#jen ��� stories

[tolerateit]

it's a love story, baby, just say, "yes"

[musubi-sama]

Papa Mama, Kiss!

Nanami Kento, girl dad, and how the small commands an almost-2year-old can etch into his heart.

A/N: Thanks @pseudowho for the gentle nudge to write this one out. And for everyone else, if it's not obvious, based on real events.

WC: 1.4K

Fatherhood, raising and nurturing children to become their best selves. To give them wings and teach them to fly on their own. This is what Nanami Kento dreamed of for years. But almost two years in, his daughter was testing his last thread of patience.

“Papa, milk!” Kento returns with a glass of milk.

“Papa, tea!” Kento blinks, and returns with a glass of tea, finishing off the milk for himself along the way.

“Milk?” Kento sighs. Just as he starts to lift himself from his chair, you put your arm on his.

“Sweetest, could you take a sip of the tea first?” you offer the glass to your daughter, and she happily starts to drink the water, quickly emptying the cup. Sufficiently satiated, she goes back to eating her lunch.

You shoot your husband a soft smile, you’re met with a weary, but loving gaze in return. Features worn by time, bolstered by love, and cut by the effort of child rearing.

You both had done your research, coming to similar conclusions with differing approaches on how to tackle the approaching “Terrible Twos.”

Kento couldn’t understand the parenting blogs, as they made any solutions to challenges seem so…. simple to solve.

“Guaranteed to solve purple crying with one simple trick!” “Sleep training made easy! You’ll have quiet nights in less than a week!” “10 steps to handling a temper tantrum in public. Number 6 will surprise you”

But every solution seemed to be milquetoast, at best, and unhelpful at worst. But almost two years in, he started to get the hang of things. The secret is that his daughter was her own person and required him to think on his feet. And despite the new levels of exhaustion he had reached, especially in the early days, Nanami Kento was euphoric to see his daughter every morning. He missed her in the depths of his heart every second she was at daycare, or even just with you running errands.

Kento was a modern dad, bucking the trend by taking the full year of paternity leave along with you. Reassuring you that there would still be an open spot in daycare once it was time to return to work. And he was right. He helped fill out the pages and pages of paperwork. And choosing the 13 facilities to rank in hopes you were offered a spot at your number 1? Of course, your salaryman husband excelled at sorting the data and organizing the thick booklets of information.

When it came time to drop off your daughter on her first day, and it was only for two hours, you both arrived with big, nervous, first-time parent jitters. And were the only full family there in the morning drop off. The other parents sharing knowing glances at you and Kento fumbling clothes, trying to find the bins you needed, almost dropping the thermometer, and giving maybe one, two, three, too many kisses to your daughter as you handed her off.

The walk to the local coffee shop was filled with dreams of what fun your daughter would have with her class. Kento was hiding his nerves well, but you could see right through him. You saw the tremor in his hand, the nearly imperceptible gravel in his voice. He didn’t hold back for the other parents’ sake; he’d never do that. But he didn’t want your daughter to catch his nervous and scared energy. He knew if she felt his anxiety, it would make handing her off so much harder. He couldn’t bear to hear your cries of separation.

So, when you both returned two hours later, Kento lit up with the biggest smile and the most eager arms as the workers handed your daughter off to him.

“Oh, my love, I’ve missed you! What did you play with? Who did you meet? Please tell me all about your day, spare no details,” your doting husband cooed at your one-year-old. He continued an entire conversation with her, even if words didn’t form from the baby babble.

You spoke with the workers to understand how she fared for the short visit. They told you how she didn’t cry not even once. And how tomorrow your daughter can stay even longer, through the morning snack. It made you so happy to get such fantastic feedback.

After a few weeks, you all settled into a lovely routine. Both of you working from home left flexibility for drop off and pick up. And as your daughter became more capable of bigger play times, Kento would take her out to the local park so that you could make dinner most days. You loved the peace and quiet, he loved the bonding time.

As your daughter’s language built up over the months leading up to her second birthday, she was beginning to string together commands. Able to ask for help, food, drink, toys. She even started to command who could sit next to her and then tell them to “moot (move)” away and a new person would be not-so-gently asked to sit next to her.

