owen liked how Luke would listen intently when they talked, how his face would light up when he spoke about things he loved, and how despite everything, Luke maintained a kindness that radiated through their conversations.

Luke, on the other hand, liked the calm presence Owen brought into his life. His own world had become a whirlwind of change, uncertainty, and responsibility. But when Owen was around, it felt like a reprieve. Owen never pressed Luke about his pregnancy or treated him like something fragile. He saw Luke for who he truly was beneath the physical changes and growing belly. He admired Luke’s resilience, the way he tackled college life despite everything, and how he remained the same witty, thoughtful person beneath it all.

As the conversation went on, Luke couldn’t help but notice the way Owen looked at him—like he was genuinely interested in what Luke had to say, not just in the spectacle of his pregnancy. And that feeling, that sense of being seen, stirred something inside him.

“I’d love to talk more sometime,” Owen said after a while, his tone casual but hopeful. “Maybe grab lunch tomorrow? Dining hall?”

Luke hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in Owen’s smile made it impossible to say no. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he replied, feeling a little giddy at the thought of spending more time with him.

The next day, they met at the dining hall for lunch, and it was like they had known each other for years. Owen greeted him with a grin, making Luke feel instantly comfortable. As they filled their trays with food, Luke found himself chatting easily with Owen, the conversation flowing as naturally as it had the day before.

Owen had a way of making Luke forget about the awkwardness of his situation. When Luke caught people staring, Owen would crack a joke or divert his attention, making the moment feel less heavy. And for the first time in weeks, Luke found himself enjoying a meal without the weight of other people’s opinions pressing down on him.

Their lunch turned into an easy routine. They met again the next day, and the day after that, sharing stories and jokes, trading glances that lingered just a little too long. They began texting between classes, sending each other memes and Instagram reels that made Luke laugh out loud in the middle of his lectures.

Luke had always enjoyed a good sense of humor, and Owen’s playful texts became the highlight of his day. Every time his phone buzzed, he’d feel a flutter of excitement, hoping it was Owen. The conversations weren’t just lighthearted, though. Sometimes they’d dive into deeper topics, talking about their futures, their dreams, and the things they struggled with.

It wasn’t long before Owen started joining Luke and his friends when they went out for dinner or hung out on the weekends. Jenna and Matt took a quick liking to Owen, and soon enough, he was part of their little group. But even when they were all together, Luke couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special between him and Owen—something more than just friendship.

One day, Owen invited Luke over to his dorm. Luke had been curious about Owen’s space, and when he stepped into the room, he immediately felt at home. Owen’s dorm was a reflection of his personality—warm and welcoming. There were posters of art prints, a collection of well-worn books on his shelf, and string lights that gave the room a cozy glow. There was a faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air, calming and familiar.

Luke noticed right away that Owen had a single room. Lucky, Luke thought. He couldn’t help but wish he had a space like this—especially now, with his growing belly making everything more cumbersome. Privacy was becoming a rare commodity, and Luke found himself longing for moments of solitude, where he could just relax without feeling self-conscious about how he looked or moved.

“You can get comfortable,” Owen said, smiling as he gestured toward the bed.

Luke hesitated for a second before making his way over, adjusting his body carefully as he sat down. His belly, now quite prominent at 24 weeks, made it hard to find a comfortable position. His back was aching, and his hips had started to feel the strain of the added weight. Even his glutes—once firm and athletic—had become rounder, fuller, and it made sitting for long periods a challenge. He shifted slightly on the bed, trying to ease the pressure.

“You okay?” Owen asked, his voice full of concern.

“Yeah,” Luke replied with a small smile. “Just... hard to get comfortable sometimes.”

Owen sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, both of them quietly taking in the moment. But there was a tension in the air, something unspoken that hung between them.

In that moment, Luke and Owen leaned back together, their bodies settling into a quiet closeness. Owen wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulders, drawing him in. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, but there was a current of unspoken emotion between them, charged with something deeper than just companionship.

Owen's eyes met Luke’s, and for a moment, neither spoke. Luke’s heart skipped a beat as Owen’s hand slowly drifted to rest on the gentle curve of his belly. The touch was tentative at first, a soft and careful exploration, as if Owen was unsure of his place in this intimate moment. But as his palm settled against the firm swell, something shifted. A warm, grounding sensation spread through Luke, calming his nerves and filling him with a sense of safety he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The contact was different from anything he’d experienced before—far from the clinical, distant touches at the doctor's office or the brief, well-intended pats from his family. This was filled with emotion, and Luke could feel it in the way Owen’s fingers delicately traced the roundness of his belly, exploring the taut skin stretched over the life growing within. Owen’s thumb gently swept across the skin beneath Luke's shirt, reverent and tender.

Luke inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth spread not just from Owen’s touch but from the connection between them. His heart fluttered as he felt a pull, something that urged him to deepen the moment. Without thinking, he hesitated for a moment, then, with a soft breath, lifted the hem of his shirt, inviting Owen into a space even more intimate.

“I feel so huge lately,” Luke whispered, his voice tinged with nervousness and vulnerability, exposing his bare skin and the now undeniable roundness of his belly. “And I’m not even halfway through.”

Owen’s eyes softened as his fingers touched the exposed skin, caressing the stretch marks that had begun to form—a physical testament to Luke's journey. His touch grew bolder, more assured, and Luke could feel his heart race as Owen's thumb slowly circled the navel, the gesture both comforting and deeply personal.

“You’re beautiful and feel amazing,” Owen murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand still resting on Luke’s belly, feeling the life growing within. The words hung in the air, filling the space between them with emotion.

Luke felt a rush of warmth—gratitude, affection, and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. The air between them shifted, and Luke felt a warmth spread through his chest. His heartbeat quickened as Owen leaned in, his lips brushing against Luke’s in a soft, tentative kiss. The kiss was slow at first, their lips barely touching, but as Luke responded, it deepened, becoming more intense. Owen’s hand remained on Luke’s belly, gently cradling the life growing inside him as their kiss intensified.

Then, in a slow, deliberate move, Owen pressed his lips gently against Luke's, the kiss soft and tender, but carrying the weight of something that had been building between them for weeks.

Luke’s hand instinctively found Owen’s, pressing it tighter against his belly as they kissed, a silent acknowledgment that this—everything they were sharing—was real, and growing into something more.

Luke felt a rush of emotions—desire, connection, vulnerability. It was as if everything he had been holding in, all the insecurities and fears, melted away in Owen’s arms. Owen made him feel seen, cherished, and for the first time in a long time, Luke didn’t feel like an oddity. He felt like someone worthy of love.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they smiled at each other.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Owen confessed, his voice low and filled with affection.

“Me too,” Luke whispered, his heart racing as he placed a hand over Owen’s, their fingers interlacing over the curve of his belly.

Owen’s fingers softly traced the swell of Luke’s belly, his touch feather-light yet full of reverence, as though acknowledging the life within. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the emotional weight of the moment. Luke felt seen, cherished. The gentle caress of Owen’s hand wasn’t just about acknowledging the pregnancy; it was about acknowledging Luke in his entirety.

By 28 weeks, Luke’s body had undergone an undeniable transformation. His once lean and athletic build now carried the fullness and weight of his pregnancy in ways he hadn’t anticipated. His belly, now a large, firm globe, stretched his shirts to their limits, forcing him to wear oversized clothing to accommodate its ever-growing size. But it wasn’t just his belly that had changed. His glutes, once taut and muscular, had grown into soft, rounded mounds that jutted out. His jeans, which had once fit snugly around his waist, now hugged his curves in ways that accentuated the changes in his lower body. Getting dressed each morning was a physical and emotional challenge. He often found himself staring in the mirror, marveling at how different he looked, how different he felt.

Luke could feel his hormones surging more intensely with each passing week, bringing a confusing mix of heightened emotions and unexpected physical sensations. His pregnancy seemed to amplify every feeling, from fleeting moments of irritation to waves of tenderness. He would find himself tearing up at things that normally wouldn’t faze him, like a sad movie or a sentimental Instagram post. And yet, what troubled him most were the unfamiliar stirrings of desire that seemed to bloom within him, a drive that was becoming harder to ignore.

There was a restlessness in his body now, a tension that seemed to coil in his muscles, particularly in his growing belly and softening hips. He could feel it when he lay in bed at night, when his body felt too warm under the sheets, his skin hypersensitive to every touch. The weight of his expanding belly—once something he marveled at—now often pressed against his thighs in a way that left him squirming with an unfamiliar ache. He would shift positions, his hands absentmindedly tracing the contours of his rounded stomach, trying to soothe himself. But the sensations, both physical and emotional, lingered, simmering just beneath the surface.

His glutes, once firm and athletic, had grown noticeably fuller and rounder, and the way they swayed when he walked had become something he couldn’t ignore. Even getting dressed was different—his jeans hugged his curves in a way that made him hyper-aware of how his body had changed. The fabric would stretch taut over his bubble butt, a constant reminder of his expanding frame. Every step sent a ripple through his now-plump cheeks, the sensation both familiar and utterly foreign. His hips had widened, adding to the sense of softness, and he couldn’t help but notice how much more sensitive that area had become. Simple touches, even just pulling on his pants, made his skin tingle, as if his body was responding in ways he didn’t fully understand.

The tenderness in his chest only added to his confusion. His pecs had begun to swell, and they often ached with a dull, persistent soreness. It was as if his entire body was preparing for something monumental, and the hormonal shifts had heightened his sensitivity in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The softness in his chest, the way his hips and glutes felt more pronounced, and the growing curve of his belly all combined to create a physical need that he was unsure how to address.

Luke’s desire gnawed at him from within, a yearning he hadn’t anticipated would be so intense, so all-consuming. It was as though his body, now swollen and full of life, had unlocked something deeper—an ancient, primal fire he could no longer control. The weight of his belly, the curve of his hips, the ever-expanding fullness of his glutes—everything about him now screamed of fertility, of creation, and it only fueled the fire that burned just beneath his skin.

There were nights when that need became almost unbearable, his body restless as it throbbed with a dull ache that no amount of repositioning could ease. He would lie on his side, his hands tracing the taut skin of his belly, feeling the soft movements of the baby within. The sensation only heightened his awareness of what his body was capable of—of the life he was growing. Yet, despite the fact that this pregnancy wasn’t for him, Luke couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to offer himself fully to the experience of creation, to the idea of being filled with life in every sense. He wanted to be claimed, to surrender his body to the hands of someone who loved him, someone who desired him for who he was.

There was a strange duality in his thoughts—a tension between the reality of carrying his sibling and the raw, biological instinct that seemed to pull him in another direction. In the darkest hours of the night, when the world was quiet and still, Luke would close his eyes and let his mind wander. He imagined what it would be like to give himself completely to someone he loved—to a man who could ignite that primal fire and help him create life together. There was a fierce, almost visceral longing within him to feel that connection, to offer his body as a vessel for something more than just duty or obligation.

His expanding belly, once a source of pride, now felt like a beacon of his desires—an invitation, almost. It had grown firm and round, and each day he could feel the baby stretch his skin tighter, making his belly more prominent, more pronounced. The sensation of fullness, of being so utterly consumed by life, only deepened his need to share that with someone. And yet, Luke knew he had to hold back, that these feelings couldn’t be indulged, not while he was carrying his parents’ child. It was a strange, alien thought, to be so physically aware of his pregnancy and yet emotionally distant from the life within him.

Still, the primal instinct remained, the need to feel desired and connected in a way that transcended everything else. His glutes, now fuller and rounder than they had ever been, added to the sensation. The way they swayed when he walked, the slight jiggle when he moved—it made him hyper-aware of his body in a way that left him both frustrated and longing. He would catch glimpses of himself in the mirror, seeing the way his jeans clung to his curves, and for a moment, he would feel powerful, almost seductive. But then reality would pull him back, reminding him of the strange situation he was in.

