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notjustjavierpena · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, i hope this isn’t too much but i really admire your courage to write the hard stuff that goes on between javi and his wife. would you ever write something about the struggles they had about conceiving lucas?

Crazy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya, anon! This was such a rollercoaster to write but thanks so much for giving me the needed push. Also tysm for the compliment 🥺

Summary: Thoughts of infertility take a toll on you and Javier's marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Infertility, arguments, apologies, hurt/comfort, angst, emotional sex, lots of kissing, pussy eating, piv sex, mating press, creampie, pillowtalk, aftercare

Word count: 6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64569853

Crazy

You can’t help but count the months. Seven long ones with still no baby growing in your belly. Seven and counting since you went off your birth control, a ridiculous thought that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth since it turned out that you hadn’t needed it anyway in the first place. Okay, maybe you had but it is your exhaustion talking, whispering it in your ear.

You remember the conversation that Javier and you had in the kitchen that one time a while back, where he promised you that if everything else failed, you would let Steve and Connie set an example and find your own Olivia. Yet neither of you has dared go into the discussion of exactly when it’s time to stop trying, or if you’d truly be ready to adopt.

However, now as you anxiously pace around the kitchen, waiting for Javier to come home and cleaning off stains that aren’t actually there from yesterday’s dishes, you wonder if you should call Connie to hear her opinion.

You stop halfway to the landline to stare at the calendar on the door to the refrigerator. The red circle around today’s date mocks you and you lift your hand up to flip it off, giving it a roll of your eyes now that you’re at it. Seven fucking months of anxiously charting your cycles, tracking ovulation windows, and feeling hope slip away with each negative test.

What if it never happens at all? Connie hadn’t seemed to entertain your worry the last time you brought it up, had shaken her head with a smile you wanted to wipe off her face, and pulled out her authority as a nurse to reassure you. There’s still plenty of time before you need to start worrying, she keeps saying, and it feels like it is the only reason you are still taking vitamins, avoiding caffeine, and doing your exercises.

You’ve reached the phone now, your hand hovering over it in midair. It would be so easy to ring Connie right now and tell her every worry that is constantly going around in your head, every frustration of being in a battle with forcibly loving your body when it isn’t working the way it should. But then you think of Javier and decide against it, convinced by the guilt that nags at you. It feels like a betrayal to begin that particular and very tough conversation with anyone else but him.

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the phone, silently hoping it will ring and Connie will be on the other end of the line. It would make it easier to justify running your mouth to her.

“Don’t look at me, it just happened,” you would say and still know it wasn’t okay.

Keys being inserted into the front door and the handle rattling makes you tense up in nervous anticipation. Javier is home from work. This is the day you’ve been waiting for a whole month, the one you’ve rearranged your entire schedule around and taken off work because if there’s any chance of being a mom, it has to be now.

“Baby?” He calls when he’s inside the house. You can hear the thud of his bag hitting the floor and the sound of his footsteps going towards the living room.

“I’m here,” you answer through the house. You peek into the living room and see him shrug out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the couch and letting himself fall into the cushions with a contented sigh. You know you’re supposed to go in there and spoil his relief.

“Come in here,” he says and taps his fingers on his knees, eyes soft from hoping to see you materialize in the doorway. He always tells you he misses you at his job.

Carefully, you enter the room and approach him with urgency in your body. You have a single mission today and it is a delicate matter.

Get pregnant.

Getpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnant.

Get fucking pregnant.

“Hey,” he says with a tired smile when you stand right in front of him, glad to see you. He holds out his hand for you to take. You don’t reach for it and his smile fades.

“We should have sex,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, staring down at him as he reaches for his tie instead.

“Baby, I just walked in. I just sat down,” he says softly and tugs at the knot on his tie, pulling it loose with a small noise. There’s an underlying emotion to his voice, a hint of frustration to his tone even if he doesn’t want to upset you.

Your focus, your tunnel vision, makes you ignore his complaint as if it isn’t a ticking bomb right between your hands, “If I’ve calculated right, it’s been twelve hours since we last had sex, Javi. I’ve read that it’s a good idea to—“

“We have sex all the time, baby. Three times yesterday. Once at night. We fuck a lot,” he reaches up to run both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands afterward. He does a quick inhale and then sighs.

“Yes, but we have to do it today too to be sure. Connie said that—“ you quickly argue but his jaw muscles flex as you talk. Javier pushes himself to stand with exasperation in his next breath.

He pushes past you as if he cannot take being in your presence for a second longer despite just having arrived home, doesn’t even look at you as he throws back a sarcastic comment, “Oh, Connie said? Really? Wow, you really know how to turn me on.”

“That’s not funny. Hey, come back here,” you say as he starts walking towards the kitchen instead, leaving you with your mouth a thin line. You follow him but don’t go any further than standing in the door, “I’m the only one who initiates sex lately. What if my ovulation is peaking right now? The day is over soon.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, reaching back to grip the edge of the table, “The day isn’t over yet. It’s five in the afternoon. I just got home. We can have sex tonight.”

You finally step fully into the kitchen now and it feels almost like you have crossed enemy lines. You can feel your tears build inside of your chest, crawling steadily up into your throat till they burn but you don’t allow yourself to cry. Why doesn’t he understand the pain of losing another month to grief? Why is it not as important to him? You look desperate, “Connie said it’s best during the day.”

“Stop,” he suddenly commands, causing you to flinch. He looks angry at you, unable to register the impact of the tone of his voice because of his own state of mind but it makes you tremble. He is never this way, “I can’t fucking take another fucking word about eggs and sperm and fertile windows. It’s too much now. You’re being crazy.”

Something breaks inside of you at those words, a beast that’s been hidden inside a cage in your chest threatening to escape and go for the kill. You watch him carelessly turn away to open the fridge, detachment on his face as if he has just argued with you about what you’re having for dinner. He leaves you feeling in complete disbelief and disarray, your heart ticking like a bomb. You need out right now or you might suffocate in the large, childless space that you moved into with the idea that you would be a family of three soon.

You leave the room with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The walls feel like they are closing in on you, close to trapping you here in this feeling forever if you don’t hurry up and reach the front door quickly.

You slam the door behind you, no shoes on your feet, and then suddenly you are close to running down the street, breathing harder and harder while your arms swing along your sides in your haste.

He has never called you crazy before. The word feels like he has just spat in your face, wrapped you in barbed wire, as if he sees you as just one more woman suffering from hysteria. Dismissible and unserious. Crazy. You swear you can feel all of the women before you right behind you, giving you the wind in your back to run faster than ever even with no destination. You don’t even feel your feet hurt from being bare against the harsh ground.

However, you are barely a few blocks away from your home when you hear Javier’s voice calling out your name with the same desperation that you have felt since the first negative pregnancy test.

The second you hear him, you automatically start running faster, determined to escape something you can’t quite pinpoint what is, but it only lasts a few seconds. Eventually, you finally slow down. Not because you want him to catch you but because your chest is heaving and your eyes are burning with tears, blurring your vision and disorienting you.

He grabs your arm firmly when he reaches you and tries to pull you into an embrace. You resist at first, stiffening against him as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop!” You sob violently but he doesn’t let go even when you start crying loud enough to attract attention. Instead, he tightens his grip around you to calm your nervous system. How odd it is to want comfort from the man who also made you cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he says repeatedly, his cheek against yours while you try to hit his chest. You can hear the regret in his voice but your pride makes you unwilling to soften.

You struggle further, almost like a panicked animal, wanting to kick and scream to escape a trap, but the fight is going out of your body quickly, gripped by exhaustion and making you sag. Another sob rips itself from your throat, “If I’m so crazy then there’s no reason we should be together let alone have a baby.”

When you’re less resistant, he cradles your head in his hand to make you look at him, “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not crazy. Dios, soy un pendejo (God, I’m an idiot). I’m so sorry, mi amor (my love).”

You sink to your knees but he catches you before they hit the sidewalk.

“I’m not crazy,” you insist weakly as you slump into his embrace.