“Papa,” she would point to a spot on the ground next to her, in the middle of the playground. And Kento is not the type to ignore the requests of a child. He took a polite squat next to your daughter, waiting with bated breath for the next command she would give.

“Mmm. Ah…up,” she reached her hands up in the air.

“Do you want up?” Kento reached over to lift his little one up in the air with a light, controlled, toss.

“Papa!”

You sat on a nearby bench watching, camera clicking over and over, catching the precious moments to share with your friends and family across the world.

That night ran like every other, a well-oiled machine. You took a bath with your daughter, Kento took her for a fresh diaper, clean pajamas, and to help him make, and for her to drink, the nightly milk bottle.

And the final step, you welcomed a sleepy toddler into your weary arms. Tonight, she was laden down with her stuffies of choice, a small Sylveon and Doraemon.

“Okay, let’s cuddle up here, please,” you coax a sleepy toddler into your lap and to lay against your chest. It seems like every day it gets harder as she grows bigger. What happened to your teeny tiny bub?

“Good night, I love you,” Kento leans down to give a kiss to the tiny (well, not so tiny anymore) forehead. “And I love you,” he leans over to your waiting lips as you tilt your head up. Every night you get a soft, but gently urgent kiss from Kento.

“Papa iss?” you both break from the kiss to hear a tired request. Your daughter had sat up from your chest and looked expectantly at Kento.

“Of course,” he leans down for another kiss, this time her cheek. A satisfied smile spreads across her face.

“Mama iss?”

“Yes, love.”

“Mama papa iss?” and you looked up at Kento to make sure you heard her correctly.

“Did she…?”

“You heard her now,” and Kento leans down for another kiss, this time he lingers a heartbeat longer. As he pulls away, in the dim haze of the nightlight he catches your waterline beginning to fill.

“Oh, baby, you’re so sweet,” you coo at your daughter, pulling her into a tender hug.

“Good night, you two,” Kento is standing by the door, soft smile from lips to eyes. He slips out and gently shuts the door.

After you spend a few minutes cuddling with your daughter, you gently lay her in the crib and quietly slip out of the bedroom, leaving her to take the last step to dreamworld.

You sit down on the couch next to Kento. Still feeling the buzz from twenty minutes ago, he reaches over to cup your face.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am going to ride that high for weeks. I can’t believe it,” your eyes can’t hold back the tears of love and happiness. You feel every bit of the dichotomy between the hard moments and the soaring highs of happiness.

Kento could feel his heart grow and swell. The small command would replay in his mind until his dying breath. It would be a story he shared as the father of the bride. An endearing tale he treasured, a memory he could rely on to get him through overtime.

Coaxing you into his lap, Kento presses his lips to yours much more urgently than the last kiss.

[dessa-banks]

Breach!

Tactical Breach Wizards (2024)

[codgod]

something wicked this way comes

[this is a redraw, here’s the original :p]

[lilyflowerhere]

The girls are at it again (making me ship them and then not getting together)

[borgialucrezia]

"There is that final embrace that I think helps with letting his brother go in a way. Juan has been the one who drove Cesare to become what he is now, and I think Cesare is building walls around his heart. You do get colder and less sentimental when you take that path. He has to go on and he can't mourn him forever, especially since he's responsible for his death. He's not making excuses for what he is anymore, and what he wants to be. He ultimately feels that it's the right thing for himself. It's something that he focused on and I think he can control his mind into having no second thoughts. And that's the only way you can rule in that era, really." — FRANÇOIS ARNAUD

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Thinking about your fic where Dallas is Tex’s older brother, where does mark come into play? Is there an au where they can be happy 😭💔💔

Well truthfully, in that fic, I think Mark’s in prison still, like at the end of That Was Then, This is Now 🥲

BUT let’s make an AU where they’re happy!

(TW- mentions of canon-typical violence/canon-typical darkness)

(Not a fic btw- just a rambly outline/headcanons)

In this AU, obviously Dally and Johnny live. (they still both have near-death experiences, but they survive yk?)