Luke had always imagined that if he were ever to carry a child, it would be with someone he loved—someone who shared that desire with him. He wanted to be seen, to be held, to be cherished as he went through this incredible transformation. And yet, now, that reality seemed so far away. He was doing this for his family, and while that came with its own sense of fulfillment, it wasn’t the same as the love and desire he yearned for. The thought of offering himself to a man, of sharing his body in that intimate, life-creating way, tugged at his heart in a way that felt almost overwhelming.

Some nights, he would dream of it—of being held, of his belly being caressed with reverence and desire, of whispers of love and devotion in his ear. The ache inside him, both physical and emotional, felt so real that he would wake up breathless, his body tingling with need. But as soon as the daylight came, those thoughts had to be pushed aside, buried beneath the responsibilities he carried.

Luke struggled with these feelings, torn between the life he was building at college and the undeniable longing inside him. His desire to feel that deep connection, to be wanted and cherished for who he was, remained, even as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

And then there was Owen. His gentle presence only seemed to amplify these feelings, making it harder to separate the emotional from the physical. When Owen touched him—whether it was a comforting hand on his shoulder or a tender caress of his belly—it sent waves of warmth through Luke's body. It was unlike anything he had felt before, a quiet intimacy that was both soothing and electrifying. The way Owen looked at him, with such care and admiration, made Luke's heart race, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to him in ways that went beyond the emotional support Owen offered.

But Luke kept those thoughts to himself, unsure of how to navigate this new terrain. He was carrying his sibling, after all—a fact that made everything feel more complicated. Still, his hormones surged, his body responded, and each day it became harder to ignore the reality of what he was feeling.

The pregnancy cravings were another constant reminder of the life growing inside him. Luke found himself waking up at odd hours of the night with an overwhelming desire for things like pickles, peanut butter, or ice cream. Owen, always willing to lend a hand, would either join him on these late-night snack runs or show up with bags of groceries, eager to fulfill any craving Luke mentioned. Their connection had only deepened as the pregnancy progressed, with Owen becoming an even bigger part of Luke’s life.

One evening, while they were sharing a quiet moment in Owen’s dorm, Owen asked the question Luke had been secretly hoping for.

“Luke… I know things are crazy right now, with everything going on with your family and the pregnancy, but… I really want us to make this official. Will you be my boyfriend?”

Luke’s heart fluttered as he looked into Owen’s eyes. The sincerity in his voice, the way he had been there through every step of the pregnancy, made the decision easy. Despite all the challenges, Owen had become his rock, his anchor.

"Yes," Luke whispered, a smile breaking across his face. "I’d love that."

The simple word shifted the dynamic between them. Now that they were officially together, there was an added layer of closeness to their relationship. Owen wasn’t just supporting Luke through his pregnancy—he was his partner, someone Luke could lean on, confide in, and share his deepest insecurities with. They began spending even more time together, with Owen frequently coming over to Luke’s dorm or joining him on outings with his friends. Luke’s friends had been supportive, but with Owen by his side, navigating college life while pregnant became more bearable.

Yet, as Luke’s bond with Owen deepened, the family dynamic continued to crumble. His parents' marriage had always been fragile, but now, with the impending arrival of the baby, the cracks were widening into chasms. His mother’s once optimistic demeanor had darkened, her anxiety about the future growing more palpable. She often questioned whether Mark was ready to be a father again, or whether their marriage was even worth saving. Luke knew his mother had pinned her hopes on the baby to fix everything, but as the weeks went by, it became increasingly clear that the baby wouldn’t be enough to mend the broken pieces of their relationship.

Mark, on the other hand, had grown even more distant. What had once been subtle signs of detachment had become full-blown withdrawal. He spent more time away from home, and when he was around, his interactions with Luke and Julie were strained, often ending in arguments. The tension in the house was suffocating. Emma, now in high school, had retreated into her own world, often avoiding the chaos by staying late at school or locking herself in her room. Luke felt like he was watching his family disintegrate before his eyes.

He had always been the peacemaker, the glue that held everyone together. But now, as his own life became more complicated, he realized he couldn’t shoulder that burden anymore. He couldn’t fix his parents’ marriage. He couldn’t be the one to keep them from falling apart. And that realization brought with it a wave of guilt. For so long, he had believed it was his responsibility to hold the family together, but now, with his own baby sibling growing inside him, he was learning that sometimes, you had to let things break.

The emotional weight of it all was compounded by the physical changes in his body. His belly continued to grow, stretching the skin tight, and each kick from the baby made him more aware of the life he was carrying. His glutes had swollen into what he could only describe as a bubble butt, the weight of them adding to his new body shape. The growth was unavoidable—he felt it in the way his hips shifted when he walked, in the way his thighs rubbed together slightly more than before, in the extra care he had to take when pulling on clothes or sitting down.

Some days, it was all too much. He would find himself standing in front of the mirror, applying stretch cream to his belly, hips, and glutes, trying to soothe the tension in his skin. The reflection staring back at him was both familiar and unfamiliar. He had always been proud of his athletic build, but now, it was changing, softening in ways that both awed and unnerved him. His belly, round and firm, felt like a constant presence, while his glutes had grown into prominent, rounded mounds that made sitting more difficult. His shirts no longer hid the growing curve of his belly, and the whispers and stares on campus had become more frequent.

It was hard not to feel self-conscious. Despite Owen’s constant reassurance, the attention he received—whether from curious strangers or well-meaning friends—felt invasive. Even his closest friends had started to treat him differently, as if they didn’t know how to act around him anymore. They still invited him to social events, but the dynamic had shifted. Luke was no longer just one of the guys—he was the pregnant guy, and it made everything feel awkward. Owen, however, was different. He never treated Luke like he was fragile or strange. He accepted every part of him—the changes in his body, the emotional struggles, the insecurities.

And that’s what made their relationship so special. Owen gave Luke something he hadn’t had in a long time—someone to share the weight of his burdens with. Someone who didn’t ask him to be the glue or the peacekeeper. With Owen, he could just be Luke. Their intimacy deepened as the weeks passed.

Part 4

#mpreg #male pregnancy #mpreg belly #pregnantbelly #pregnant man #pregnant #belly #mpregbelly #mpregstory #mpreg birth

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riaki · 1 year ago

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santa claus and his treats | satoru gojo x f!reader pt.1 of christmas event! wc: 3.4k oops i went overboard | cw: petnames, literally j pure fluff ur both STUPID in love, he’s the cutest! happy birthday pretty boy 🧸

"'toru?" you called, voice filling the dimly lit room as you peeked your head in through the door. the curtains were drawn, the iridescent green tinsel dotted with soft yellow lights framing the doorway of your bedroom scratching your neck as you spotted the white-haired boy sitting on your shared bed, picking at something on his lower lip.

you took a moment to drink in the sight— his soft white hair that fell over dazzling sky-blue eyes, the color of the lake dotted with fragile crystalline snowflakes that melted into fresh spring streams that fed nature with new growth and fresh flower buds, a tangible warmth when his gaze fell on you and an easy smile stretched across his pink lips. a little too easy, you think. easy enough for you to miss the way he swipes a coffee brown crumb from his cheek; the smile has too much sugar and cream for you to buy it.

your eyes slowly drift from his charming grin to the rest of the room. there's a forest green tuft of leaves hanging from the ceiling on a thin golden string; you recognize the crimson red berries and waxed leaves with spots of pearl dotting as a bunch of mistletoe, hanging right over the mattress. clearly, he thought ahead.

you snuff the flush from your cheeks as he perks up at the sight of you, straightening his back. "hey, baby! you must be my present from santa this year," he laughs, holding his arms out, an invitation for you to crawl into his arms and curl up on his lap like two warm cats by the fireplace. you almost gave in— until you remembered why you were looking for him.

"you're getting coal this time, satoru." you said, huffing as you walked over to the mattress and put your hands on your hips, attempting to come off as intimidating in front of your boyfriend as you leaned over and stared down at him. he just giggled that sweet, boyish laughter of his, scooting closer and capturing you between two strong arms to tug you onto the bed with him. the sheets were soft, and they smelled like him as he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you like a life-sized plushie, all warmth and soft comfort that he craved so much.

"aww, really? but it's my birthday today," he sighed loudly, shaking his head as he firmly planted his hands on either side of your head to prevent you from worming away and planting a loud smooch on the top of your hair, before laughing as you pulled away from his grasp and gave him a glare. “besides, you’re anything but a bad gift.” he smiles.

“don’t sweet talk me, ‘toru. you’ve been naughty this year.” he wiggles his eyebrows at that, and you shoot him a sharp glare which just earns you a light scoff, but there’s a smile mirrored on both of your lips.

(maybe they’ve met so many times in the past that they know how to copy the other flawlessly.)

"but you're already here, my love. lookin' all pretty like the angel on top of our tree." he hums, crossing his legs and holding his ankles as he rocks back and forth; the teddy bear he won you from the arcade on your first date is face planted into the pillows by his side, donning a festive red santa hat. the white fluffy pom pom looks like satoru's hair, and you stifle a laugh at the thought.

"how kind of you, satoru." and you mean it— he looks like his own christmas angel; snowy hair and pretty blue eyes clad in a loose black tee with cheap printed red and green christmas lights over his chest. he looks unfairly attractive with those gray sweatpants on, too. you wouldn't mind wrapping him up in yellow ribbon and presenting him to your parents this year as your holiday present from santa, and then having your own fun with him later. you suppose you must've been perfectly good to land him; so pretty and fun, bubbling laughter that speaks of his care in volumes. and he’s their soon-to-be son-in-law, after all. and he’s a golden catch.

but it’s time for this white betta to be put in his place; he’s gone snooping where he shouldn’t have— or rather, scavenging would be the more appropriate choice. and he’s about to be skinned for entering the lion(fish)'s den. your matching red-green plaid pajama pants won't save him this time.

"sorry, baby, but you can't talk yourself out of this one." you said firmly, scooting closer to him as you sat back on your knees and gave him a look as pointed and narrow as the icicles melting on the frosted awnings. to anyone else, you might look like a wet, angry cat— but to satoru, it was enough to strike fear straight into the center of his heart. his fight-or-flight response kicked in (it only ever did with you)— and it was as if you could see the change in his demeanor. his eyes voluntarily softened, lids drooping as a lazy smile drifted over his lips like fluffy white clouds over a pale sun on a winter's morning.

"aww, don't be like that. my princess looks so much prettier when she's happy," he coos, all milk and honey as he reaches out and catches your wrist, rubbing his thumb over your pulse beating beneath your soft skin as he brings it to his lips and kisses your knuckles. so he chooses to fight, and you almost fold— almost.

you twist your arm in his grasp, eliciting a whiny yelp of pain; getting him to let go of you as you quickly flick his forehead. even so, he lets you-- he never turns infinity on around you, even at the price of his own sanctity.

you sighed when he gave you a dramatic pout, sticking out his bottom lip as he hung his head low in defeat like a golden retriever being scolded by his owner, soft hair falling over his pretty blues. his hands come up to cradle his head, rubbing the spot where you'd knicked him. "don't play around, satoru. where are the cookies i baked last night?" you asked, reflecting his frown with a pointed glare. if looks could cut, he'd be a red christmas on the cloudlike sheets. you were tired of beating around the bush, especially when satoru had a knack for making it utterly exhausting. nevertheless, it went on.

"maybe santa came early," he quipped, giggling at his own joke. "you never know, huh? he's an unpredictable old geezer. likes his milk and cookies, or so i heard."

