#im getting older

[tododeku-or-bust]

My birfday is in three weeks 👉🏾👈🏾🥺 i always have the worst luck on my birthday week, let's all send me good vibes this year 🙏🏾

[feltycartoons]

It's my birthday! :0)

[mjtheartist04]

mind has been everywhere and I’ve been so busy lately that I forgot my own birthday was coming up-

my fam straight up came to me and was like “guess who’s birthdays next weeknddd🤭”

Huh?…

What do you mean?👁️👁️

WHAT DO YOU MEAN!??? NUH UH!

[thebloodbringscolorandfluoresce]

Everything They Say About Me is True.

My parents say I'm too spoiled, they say there's always an interest behind each act of service.

I never question them but they always question me because not a single task I can suffice.

I am not a good listener, and I always have a reason to complain. But if they could only see my needs for once and let me explain.

My dad scares me when he's drunk, and so I try to ignore him from trying to get me into tears. And as much as I love my mother, being like her is one of my biggest fears.

Over the years I've lost the ability to speak, to go and cry on somebody's shoulders.

And I hate that my little sister will one day grow up without me and realize that I'm not perfect, I never was.

I'm afraid that everything they say about me is true.

I love my parents, but sometimes I can't stand being their daughter.

They say I'm too spoiled and irresponsible and live in my own world, but I just can't seem to make them happy.

I just want to leave this house and never come back, but I've never known a home.

- Amy Jade.

[bigeggeaterjustsaying]

Woohoo birthday in like 7 minutes

Turning a bit older than 10 though, and I don't think I'll feel any older than I did today or a week before

[theeleventhhour]

My bday was yesterday but Alexa play

[gardenoblues]

Is it just me or every year when my birthday comes my mood is just sourer than usual?

Well, to be fair, I had a very bad day. After reporting online (with an asshole disruptive prof), I had to commute by train to get to school for my lab and physics midterms. (For my asshole, inconsiderate prof) Then i got my long quiz score which was even more discouraging.

And it doesn't end there. We shoot our video performance at my house. And it took so long because my co-member kept messing it up. Then i took a long scroll outside in tears, walking mindlessly just to convince myself that it's still worth it. Whatever that is. I smoked again after a long time so that tells a lot. (My religious mother was also there, guilt tripping me because I didn't attend church. I was feeling sick and my body was heavy that morning so I couldn't move.)

I get home again, and there's just chores all over. My sister was in the mood to clean, but halfway through she just stopped so i had to clean it up because i have visitors tomorrow for my birthday, and mostly i just don't want to hear anything from my mother.

I'm pretty sure I'll cry myself to sleep and go back to that dark and cold place I was before. I really tried to keep a nice face to everyone today. And I think I'm so good at it that nobody ever asks if I'm alright. It's not that I want to be praised for all that, its normal to go through stuff and have a rough day, it's just sometimes I need someone to notice, like I notice other people. I know that sounds so narcissistic and that the world doesn't revolve around me and my problems but just for once, I want to be one of those people that always had a person behind their back to catch me when I stumble. Just for once, I don't want to be that person who catches people when they fall, who is there when they're sad, I want to be one of those people who don't even do anything to be loved, you know? I can't even imagine what that's like. Everything has a price in my life and it's getting more and more expensive as i get older.

[realbigpodcastslut]

Fuuuuuuck, I forgot how many audio dramas the BBC has produced. It's like striking gold. But gold that I only like now that I'm older and can appreciate literature without gagging.

Rn I'm listening to Kafka the Musical. It's very Kafka and has David Tennant.

[teainthesnow]

on one hand, hell yeah it's my birthday. on the other hand, ew it's my birthday

[usagi-best-boy]

Email from Reigen Arakata's mother on his birthday.

Very relatable. I'm 27 and most people treat me this way.

Mob Psycho 100

[undecidingfate]

Birthday :D

[nemkero]

atla au but nothing changes except sokka is taller and zuko is shorter

[hushimstressed]

I’m turning 21 in eight days. Man.