“You’re not crazy,” he confirms quietly, “I’d take that back if I could.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too… You were frustrated and tired,” you sniffle and your bottom lip trembles, “I shouldn’t have pushed you the second you walked through the door. I’m just worried that we have to wait a whole month before we can try again because we’re too lazy to have sex. And I hate that it is ruining our sex life because I love having sex with you.”

Javier says your name but it’s clear that it has caught him off guard.

You pull back to look up at his face. His brown eyes are soft and full of apologies, like the impact of his words only hits him now, “Now I’m scared that this is all responsible for you not finding me sexy anymore. I know it’s stupid but what if I’m the reason why we never get there? What if all this pressure makes you stop wanting me? What if I–”

“Now that’s crazy,” he says in an attempt to smooth things over with a joke but that one crease in his forehead, the one that he gets when frustration hits, is back because it doesn’t work.

You compose yourself enough to step back and give him a warning look, a look that says don’t you dare say that word again. He holds his hands up in surrender and then just reaches for your wrist, tugs it until he can entwine your fingers.

“What?” You’re the one to bite now, "I'm serious. I don’t want to lose you in this."

"You're not going to lose me,” he groans in exasperation. A few heads have popped up in the windows of the houses surrounding you.

“Then why aren’t you upset like I am?” You ask harshly and pull your hand away to hug yourself. You avoid his gaze.

Javier looks at you as if you’ve cracked him wide open right there on the sidewalk. He furrows his brows, opening his mouth without any words coming out. He turns away then, needs to gather himself without staring at your face.

You know immediately that you have crossed a line, that you have hit a nerve that wasn’t supposed to be as exposed as it suddenly is.

“Javi,” you murmur shamefully.

“Is that what you think?” He turns back to you, the look in his eyes frantic and desperate. He also looks furious but for some reason, you can tell it isn’t directed at you, “That— That I’m not scared or upset enough? I’m terrified all the fucking time but if I let myself be as scared as you are, I’d be fucking useless to you.”

The realization hits you like an oncoming train, making tears start falling from your eyes again. You don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you. Javier feels the exact same way as you but he simply hides it better.

You want to say something but he beats you to it, pointing at you to stress his point, his chest heaving, “And for the record. There’s no fucking universe where I stop wanting you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you do the next best thing and show him. You reach to cup his face, your thumbs stroking along his cheekbones, and then you kiss his lips.

He sighs against your mouth, his broad palms finding your waist and tugging you as close as possible until he can wrap you in the harbor of his arms. Then he kisses you deeper, several times too, each brush of his lips releasing more of the tension between you.

You’re here. In the same boat. And you love each other so much. That should be enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it is.

When the kiss is over, you don’t draw away from each other. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you protectively close to his chest and stroking the back of your head. You link your arms around him, clinging tightly to him with a few tears staining his shirt because you have hurt each other so much.

“I want to go home,” you murmur softly into his shoulder while he strokes your hair, “Por favor (please).”

“Okay,” he answers just as gently, placing a kiss on your forehead before drawing back, “We’ll go home.”

You walk home side by side, no words spoken between you. The tension is still there, sizzling in the air but it is charged with something else too. You almost feel like a teenager again, back when you were too scared to speak to the person you’ve decided late at night that you’d go through fire for.

The first block is spent with your hands brushing as they hang by your sides and the both of you holding your breath when it happens but then Javier laces your fingers together and a quiet understanding settles over you.

When you enter the front door together, none of you even glance in the direction of the kitchen or the living room. There's no hurry to move on from the storm of intense emotions that you have just been through, no hurry to busy yourself with anything that’ll simply push it down or bottle it up.

The only urgency now is that storm, your hearts tense but only with the need to reassure each other. His mouth finds yours again, his body pushes you against the wall and the intensity behind his kiss grows from how he had kissed you in the street. Your lips meet in a kiss so deep that Javier coaxes a moan from your mouth.

For once in all of this, you’re not scared of the outcome of being together, entwined. The need to conceive a child with your husband is still very much there but right now, it is overshadowed by a need to connect fully, to lick each other’s wounds even if you caused them.

You reach to untie the knot on his tie completely. He hesitates for just a breath, a hand on your wrist to gain your attention.

“Are you sure?” He asks despite how you still pull the tie out from underneath his collar.

“Yes,” you don’t hesitate a second and drop the tie on the floor, desire ignited in your belly, “I’m so sure. I want you.”

He lets out a shaky breath with a smile, nodding his head while you move in to kiss his throat where his pulse thrums. His eyes close at the contact, his head tilting back just a little until a soft moan escapes his mouth. Your body grows warm from hearing it and you take it as a cue to move in silence, sharing searing kisses all the way to the bedroom.

When you get there, Javier closes the door behind you and turns the lock, not because there’s any chance that you will be disturbed but just to keep the outside world at bay for a little while. It feels more intimate like that, like you are the only two people in the world.

You stand by the end of the bed, watching him do it and feeling your heart pounding in your chest from anticipation. You smile softly when he approaches you, too afraid that words might mess up the way that air crackles with intimacy and tenderness.

He reaches out first as if promising to take the lead of you, curling his fingers around the edge of your top to lift it up. You raise your arms in the air to let him peel it over your head, goosebumps erupting on your skin where his knuckles brush you. He drops your top on the floor.

You finally reciprocate by moving to undo the buttons of his white shirt. Your hands tremble slightly as you do it but Javier is patient, just reaches to gently steady your wrist by holding it.

When you have reached the last one, he takes over and shrugs the fabric off his shoulders to reveal his warm and safe chest. You step closer, hands finding his shoulders as you lean in to kiss along his collarbone. He takes the opportunity to unclasp your bra while you’re at it, a palm skimming up your back while the other rests at your waist.

When your breasts are bare, your nipples have hardened at the sudden exposure to the colder temperature. He undoes his belt and jeans, and when he bends slightly to take them off along with his boxers, he presses a tender kiss right over a nipple and skims his nose and lips across your chest to do the same thing with the other.

You moan softly. He grabs around your waist and helps lowering you down onto the bed. You sit on the edge but not for long, moving back until you can lay down spread out. He follows you like a magnet, ends up kneeling between your legs so he can undo and yank down your pants.

You help kick them off and then bend your knees briefly to let him drag your underwear down too. His mouth is everywhere he can reach; your ankles, your calves, knees, and thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly on his way down your inner thigh, breaking the silence, and while he says those words a lot, there’s something different behind them today. It is almost like he is telling you something else; you’re not broken, not defined in your femininity by your body’s ability to carry his child.

You hold tears at bay and run your hand over his hair, looking down at the top of his head as his face disappears down between your thighs. Your mouth falls open in a soft gasp when he first mouths along your cunt.

“Javi,” you sigh a moment later, your head knocking back into the bed so you can look up at the ceiling while focusing on the velvety feeling of his mouth.

He eats you slowly, the flat of his tongue gently moving over your clit until you can’t help each sigh and moan that falls from your lips. His fingers spread your cunt open, his other hand squeezing your thigh as he pulls your legs further apart to dive in.

“Please,” you hear yourself say. It’s the moment you realize how long it has been since you last were together like this; he hasn’t gone down on you for months because it doesn’t make a baby. The room is quiet except for your labored breaths and the filthy wet sounds of his mouth teasing you towards the edge. It feels so good to be wanted like this, reassured of how sexy you are without all the pressure to procreate.

Hearing that soft plea makes Javier wrap his lips around your clit to kiss it repeatedly. He moans into you when your legs start to tremble in his peripheral vision. He switches it up and sucks. It makes you whimper, your back arching off the bed as he worships you between your thighs.

You are sure that he’ll pull away when you lift your pelvis up to meet his mouth further, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he just slides the hand on your thigh down under the small of your back to hold you there, then breathes heavily through his nose and hungrily continues to make you inch closer to the edge.

Like always, he can hear your orgasm knocking by the way you begin to hold your breath between small gasps of pleasure. He intensifies the pressure and the precision just so, and you slide both hands through his hair - something he has clearly been waiting for with the way he groans - while your toes start to curl.

When you actually come, it drags a sinful groan out of the both of you. Your thighs lock around his head and you pull at his hair. It’s not pretty and polite. It’s pure release, and it is ripped out of you like it has been buried under your prickly skin, underneath heartbreak, forever.