"didn't know santa claus had the six eyes." you deadpanned, crossing your arms over your chest and looking him square in the eyes. "and he shaved his beard off, apparently." he feigns hurt, holding a hand over his heart in mock anguish.

"i'm no thief! it hurts me to know you think of me so low, sweetheart." he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. outside, the snowy wind howls in agreement. "besides, it's my birthday. you're suffocating the spirit, honey." he drawls.

you just roll your eyes at that, crossing your arms and shifting to sit closer to him. you will your irritated expression to soften, and it's reflected in the way satoru immediately relaxes, shoulders sagging as the anxious look in his eyes vanishes like the wilting ghost of fall on a christmas eve, leaving behind the scent of bluebells and frost on the wind. he thinks you've forgiven him.

that's just what you need. for him to let his guard down so you can spring the trap on him. santa may be able to get away with his yearly trespassing, but satoru's entered the property of more than your heart this time, and it's time for his holiday retribution.

"give me your hand, satoru." you said softly, voice barely a breath above a whisper. he obliges almost immediately, scooting closer on the bed so that his knees graze against yours, and you hear him suck in a little breath at the contact as your hand finds his.

you take his palm in your own; his hands are considerably bigger than yours, but you still manage to run a thumb over the ridges of his knuckles, gently massaging the soft skin over weary bones. a sweet little noise leaves his breathless lips; it's almost like a purr, and when you glance up at him he's almost as red as the glittering velvet bulbs dangling from the primmed branches of your christmas tree. he looks away, a subtle pout weighing down on his lips as he coughs loudly, as if the amber sap of a pine tree has caught in his throat, scratchy like tree bark.

"what are you doing?" he whispers, voice rough and hoarse, like someone took a fireplace stoker and poked his throat. almost a protest.

but you can feel him melting into you, and soon enough, he’s sandwiched you between his warmth and the fluffy blankets, the scent of apples and cinnamon weaved between the strands of his soft white hair as they tickle your flushed skin. his lips are soft and pliant and warm against your own; he's all over you, hands finding your wrists to trace tender, wobbly circles over your thrumming pulse with his thumb. he's robbing your lungs of air, needy in the way he cages you between his lanky limbs, lock and key with his free hand threading through your hair. he can never get enough of you, and he throws his inhibitions to the frostbitten wind if they mean learning to resist you.

it's spread around you like ripples on the surface of a misty lake, and when he draws away to stare down at you, eyes blown wide with a certain shine in his eye that reminds you of glowing embers, jumping from the lively blossom of fire on the grated dark metal of a hearth, there's a cheeky lopsided grin on his glossy lips. his fingers are slender, pale and callused, a gentle flushed at the tips.

"there was a mistletoe," he says breathlessly, as if that'll excuse him. as if he needs an excuse to kiss you. you just laugh, reaching up to trace his jaw with a finger, and he shudders despite the heater inside your room. the bunch of green leaves and red berries hanging above you sways in agreement.

but you can't focus on the dreamy look on his face; that lazy smile that dances over his lips and illuminates his features like twinkling christmas lights catching on each edge of a carefully cut snowflake, the sky's jewels. every time he looks at you as if you've crafted each intricacy of his world; patched the colors together and taught the light to reflect, you feel as though there are bubbles in your throat, and you have to cough them away when they're accompanied by a familiar rush of heat to your face.

it's all overpowered. strongly, by the rich taste of cinnamon. rich, sweet, distinctly festive, mixed with brown sugar and cookie batter; flour on the matching aprons satoru bought for the two of you, except the 'he' on 'he cooks' has been messily crossed out and replaced with a scribble that says 'she', and vice versa. it's on his tongue, his lips, the little dips on the corner of his mouth that makes him look like a kitten every time he grins. it tastes like wearing matching christmas sweaters, sampling sweet treats fresh out of the oven and laughing cheerily in your little cozy kitchen of warmth when he burns his tongue, a sour look on his face that wrinkles his nosebridge.

but, most importantly, it tastes like condemnation.

you sit up, briefly (and painfully) knocking foreheads with him when he's too slow to mirror your actions, but the complaint that's ready to stain the air like chimney soot dies on his tongue when he sees the look on your face. you look the same as you did the first time you found out he'd forgotten to pick up megumi and tsumiki from school. in other words, pissed.

"hey, pretty girl. you should smile; you look less like an ogre when you do—" he hastily starts, laughing nervously as he runs his hands through his messy hair. you've noticed that whenever you neglect to toy with the silky soft strands when you're tangled with him, whether it be kissing, cuddling, or... something else, he'll do it afterward as if to emulate the feeling of your fingers in his hair, even if it 'screws it up'. apparently, his skyscraper ego is too fragile to ask for headscratches.

"just a minute, satoru." you cut him off through gritted teeth, lips that should be stretched in a wide smile pressed together in frustration. your eyes narrow as you straighten up, sitting back on your ankles. "you ate them, didn't you?" your fingers dig into his skin, pinching his cheek. if his skin wasn't already stained crimson with boyish excitement, it would be an angry red now. you give killer pinches; he knows firsthand.

which is why he should've thought ahead and listened to the angel on his shoulder when you were knocked out earlier, curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, snoozing away. what was he to do? the cookies you'd made were calling his name. and it was for his birthday, and they were made for him. so why couldn't he indulge?

this was why.

and you know you've pinned him with your accusation like a throwing dart on a cork board; the way his gaze bounces around the room and his smile turns a hint sheepish and a handful guilty speaks volumes enough before he can even protest. but he can feel your wrath like an entire mine's worth of coal in his stockings, so he quickly throws his hands up, shimmying away from your angry pinch. the sheets bunch beneath him.

"listen, sweets, i just thought that— well, i'm sorry, baby, they just looked so good. and i only ate a few! i swear." satoru says solemnly, getting on his knees and throwing himself before you. he knows you're unamused— sitting there, crosslegged, looking down at him as if he's some chewed up gum you found on the bottom of your shoe. he might as well be. blueberry flavored, maybe? or mint, he's fine with that too—

"so you did." you just sigh, flicking his hunched shoulders, before you go soft again, and he sees pink. you reach forward, fingers creeping beneath his chin to tilt his face up. his skin is soft and warm beneath your skin, thrumming with a life and heat the poor overworked radiator in your room could never measure up to. and when he does look up, his starstruck gaze meets your own; you look ethereal in the warm light, and he wonders why he hasn't put a ring on your finger or started a family with you yet. maybe that can be the last gift to top off the cake of your overflowing knitted stocking, hanging from the kitchen counter; a mahogany box with golden hinges who's shine pales in comparison to the diamond ring in the center of the velvet.

he tucks the idea into his mental notes and grins, a cheeky flash of teeth. "so you forgive me, right?"

wrong. he should know better than to push his luck. especially when it comes to you.

the hand beneath his chin creeps up his face to squeeze his cheeks together, forcing his lips to pucker like a fish out of water as he tries to escape to no avail. you glare down at him, all needles. not at all in the holiday spirit, if you ask him. his face is squishy as a pillow beneath your fingers, and a smile resurfaces on your lips after a long struggle to keep it submerged.

he opens his mouth, no doubt to wail like a newborn, and you quickly withdraw, knowing better than to continue your assault. "geez! okay, fine. sorry. i ate them, you grinch." he grumbles, rubbing his squished cheek as he pouts and looks away, shrinking in on himself. his shirt is bundled beneath his arms, slipping off one of his shoulders to expose a pleasant flush on his neck. "seriously! you're such a killjoy. there's no fun in waiting," he smiles mischievously, wiggling his toes and nudging you with his foot. the fabric of his fuzzy reindeer socks bumps against your thigh, and you make another face at the red pom poms on the crudely-knit rudolph face.

"apologize." you emphasize each syllable, letting them fall off your tongue. they jut into his side like blows to his ribs; he falls back onto the bed for extra dramatics, letting it squeak beneath his weight.

"oh, the horror! to think that i'd be reduced to such a state—"

"satoru."

"—that i, head of the gojo clan, the honored one—”

"satoru gojo."

"should be forced to bow to such pious customs at the foot of scrooge—"

"gojo!"

you reach over to threateningly pinch him again, and he rolls away, tossing a fuzzy pillow into the air and kicking it at you like he's playing some cursed form of tennis. you scowl, catching the cushion and tossing it back at him. it lands square on his face, and he whines, crying about how you've ruined his beautiful, youthfully full, gorgeous face; how is he ever going to pretend to be santa and let pretty girls sit on his lap now? —and that one earns him another pinch to his arm.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry, my love. you're not the grinch, or scrooge, and i shouldn'tve eaten the cookies." he sighs, excruciatingly slow as he inches towards you again, wary of but wanting your warmth all the same. it's too cold to be alone this morning, anyway.

"without me." you corrected, unable to wipe the light grin from your face, and you watch as his face lights up, like a kid seeing his dream christmas present in the window display of a bright shop, hidden behind frosted glass and cold air.

he sits up again, scooting close and opening his arms once more. this time, you oblige, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck. now he’s the one with his back flush against the mattress, soft as a cloud of cotton candy. he laughs, and it rumbles through his chest when his hands find the back of your head and he tucks your head beneath his chin, cradling your neck.

"without—" punctuated with a kiss to the top of your head, "you." satoru finishes, and you can hear the grin in his voice, cheery as a christmas carole. his arms snake around your waist, squeezing lightly as one hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt to gently rub your back. his fingers against your skin feels like the touch of a butterfly, wings like stained glass.

"how about this, pretty? we can make more together." he suggests, resting his chin on top of your head. you're smushed into his chest, the printed material of his christmas light t-shirt scratching your face, and the only thing you can manage to breathe is the cheap cologne you bought him (you don't understand why he uses it when he could afford the best of his own), but suddenly you can't bring yourself to mind. so you nod, and he chuckles.

"d'ya still wanna do cinnamon?" he asks softly, slipping his free hand into your hair to play with the strands, holding you close and cozy in his embrace. the burning heat of friction between your numb hands or a roaring fireplace don't compare to the warmth he brings you, soft and sweet and painfully human. and you can't really make yourself feel upset at the pretty boy with snow-white hair holding you anymore.

"nah. let's do peanut butter chocolate chip." you hum, muffled, and he laughs, hearty and full, the kind that makes his entire body tremble a little. and you can feel it, so you tilt your head up to peer up at him. there's a stray pine needle in his hair; must've been from your hazardously decorated christmas tree. he looks down at you and smiles, brushing your hair from your eyes and leaning in to kiss your forehead. it’s like a crimson wax stamp sealing his love letter to you.

he cuddles you close, tufts of his soft hair tickling your face like a tacky christmas sweater. "sounds unhealthy. but whatever you want, baby. santa's gonna give you all you ask this year." and this time, he doesn't use the mistletoe as an excuse to brush his lips against yours when you move to pick the pine needle from his hair. he smells like vanilla, swirled like espresso with a hint of cinnamon.

he may have enjoyed his cookies and milk without you, but there's nowhere else he’d rather be— no one else he'd rather share the rest of his time with, be it baking, decorating, or lazy naps in each other’s arms. after all, half the jolliness of the holiday season comes from being with you.

fish analogies went crazy… happy bday gojo !!! my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

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oh-sofarfromhome · 2 years ago

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Simplicity*

Warnings: smut, thigh riding, pregnancy sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex

Summary: Something as simple as Harry scrolling on his phone can send a pregnant Yn into a frenzy

—

Yn steps out of the shower carefully, wrapping a fluffy towel around her as she makes her way to her bathroom sink and mirror, drying off and wrapping her bathrobe around her before she begins her after shower routine.