[ppriesttess]

Bad news. I cannot handle kfc hot twister anymore😔

[gentil-minou]

oh my god so wait is the barbie movie about growing up and having to become and adult because you've outgrown the space you've been a part of for so long but the "real world" doesnt feel right either and you dont want to be forced to change no matter what everyone says but also you cant go back to before and oh man oh man is it gonna be about learning how to have both and that it will be okay and and and and

[heavenbarnes]

need our simon to come home from deployment IMMEDIATELY 🫶🏼 | p1 p2 p3 p4

your older bf!simon comes home from deployment at dinner time on a tuesday.

herb alpert on the kitchen radio, knife tearing through a bunch of parsley, garlic and onion simmering on the stove behind you.

simon can hear it- smell it through the mail flap.

smells like home.

your ears prick at the sound of the door swinging open, the hinges alerting you to a secondary presence. back tensing for just a moment before you hear steps you could pick out in a lineup.

he sees your fluffy slippers first, then your little shorts, then his t-shirt. finally, he’s met with wide eyes and the kitchen light hits the curve of your face so nicely.

simon could cry.

you already were.

“oh my god, si”

he doesn’t really want to touch you with his outside clothes, tactical gear smelling like the back of a cargo plane and you’re so soft and lovely he’s afraid he might mess it all up.

but there’s nothing stopping the way you leap at him across the kitchen and swing your entire self around him and he’s forgetting what he’s wearing and he’s wrapping his arms around you like he knows you won’t break.

his tongue is immediately in your mouth and he’s taking one gasping breath and filling his nose with the scent that’s overwhelming him.

simon realises right then that the house smells like dinner but you smell like home. you are home. he’s home.

when he finally lets you let him go you’re telling him to leave all his gear by the washer and you’ll sort it all out tomorrow but right now he needs to sit down so you can feed him.

he’s back in the kitchen with a sweatshirt and shorts on and he’s never found his own clothes so comfortable. maybe it’s because he can smell you on the fabric.

you’d only been cooking enough for one but at this point, you’re so happy to have him home that you’re plating up the whole thing for him as he sits at the dining table.

his chair scrapes back along the floor and he’s patting his thigh, simon eats his tea with you curled up in his lap telling him everything he’d missed.

apparently, old-mate next door broke up with his missus and it was quite the scene.

apparently, they finally finished the roadworks on the junction at the end of your street and there was no longer a blur of orange cones on the drive to work.

apparently, there was going to be a barbecue at the house down the street and the two of you were invited. you might make a salad to take with.

you could’ve been reading him the phonebook and simon would be a happy man. his hand was holding under your thigh and your face was in the crook of his neck.

he was home.

dishes done (together) and tea steaming on the coffee table in front of him, simon isn’t sure this couch has ever been this plush. he could melt into it, as long as it was just like this.

bare feet up on the ottoman and one arm wrapped around your side as your head lay against his chest. you could hear his heartbeat and he could hear the football you’d recorded for him whilst he was away.

deployment was fucking rough, seen and done things he didn’t even want to think about. but this is what he comes home to.

you.

you who curls up in his lap and idly twirls the drawstring of his shorts round your finger.

you who offered up all of your food to him to fill the pit that’d been growing in his stomach over the weeks.

you who couldn’t give less of a fuck about the football on tv but watches in quiet contentment for the sake of being closer to him.

you who doesn’t ask once about what happened while he was away but will always listen without judgement if he needs to get something off his chest.

ideally, simon would like to give you the world in return. then again, he doesn’t think even that’d be enough.

instead, he takes you up to your shared bed and, miraculously, he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as his back touches the mattress.

he could, very easily, but instead he pulls you down on top of him and gets his lips back on yours. the kiss when he came through the door had been passionate but it’d been fleeting.

simon had kept it like that, knowing if he spent a second longer with your tongue on his then he’d have you over the kitchen bench and that wasn’t what he wanted.

really, he wanted this. the full weight of you on top of him and your hips rolling messily against his as his hands went up underneath your his shirt.

he wanted to run his fingertips along your bare back and feel skin so soft he almost couldn’t remember the things his hands had done just last week.

he wanted to map out every spot, every freckle, every ridge across your shoulders and commit it to memory so the next time he had to up and leave he could trace you like a constellation in the night sky.

truthfully, simon didn’t want to leave next time. he wanted to get the call from price and tell him that he was sorry but he couldn’t do it any longer. he now had something- someone to live for and he just couldn’t gamble odds like he used to.

he wasn’t entirely sure he’d still hold the sentiment on the other side of blowing a load so simon put those thoughts in the back of his head and decided he’d work them out on tomorrow morning’s run.

right now, simon felt the soft skin of the inside of your cheeks and your spit tastes like the nectar those gods harped on about and he’s pulling hard on your hips as he rolled something hard between them.

you were moaning, whimpering, whinging into his mouth while you ground yourself into the hard line of his cock. raging erection didn’t even cover it and his head was tipping back as a-

yawn, deep and all consuming broke from his throat.

simon was fucking knackered.

exactly what he didn’t want to happen was happening in front of him, you were sitting up and cooing at him so fucking sweetly.