You say his name until it makes no sense anymore, swallowing down desperate gulps of air. He lets you ride it out on his tongue, making sure to tease out every little aftershock before releasing you from his grasp. Yes, you needed this but it is almost like he needed it more.

“You don’t know what it does to me,” he breathes heavily while you come down. He trails off and rests his forehead against your thigh, “You don’t fucking know what it does to me… when you look at me like you did earlier… Like you’re done.”

“I’m not,” you whisper in reply, voice shaky with tears that have finally found release. You cry softly, “I’m not done. Never done.”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he looks up at you with those brown eyes that are so hard to resist because of the silent plead within them. It hurts your chest to watch him so full of remorse, hurts to be loved this much.

“Come here,” you whisper softly and hold your arms open for him but he wants to take it slow.

He kisses his way up your body instead - a kiss to your hip, your belly, one right beneath your ribs - and you use the opportunity to slide your fingers through his hair. His mustache is slick with you, scratching just slightly as he treats you like you might not be in his bed tomorrow.

But while he wants to savor you, you feel the growing impatience within your chest. You need him closer, your hands going repeatedly from his hair to his shoulders and then to his back because you are unsure of where to touch him when you want all of him.

When he has his knees between your thighs again, he doesn’t crush you with his weight. Instead, he hovers above, eyes roaming over your face to check if you’re still letting him have you. In response, you settle on cupping his face. He automatically turns his face to press a longing kiss into the palm of your hand.

You pull him to your mouth in a kiss that steals his breath away, his hand cupping the side of your neck. You kiss him like you should have done the moment he came in through the door and he meets your mouth like he needs to feel forgiveness in his very bones. Maybe a kiss like this would have avoided the pain that you inflicted upon each other. You cry in his arms. He wipes tears away with his thumbs and doesn’t rush you.

Eventually, you are panting from the intensity of what feels like one of the deepest kisses of your life. Your lips are swollen and sensitive, and his cock is hard against your thigh to the point where you think he must be aching. The occasional kiss to your throat makes your whole body tingle with want, your cunt fluttering in interest. The pressing issue, however, is that you need to put all of these feelings somewhere.

“Fuck me,” you whisper with your fingers in his hair, breathing hard against his mouth, “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

Javier swears quietly under his breath as if he has been waiting for those words, nodding repeatedly with his stare fixed on your lips before giving you another desperate kiss.

He reluctantly pulls away, your hands slipping out of his dark locks, to sit back on his knees. You let your palms lay flat on the sheets and stare up at him, his face full of determination while he slides his hands around the back of your knees.

At first, you think he wants to drag you down on the bed and closer to himself but then he lifts your legs and you gasp because you immediately know what he is doing with you. He pushes until your thighs are pressed against your chest, your cunt on full display and at his mercy.

He doesn’t speak as he moves over you again, not stopping until his chest brushes the back of your thighs and your ankles are resting on his broad shoulders. He folds you even further in when he leans down to kiss your throat, the soft sound that escapes you vibrating underneath his lips.

You grip the sheets and hold on for dear life as he enters you slowly, giving you the full length of his cock inch by inch. He holds your gaze as he bottoms out and it makes you so aware of everything he does to you. There's no space between you now. Not physically. Not emotionally. He looks at you as if telling you that you and he belong together, like he is ready to rewrite the last seven months of your sex life.

You can’t speak, can’t even think because you’re still trembling and sensitive. The stretch of his cock is almost too much inside of you but he is gentle with you, letting you adjust while kissing his way to your mouth again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod as if to reciprocate and then whimper as another tear escapes, “I love you. I missed you.”

“I know, I missed you too,” he whispers and gently kisses away the salty tear.

The ache of need catches up to you as you get used to feeling him inside of your cunt so fully, the thick head of his cock resting against the spot where you need him the most. An impatient flutter of your walls makes him give in and move inside of you.

You moan feebly while he takes you slowly and full of precision. The angle of this position has you breathless in seconds, your back arching with each stroke against your g-spot. Your moans mix together with the sound of skin slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet room. You hold onto his biceps, feeling the muscles of his arms flex beneath your touch as he strains his body to give you everything he has.

“I’ve got it now, mi amor (my love)” he lets you know through ragged breaths, resting his forehead against yours, “You don’t have to start it anymore. No need to ask.”

“Don’t stop. Javi— oh, don’t stop,” you plead him with a steady stream of teardrops falling from your eyes. They roll down into your hair faster than he can kiss them away but it doesn’t matter, you think to yourself, because you want him to see what he does to you; that his words move you, that you needed to hear them because you’re exhausted and fuck, he loves you so much.

“Shh, don’t cry, baby, you’re okay,” he coos with another soft kiss to follow. You turn your head afterward to press your face into the side of his head, brows furrowing as the first hints of your climax being within reach show.

He barely pulls out anymore, just grinds down into your cunt and hits the right spot repeatedly. There’s no talking either. Instead, just the sound of your sweat-slicked bodies moving together, your breath hitching in your throat as your belly tightens even more, and his growls every time your cunt squeezes around him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re making me come,” he grits out, sweat gathering on his brow and concentration all over his face.

“I’m close,” you gasp with your thighs starting to tremble from how intense it is going to be. You let your head bump into the mattress, your spine arching in a bow as it creeps up on you and your breathing begins to stutter.

You come with a silent cry towards the ceiling because all air is knocked out of you. It takes a few moments before noise catches up to you but when it does, you absolutely sob underneath the weight of his body. The intensity makes you clamp down on his cock, your walls going into rhythmic squeezes that make Javier hiss and his pace falter from how you milk him.

“I’m coming,” he near-whimpers before going off into a satisfied groan while his hips stutter, “Fuck, baby. You’re— I’m coming.”

He buries himself to the hilt before spilling inside of your wet, oversensitive heat. You gasp at the feeling of it, the weight of it settling inside of you. He trembles above you, enough for you to slide your hands up to his shoulders and cup his face.

He holds himself up with one hand and holds one of yours with the other, breathing rapidly. His chest is broad and glistening with sweat, warm and nearly suffocating but he is yours. You want it like that, want to drown in the intimacy that you feel.

Without a word, he straightens and pulls out his softening cock. It makes you tense up, looking down where you have been connected with worry on your face. You don’t want it to slip, to not work this time either, but he guides your legs together and then shifts slightly on the mattress. He lays them gently on one shoulder, making sure that no drop spills from you.

“I’ve got you,” he coos, almost shushing you like a child. His arms cradle your legs, “Don’t worry.”

You can do nothing but whimper. He rubs your belly with his free hand and you place your palm on top of it, an unconscious gesture of hope between you.

“This is the most important thing,” he says after weighing his words for a moment, “You and I.”

“Javi,” you protest but there’s no exasperation building up beneath the surface this time. He shakes his head to stop any words at the tip of your tongue.

“I will give you anything you want. A house, a baby, anything you want,” he tells you, whispering it as if there are other people in the room besides the two of you and he wants privacy. It feels safer to hear him lower his voice, “But not if it costs me you. We are not meant to fight like that.”

Your bottom lip trembles because he is right. You’re not meant to fight like that at all, chests heaving with adrenaline and bloodlust from grief over the fact that something is getting the better of you. It feels as unnatural as snow in August and rivers running dry.

“I want to give you a baby,” you say quietly and feel a tear slide down your cheek. Javier reaches to brush it away with his index finger, shushing you once more with the gentleness in him only reserved for you.

“And you will,” he promises and cups your cheek afterward, his thumb stroking your face where another tear has fallen, “It’ll happen. This way or another.”

Your eyes flutter closed. You nod.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks and lets his mouth graze the side of your ankle.

“I love you too,” you say back without much thought that he is actually asking a question.

“Yes, but do you know how much? Look at me,” he waits for a moment.

Your gaze locks onto him, your eyes big and teary.

“I don’t think you know how lucky I am to have you in my life after all the stupid shit I’ve done back in Colombia. I hurt people. I watched people die. No wonder I wasn’t all here when I came back. I thought I was just gonna float through the rest of my life being angry or drifting in some bar like a ghost. You were the first thing that felt like… like the world could be soft again. And now you think I could ever stop wanting you?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re the only place I’ve ever felt like I could put my feet down and not run. When everything starts to weigh down on me, you breathe life back into me. Whatever happens next, I want it with you, okay?”