She smiles softly at her round belly, applying some cream to the forming stretch marks and just appreciating the growth. There were only three months left in her pregnancy, the time flying by and only making her and Harry unbelievably excited for their first child to come into the world.

When she’s all finished in there, she heads out to their bedroom to get dressed and sees Harry away and checking his phone. She takes in the sight of him just scrolling on his phone with barely any clothing, just some boxers. His hair is a bit messy from sleep and the stubble on his face is evident because of the early hours of the morning.

Yn gets a bit lost in thought, thinking about how he buried himself between her thighs when they got home last night, that same stubble leaving a delicious burn on her inner thighs. She clenches her thighs together unknowingly, and they’re getting a bit damp as she daydreams until she’s interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

She quickly snaps out of it, relaxing her legs as she looks to Harry who is now sitting up, his feet flat on the floor. Her heart speeds up when she sees the knowing smirk on his face, a glint in his eye as she gets a bit embarrassed that she’s been caught.

He’s just staring her down from his spot before reaching toward her. She steps closer so he can reach her and he pulls her to stand between his legs, leaning his neck up a bit to press a kiss to her lips. He moves her so she’s in his lap, her belly pressing against his a bit. His lips immediately trail down her jaw and to her neck, pressing chaste kisses to her collarbone.

Her lack of clothing beneath her robe becomes obvious the more he kisses her, a small wet patch starting to form at the spot she’s sitting. He chuckles when he feels the warmth, pulling away from her neck for a brief moment.

“Woke up needy f’me, hm?” he teases, softly nipping at a sensitive part of her neck. She hums at his question, reaching between them to his semi hard cock and palming it through his thin boxers.

“Seems like I’m not the only one needy,” she replies, quick to tease him the same way he did her.

“Guess you’re right,” he chuckles lightly, but his mood quickly shifts as he maneuvers her until she’s straddling his leg, “But we’re gonna get you taken care of first, how’s that sound?” he finishes, pulling away to look at her and make sure she wants this.

“Yes, please that’s okay,” she immediately replies, and he laughs softly at her excitement, making her pout and open her mouth to reply.

He beats her to it, rolling his eyes playfully. “Oh, shush. Just teasin’ you, baby,” he tsks, reaching to untie her robe and slip it down her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor carelessly. He wastes no more time, gripping her hips and helping her to move along his leg, right on his tiger tattoo.

The feeling shocks her for a moment, a small whine falling from her lips at the feeling of the muscle against her swollen clit. Her body bows a bit at the unexpected pleasure and her hand fly up to his shoulders to keep herself stable.

Harry just watches her intently, using her reactions to gauge whether or not he’s doing the right thing. His worries are gone within seconds, though, and he smiles in relief when she starts to work herself along his thigh, not leaving him to work as much while she chases her orgasm.

He knows she’s about to cum when her breath catches and her hips stutter, so he keeps his grip firm to not knock off her pace, knowing that her orgasm will go away if he doesn’t do the exact same thing he’s doing now. He goes the extra mile and starts to encourage her softly, praising her and the way she’s taking hold of her pleasure and showing him what she needs.

That sends her over the edge immediately, a loud and long moan leaving her lips as she cums hard on his thigh, her cum making the tiger glisten. “Just like that,” he praises, helping her come down. His lips are pressing soft kisses all over her to help ground her, sweet nothings falling from her lips. When she’s all recovered she sits up and presses her lips to his, shocking him with the intensity. He thought she’d be tapping out for the night but she has other plans, reaching into his boxers and taking his leaking cock into her hand.

He chokes on a surprised moan, bucking his hips into her hand as she starts to slowly stroke him, teasing him. She pulls away from his lips slowly, her chest heaving from the lack of air.

“Can I ride you?” she asks almost innocently, making Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. She hasn’t requested this position in quite a while, and understandably so. He takes one look at her and realizes just how much she wants this, but he always double checks to give her some time to back out.

“Yeah? Wanna be on top tonight?” he questions, his thumb rubbing circles on her hip. She nods enthusiastically, and he’s happy to meet her request, lifting his hips slightly to slip his boxers down enough to free his cock entirely. “Well, hop on then. Show me what y’got,” he teases, but he’s shutting up when she sinks down onto him, her swollen walls so tight around him he’s rendered speechless.

She sits with their hips pressed together until she gets used to the slight stretch, wasting no time in placing her hands on his hips and using them as leverage to move herself up and down along his throbbing cock. Each lift leaves his cock coated in her juices from her orgasm and arousal, some of the cream leaving a ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, feels s’good,” he whines placing his hands on her hips once more to keep her steady. His head is thrown back as she works herself on him, his mouth falling open in pleasure.

She goes on like this for about five minutes or so before she’s stopping her hips with an annoyed groan, making his head shoot up so he can see what’s wrong. Before he can ask, though, she’s explaining the reason for ceasing her actions.

“Hurts,” she whines, making him stop immediately and lift her up slightly to pull out of her carefully. He goes to speak up to ask what’s wrong but she speaks up first. “Gave me a cramp in my legs, can you try and spoon me, give it to me that way?” she questions, and he’s instantly obliging, helping her get into position.

“Course, mama,” he nods firmly. Slipping behind her and rubbing on her belly for a brief moment. “However you need it. Ready f’me again?” he questions once they’re all settled and he’s lined up at her entrance, her puffy folds snug around him.

As soon as he has her verbal consent he is slipping back into her in one smooth thrust, the angle pressing him against her g spot immediately. She moans out loud at the pressure, her hand reaching down to grip the sheet below her.

“Ah, that’s the spot, hm?” he grunts, starting to push himself in and out of her at a steady pace. She nods absentmindedly with a deep groan as she realizes she’s already close and this won’t last if she holds it.

It’s like Harry can read her mind, reaching forward and lifting her leg up at an angle, making him get impossibiy deeper. “Don’t y’dare fuckin’ hold back. Don’t have t’wait for me,” he grunts his words pushing her closer and closer combined with the angle. “You can let it go,” he coos, keeping his pace even so he doesn’t ruin this for her. “Cum for me, cum all over your husband’s cock,” he finishes, and that’s all it takes for her upper body to give out, her head falling against the pillow while her hips buck against his, her hole clenching so tight around him that he cums as well, thick ropes of cum coating her twitching walls.

#harry styles smut #harry styles filth #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #ceo harry styles #fic rec #smut #harry related writings #new writer #new writing blog #new writer boost #boost #harry fic #harry fic rec

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artisticxlly · 2 months ago

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A list of Haikyu!! character hcs

some of which are TERRIBLY specific! :,) Please enjoy and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! I'm all about exchanging hcs (I might reblog with additional characters orrr make multiple parts and link them here)

General hcs:

The people who I envision as chubby, buff, or just plain beefy have stretchmarks. I find it way more realistic (as someone who literally has them everywhere), and it adds some flair! Stretch marks are very pretty imo

Scars. People get childhood scars, accidental ones, surgical, etc. Whether its Osamu getting them from cooking practice or athletes from getting banged up! Idk I think the great majority of Haikyuu characters have some kind of scars!

Now for some specific characters!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa plucks his eyebrow hairs (because he likes them to look neat) frequently, but if he'd let them just grow freely, he'd have a pretty close equivalent to a unibrow?

He has moles everywhere. Like he looks close to a dalmatian /hj

Eyebags (ty noon). I'd imagine they'd be a result of a combination of pale, thin skin under his eyes and partial bad sleep because of joint pains

He had THE WORST growth pains. He had to actually work on his posture for a hot minute after puberty because he just curled in on himself way too frequently

He is a walking pharmacy if he carries his bag with him. He not only has supplies he uses himself but also for others who might potentially need something (pain meds, masks, hand warmers, etc)

He gets super dry hands and uses hand cream frequently, especially in the winter (the brand he uses is barely scented, he doesn't like heavily perfumed things (they kind of just smell like alcohol to him sometimes)

He is a little bit particular about smells. He usually sticks to specific scents when buying things that don't really change from brand to brand or product to product (coconut and mint are usually his go-to)

He's really ticklish around his ribs and hips

Kita Shinsuke

Kita finds cleaning very therapeutic, but he can get really bad pains or feel really sore after,, he gets into this zone where he kind of forgets to take breaks until the pain catches up to him

I feel like he'd really like lavender scented things... Both for the calming effect and just the general nature of the smell

Kind of inspired by the fact that he hates static? He really doesn't like scratchy/itchy fabric, cannot bear to wear it really

He prefers very simple textures when it comes to food (rice is a safe choice, of course). Mushy is not really a favourite. There needs to be some diversity in it (f.e. eating something like plain yoghurt without fruits or anything in it is iffy), but nothing overwhelming

He does yoga. Or meditation. Or both?? Something something get your head cleared a bit before you start your day. He likes the routine of it

He takes care of his hands very frequently, seeing as he works with them a lot and doesn't like them even just feeling dirty, he keeps his fingernails very short because he doesn't like to get dirt or grime to get stuck under them

He is a SHAMELESS flirt when drunk.

Suna Rintaro

He does a lot of stretches. He likes the convenience of staying flexible, and it's a good routine to ground himself!

Similar to Sakusa getting dry hands, Suna uses chapstick pretty much religiously. Having chapped lips gives him a pretty bad urge to chew off the loose skin

He has multiple nervous habits?, examples are crackling his knuckles and / or generally his joints, fiddling with his hands (maybe dermatophagia?), and also playing with his ear piercings

He digs deep pressure a lot when it comes to his partner. Like, I'd imagine him asking Osamu to literally lay on top of him so he could decompress

Also, he kind of has trouble falling asleep sometimes, but one of his weaknesses is listening to his partner's heartbeat

#They make me so ill I adore them wholeheartedly #I just love adding little imperfections/unique traits to characters AGHHH #I add things like scars and stretchmarks to my art and writing too because I just #i love it sm #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #kita shinsuke #sakusa kiyoomi #suna rintarou #osasuna #arts hcs

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mrsarnasdelicious · 6 months ago

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King!Sihtric NSFW Alphabet

A = After (what they’re like after sex)

He'll clean you up with a wet washcloth while he praises you, you have taken him so well. You did so well for him. He leans down to kiss all the mark's he's left you and then lets you cuddle up to him, talking gently and soothingly to you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's always had a thing about his own hands and shoulders, saying those are the parts of him that do the most labour.

In you he loves your breasts, belly and hips most, telling you often and loudly you look like a goddess.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He always has to cream pie you. He doesn't even let you suck him off to completion. He cums quite a lot too and it's super fertile.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a slight fascination with your breastmilk. He wants to nuzzle up to your full breast and just suckle a little before humping you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. He is not only the King of Northumbria, but also King of sex!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You riding him into the sunset, baby!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be a bit silly, but usually he has his full focus on giving you pleasure and pups.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has NO body hair growth, like zilch.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He loves love. He wants all your affection. No matter how rough he can get while humping you, he needs your love, so bad. He adores it when you are tender to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nah, he'll just hump you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging, overstim, powerplay, prey/predator play, faux courting and femdom.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The Bed, the woods or his throne.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you dance, seeing you walk, smelling you, your hips. your thighs, everything about you!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

CNC and bodily waste.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn't care much about getting his cock sucked, but can spend half a day with his head between your thighs!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is usually on the more rough side, but will always take the pace you prefer.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He ain't very fond of it, but he'll take what he can get, he's a busy man.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sihtric doesn't mind getting a bit risky and experimental, but he always makes sure to do things your speed and to always discuss things with you before you do stuff with a bit more risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has got a good stamina, lasting quite a bit and going for up to three rounds without refractory period.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Were there toys in the 9th century in the UK???