And canonically, Ponyboy and Mark Jennings are friends when they’re about 15-16ish. Now that we’ve made Dally survive, the two just end up meeting through Ponyboy. Now they know of each other, but they don’t know that they’re half-brothers. Dally thinks of Mark as a pesky kid who’s more annoying than Ponyboy but less annoying than Curly Shepard, and Mark thinks of Dally as a tough-hood-turned slightly pathetic guy who “Couldn’t even get the cops to kill him right smh” (crude I know but I genuinely think that’s what Mark would think 😭)

Then I’m gonna have Steve (he’s observant- in the book he was the one who found Johnny’s jacket in the lot, and the one who noticed Dally had taken his ring back from Sylvia) and Johnny (also pretty observant, just in more of a literary analysis way than in a physical way) discuss how similar the two are.

Eventually they mention it to Two-Bit, who’s like “Uh yeah they’re half brothers? Obviously?”

And Steve and Johnny are like “The fuck do you mean Pony’s buddy is Dally’s half brother??”

Two-Bit, who I’m making Mark’s cousin in this ‘cuz Emilio Estevez played both of them, goes “Yeah no- his mom, my aunt, cheated on her husband with Dally’s dad when I was like…four or five…which was how she got knocked up with Mark…y’all didn’t know that??”

Anyhow all three go tell Dally, who doesn’t initially care all that much. Mark’s got a stable life, and Dally doesn’t particularly feel the need to be part of it, although he does maybe start inviting the kid along to the drive in with him, Pony, and Johnny just a little more often

Mark is similarly indifferent when Pony tells him, just sorta says “Aw man, why’s Shepard get to have the cooler hood for an older brother??”

But that all comes crashing down when the events of TWTTIN come to pass. Now, instead of getting arrested when Bryon calls the cops on him, Mark remembers Dally. So he runs from the cops and shows up on Buck Merril’s doorstep just like Pony and Johnny did two years prior.

Dally’s initially mad about it- it’s one thing helping Johnny and Pony, and a whole other thing helping this annoying kid who got himself into this mess. But…he can also see himself in Mark, because the kid’s scared and helpless and alone, and is covering it with anger just like Dally always did.

So Dally lets Mark in. Angrily, and with a ton of complaints, but he lets him in all the same.

When the cops come around, looking for the runaway dealer Mark Jennings, Dally denies knowing anything, and the cops lose Mark’s trail and just kinda give up.

Then Dally forces Mark to dye his blonde hair brown (in a reverse-Ponyboy move lol), and bullies Buck Merril into giving the kid a job even with his record. (According to Mark on pg 147 of the book, he only started dealing to begin with because no jobs would take him with his police record) I’m pretty sure that Tulsa is actually big enough that no one recognizes him, especially with the dye job. I mean the town I’m from is a quarter of Tulsa’s size, and I still barely ever run into folks I know without planning it. And I get out a lot. So like if Mark’s at Buck’s place, I don’t think a lotta people will know of him- he’s sixteen, no one who goes there will know him. (And if they do, well, it’s Buck Merril’s place, nobody would dare to call the cops there anyhow.)

So Mark carries on like that, living low…ish…I mean c’mon he’s still Mark Jennings he still causes trouble. Just not so much trouble that Dally can’t keep him in check. He probably does still hate Bryon- just not enough to wanna kill him?? (Although again idk he’s still Mark maybe he wants revenge anyhow…he won’t get revenge tho ‘cuz I have other plot priorities and anyhow I think Bryon’s suffered enough)

Dally and Mark evolve to be kind of like fanon Tim and Curly- not particularly affectionate, but they care for each other. Mark shows it by helping Dally with chores occasionally, and sometimes stealing him stuff like rings and cigarettes. Dally shows it by letting Mark tease him, and by taking Mark places and spending time with him. And letting Mark call himself “Mark Winston”. (Again, Dallas acts like he doesn’t want to- hell, he probably believes he doesn’t want to, he’s pretty good at lying to himself- but he clearly does) (Tim, Johnny, Two-Bit, and Steve bully him mercilessly for this) (Sodapop doesn't ‘cuz he thinks it’s sweet and doesn’t wanna discourage it lol)

Then, about two years later, we’re at the start of my Tex fic, Hail Mary. That plays out about the same, except both Mark and Johnny convince him to help out with custody of a ten-year-old Tex.