You cry with your heart feeling too big for your chest, words lost on you because how can he still love you when this takes such a toll on you that it brings out the worst in you? Probably just how you can love him just the same too.

You sniffle, “Yes, me too.”

He looks serious and soft, “Even if it’s not how we imagined. Even if we gotta go knock on Connie’s door and ask for the number of that adoption agency… or do IVF… or whatever the hell else it takes.”

You nod. When you speak, it is nothing but a squeak, “Yes.”

“But right now,” he caresses the skin of your calf and murmurs into another kiss to your ankle, “I just wanna stay here. In this bed. With my wife… and let the world wait a little while longer. Can we do that?”

“Can I get my legs down, so we can cuddle?” You shift a little, still slick between your thighs and sore in the best way, but there’s no rush to clean up or face anything other than the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

He smiles, “Of course. Lift your legs, I’ve got you.”

He does. He always does.

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b1eeding-sun · 2 months ago

Text

Finally made ref sheets for this au so I figure now is as good a time as any to make an official introduction post for it.

Keep in mind that I'm still working on ironing out all the details so some things may be subject to change. However, I do have the major story beats decided so it's all the stuff in between that I'm not certain of. (Also PV'S designs are subject to change I'm not certain I'll be sticking with these)

Au overview and some more art below the cut because I ended up yapping for so long

With that out of the way, here's the gist of this au:

When Truthless recluse shatters his soul jam in the spire of deceit, he gets sent back in time (as like a fluke side effect of awakening ig) where he is found by the Fount of knowledge. Pure Vanilla is weary of Fount at first because he's not entirely convinced that this isn't just Shadow Milk trying to fuck with him again but he does genuinely want to be friends with shadow milk so he decides to just go along with this. He does realize fairly quickly that this isn't a trick, he's actually stuck in the past.

Fount is absolutely fascinated by PV, he's never had any genuine connections with anybody before and PV is pretty much the first person ever to see him as an actual person and not just something to be used and then discarded. He is also extremely curious about why PV has a second copy of his soul jam (PV quickly after realizing he's not in his time starts hiding his soul jam but he couldn't exactly hide it from Fount, at this point in time it isn't visibility cracked yet, that happens later on.)

Long story short they become besties (could be read as romantic or platonic), horribly codependent relationship on both ends. they don't have anyone but each other and they are each other's whole world.

It would absolutely tear PV apart if Fount was to, for example, start to corrupt and for there to be absolutely nothing he could do about it. Or if, and I'm just throwing this out there, he was to be locked up in, oh I don't know, a tree for thousands of years. And expanding on that, let's just say, hypothetically, that Fount assumes PV is mortal (technically correct) and that Its been thousands of years, he's probably died of old age by now (not correct). That would probably fuck him up soooo bad. Especially since he's locked in this hypothetical tree and literally all he can do is sit with his own thoughts.

Hahaha, good thing that's purely hypothetical. Because if that wasn't hypothetical then PV might, in an attempt to spare himself from his suffering, shatter his soul jam (again) and completely lose all of his memories (again). But that'll never happen because that was all purely hypothetical and actually this au is all sunshine and rainbows with absolutely no angst.

I've got sosososososo many ideas about this au that I haven't even touched on in this brief overview and am genuinely considering turning this into a fic. However I've literally never written anything before and this concept I think would be incredibly difficult to pull off convincingly. Also, shadow milk/fount of knowledge is physically disabled here. You can pretty much assume that that's the case with any of my depictions of him even if it's not obvious just by looking, but I figured it should still say that.

Please please please please please send me questions about this au I'm hopelessly hyperfixated on it and I have absolutely nobody to talk about it with or bounce ideas off of and that's tragic. Also I haven't figured out a name for this yet so please give me suggestions so I can tag everything accordingly and have all of it in one place.

As a treat for hearing my rambling out, here's a collection of my favorite of the art I've made for this au thus far (I would have included all of it but stupid Tumblr image limitations):

Edit: there is now a fic for this AU currently in the works!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66152485/chapters/170494225

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cripplecharacters · 1 year ago

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Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hey!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. A prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to imply that a character is two-faced but mostly just signals that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that. I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different. A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here) - maybe it will give you some ideas.

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way. A fav of mine.) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor. I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed.

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #art reference #tropes

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alexanderwales · 8 months ago

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One of the things they went over when I took linguistics was the "euphemism treadmill", the tendency of initially-clinical or neutral words to undergo pejoration to the point that someone felt the need to replace the pejorated word with one that was clinical or neutral. And then of course the process of pejoration would start again.

The best example of this were words related to what we now call intellectual disability. In the past, "idiot", "simpleton", "moron", "feeble-minded", and "imbecile" were all relatively clinical terms. (This is one of those things that's often repeated, but if you go looking at newspapers from the 1920s, you do kind of wonder whether the negative connotations were just completely acceptable then, especially when they're talking about the successes of sterilizing the feeble-minded.)

The reason that pejoration happens is that while the word changes, the societal attitude toward the underlying thing most often does not, and so if they change the word and declare that this new word is totally neutral, then society's negative view is just going to keep making those words take on bad connotations. This will happen even with the most anodyne descriptions, like "mentally handicapped", which Google will inform you with a little warning is offensive and dated.

The linguistics class I took in the early 2000s spent a little time on the word "retarded", which by then was well on its way to complete pejoration (federal law was changed in 2010, from "mental retardation" to "intellectual disability"), but had not reached the point when it was "the r-slur". If I recall correctly, this was when "mentally handicapped" was still relatively in vogue, and sitting in that classroom I had thought that "retard" was going to go the way of "moron", a word that was used exclusively in a disparaging way. I thought it would be about as acceptable as calling someone an imbecile, I guess, which is impolite but which doesn't rise to the level of "slur".

But no, I was wrong. The euphemism treadmill will probably continue because we have not done anything about the underlying condition (that people with intellectual disabilities are less valued and looked down on), but "retard" has now become a slur, even if every other fucking word for low intelligence is still in common use as a disparagement.

It's wild how much you can see people dancing around this. I said above that Google gives an "offensive and outdated" tag to the term "mentally handicapped", but they also give that to "retarded". However, if you go to "imbecile" they don't give that tag. To save you the trouble of looking it up:

noun: imbecile; plural noun: imbeciles

a stupid person.

archaic a person of low intelligence.

Ah, lovely. So it's okay, because it just means "a stupid person", it used to mean "a person of low intelligence", but it doesn't mean that any more, so ... not offensive, I guess?

Except hold on, what does "stupid" mean again?

adjective: stupid; comparative adjective: stupider; superlative adjective: stupidest

having or showing a great lack of intelligence or common sense.

Oh, okay, I see. So in the archaic sense "imbecile" meant a person of low intelligence, but now it means a person who has a lack of intelligence. Totally different, very understandable. Nevermind that "imbecile" was pejorated in the same way that "retard" was, and that using a negative word to refer to someone who is lacking intelligence is basically the same thing.

I think if you want to fight against the pejorative use of the word "retard", you should probably be fighting against a lot more words, and you should definitely be fighting against the societal view that people with lower intelligence are lesser. You can fight the language issue all you want, but it's just going to lead to more cycles of pejoration. There's no way that switching over to saying "person with a learning disability" (as it seems the UK bureaucrats now favor) is going to somehow end it.

Personally, I'm the kind of person who just goes with the flow. I think people with intellectual disabilities are just as much people as anyone else, deserving of care and compassion, but I also value intelligence at least as much as my surrounding society does, and while I do make attempts to temper my language, saying that an idea is stupid rather than casting contempt on a person who is stupid, that's a mighty fine line to tow, and ... people just don't care. If I call a politician a moron, no one will bat an eye. I will refrain from saying the r-word, because people get mad at you when you do that. I think if I got hit in the head tomorrow and became intellectually disabled, I would be more or less happy with this.