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is quite the tease. He loves it when you squirm and beg for what you want when he dangles it just out of reach.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He has the full scale of noises, from boar grunts to puppy whimpers. And he is loud! Not to mention how prolific he is at dirty talking.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Experiences Blood Frenzie. Which means he gets wickeldy horny during a fight and the moment he ghets home from battle, he has to hump you, with more urgence than ever before.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hung and actually quite aesthetically pleasing.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high, he can go multiple times a day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You usually sleep before him. He usually has a lot on his mind that keeps him up after he's humped you.

#sihtric #King!Sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #arnas fedaravicius

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 2 years ago

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Simplicity*

Warnings: smut, thigh riding, pregnancy sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex

Summary: Something as simple as Harry scrolling on his phone can send a pregnant Yn into a frenzy

okay so i actually ended up making another account recently and posted anonymously there but i’ll post the ones i wrote here LMFAOOOOO

—

“Seems like I’m not the only one needy,” she replies, quick to tease him the same way he did her.

“Guess you’re right,” he chuckles lightly, but his mood quickly shifts as he maneuvers her until she’s straddling his leg, ��But we’re gonna get you taken care of first, how’s that sound?” he finishes, pulling away to look at her and make sure she wants this.

“Yes, please that’s okay,” she immediately replies, and he laughs softly at her excitement, making her pout and open her mouth to reply.

He chokes on a surprised moan, bucking his hips into her hand as she starts to slowly stroke him, teasing him. She pulls away from his lips slowly, her chest heaving from the lack of air.

“Fuck, feels s’good,” he whines placing his hands on her hips once more to keep her steady. His head is thrown back as she works herself on him, his mouth falling open in pleasure.

#harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut #harryistheonlyoneforme #smut #harry styles filth #dbf harry styles #harry styles #harry related writings #ceo harry #ceo harry styles #ceo harry smut #ceo harry styles smut #kayla once again #new fic #new writing #new writing blog #new fix

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magickman1234 · 4 days ago

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The Sexy Bar Goth

You don’t remember clearly when it started but you met her at the bar near your work. She was plump full hipped and ample with cute chunky cheeks that shown rosy through her pale make up. She’s slightly tan a meduim brown under that makeup which endeared you to her. She was never dressed normal despite the crowd. She started with sudden appearances with winks and sweet whispers you were hot or cute. Somehow you ended up making out in the bathroom. She asked to see your place and you gave in with a grateful yes.

She had an effect on you. You just eat if your around her. Your figure started out fit but thick. You were a former athlete and active but your belly was most happy about round and your rear insisted by holding on to fat and your hips and thighs. You worked hard to keep that at socially acceptable level. She asked for fast food but talked you into ordering twice as much by paying for you. She was ferocious in her eating but somehow you ended up more stuffed. Swollen belly she got you stoned as you made out and you ate more. You felt that old athlete but in shape voice be turned off. The first time she grabbed your bloated stuffed belly you nearly came. She was all fingers and tongue though and she made you cum until you nearly went deaf. The ringing subsided and you were already eating again, ice cream and whipped cream.

“We’ve got to fill every crack of you,” as she eased you into take whipped cream straight out of the can. “Fill all those cracks…”

It was the most exhilarating and humiliating experience as you subbed so hard you found parts of you that you ran from. Like some form of magic she got you to agree to things you’d never admit, true desires, and some too willing subspace you let a deep hunger out.

Your thighs swelled first as your tummy slowly rolled forward. You were aware and that inner gym bunny/good fatty tried to resist. She was so good at catching you off guard. So sexy hot when she did. How was she so quiet for being that big? Like magic she brought you cupcakes or muffins when you were hungry. You just stared eating if she was there. You were enchanted by her graze. Mindless eating and indulgence slow eating at once! She made you cum to every step of your growing weight. From tasty expansions of ass cheeks, to gropes of too fat belly rolls in public, to the sweetest compliments and with enthusiastic agreements to further growth teased from your mouth.

Your figure,your body, your mind aglow with a very feminine need to be obese overcame you as the size gap between you shrank. You slowly got used to being constantly full. She’d whisper about your cracks needing filling and you found yourself gleefully eating. A low grade arousal fueled your life now. You’re an eager fat girl now as you pass deeply into the low 200s. No one would guess you used to do sports as you clearly are now outgrown your clothes. Worst your not really aware of how to dress up to properly cover your now dominant belly. Your lovehandles and side fat and back fat escape your way too snug clothes. You realize all these years of calling yourself a fat girl or fat was truly social brainwashing. Now as you truly passed into obesity and rontundity you are truly being impacted by your weight.

The fatter you get the bigger your appetite is it seems. Tummy pouring forth from you the weight makes you more clumsy more sheepish more submissive by the pound. She is so outwardly kind for you asking you to sit and rest after the tiring trek to the buffet and brings you multiple plates but you know delightfully each step taken comes from an evil desire to fatten you up. She’s slowly directed every daily activity to have food involved. Your figure makes a clear move from chunky or chubby looking to fat and obese looking. Your body bends and shifts to support your massive belly as your lower back and ass shelf start to tap and touch as you waddle. You unconsciously rest your plump hands and arms on your tummy now. You waddle with a slight sway as your movements conform to the pendulous swing of your fat broad stomach.

You a wondrous dream of eating and growing fatter in complete submission to her and food. You wake from it from time to time still. When your old teammate from college mutely tried to ask if you were you. Getting too fat for the tiny booths at your favorite restaurant. Realizing you passed 300 some time ago. Realizing in a large elevator mirror you were now slightly larger than your goth girlfriend. You realize your out of breath walking too far, you accept assistance with everything so willingly and you are now just another fat girl at the buffet (in the top 2-3 for size at any given buffet outing now). Some part of you locked in some distant back closet of your mind bangs at that door begging you to stop. Honestly nothing makes you wetter than to eat another bite of pizza, grab another cupcake, eat another eclair, or ask for seconds/thirds/fourths. You see her eyes light up with the glee of an evil farmer seeing her prized sow dutifully eats more fattening slop. You eat until your crop top slides up higher she insists you dress more revealing and sexy the bigger you get.

The less active the faster you grow and you get less and less active with every pound. You barely can stand physically activity outside of eating, playing your video games and lovemaking. You pretty it’s annoying but really anything beyond a slow waddle across the house is getting challenging and honestly you’re too proud to admit it. She uses that last bit of denial to help you put on more weight. Honestly she’s slowly introduced the idea of a mobility scooter slowly and that glint in her eyes. You’re getting noticeable fatter than her now. Thirty, fifty pounds so and the difference in that elevator mirror makes your fat round cheeks blush. She’s programmed you so well you just get wet and eat more after. You’re a slave to obesity now with the slightest pet, light pinch or hidden grope of your fatty bits and rolls you turn hungry and horny.

Your willingly lost in her spell now. Extra desserts and servings are your passions now. Who knew you had such an eager and willing fat sow was hiding in you? All she did was take out the key she hides in her cleavage and unlocked your inner pig

#wg story #wg text #wg text post #my wrtitng #manwiththemagicmind #magickman

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writingsofwesteros · 1 year ago

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Viserys's 1st daughter with Alicent manipulating her way into his heart and becoming his favorite, him doting on her just as much as Rhaenyra. She makes him think she's this sweet girl, but really she's just as bad as Otto, her grandfather's influence strong on her. Her love of the finer things in life and selfish desire to see her own chubby little babies sit the throne led to her hatching a plan. Viserys is visited by his daughter nightly, sometimes in his room as both he and her mother slept, bouncing on his cock and making sure every drop stays in. Other times she drugs him and lets him fuck her all over the room that he plays with his little toys in, the same one she pretends to be so interested in. Nothing makes her cum faster than knowing she was going to get everything she wanted and more.

When she finally becomes pregnant and her father starts questioning her about it furiously, she pretends to cry and act weak. She tells him that sometimes while he's on the milk of the poppy he comes into her room and won't leave until he takes her. Viserys believes her and is appalled by his own behavior, tearing up and shakily moving to hug her. She cries into his shoulder and tells him she never wanted him to know, making him feel guiltier. The only way to make this right is to marry his poor daughter the Valyrian way and hope the kingdom will accept him taking two wives as Aegon the Conqueror had. The only problem is now there's two Targaryen daughter's with scandals staining their names. One had been seen in a pleasure house with her uncle and the other was married to her father after conceiving his bastard. Alicent is furious and refuses to stay in the same room as him anymore, cursing him for ruining their child in such a way.

When they marry, Viserys tells her on their wedding night that they don't have to do anything, especially since they already have proof of their consummation. They strip into their night clothes, hers a sheer pink nightgown that shows off her pregnant belly and swollen tits nicely while wearing no small clothes underneath. She whines to him that they "don't feel comfy" now that she's pregnant. He spoons her from behind, cuddling her close to his chest to keep her "weaker" body warm and comfortable as she carries his child. As he starts to fall asleep, she moves her ass back and grinds it against his cock making him shoot straight to attention. He tries to stop her weakly, but can't when she whines out "I need your help Kepa~" She reaches back and grabs his cock, slotting it between her folds as she grinds her clit against it for a few moments to get herself wetter.

Her hips then begin to rock back smoothly against his, sliding her father’s hard cock between her folds before moving faster. She "mewls" and "begs" him to take her and put himself inside her again, chipping away at his resistance more and more. He tries to stop her, going to grab her hips and accidentally making his way to her swollen baby bump, causing his hips to involuntarily shoot out. She moans louder in reaction to that and gasps accordingly when he suddenly slips inside her, panting as she pretends it's too much, but all that she needed. She puts on a good show as her father fucks her on their wedding night, actually enjoying a bit of it mostly due to her pregnancy hormones. He creams inside her and continue playing with her tits, rolling her nipples as she moaned for real. Her pussy throbs and pulses around his cock, milk running down her side as he sucks on her neck and makes her tip over the edge intensely from his breast ministrations.

Viserys cups her face and makes her kiss him softly, smiling and asking if she liked it. She can only pant as he begins to go again and can finally see a bit of what Aemma must have. The whole time he dicks her down, he makes sure to caress her stomach that protected their young one and reflected their growth. Viserys tries to blame his breeding kink for his attraction to his daughter, along with the new circumstances they're under, but the truth is it shown through with his favoritism of her. He lusted for her, making him extra blind to her manipulations and how the sweet girl was just an act. Viserys should've saw it in the way she turned him against Rhaenyra and filled his days with only her, making him believe she cared for him most. He remains blind throughout her younger life, her pregnancy and even when she gives birth to their son.

She immediately loves her baby boy and cries upon seeing how perfect he turned out. Viserys is enamored by their little one, his first grandson also being his own son exciting him more than it should. As soon as she can, she begins buttering Viserys up and planting the idea to place their son as heir to be a neutral third party to the Rhaenyra vs Aegon showdown. He is a first son afterall, only by her right and not Viserys's. She always makes sure to bring it up after blowjobs, riding him, letting him try out anal, tittyjobs or anytime his head is extra mushy for her. She'll do anything to get her way, and she knows he'll be much warmer towards her idea when hearing the good news of her most recent pregnancy 👑💀

Oopsie, shouldn't be so hot that's for sure.

At least Alicent doesn't need to go to his bed thank you.

Viserys really is so easily to manipulate , he never saw that coming!