“si, you’re exhausted- we’ll go to sleep”

strong grip around your waist was anchoring you to the spot so you couldn’t climb out of his lap like you were currently trying.

��sweet’art”

you could hear it in his voice, he couldn’t even lift his head off the pillow. you conceded, however, letting him rub soft little circles into your hips.

“jus’ gimme’ one and then we’ll sleep”

laying back down against his chest, you felt the air woosh out of him as you relaxed your body on his. face fitting into the crook of his neck like you were made for him (you were) with a hand running along his collarbone.

“we’ve got tomorrow”

you knew it was futile, he was already slipping your shorts to the side. head tilting just a little to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“and i need you tonight”

settled.

you felt one large hand lift you up as his other freed his cock out his shorts. just enough, just enough to get the job done because any extra effort was going to render him unconscious.

bringing a hand to his mouth, he spit in his palm quickly before rubbing it along the head of his cock. deep groan rumbled beneath you as you felt him pressing against your entrance.

“lift y’top up, sweet’art- wanna’ feel y’on me”

you did him one better, leaning up enough to slip the shirt over your head and onto the floor. forcing him to hold his arms up for just a second, you pulled his sweatshirt off and discarded it in the pile.

bare chest to chest, you could feel simon shudder beneath you. snaking one arm under his armpit and the other around his ribs, you snuggled in tight as you felt him slip right in.

that’s all he wanted.

weeks of photos, videos, imagination to go off of. this was all he ever wanted. you so close to him that it was entirely possible to imagine the two of you as one. that there was no version of reality without you together in it.

lazily rolling his hips up into you as you met him halfway, rolling yours back down to share half of the load. simon’s arms wrapped around your back, keeping you close and keeping you moving against him.

“sorry love, s’not gonna’ be a long one”

you could only respond with a whimper, gently nodding your head into his neck as your lips press soft little kisses into the skin. you didn’t need a long time, you just needed him.

unable to help yourself from noticing the couple new scratches he’d come home with, your fingers idly traced along them as he sucked in a breath at the feeling.

what you wouldn’t give to keep him home and keep him safe.

a thought for another day as you felt yourself constricting around his cock, grinding yourself into his lap as firm muscle rubbed against your front.

tiny little gasps flitted from your mouth and into his ear, you could feel his body tensing up beneath you. it wasn’t just with sheer tiredness, you knew this man like the back of your hand.

left hand coming out from under where you’d buried it behind his back, you ran the tips of your fingernails down simon’s chest. you stopped at his nipple, gently scraping along the peaked flesh until you heard him.

“need y’to cum right now f’me please”

slipping your other hand between the two of you, you let your fingers wander against yourself until you could feel the tide breaking in the pit of your stomach.

body clenching involuntarily, your mouth dropping open against his skin. no doubt drool pooling against his collarbone as you came with a pathetic whimper. hips bucking a little crazy in his lap as his hand ran the length of your back.

“god that’s it, sweet’art”

simon went rigid, gripping you tight like you might go somewhere as the dams broke and he filled you up. hot and sticky and dripping out of you and onto the waistband of his shorts.

he fell so still the only way you’d know he was still alive was the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. his arms were already starting to fall limp around you.

coming back from the bathroom, slipping off the rest of your clothes and adding them to the pile. simon wasn’t asleep, there were no snores, but he had been rendered totally immobile.

pulling the remainder of his clothes off for him and settling in beside, you pulled the sheets up over the both of you as his arm began drawing you in.

draped across him, you could feel his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

“m’gonna’ rock y’world in the morning”

you snorted a little laugh, nuzzling in closer as his breathing starts to even out. no use in replying, snorings about the only answer you’re going to get.

not that you’d mind.

he was home.