I don't have a strong principled stance, more a stance of "come on, what are we doing here". Euphemism treadmill goes brrrr, language gonna language, I just wish the whole linguistic and social process didn't feel like some out of control machine that wasn't actually doing anything for anyone, and that people would pay more attention to the underlying mechanisms for how/why pejoration actually works. Changing the word is not going to usher in an era of understanding and equality, we've proven that, haven't we?

#language #linguistics

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httpsserene · 2 years ago

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posh spice — 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 lando norris x fashion designer! fem!black!reader smau. fluff. fans hating on your choice of boyfriend. humor. twt users being twt users. reader is a fashion designer (not important but mentioned). reader is also wild af. brain-rot. not beta-read.

synopsis: you’re upset with the switch up the internet has pulled on you. a few years ago, everybody was saying you were too pretty for lando, but now they’re drooling over him? you will not be letting this slide.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. for lando's birthday :) i saw one tik tok edit that was like “why is lando kinda…” and i audibly said KINDA???? then, i saw another one that was like, “oh everybody thinks charles is the prettiest on the grid…but now introducing: lando” and i almost threw my phone across the room. tldr: this is inspired by me noticing that lando was attractive from the start, and that i’m mad i have to share him.

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

twitter • three years ago, 2020

yninstagram • three years ago, 2020

liked by landonorris, mclaren, maxfewtrell, lewishamilton, and 16,175,978 others

yninstagram lando norris is the man i want to spend the rest of my life with. he’s perfection personified. the most soft, kindest, sweetest, considerate, and funniest man has allowed me the privilege of being his girlfriend. i’m forever thankful that we get to grow together. he’s the cutest, hottest, and prettiest boy to ME–and that’s all i care about, and that’s all you need to accept. i don’t give a FUCK about your opinions on who *i* should date. i’m the only person who’s decisions matter concerning my romantic relationships. why the hell should y’all bitches who don’t even use their own photos for their pfp’s and use a k-idol’s face instead, dictate who is hot or not. it’s incredibly vein, disgusting, and immature behavior from people who think they’re my fans. acting like jealous school children isn't cute; i was never your property. it’s hilarious too, considering some of y’all are grown women DOUBLE my age talking shit about my business–go worry about why your kids don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

tagged landonorris

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yninstagram matter of fact, go ahead and change your little profile pictures to real pictures of you, i don’t want to see any filters. then we can all see that all y’all want to do is spread insecurity stemming from your own self-hatred 🙂

yninstagram and while i have you all here, my winter season clothes will be restocked on the 15th.

comments have been disabled.

twitter • imessage • 2023

instagram

landonorris • august 24th • zandvoort ⚑

liked by yninstagram, mclaren, carlossainzjr, and 547,930 others

landonorris back in my favorite place

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yninstagram first!! stay back hoes 🤺🤺

➥ user being called a hoe by y/n is not what i expected this year

➥ user she has notif’s 😭on 😭 for 😭 lando 😭

yninstagram how r u so HOT 🥵

yninstagram that sweater is mine now 👺

➥ landonorris i can just get another for you love

➥ yninstagram …i want this one lan🫤

➥ landonorris okay it’s yours 🫠

user neither of them have any backbone when it comes to each other

➥ yninstagram as it should be 😤

user might have to trip and fall into lando’s arms this weekend

➥ yninstagram i’m flying in tomorrow rethink your plan 🙂

➥ user i think i’ll avoid lando like the plague this weekend 😅

➥ user smart decision babes

landonorris • september 12th

liked by yninstagram, lnfour, tumitravel, and 425,395 others

landonorris coming in hot @ tumitravel

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yninstagram come in me—i mean come home to me haha 😳😊

➥ landonorris babe please not in front of the sponsors 😧

➥ tumitravel oh no pls don’t stop for us 🫣 we stan y/n

user i saw this photo shoot LIVE!!! lando was so sweet, he signed my hat for me, and he smells so good 😩😩

➥ yninstagram i’ll chop off your nose and then you can be voldemort for halloween 👺

user i don’t know if i want to choke him or have him choke ME

➥ yninstagram how about me choking you

➥ user omg i’m down for a threesome 😳

➥ yninstagram choking you to death :)

➥ user i don’t wanna play this game anymore

landonorris • september 18th • singapore ⚑

liked by yninstagram, mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 950,706 others

landonorris whatttaaaaa weekend ❤

view comments

yninstagram GODDAMN

carlossainzjr vamossss landito ❤️💪🏼🏆

➥ landonorris ayyyy 🧡🥳🥳

➥ yninstagram my boysssss 🥰

yninstagram that’s my boyfriend 🤤

➥ landonorris last photo is just for you 😋

yninstagram so proud of you baby, i’m running out of room to put all these trophies <3

➥ landonorris v happy to be your trophy husband

user i’m in love with this singapore haircut 🤤 thank you for not fucking it up lando 😅

➥ yninstagram mmm yes, i’m thrilled it’s still long on the top 😍 it gives me something to tug on

user surprised y/n allowed him to post that last one

➥ yninstagram he doesn’t need my permission, but i get to see him naked so i rdc

user quadrant helmet it so beautiful! i want it to stay 😭

➥ user i want him to fuck me with it on

➥ yninstagram out of pocket…but completely valid honestly—delete your account 😊

liked by landonorris

yninstagram carlando 1-2 makes up for the war i’m fighting in these comments

mclaren • novemeber 8th

liked by landonorris, f1, yninstagram, and 97,293 others

mclaren pulling up fresh with @ landonorris

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yninstagram not pictured: @ landonorris pulling up to OUR flat

➥ user y/n said “he’s coming home with meeeee”

f1 does he come with the jacket👀

➥ yninstagram no, but the price of me folding you like a lawn chair is included in shipping & handling

➥ f1 i’ll go sit down 😅

➥ user she’s fighting the f1 main??? this is mentally-ill behavior y/n!!!

yninstagram mclaren admin go stand in a corner and stare at the wall

➥ mclaren they made me post this!!! i would NEVER risk upsetting you ma’am 🙇🏼‍♀️

➥ yninstagram no talking from the timeout corner 🫵🏽

user we don’t care about the jacket. which organ do i have to sell to buy an hour with him?

➥ yninstagram both kidneys

➥ user but you need at least one kidney to live?

➥ yninstagram how,,,unfortunate

user model!lando always glowssssss

➥ yninstagram it’s the 9 step skincare routine i have him on, you can follow steps 1-8 on his ig

➥ user what’s step 9?

➥ yninstagram kissing me 🤭

lando.jpg • novemeber 13th • with my wife ⚑

liked by yninstagram, carlossainzjr, mclaren, team_quadrant, and 976,234 others

lando.jpg lucky to have found you so early in my life. you're my best birthday gift.

tagged yninstagram

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yninstagram posting my side boob on the jpg account? forgiven since you called me your wife 🥺

➥ lando.jpg thought i’d start practicing your future title, mrs. norris

➥ yninstagram come back to bed. you can start practicing giving me your kids too.

user i want y/n to bury my head in between her boobs

➥ lando.jpg no. i sleep there also—you’re blocked 🤗

danielricciardo as long as i’m the godfather, i can forget i’ve ever read this 🤮

➥carlossainzjr get in line mate, i’ve called being baby norris’ godfather ages ago

➥maxverstappen wait your turn mates, clearly i am the correct choice for godfather

➥maxfewtrell ah, i believe you lads have forgotten my existence

➥yninstagram baby norris doesn’t exist yet, no need to fight to the death rn 🙄

➥lando.jpg i’ll convince the mrs to have four, for my racing number and so you each have a godchild 😅

user y/n may have won the war, but i’ve won the battle—bisexuals have been fed today!!!

➥user girl, i’m straight and i’ve zoomed in on the last photo an unhealthy amount of times

➥user i diagnose you with y/n-sexuality it’s incredibly common in humans

liked by lando.jpg

oscarpiastri you two are made for each other 😀

➥lando.jpg this sounds like an insult 🙂

➥yninstagram i thought kids under 13 weren’t allowed on ig

➥oscarpiastri you’re not even a year older than me @ yninstagram

mclaren mama y papa

➥ yninstagram still on timeout.