#👑💀 anon #the king's deep love

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slaughter-kin · 9 months ago

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König headcanons

SFW but some are suggestive so MINORS DNI

heart banner by cafekitsune

• has a cleft lip on the left side

• uses so many emojis when texting

• “i love you schatz be home soon😘 🩷😁❤️💖💝💓🥰😍💕💌❣️”

• hates baths because he’s usually too big to fit in them comfortably and gets folded up

• i hc him to be around 6’5-6’7(i know his va said he’s 6’10, but his va also said that könig wouldn’t be interested in bigger people only thinner so i’m not listening)

• favorite flavor of ice cream is strawberry

• was raised by his grandparents and was an only child

• keeps his hair buzzed off

• HUGE cuddle bug

• whenever he’s home he’s attached to your hip

• gets so happy when you ask him to help you learn german (if you don’t already know it)

• gets homesick often and dreams of taking you to austria

• never had an actual relationship before but has had a couple of hookups

• doesn’t matter what size you are this man is picking you up all the time

• def does the the german stare

• has stretch marks (along with a ton of scars) on his body because of all the growth spurts he had as a child and teenager

• mutters the funniest comments under his breath

• i feel like he has had sex before but he doesn’t actively go out looking for it since he’s so committed to his job

• likes watching the rain

• ambidextrous

• listens to audiobooks

• a human radiator heater

• snores when he lays on his back

• cat person

• when he gets nervous or really flustered (like when he’s having sex) all he speaks is german

• has like 5 weighted blankets

• would buy an engagement ring like 3 months into dating

• hates air conditioning but complains about being hot all the time

• has no other forms of social media except pinterest

• 100% eats pussy for his pleasure

• EXTREMELY PROTECTIVE

• hates his living space being a mess so is constantly cleaning

• god like stamina

• blushes easily

• even if he food is nothing like what he ordered he wouldn’t say anything and just eat it even if he hates it

• love language would be physical touch and quality time

let me know if you have any feedback!

#konig call of duty #cod konig #konig cod #konig headcanons #call of duty hc #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw3 #call of duty headcanons #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #könig call of duty

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lexithevalkyrie · 1 year ago

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Wieght gain tip number 2: what should i eat 🤷‍♀️ (pt2)

Now, unfortunately for healthy gainers, you can't really be cheap about it, expect to spend $50+ per week.

For starters, let's set up a shake recipe for breakfast. This should make up most of your carbs for the day.

You will need bananas, heavy cream, pears, honey, oats, coco powder, whole milk/soy milk, and some type of nut butter. And you gotta cook up some eggs in butter. This shake and eggs should be around 1,000+ calories for the morning. Your next meal should hold your proteins and fats, now that means we get to go wild with what we get, I recommend chicken thighs as they hold 25g of fat and 30g of protein, plus they are cheap . In-between these meals, you should get yourself a snack, protein bars, boost high calorie shakes, or biled eggs are what I recommend. For your dinner you should eat light with a salad that has avocados, dressing, chopped nuts, and chicken that was left over.

Now we can put all that nutrition go to waist, you have to work out to compensate for your lack of rapid weight gain. But we are going on the route of the strong man, so although you're working out, you'll stay really huge as time passes

I recommend working out with:

Hip thrusts

Deadlifts

Squats

Bench press

And rows

This should help keep you on a steady growth, remember; the process is slow, but you'll be so big and strong by the end

#feeding kink #feedee encouragement #feedee girl #feed me #fat #fatty #bulking

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fangirlingpuggle · 2 months ago

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Trans!Omi AU. Have you heard about the mini moon? Imagine Chase and Omi get a power surge that Omi can't quite control yet. This coincides with her first Major Growth Spurt, and she retreats to the Land of Nowhere to avoid embarrassing herself/hurting her friends with friendly fire. Chase has creams and herbs and a specific training regement conveniently ready for her.

One thing about the retreat though, is that SHE DIDN'T TELL ANYONE WHERE SHE WAS GOING. Her friends and Master Fung find out from Jack, who found out from Wuya who has been trying to get Omi to just swing her hips a liiiitle more when she walks now that she has visible hips to swing. Chase is doing everything in his power to Shut That Shit Down because, you know, why would he want to be reminded of the fact that his darling daughter is growing up?

Idk I just had thoughts.

Hey yeah I have heard about the mini moon (As was foretold by sailor moon)

I adore the idea of Mini moon affecting their powers, and it affecting Omi's growth as well is such a cool idea.

Wuya using heylin magic to contact Jack in the middle of the night

Wuya- 'Look Jack I need back up on this I- Stop screaming- I need you to tell Omi that she can totally pull this off and it would make look her much more intimating and-'

Chase - 'That worms opinion means nothing to me- And what is he even doing looking at my daughter'

Jack shows up at tmeple in middle of the night because you xiaolin losers have protections here against Heylin magic right?

#xiaolin showdown #xs #au #fic prompt #trans omi #omi #chase young #wuya #jack spicer #humor

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bunysliper · 1 year ago

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fic prompt: beckett doing skincare on castle

Hope you like this, Anon!

Smooth Strokes

"Hold still."

Despite her edict, his cheeks twitch under her hands, making her huff in fake annoyance.

"Do you always do this when you're being pampered, Castle?" she drawls, smoothing the shaving cream over his face once more. "Or is it just bad behavior you're saving for me?"

He makes a noncommittal noise, but she feels his fingertips trip over her t-shirt covered hip before dipping down to the back of her thigh.

To her credit, she doesn't jump, but her breath does catch before she can stop herself.

"Definitely saving it for me," she teases, clearing her throat. "Now cut it out; I'm getting the razor and the last thing you want is for me to hurt you."

His lips lift but he simply nods in response. "Thank you, by the way," he says as her hands leave his face, and she turns to the sink to grab said razor. She glances over to see his eyes fluttering open. "For doing this for me."

Kate smiles quickly, trying not to let any incredulity show. "You're hurt, babe. Why wouldn't I?"

He lifts a shoulder, flexing his fingers against her bare skin – his grip not quite as sure as it would be if it were his dominant hand, but said right hand – up to the elbow – is immobilized against his chest in a sling. He'll be fine in a few weeks, but for now, she's acting as his other hand.

He'd covered it up with a leer and an eyebrow wiggle when she'd had to be the one to button and unbutton and zip and unzip his pants for him to be able to use the bathroom on the first day, but she'd seen his cheeks darken at needing to be helped that way; since then he's been wearing elastic waistbands to spare them both the indignity (though she hasn't minded helping him out of his pants anyway). All in all, though, helping him shave is one of the easier tasks they've had to tackle.

"You could have told me to suck it up and grow a beard," he says, watching her move closer with his razor and a bowl of warm water.

Kate drops her head, kissing his brow. "Maybe next week. For now, I don't want to listen to you whine because the new growth itches."

"I would look good with a beard," he says. He leans into her affection, keeping his voice light.

"I know you would, baby," she drawls, feigning a swoon. "You're just so dreamy."

Her husband laughs, pinching her thigh gently. "Funny."

"I know," she says, chancing getting shaving cream on herself to peck his lips. She swipes a hand over her mouth; yep, she's wearing his fancy schmancy shaving cream now, too. "Now stop talking and let me do this."

He makes a show of pressing his lips together and flattening his palm against the back of her thigh – a little higher this time, but still respectable – but she feels his smile even through the shaving cream as she starts to draw the razor down his cheek in slow strokes.

#castle fanfic #fluffy friday #caskett fanfic #castle fanfiction #caskett #my fanfic #anonymous #answers #prompt responses

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yacinthemorning · 10 months ago

Text

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 5

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting

Typically, Jimmy had learned over the past years, carrots could be harvested a few weeks before the sweet potatoes. This year, however, would not give him a break. Late planting, no sun, and then too much sun, gophers, and finally just plain bad luck with growth. He glared down at the pathetic yellow vegetable, hardly two inches in length compared to its towering leaves.

It would be his luck, after he’d bragged about his carrot cake to his house guest, for this to happen. Of course, he could always buy carrots from Martyn, but that wasn’t the point. Jimmy sighed, rolling back onto his behind to stare up at the sky. Did he leave them be and hope they grew a bit more into a usable size? Harvest them anyways? They couldn’t all be so small. There was no harm in leaving roots in the ground, though, if not for the gophers.

The back door swung open, letting out a puff of smoke. Said puff of smoke coughed and shook, until a face blinked out at Jimmy. “Oh, there you are!” Tango chirped.

“What did you do? I hope you didn’t get any of that in my workshop.” Jimmy clambered back up onto his feet, picking up the watering can on his way. Tango shook most of his soot off like a dog before Jimmy was able to slap the dipped kerchief onto his cheek. The blazeborn yelped, hair flickering from the shock and turning the liquid into steam. Jimmy didn’t stop until at least his face was cleared. “Look at you, it’s like you never left the mines.” He huffed.

“A minor incident may have occurred while doing some repairs.” His muffled voice explained while he tried to bat Jimmy away. “But it’s fine, I swear!” He managed to wrestle the cloth away to finish his own cleaning.

Jimmy laughed, “If you plan on working with heavy machinery you should go to a forge.”

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to reshape a part in something hot. See, Scott at the parlour gave me this ice-cream maker that wouldn’t crank, and while I was repairing it I noticed this one piece-”

“Where on earth- Tango did you use my stove for your metal work?”

Tango hunched over with a guilty grin. Jimmy groaned, rushing inside to make sure there was no major damage. His stove was open, a pair of iron tongs left half inside, with a rapidly cooling hunk of metal sitting on a brick on his stovetop. Most of the soot seemed to have wound up on Tango, both to Jimmy’s relief and annoyance. He spun around, hands on hips, and glared. “Are you daft?”

“Look, see, it’s not that bad-”

“You could have burnt the house down!”

“I took the necessary precautions! I just needed to reshape a small piece.”

“Then why didn’t you simply- you know?” He flicked his wrist and Tango’s sparking hair.

Tango’s face twisted, grabbing the hem of his shirt and fanning it. “Because the whole- you know?”

It was certainly rude, but Jimmy supposed the man knew more about his own flames than an avian. With a conceding wave, Jimmy groaned and began walking towards the cleaning closet. “See here, just…” He grumbled to himself as he tried to pull the mop out, only to find it caught on something out of sight. Just his luck. “If you’re going to be doing metalwork and the like then at least build a shed or something for it in the yard.” What all did such a task need? He didn’t know and he didn’t especially care at the moment. Maybe when he calmed down he’d happily listen to an explanation, but right now he was trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.

So busy attempting to untangle the mop, Jimmy failed to notice the silence behind him. Not until he’d turned to his companion in search of absent assistance and was instead met with wide, red eyes. Something like wonder swam in them, along with far too many other emotions that made Jimmy tense up in his confusion. “You would let me build that?”

An ‘ of course? ’ nearly fell from his lips without thought, before he absorbed Tango’s words. Before it occurred to him the implications of his own.

Many things in Jimmy’s home had changed in the past two months. A sewing machine and new lights were gifts. Redstone tools and work boots filled spaces that had been empty before and could be emptied at any point. The extra seating in his shop and the new bed in a guest room which was formerly storage were accommodations for a second presence, but they were without character.

But a work shed…

Feathers raised on end. He turned away, focusing back on the mop, though he suddenly felt the energy to clean abandon him. “Or at least go to Impulse’s if you intend to blow up an oven.” He said instead of any of the thoughts darting around his mind. He was not his brother, he was most certainly not his brother. “I’d rather keep my house.”

Tango gaped like a fish, ready to say something, but ultimately snapped shut. He walked up, giving a small nod for Jimmy to step out of the way, and bent down into the closet. Within a few seconds the mop was in his hands and the door was closed. “I’ll clean up.”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Okay.” A tightness encased his chest. There wasn’t time to think about it. He needed to finish gardening, then he needed to put the last touches on Lizzie’s dress before she picked it up tomorrow. Then-

“Hey, Jim?” Tango called just as the avian reached the back door. “I need to go pick some redstone up from Joe for a job.” His tail twitched, “Do you need anything?”

“Just… Pick up my order from him. And ask him when the next train shipment will be in.” Jimmy said, nearly too quiet, pulling his wings in close to his back. “It should have your nether fabrics.”