Dally is annoyed still, but has begrudgingly grown to like these stupid kids- including Mason, who isn’t technically related to anyone but Tex, but hey he had a shitty cowboy dad too so he gets to be in the “shitty cowboy dad club” lol

I figure Dally stays in Garyville with Mason and Tex during the weekdays, and takes them to Buck’s on weekends ‘cause he does still have most of his life in Tulsa. Sometimes Johnny stays with them in Garyville too, ‘cuz yk, Johnny’s Dally’s best friend lol, and besides he’s not only an adult now too but is also an adult who is much more patient and easy to get along with than Dally.

Mark and Tex are a horrible combination to be around, even though Mark is eighteen now and really should be more mature than a ten year old. Dally has his mischievousness, sure, but neither Mark nor Tex were born with the little voice in their heads that says things like “arson is bad” and “actions have consequences”. Like Dally likes breaking laws- Mark and Tex don’t even consider laws. It’s bad. Dally and Mason leave them alone to go grocery shopping once and come back to see Mark has let the horses into the house, all because Tex triple-dog-dared him to. Another time, after Cole Collins tells Mason not to hang out with his kids anymore, Mark uses Cole’s car to teach Tex how to hot-wire things. Dally nearly murders him. So does Mason. It’s a problem…

Anyhow, those are my thoughts for now, lemme know yours!

[jentrevellan]

The Queen 👑

[asoftepiloguemylove]

on love that lingers

F. Scott Fitzgerald The Short Stories / Jen Mazza Lie from Peripety (2008) / Annelyse Gelman / unknown / Gioacchino Pagliei The Naiads / Hanya Yanagihara A Little Life / Warsan Shire

[wigglebox]

Dean + 5A + Volcano palette [x]

Doing this; send me a request!

[tolerateit]

Love Story at Wembley (x)

[musubi-sama]

Impatient

Are you hungry? Horny? A little demanding, perhaps impatient?

CW: general horniness, horny use of a kitchen counter, hints of phone sex, gratuitous fingering, teasing, mentions of rope and bondage.

A/N: Shoutout to @pseudowho for the edits and review on this one. Haitch, you really helped tighten it up nicely (pun intended).

You were finally home after a long day of meetings that should have been emails, and project deadlines assigned by managers so far removed from the work itself, that they had lost all concept of time.

Walking in the door, you shedded your shoes haphazardly in the entrance, before leaving a trail of bags, jackets, and pants littering the hallway. Clad in only socks, a tunic, bra, and a simple pair of black cotton panties, you skillfully pulled your workhorse bra out of your shirt.

“Ah, much better,” you exhaled in exhausted comfort.

Reaching the kitchen, you grabbed a wine glass from a cabinet, and the leftover wine from the night before. Perhaps the glass was a bit overfilled, but to hell with the rules and etiquette of wine drinking. If rulemakers had had the week you did, and the dry spell you did, they’d understand.

After taking a two-gulp drink of wine, you turned back to the cabinets, now in search of a snack - you tried to convince yourself you’re only hungry for food.

Gripping the edge of the counter, you bent over to stretch your back. Sticking your ass out into the empty space behind you, you were reminded it had been two weeks since you last felt the grind of your husband.

“I miss you. My flight gets in late tomorrow, don’t wait up for me.” Suguru called you before bed, every night of his business trip. “I’m coming with you next time. I’ll work remotely. I don’t care. It’s been far too long and my toys aren’t enough,” you whined, hand slipping below your panties. “Tell me what you’re doing right now…”

Before resuming your search, you continued to make quick work of your wine, quickly shifting your hunger into something more aching, something more lustful. You’d definitely need to grab another bottle before making a decision.

Reaching up again, and standing on your tippy toes, a large, warm hand gently slid around your hip. You jumped, but the familiarity hit immediately.

In a fit of joy, you spun around to see Suguru’s hungry eyes. You started to bring your hands up around his neck and he wrapped his hand and arm fully under your ass, pulling you up to the counter. His chest pressed briefly against you in a fleeting embrace of convenience.

“Oh!” You didn’t even get a moment to greet him, before he planted your feet, legs spread wide across the counter.

Immediately recognizing what this could have meant for you, you tried again to wrap your arms around Suguru’s neck.

“C’mere-“ You were cut off as Suguru leaned down into the cabinet below you to rummage around. Having secured his target, he stood back up, holding a frying pan.