➥ mclaren :(

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moons-and-mobility-aids · 2 months ago

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Smut Challenge 2025, Fic Ten: Threesome with Poly!Jily

Pairing: Poly!Jily x Disabled!Reader Summary: James and Lily take their time with you. It’s messy and overwhelming and impossibly soft. Tags: fem!reader, reader with chronic pain, no use of y/n, established relationship, oral sex (f!receiving), face sitting, nipple play, dirty talk, praise kink, reader rides james's face, lily rides james, reader and lily make out, soft dom!lily, intense eye contact, sensory overload, tender aftercare, emotionally grounded smut, soft!james, attentive!lily, reader struggling to stay upright, deep intimacy, post-orgasm cuddles, tangled limbs and quiet breathing, warmth and care soaked in sex, james gets absolutely ruined Word count: 1.3k words Smut Challenge 2025 Masterlist

The world tilts a little as you lower yourself onto James's face, your thighs trembling with the effort. His hands are firm on your hips, grounding you, steadying your shaking limbs as you settle, facing Lily. She's kneeling beside James, flushed and panting, her eyes locked on yours, dark with hunger and something tender beneath it. Her breath brushes over your lips as she leans in, her hand caressing your cheek.

She kisses you slow, open-mouthed, tasting your moan as James finally licks up through your folds. Your entire body jolts, knees trembling, as heat pools low in your belly. His mouth is greedy, focused, tongue tracing tight circles that make your breath catch. His grip on your hips is firm but reverent, guiding your movements without ever forcing, encouraging you to ride his face exactly how you need.

Lily trails her hands down your sides, her fingertips soft and grounding. She watches your face intently, searching it for every flicker of reaction. "He's got you shaking already. Poor thing," she murmurs, brushing her lips along your jaw. "You gonna come just from his tongue, baby?"

You whimper into her mouth, hands digging into her waist as you try to keep yourself grounded. But James's tongue is relentless, and your hips start to grind down, helpless against the tidal pull of pleasure. You're already dripping, aching, every nerve on fire. Each flick of his tongue, each hum against your clit, makes your muscles twitch and contract.

"Easy," Lily soothes, her hands guiding your rhythm as you move. "Let it build."

She shifts slightly, kneeling closer until your bodies press together, chest to chest. You can feel her heartbeat against yours, fast and echoing. She trails kisses down your throat, murmuring praise and filth against your skin, and then she reaches between your legs—finding your clit, just above where James's tongue is working, and rubs it with maddening precision. Your cry gets swallowed by her mouth.

James groans under you, the sound buzzing straight into your cunt. The combination of both of them on you, in you—it's too much, it's perfect. Your body is barely holding itself upright. Your hands clutch at Lily's waist, your forehead pressed to hers.

Lily's breath is hot in your ear. "You're so wet, so pretty like this. Think you can keep going, sweetheart? Or should I let you come now?"

You try to speak, but it comes out a broken sound. You're trembling hard, the burn in your knees barely registering anymore. Everything else is sensation. She doesn't stop. One of her hands slides behind you, over your back, and cups the back of your neck, grounding you. Her other hand trails back to your chest, fingers playing with your nipple, rolling and teasing until you gasp. She nips at your earlobe, dragging her tongue down the side of your neck.

"That's what I thought," Lily whispers.

She kisses you again, deeper, then moves to straddle James. She lifts herself slightly, reaches down to guide him to her entrance, and sinks onto his cock in one slow, wet slide. A moan slips from her lips, head falling back.

"Fuck—" she exhales. "So fucking good."

James's hands tighten on your hips as she begins to ride him, each bounce pushing his tongue deeper into you. You grab onto Lily, desperate to stay upright, your thighs quaking. You lean forward, resting your forehead to hers, and reach down between her legs.

You rub her clit with two fingers, gentle and insistent. Her breath catches, hips stuttering against his. Her eyes flutter closed and then open again, locking with yours.

"God, yes," she pants, clinging to you. "Don't stop—keep going. Just like that."

You do, fingers sliding slick over her, matching the rhythm of her thrusts. She's falling apart in your hands, her body writhing against yours, her moans getting louder and more desperate. Her hips begin to jerk erratically, every brush of your fingers sending her closer to the edge. She starts rocking harder, chasing the friction, her breasts pressed tight against your chest, her mouth warm on yours.

Below, James is groaning into your cunt, muffled and frantic. He's lost in it, hips jerking up into Lily as she rides him harder, spurred on by your touch. His hands flex around your waist as if he can barely hold on.

"Come for us, Lily," you whisper. "I've got you."

She chokes out a sob and crashes into her climax, body going taut as she grinds down hard, clenching around James. Her orgasm wracks through her, shaking and intense, her whole body trembling against you. You keep rubbing her clit, slower now, coaxing the aftershocks from her.

James gasps against your cunt, tongue faltering as Lily clenches around him. And then he breaks. His hips stutter and he groans, loud and wrecked, coming deep inside her. The heat of it, the way Lily shudders—it's too much. It pulls you over with them.

Your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing through every nerve ending. You cry out, collapsing forward into Lily, your thighs locking around James's head as he keeps licking you through it, unwilling to stop until you're trembling and twitching in his hands. His tongue softens, turning soothing as you come down, and your muscles spasm with every gentle lick.

You stay there a while, catching your breath, Lily stroking your back. Slowly, gently, James helps guide you off him. Lily collapses beside you with a soft groan, still panting, her body flushed and shaking. James slides out from beneath both of you and flops back with a dazed, satisfied sound.

You're all a mess of limbs and sweat and cum, but no one moves right away. There's too much heat, too much love, holding you in place. The quiet is intimate—just heavy breathing and occasional murmurs as fingers trace lazy shapes on damp skin.

"Holy shit," James breathes after a long moment. "I'm not sure I'm still alive."

"You are," Lily murmurs, nuzzling your cheek. "Barely."

You laugh weakly and turn into her arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "We broke him."

"You did," James agrees, still breathless. "I got absolutely ruined, as usual."

Lily chuckles and brushes hair away from your face. "You okay, darling?" Her hand rests on your hip, thumb stroking absent patterns into your skin.

"Yeah," you say, voice soft. "Wrecked. But okay."

"Next time, maybe a softer surface," she says. "And some pillows. Lots of pillows."

"Or a bed James isn't already taking up half of," you mutter, grinning.

"Hey," James protests weakly. "I'm very accommodating. And you love it."

You and Lily just laugh and pull him into the tangle of limbs. James wraps an arm around both of you, pressing soft kisses to whatever skin he can reach—your shoulder, Lily's collarbone, your cheekbone.

There's no rush. No need to move. Just quiet breathing and soft touches. Lily's hand finds yours under the blanket, lacing your fingers together. James shifts until his face is pressed to your shoulder, warm breath making your skin prickle.

Eventually, Lily pulls a blanket over all of you. Her hands draw lazy shapes on your back. James's leg tangles with yours. You sigh, letting yourself relax completely, boneless and content.

The air is thick with warmth and sex and comfort, and you feel it settle deep in your bones. You let your eyes drift closed as the warmth of their bodies sinks into yours. It's quiet now—peaceful in a way that only comes after everything has been laid bare. There's no need to speak. You've said everything you needed with your bodies, your hands, your mouths.

When sleep finally comes, you go willingly—held between Lily's arms and James's warmth, loved down to your bones, safe in the wreckage of pleasure and care.

#marauders au #marauders era #james potter x reader #james potter x you #marauders fanfic #lily evans x you #lily evans x reader #lily evans smut #james potter smut #poly!jily x reader #poly!jily x you #jily x reader #chantelle writes fic #Chantelle's Smut Challenge 2025

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a-killer-obsession · 2 months ago

Text

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 12 - Let There Be Blood

Kid lives up to his reputation, just not the one you thought.

WC: 1.9k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry for the longer than planned hiatus, I moved to a new town, had a big market to prep for and attend, and my health has been really bad. I was hoping to get this back on a weekly schedule but the disabilities be disablin' so I'll just drop chapters as I have them.