Woven straw thudded hard against the wood bar counter from the weight of the raw redstone and metal plates within. Tango’s forehead followed, groan escaping as he wrapped his arm around his face. Cold seeped into his skin from the wood for a brief moment before his own high body temperature heated it faster than it could cool him.

Heavy steps approached, and a glass was placed down next to his elbow. “Rough day already? It’s only noon.”

Tango lifted his head just enough to pout at Impulse, who smiled back. He grabbed the glass given, to discover it was only seltzer. Of course his friend would be responsible when he least wanted it. His face twisted. “I think I upset Jimmy.”

“Oh no, what did you do to the poor fellow this time?” There was more amusement than anything in his voice.

“I might have used his oven as an impromptu forge.”

“Tango!”

“It wasn’t that bad!” He knew he couldn’t defend his poor choices. “I just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible.”

Impulse’s expression softened before he turned back to cleaning a plate, tail sweeping up in sympathy. The saloon was practically empty at this hour, all the miners back to work and most everyone else busy for another few hours. Skizz was off collecting from the brewery and Zed had run off after some bird he’d seen, leaving the two men alone. Thank the heavens, because Tango wasn’t sure he could deal with their energy at the moment. Once Impulse set the plate aside, he asked, “How much do you have saved up now?”

“Not enough.” Was the only real answer. “Less than I made at the mine in a month, and it’s not exactly reliable. I need to find a real job.”

Impulse hummed, glancing down at his bar. “You know if I could only afford it, I’d hire you.”

“I know you would, buddy.” He sighed, leaning back. “And no one wants another redstoner with Mumbo in town, not when they barely need one. The options out here are somehow both limitless and incredibly limited.”

“You could become a rancher.”

“And compete with Beef?” Tango threw his hand in the air, raised his eyebrow. “The man feeds this and every town within several days travel twice over. Best I could do is beg him to be one of his cowboys, and that ain’t exactly better than the mines pay-wise.”

“Then what about a bandit?” Impulse joked.

“Right, yeah. Because I’d be great with a gun, and I don’t personally know bounty hunters who could hog tie me before I ever sniffed a single copper.”

The two men had a good chuckle simply imagining it before the bar fell silent again. Tango fiddled with the seltzer, taking a small sip now again, mulling over his situation in his head over and over. “Maybe I should just go and beg Fwhip for my job back.”

The last clean plate was placed away, and Impulse turned his full attention onto his friend. “Even if he agreed, then you’d just be back in their barracks, wouldn’t you?” He tilted his head with a knowing smile. “You might as well move back east and get yourself an engineering job at a factory.”

Tango turned away, hiding his warming face behind his palm. “Shut it. It’s not like I can live with Jimmy forever, anyways.”

“You might, if you stopped fooling around and properly courted the fellow.”

“But that’s part of the problem!” He hissed, pushing out of the chair to throw his hands out further. “I can’t just court someone I’m leeching from. Jimmy’s real kind, but he ain’t stupid enough to accept a beggar relying on his money and home, who almost blew up his kitchen. Even a blind man can see how bad that looks.”

Impulse shook his head and dipped into a cupboard. “Well, it’s better than being a gambler or an alcoholic.”

“Setting the bar real high for me, there.” Tango slumped against the bar, glaring at his friend’s back. “One step above rock bottom. Real catch I am.”

“Downright irresistible.” A small bag was placed on the counter in front of the blazeborn. Though full, it gave way easily, and Tango suspected he knew its contents before Impulse explained. “Before you go, would you mind asking Jimmy to alter these before the dinner party? Skizz and I ordered them by catalogue but there wasn’t an option for tail or wing accommodations.”

A common story, Tango had come to learn. Catalogues often had several options for measurements and colours, but couldn’t be bothered to offer even the slightest alterations to the actual patterns. Not when they were paying some poor homebody copper on the diamond to make several a day. Normally most folks would do such small alterations themselves on work clothes. Impulse was never one too good with a needle and thread, however, and for such nice clothing it was best to leave it to Jimmy. Tango collected both the bag and grocery basket, downed the last of his seltzer, and dropped a copper before heading out. “I’ll see what he can do.”

“Don’t worry so much about Jimmy.” Said Impulse as he left. “You know he doesn’t see it that way. Take his advice and focus on getting things together. I’m sure there’s a place for you in town, whatever you want to do.”

If only life were that kind.

Jimmy had made an irreparable mess of everything.

That was the conclusion he’d come to after all these hours alone. He’d made a fool of himself making a fool of Tango and chased him off for good. Shown his true colours. Chosen his house over his housemate. All but told him to pack his bags and get out over nothing, he’d be surprised if he bothered to return. Which, in all fairness, it seemed he wouldn’t be, given how long it’d been since he left. It didn’t take three hours to shop, did it?

Well, perhaps on occasion it did, but it wasn’t as though Tango had a long list when he left. A list that, at Jimmy’s request, included the task of checking to see how much longer Tango would be in his hair. No, he had certainly made an utter mess of it all.

It was evening when Tango returned, around when Jimmy was thinking of closing up and returning to his living room to wallow in his idiocy. “I’m back.” Tango declared, distracted with balancing his acquisitions. Jimmy placed down the pattern he was cutting to rush over and help just in time before a case perched precariously fell to its doom. A true heroic moment, given the amazingly tiny gears it was filled with, spotted when they had everything placed down on the table and Tango checked it hadn’t broken open.

Jimmy didn’t bother peeking at the rest, collecting the few vegetables bought and bringing them to his cleaned kitchen. By the time he returned Tango was already sorting his redstone into the small workspace Jimmy had afforded him. His face had screwed up in concentration. A tension hung in the air for too long, Jimmy’s feathers raised on end as he waited for Tango’s usual chatter. It didn’t appear it would come. “You’re a bit later than I expected, honestly.” Stuttered Jimmy.

Tango wiped his redstone-stained hands on his pants. “I ran into Cleo on my way home. There was something jammed in her printing press. Turned out to be a frog she accidentally gazed at.” There was no need for proof, but Tango produced the small stone frog with a grin. It was, admittedly, very cute. Jimmy let his shoulders ease some, which Tango took unfortunate notice of. “What? Did… Did I miss supper?”

“No! No, I haven’t even started yet, honestly.” Jimmy assured, reminded once again of his carrot-predicament. “It, um, we’ll actually not be having cake today either. An issue came up with… ingredients.”

He got an odd look, but eventually Tango shrugged it off. “So, what’s wrong, then?” Tension now built in the blazeborn as well, his tail jerking in agitation.

Well, there was nothing else he could do now. Jimmy had been building up the nerves ever since he checked the kitchen and found it spotless. More honestly, it had been mulling in the back of his mind since he last saw Tango. Thoughts that had distracted him while doing careful work and forced him on his feet to pace out the stress. Grian always said he had a habit of shoving his foot in his mouth, but Jimmy never felt so painfully aware of it until now.

“Jimmy?”

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for shouting at you this morning. I was just… No, I shouldn’t have. There’s no excuse for you to be treated that way.”

Tango’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh- No! What are you talking about, I completely deserved it?”

But Jimmy shook his head, wringing his hands nervously. Oh, he couldn’t keep still. “You absolutely did not. I panicked and didn’t listen to you. I…” He swallowed. I don’t want you to leave. How could he say that? Or any of the other thoughts that had built themselves into mountains in his mind through the day, only to crumble into nonsense now that Tango was here in front of him again? He closed his mouth before he could humiliate himself.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Tango said weakly. He put down the frog and approached. “You’ve done so much for me, and all I’ve done is dick around, distract you, and make a mess of your house.”

“I like your mess.” The words tumbled out of Jimmy’s mouth before he could stop them. Every pin feather on his head raised, the skin under turning bright red. The universe truly despised him today.

Tango seemed unsure how to react, a nervous laugh replacing whatever he intended to say. He took his time pulling himself back together, a period in which Jimmy only marginally managed to recover himself, and walked back to the table. “I, um, got your order. And Impulse asked me to bring these suits for you to modify before the party.” He rambled, messing with the edge of the cloth.

Jimmy could work with that. He took a deep breath and let his mind shift back into work mode. “Let me see.” The clothes were laid out, both looking over what needed to be done. “Well, alterations for tails is the most common I’ve had to do, after wings.” He mused aloud, tugging at the fabric. “But if it’s for formal-wear we should make it as presentable as possible.”

Tango’s tail curled around himself, bending awkwardly to try looking at his own work pants. “You just leave a gap in the top of the seam, don’t you?”

“For your tail, perhaps.” Jimmy reached out and tugged between two fingers at the tufted end when it waved past. An affronted squeak escaped the blazeborn, his tail yanking itself away from the light grip. “It’s so thin, you don’t have to worry about your undergarments sticking out, or an embarrassment while removing them. You could have a tail sleeve if you wanted to be especially unfashionable.” He chuckled at the mental image. “Impulse’s tail is considerably thicker and less flexible, however. And those scales of his love to catch on delicate fabrics like this. It’d be best to give him a button clasp.”

“Having to make such completely different adjustments even for the exact same limb…” Tango groaned. “You’re a saint.”

“It seems like much more work when you’re unfamiliar with it.” He waved him off, reaching for the needle he’d had Mumbo modify for undoing stitches. It was so far and above using a random needle or razor. Invaluable in this day and age of mail order and mass production, but Mumbo had insisted it was a silly little gift and turned his attention to his more ridiculous inventions, in Jimmy’s humble opinion. Perhaps some other folks could stand to be a bit more reverent about Jimmy’s work like Tango, actually, or at least offer some respect. “Much of tailoring is the same task in different shapes and combinations.”

Impulse had always had similar issues with clothing as Tango- that is, the acidity in the oils from his scales loved to eat through most fibres, so his selection was limited. Wool was the best common option, of which the jacket was at least made of. Better than attempting to find Void-sourced leathers. Trousers, and the base of the tail especially, were vulnerable to deterioration and staining due to direct contact without the protection of undergarments. Jimmy contemplated if he should line it, or if it would ruin the quality. He was no high-end suit maker who confidently placed his stitching on display to the world, and he likely lacked matching material. At least he was not tasked with making hats for the drake.

He moved on to Skizz’s suit. It would be much easier despite requiring entirely new openings. Though he was not an avian, his flightless wings were feathered like theirs, only requiring minor adjustments to accommodate their motions. There was little he could do to get around the awkward way they would distort the outfit’s silhouette when in motion, the current popular fashions were not made with winged folk in mind.

“It seems crazy, with how many there are.” Tango mused, and only then did Jimmy realize he’d been narrating his thoughts while he worked. A habit he’d grown over the last several weeks.

“Yes, well, numbers aren’t especially meaningful when it comes to setting trends. It’s not the common man on the plates they display in advertisements and magazines. It’s required to look presentable, even if their form cannot fit.”

Tango’s tail twitched, his head tilting to the side. “You know, sometimes you talk like you aren’t much of a fan of your work.”

“I love my work.” Jimmy quickly defended, placing the suit back down. “It’s simply frustrating attempting to modify clothes like this to accommodate everyone it was not made for, rather than creating clothes made for them. Most people aren’t brave enough to wear something that might stand out, and I can’t blame them. You would think living all the way out here might help with that, but ‘polite society’ finds its way everywhere it seems.”

Truthfully, he had only occasionally had such thoughts until recently. Most often while working on preparing the patterns for when Tango’s fabrics got in, which had leaked into his time working on Lizzie’s gown, then retroactively in quiet moments when contemplating the work he’d done for Bigb and Ren. Tango had said so himself, Nether clothing had been draped. Why didn’t he make something similar?

Perhaps he’d taken it a bit to heart recently.