By the time you, Killer, Heat and Wire finished weapon shopping and started making your way back to the ship, your cramps were well and truly kicking in, and it was starting to get exceptionally painful. You were used to this, but you no longer had all the comforts you were used to. No electric heated wrap for your belly, no vast amounts of your favourite snacks, icecreams and chocolate ready and waiting. No takeaway shitty Chinese food that tastes like crap any other time of the month, but always hit the spot when you were feeling miserable. No long time comfort stuffed animals or favourite blankets or Netflix in bed. You didn’t even have your usual painkillers, all the medicines here were unfamiliar to you, made from plants that didn’t even exist in your world. There were alternatives for what you were familiar with, but you felt silly constantly having to ask for guidance on what to take and how much, the sort of information that was common sense in this world. At least weed was a constant. You walked holding Killer’s hand, he’d sensed your pain as your haki shifted with it, and had reached out to quietly hold it as you walked, offering comfort and assuring you that Kid would help with your pain. You didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, maybe he was referring to whatever that mystery drug Kid kept dosing you with was. You really ought to talk to him about that, it probably wasn’t cool that he kept drugging you without asking you first. Kid must have really had a reputation for caring for menstruating people though, since that was now two commanders that had mentioned it. He must really have a thing for blood. You weren’t super keen on the idea of having sex on your period - you knew it was a silly taboo and a totally natural human thing to have a period, but you always felt so gross and dirty. You figured it was probably a lot to do with just feeling like utter garbage during it. If Kid really was going to spoil you though then maybe you could accept a little hanky panky.

Most of the crew were already on the ship as you approached, some still bustling around to finish loading supplies, others curiously examining the thin iridescent layer of bubble that coated the ship. Kid was on the deck, discussing something with Reck, when his eyes widened and his head lifted, like a hound catching a scent in the air. His head snapped to look at you, at a speed you worried would give him whiplash, before he pushed Reck aside and hurried down the gangplank to you. You froze in your tracks, worried you were in trouble as Killer let go of your hand and chuckled under his mask a little. “Have fun,” he teased, before walking towards the ship, giving a wide berth for the charging red bull.

“YOU LET HER WALK?” Kid yelled, his fury directed at the commanders, before scooping you up into a bridal hold, making you yelp in surprise, “SHE’S DELICATE RIGHT NOW! DON’T YOU KNOW SHE’S SHEDDING THE LINING OF A WHOLE ORGAN? YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN CARRYING HER!”

“She was doing fine..” Heat replied sheepishly.

“I’m sorry princess, I’m gonna take much better care of you than these assholes,” Kid huffed, turning on his heel and marching back towards the ship, “Are you in pain? Hungry? Thirsty? Do you want a bath? Some chocolate?”

You blinked in confusion at the barrage of questions - this was not at all the Kid you were familiar with. “I, um - I’m in a lot of pain, actually,” you replied earnestly, “I get really bad cramps.”

“Don’t you worry my prized kitten,” Kid kissed you firmly on the top of your head as he carried you up the stairs to the stern castle, “I’m gonna get you sorted, you just stay by my side until your period is over. Let your captain take care of you.”

He carried you to his room, using his devil fruit to open doors as he approached and closed them behind. The bath was already running as he entered the bedroom, and you realised he’d probably used his fruit to adjust the tap too. He placed you gingerly on his bed, getting to work immediately on removing your shoes and clothes, pulling you to stand as he got to your lower half. You put your hand over his to stop him as he got to your panties, a bright blush spreading on your face. You didn’t want him to see that, it was gross, you didn’t want him looking at your blood soaked pad. He made a territorial sounding growl and you relented.

“Close your eyes if it bothers you,” Kid grumbled, “I can assure you it doesn’t bother me.”

You looked anywhere except at him as he knelt in front of you and pulled your panties down slowly, pad in tow. You felt embarrassed and vulnerable in front of him, your tough girl persona entirely evaporated. It was silly really, it was just blood, and it was clear Kid didn’t care, in fact the others had told you he liked blood, so why did it bother you so much? Your panties hit the floor and you felt Kid’s hands run up the outsides of your legs, groping the soft flesh on your thighs and ass as he took a deep inhale, his nose brushing against the front of your cunt, a small amount of blood transfering to the sharp tip. “Kid!” you yelped.

“You smell so fucking good,” Kid purred, “I wish I could have you right now. But I gotta take care of you first, can’t have my sweet girl in pain.”

He stood and lifted you again before you could reply, and you squirmed uncomfortably in his hold knowing full well you were getting blood on his arm. He adjusted his hold, pressing his arm harder against your cunt on purpose with a smug smile as your blush deepened. He sat you on the sink before digging around in the cupboards below you, grabbing a few things and pouring them into the large, black marble, corner bath, making it bubbly and fragrant. After returning the containers to the sink, he grabbed a lighter from a drawer and lit the candles that were scattered around the room, before the light flicked off, presumably using his fruit to flip the switch. Now that the room was bathed in soft candlelight it looked utterly romantic, not at all a vibe you would expect from Kid. He must really like blood to be doing all of this to get in your pants. You weren’t surprised when he shed his own clothes, leaving them in a heap before he gathered you up and carried you to the tub, sitting himself down in the hot water with you in his lap, your back against his chest.

The water was almost uncomfortably hot, and you guessed he’d done that on purpose to soothe your cramps. You sighed contently as the water enveloped you, wrapping your aching body in a blanket of heat that eased your joints and muscles and dulled your pain. You lolled your head back with a sigh, resting it against Kid’s shoulder, and he nosed at your neck, grazing his teeth against your pulse point.

“How’s your pain now?” he hummed in your ear, nipping at your ear lobe, “need more relief?”

“Mmm,” you mumbled back, “a bit better, but I could do with more relief.”

“Coming right up,” he grinned against your neck. Before you could ask what he meant, you felt a sharp prick at your neck. Ah, the drug again. You really did need to talk to him about it huh. You weren’t complaining right now though, your eyes fluttering shut as that now familiar numb euphoria rushed through your veins. You no longer felt any pain, but your skin felt like it was on fire - in a good way. Kid’s calloused hands ran over your tummy and thighs, making electricity shoot straight to your core. Your pussy throbbed with need as you shifted to grind against Kid’s thick thigh, all thoughts of blood and your own discomfort with it now forgotten as you rolled your hips against him and small ripples formed on the surface of the water. All in all a significant improvement on the crippling menstrual pain. Your neck felt wet as Kid sucked on it, his cock bobbing against your back as it hardened.

You rode his thigh like a bitch in heat, moaning and whining until his mouth unlatched from your neck and he growled in your ear. “Good girl mouse, you want this cock now?”

“Mmmm,” you mumbled back, high on venom and not really capable of verbalizing much else. All you could focus on was getting off, and letting him do what he wanted with you. You let him lift you by your thighs, lowering you on his cock and stretching you out with it. You whined as he speared you, bouncing you gently at first with his forearms wrapped under your thighs, his hands gripping your calves and holding you wide open. As your cunt adjusted to him he bounced you harder, until you were wailing and sinking your nails into his thighs, your breath stolen from you as Kid sunk his teeth back into your neck, administering another dose of his euphoric painkiller and making you gush on his cock. He continued to fuck you as you went limp against him, bathwater escaping over the edges of the marble and splashing against the floor as he thrust up in time with his lifting and lowering to fuck you deep and hard, chasing his own high.

His teeth gripped you harder, like he was holding you in place, as he growled against you and filled your cunt with his cum. You were entirely out of it, cock drunk and high, a ragdoll for him to use as he finished inside you. You barely even noticed as he slipped out of you and manhandled you to sit on the edge of the tub, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders as he greedily ate you out. His mouth and chin were coated in blood and cum as he lapped and sucked at your cunt like a man dying of thirst, and you came on his tongue without even realising, too out of it, dizzy and off in your own world. Your legs trembled against his shoulders as he got his fill, groaning and grunting against your cunt as he drank from you.

Finally he was sated, letting your legs gently fall back to the water. He knew better than to kiss a woman covered in her own blood, so he dipped his head under the bath water for a moment to clean off, before pulling you back into the water, sitting you in his lap with your chest against his, supporting your head as it rolled weakly and petting your hair soothingly as the venom wore off. At some point you nodded off, and he gently washed your body before carrying you back to his bed, drying you off and leaving you to freebleed in his bed on a soft towel under you.