Which reminded him…

“You collected my order from Joe?” He asked. Tango perked up and ran over to the cabinet. He brought over a set of vibrant wool fabrics, placing them down spread out across the desk. Jimmy’s wings fluttered behind him.

A rich violet was lifted up by Tango. “I’m surprised you could afford these. I thought this type of thing was expensive?”

“Normally, yes.” Jimmy admitted, sorting through the shades. “These are new, though, made with a special dye. They call this one mauveine.”

Surprisingly, Tango’s eyes shone with recognition and excitement. “Oh, that was in the newspapers and magazines a few years ago. They created it accidentally from aniline. The first of its kind, they’ve started trying to make all sorts of dyes synthetically from aniline now.”

“Yes.” Jimmy replied, a bit dumbfounded. “Well, it’s becoming quite popular, and more than a few people in town are fond of these bright colours. I bought a few I could find to try.”

“They’re the way of the future.”

“That’s what Mumbo says.” He rubbed his thumb into the fabric, eyeing it with suspicion. “I’m not so sure, though. I’ve heard they fade quickly, and how safe could it be? One made recently left burns.”

The blazeborn only shrugged. “I mean, if they’re selling them even all the way out here, these ones have to be safe.”

“Or it’s the only place left where they can scam customers out of their money, like Scar.” Jimmy snorted. “You would be surprised at some of the ridiculous things I’ve seen people purchase simply because it had a lovely advert in the paper, or heard about from their second cousin in the city who insisted it was the big new thing.”

“What can I say, aren’t new inventions exciting? The mistakes are the fun part, anyways.” Came the response, followed by a cackle when Jimmy’s face twisted. “These seem to be fine, though. Your hands are as pretty as ever.”

“I change my mind. Why are you still in my house.”

Tango’s laughter only roared louder until Jimmy could no longer keep the smile off his lips and joined him. When the pair calmed down once more he pushed the mauve fabric to the side. “This isn’t quite the shade I want, though. I’ll save it for Lizzie.”

“This one’s nice.” Tango picked up another, redder shade. Next to him it certainly was, matching the fiery golds of his hair and red eyes. That was all Jimmy needed to make up his mind.

“It is.” He said, taking it from his companion. “I think I’ll use it.”

“For what?”

“Secret.”

Tango made a whine, but Jimmy held strong, only putting his finger to his lips before walking the fabrics back to the cabinet.

“How about we go make supper? Since my oven is now usable again.”

Hands flung into the air with a groan. “You mess up one time! I swear!”

“Yes, yes.” He cooed, shooing Tango off to the kitchen. “Let’s go, my little genius, you can use your blacksmithing skills on the potatoes.”

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #trafficshipping #mcyt #traffic series #hermitpires #alternate universe #western fantasy #fluff #hurt/comfort #slice of life #fanfiction #sharing a slice of cake

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goron-king-darunia · 3 months ago

Note

Annon-Guy: What do you think of the Sonic Adventure 2 Songs?

All of them are bops. Sonic's theme takes the original lyrics, bumps them up to fit a faster paced and more upbeat song. Improves upon the original in every way. The original from Sonic Adventure is already a 9 out of 10, but this pushes it up to a 10/10, and the opening whistle sound is iconic, honestly. Tails' theme is, musically, better than the original. The arrangement fits with Tails' character growth as he becomes more capable and confident, even though he botches the main mission at the end and almost gets Sonic killed because, well, he's an 8 year old kid. Or he used to be. Sega seems to be scrubbing up the lore and trying to make his age ambiguous now which I literally just found out about because I couldn't remember whether he was 6 or 8 or 10 and apparently he's been depicted as young as 4 and a half in some materials which is wild. Like, I love the child genius archetype in fiction but dear god 4 is definitely too young. If he wants to be meddling with machines that can crush his little bones in his own house I guess that's fine but running around and destroying Eggman with Sonic at age 4 is insane. Little buddy you should be sipping some juice and making sand castles. Sonic's already too young to be fighting villains like Eggman as a teen (though to be fair I aged wildly out of the target demographic so EVERYONE in that series except maybe Eggman and Shadow are too young to be doing what they're doing! XD) Tails fucking up a grown man at age 4 is just insane to think about. Like yes yes child genius but FFS, 4 is just a baby. And they did it again with Cream and Cheese later. I understand that in a lot of lore it's all the animals against Eggman because he's literally a terrorist and they have no choice but come on, when you can walk around station square and see grown adults who aren't doing jack shit to stop Eggman, it should not fall to fucking prepubescent kids to fight back. AUGH!) Rant aside, Tails' theme also increases the pep as Sonic's new arrangement does, but the flaw is that the lyrics don't flow as well. The chorus absolutely cranks it up to 20/10. That slow and yearning "I want to fly high" is absolutely killer. The first verse absolutely bops too. But when it gets to later verses, the lyrics fall apart and just don't fit the rhythm. Also, they lose out on the absolutely killer bit of "there's things that only I can do, No one's Alone!" from the first arrangement. Now it's just smushed together into some unrecognizeable word salad due to trying to fit the original lyrics in an arrangement where they don't vibe well. I think it would be possible to take the best parts of both arrangements and make a 12/10 song, but as it stands, they're both about equally good at 8/10.

Knuckles' theme improves. The softer voice for the rap fits much better with the lyrical vocals they ported over as a backdrop from the first arrangement, but the sound mixing is poor so that it's difficult to parse the lyrics if you don't already know them. But then again maybe that's just my auditory processing disorder. That said, I do think the contrast of the rougher rap and the softer vocals being kept separate in the original was thematically on-point. If they had kept the rap in the new arrangement distinct from the vocals they took from the original and kept it as a refrain between verses, it would be absolute fire. Still an improvement. The scratching lends a hip-hop quality to it that I definitely jive with. Absolute fire. Original was a decent 7/10, the new version manages an 8.5 out of 10. If the sound mixing was a little better and they kept the original vocals as a refrain, I think it could be a 9.5 out of 10. Shadow's theme is, sadly, the weakest to me. It absolutely fits his character, but the vocal performance is weak. Say what you will about the game "Shadow the Hedgehog" but that had absolutely baller themes for Shadow and the lyrics absolutely added to it. I understand that theoretically Shadow would have actually permanently died at the end of SA2, and they only brought him back because he was insanely popular. So setting him apart with the harsher techno-rock-metal soundtrack where the lyrics aren't the focus sets him up as an intimidating foil to Sonic's more cheerful and upbeat personality and the contrasting themes absolutely reflect that. But I feel like they could have done a little more to reflect Shadow's ultimate conflict of realizing that revenge doesn't change anything and that Maria wouldn't have wanted him to destroy the world for her. Honestly I feel the same about Richter's theme from DotNW but in a different direction. While Richter's theme does try to telegraph his more complicated feelings and motives by setting up that harsh, rhythmic bass line and bringing in the sweeter violin, it sounds too dissonant to me. I think they could have had more synergy. Shadow's theme is a bit of the opposite. I think there could have been more contrast. Honestly the lyrics come in so late and so low that I forget this song even has lyrics. 8/10. I prefer more of the themes from the Shadow the Hedgehog game.

Eggman's theme is absolute fire. No notes. Massive improvement from the first game. This song has everything. The mechanical noises reminding you of who he is, Ivo Robotnik, and how that ties into the grand scheme of things. The self-aggrandizing lyrics. The droning rhythmic synth track that just oozes "factory assembly line" energy. It sounds cool but intimidating, with just an edge of "how fucking goofy, who does this guy think he is?!" While I absolutely adore the toothless joke villain Eggman gets set up to be in a lot of the newer stuff, namely the Sonic Boom series and games, I love this intersection where Eggman has just enough over-the-top zazz to make you raise an eyebrow. It sits right on the precipice of "either this guy really knows what he's doing and is so confident about it, he doesn't care if he looks goofy doing it or he's an ABSOLUTE idiot who just happens to fail upward." And it's right in that sweet spot where he can be the butt of the joke while also being intimidating. Absolute peak of both camp villain and cartoonishly evil while having just enough power and wits to be a genuine threat. The main chorus literally begins with "I am the Eggman" which, in spite of all odds, makes the name that Sonic gave him as an insult out to be a genuinely threatening moniker. As if to proclaim, yes, go ahead, think of me as a joke. Underestimate me. It won't matter in the end. He is not just Eggman. He is THE Eggman. The one and only. And he's going to build his empire over the bulldozed remains of your city whether you put respect on that name or not. And his theme song encapsulates all that while being a genuine bop. 100/10. Genuinely one of the best themes ever written for the Sonic Franchise.

And that leaves us with Rouge. And for a new character BOY OH BOY, did they hit it OUT OF THE PARK with her theme. That soft jazz, the soft, sultry vocals that ramp up into confident high heady notes. Absolute banger. Tells us everything we need to know about Rouge as a character. A spy, a theif, a sneak, and a Woman with the uppercase W. She knows who she is, she knows what she wants, and she will use everything to get it. Overtly sexualized, but in a way I don't necessarily mind, even if it's right on the cusp of being inappropriate for a game meant to be played by kids. She was a lot of young mens' (and young womens') sexual awakening for a reason. While noting in the canon of the game shows her actively using her body in a sexual way to get what she wants, I don't think it's inaccurate to extrapolate from her theme and her way of speaking and walking that she absolutely would if this was a game for Adults. The parallels to Catwoman are not an accident. And her theme song does a masterful job of indicating all that without actually treading into inappropriate territory. Even Wild Canyon's theme explicitly references her as an object of desire and that Knuckles being that shy guy that doesn't know how to deal with pretty women is absolutely affected by her. I think part of the reason it's easy to forgive Rouge being sexualized is because she's an active, intelligent character who is at all times, using the people around her. She is not some sexy lamp that you can upskirt for sick thrills whom the narrative has to repeatedly assure us "don't worry, this isn't skeevy, she definitely likes it, we promise." This is a woman with steel-toed high heels that breaks into bank vaults and could kill the average man with a single kick. She's hot, she knows she's hot, and she uses that to her advantage to wriggle into positions of power and advantage. And she's fine with being that way. Her arc isn't about some condescending narrative about how she shouldn't have to behave that way. If anything her main arc is that she's absolutely stellar being exactly as she is and provides valuable skills to the team to help save the world. She's a stereotype, but not actually one that I mind. Because she's not just a sexy woman who loves money and jewels and has nothing else to her. I would classify her as a witch archetype despite not having supernatural powers other than sensing gems, which is a gimmick Knuckles also has and is never explained as anything other than a game mechanic. She has power and talent in her own right and while she is a direct foil to Knuckles and works alongside Eggman and Shadow, she isn't defined solely by how she relates to the men that surround her. She's an absolute beast and I love her. One of my favorite Sonic Characters of all time. Even with her damsel in distress moments, I never got the sense that she was incapable. Just overconfident. But not in a "LOL, how stupid of a woman to think she can tangle with the big boys." but "She is literally walking among titans, she's bound to trip up a little." The only time it felt forced was in her final confrontation with Knuckles where she falls off a beam. I understand the idea was probably "she's tired from fighting and can't right herself immediately, which is the reason she fell in the first place." so it's ambiguous whether she could have saved herself, despite having wings. But even if all the nitpickers are actually correct and she was never in danger, Knuckles reaching out to save her is more about the kind of person he is than the kind of person Rouge is. That said, yeah, her theme is a fucking banger. Second best track from the character themes, for real. 20/10 at least. No notes. Absolutely accomplishes the goal of distilling who Rouge is into a single song. Absolute queen.

#annon-guy2 #Letters from Annon Guy #Sonic The Hedgehog #Sonic Adventure 2 #song analysis #character analysis #opinions

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