[Next Chapter] - coming soon

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growling · 1 year ago

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*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

#mine #actually autistic #actually npd #actually plural #ableism #sanism #npd stigma #bpd stigma #pluralmisia #<- gonna add on to these later i am. bad at tagging warnings #i needed this off my chest like. can these people stop #dont know how comprehensible this is im bad at articulating myself #long post

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italian-lit-tournament · 8 months ago

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Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

First, propaganda for Ludovico Ariosto, then for Guido Cavalcanti. The quantity of material will be colossal, so just scroll down for more.

For the Ludovico Ariosto stans:

by @larmegliamori

The opposing party has brought on the big guns, I see: us Ariosto girlies, gays and they must bare our teeth and ambitions.

So, here's my two cent on why you should vote Ludovico Ariosto!

Extreme relatability: Deeply entrenched into the politics of his time (as the firstborn of ten children, of which one was disabled and other five were women), but at the same time just wanting to stay home to live of his poetry? Dare I say iconic. Perfect representation of us literature kids.

He actually managed to marry his muse, Alessandra Benucci, and did it respectfully!

Working various jobs for patron(s) he didn't particularly like? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Not to mention his most widely known work, the poem "Orlando Furioso" (The rage of Roland), has all the goos stuff us modern audiences would like! It features:

A wide, diverse cast, spanning from Ireland to India, stretching probably to the (by then) newly discovered Americas;

Fantasy elements: faeries, sorcerers, giants, orcs, the first modern iteration of the hippogryph and even a fantastical voyage to the Moon!

Citations and references galore: from Virgil to Ovid, from old chansons de geste to Boccaccio!

Proto-feminism and gender studies: Ariosto's female characters, although often very feminine, are actively involved in their story arcs. The poem also features two warrior women, Bradamante and Marfisa, the former of which is the protagonist of her own subplot. Said subplot heavily relies on gender, may it be appearances or not. And let's not forget the famous tirade at beginning of the fifth canto, where the author berates femicide! If you're willing to open your heart to his writing, Ludovico Ariosto reveals himself to be a compelling, layered, modern author, and yet there's a levity to his writing that works like a balm. Vote for Ludovico Ariosto (even if only for the memes)!

I'd also like to add that Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, in the 70s, got a theatrical AND television adaptation that was too campy for its own good.

It featured, amongst other things:

- 1500s inspired costuming (it sure was... A choice but I'm not complaining)

- Mechanic horses (that literally ran on rails) and hippogryph:

- Olympia of Holland, one of the most tragic characters in all the poem, as a vamp (slay):

(Posing with Orlando/Roland in on the left, with her lover Bireno on the right)

- Astolfo literally ENTERING INTO A HOLE TO GET TO THE MOON:

The television adaptation was partly shot in the famous Baths of Caracalla, in Rome. If you want to witness this masterpiece yourself, it's on YouTube! In two parts.

Remember to always stan Zio Ludo, and vote for him! ✨

Hello everyone! For today's Ariosto Propaganda Piece, I'd like to talk about the Satire.

Those seven pieces written in terzina dantesca (because our boy Ludo knew how to pick his role models) are an interesting insight about early 1500s society and Ariosto's character and private life. They all start from an actual event in his life and enlarge towards society as a whole, often with a critical eye towards it.

The first one, destined to his brother Alessandro and a friend, starts these absolutely iconic lines:

[Quick translation: Ruggiero, if you make me so ungrateful in the eyes of your descendants, and it bears me no advantage to have sung your worth and your mighty deeds, why should I stay here, since I don't know how to cut huns on a fork, nor how to hunt games with hawks or dogs?]

A bit of context: Ariosto's first patron, bishop Ippolito d'Este, had to move from Italy to Hungary and wanted all his court to follow him. Ariosto refused because of health and family matters, and he was threatened with the loss of all the benefits he had previously granted him. Note that Ariosto was basically a kind of personal secretary to Ippolito, carrying out different important missions for him, and even risked his life a couple times to carry them out. So it's understandable he feels disappointed at his patron's reaction... and that's why, in this more "private" writings, he complains with Ippolito's ancestor, the hero Ruggiero he had extensively wrote about in his main poem.

Honestly, a genius move. Not something you see often in poetry, is it? Another reason why you need to vote for this man ;)

For the Guido Cavalcanti stans:

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

The thing is, Ariosto feels very contemporary but Guido is the og relativist and unreliable narrator. His poetry offers NO truth whatsoever you only have a sequence of schizophrenic hallucinations and what he describes only seems like it's real but who knows, the narrator is dead, how can he even speak or if he's alive he's not because he has dissociated himself from his body and is only coldly contemplating his own murder. He's not reliable because he has lost his reason, his soul has crubled into pieces and each piece has fled his body. Also he hears voices, and feels a sadistic presence in his mind in the form of a woman watching him die. This man was too ahead of his time, he was too dramatic, too eccentric, but also too acute and sensible, he must have looked deranged and we love him for it. and deserves to be voted!

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

you can find my old propaganda here, but listen, while i do respect zio ludo's rizz, a vote for guido cavalcanti is a vote for gender roles reversal, death-life liminality, medieval atheism, antisocial freaks obsessed with philosphy who imagine their pens are talking to people about their owner's suffering (what is wrong with him), eye carving enjoyers (what the FUCK is wrong with him), sons who are sacrifical lambs, people who have long swinging necks like geese (allegedly???), and gay breakups involving dante alighieri. and also, well, I don't recall ariosto wearing a miku binder. twice.

in conclusion

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @apis-vergilii

Here’s my Guido propaganda: @girldante and @eresia-catara have already covered the poetry reasons, and I’m here to get metatextual about the whole thing.

Simply put, this is the Weird Niche Hellsite, and Guido is the Weird Niche Hellcandidate.

We live in an era of the cynical enshittification of the internet. In a sickened sea of dying social platforms, AI slop, and every last pixel being for sale, THIS is still the webbed site where a bunch of strangers can rediscover a lesser-known medieval poet in all his angsty, gothy glory, abandon all pretense of ironic detachment or mature indifference and go absolutely apeshit over his life and work, breathlessly and deliriously creating everything from exhaustively researched essays with footnotes, to anime fan art and inexplicable photoshops. This is the place where Goncharov happened. This is the place where we stole the president’s shoelaces. This is the place where a heretical medieval Tuscan stilnovista got himself a full-on Fandom, and we are all so much the better/worse for it.

So vote for the spirit of the old internet in all its dorky glory. Vote for the joy of learning things for fun and not for school. Vote for the bizarre Florentine emo goth. A vote for Guido Cavalcanti…is a vote for all of us.

if all else fails to convince you, well, i don't recall ariosto having an historical fantasy saga centered around him where he gains clairvoyance and gets increasingly more and more manipulated by the manifestation of his generational trauma. also he gets out of his body to have epic fights with spiritual creatures.

this should be a testimony to how his cuntserving echoed through time

Propaganda by @girldante and @eresia-catara that I guess should be read together:

well. seeing as we're on topic. Was Ariosto ever described as having

les bras d'Hercule avec des mains de nymphe by a 19th century french story? It is not made up guys, he served androgynous cunt so hard it didn't go unnoticed. Guido simply suggests fluidity.

Like. Arms like Hercules and hands like a nymph.

And Lorenzo il Magnifico also Fangirled over him in a letter to the Federico of Aragon

he (Lorenzo il Magnifico!!) was simply begging him to read his poems, and that's because they are absolutely eatable in all their irreverent, elegant, goth glory.

Finally, Boccaccio wrote about him in his Decameron (VI,9) and, truly, can you say no to him:

this little ballerina? look at how sad he looks!

would you look at that! Guido Cavalcanti propaganda is publicly sponsored by thee Lorenzo De' Medici himself!!!

as for the last bit, Boccaccio's novella from Decameron, where Guido calls out a bunch of idiots through a riddle that said idiots will take a bunch of time to understand and then proceeds to abandon them jumping over a grave, was cited by thee Italo Calvino in his Lezioni Americane as an example of his conception of lightness, as in the ability to lift oneself over the heaviness of the world.

In conclusion: Guido Cavalcanti is literally your fave's fave.

#Ludovico Ariosto #Guido Cavalcanti #IIT - third round

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