“Are you in the mood for bacon and eggs?” Suguru stepped away from you, a gentle smile on his otherwise unreadable face.

Your stomach sunk with peevish disappointment.

“I’m-…sure. That sounds fine,” you answered, clipped. “Welcome home, by the way.”

Suguru stepped back, his eyes darkening in contrast to his continued calm and relaxed smile. He set the pan gently on the stove beside you. Returning to you, Suguru placed his hands upon your thighs, just above your knees. You see he is travel weary, mixed with the dying wisps of a bright and airy cologne, clearly arriving at the end of a long day.

Your face belied the frustration you were attempting to hide.

“Unless you have some other ideas for dinner?” Suguru raised one eyebrow, slightly cocking his head to the side. His hands slipped one centimeter down your legs, his thumbs digging into the soft, squishy inner part of your exposed thighs.

“Oh come on,” you whined, dropping your head backwards in frustration. “I’ll spell it out for you. Either put your tongue to work on my pussy or let me drop to my knees right now and take you down my throat.”

Suddenly a hand gripped your throat and your head whipped up, meeting Suguru’s intense amethyst eyes. You feel a rush of blood to your neglected pussy. Suguru’s other hand grips the gusset of your panties, pulling them up as far as they allowed, giving you just a little pressure.

“I wanted to make you dinner, make sure you had enough energy for when I fuck you senseless later. But apparently you’re too fucking-“ he squeezed just a little tighter around your neck. You let out a high-pitched whine, “-impatient.”

You squirmed under his touch, trying to use the pressure from the fabric pulling against you to gain some amount of relief. Suguru chuckled as he adjusted his grip to reduce the pull. Your needy gaze pleaded with him.

Bringing one hand up to grip Suguru’s wrist, you held tightly.

“Damn right I’m fucking impatient! It’s been two weeks and while I loved listening to you talk me through it on the phone-“

You were cut off as Suguru removed his hand from your throat, dropped to his knees, and ripped your panties off in one swift tug. Using both hands to spread your labia apart, he wasted no time before laying his tongue flat across your sensitive cunt. Savoring the taste, he went back for more, this time with increased pressure and using the tip of his tongue.

Reaching for Suguru’s hair, pulled half-up into a bun, you grounded yourself by gripping tightly. Your moans gained volume with each press of his tongue and you began to roll your hips in response.

He pulled his head back for just a moment and you locked eyes. A sheen of your wetness smeared across his jaw, and Suguru licked his lips as he drew lazy circles around your throbbing clit. Renewed whines fell from your lips as you head tipped back once again, this time in abject pleasure.

Soon, you felt his middle finger teasing at your entrance, dipping just the tip, then up to the cuticle, the first knuckle as you buck your hips. Suguru still teased your impatience, continuing this pace until his entire finger was sheathed. Finally, after an agonizing wait, he added his ring finger at the same infuriating pace, encouraging you to fuck yourself onto his hand.

Your whines were caught in your throat as he curls his fingers upwards, lightly dragging against the sensitive spongy spot deep in your pussy. In reaction to the intense pleasure building, you gripped his hair again and brought his face back to your sopping wet cunt. Feeling a tug on his scalp, Suguru’s moans reverberated through you, a gentle personal vibrator.

Picking up speed, the squelchsquelchsquelch added a sinful melody to the base of your combined moans and panting countermelodies. You could feel the cliff approaching. The pressure built, the high you’d been chasing for two weeks but never quite reaching.

Suguru could read you well. So well, that he knew exactly how close you are when he pulled back, wetness soaking his fingers, collecting on his chin. And he knew exactly the way frustration would show across your features. Your legs would tense, a new shade of red would blossom across your cheeks. And you’d shout-

“What the fuck?!”

“That’s for being impatient and demanding I ‘put my tongue to work’ before dinner, like some trained monkey.”

Suguru stood up and used the back of his hand to wipe the remaining slick from his chin. He shoved his fingers in your mouth to stop further protest.

“Now, here’s your appetizer. Go make sure the straps are secured to the bed and get the purple ropes out of the closet, while I finish making us some food.”

Mulish and blushing, and thoroughly put in your place, you hungrily sucked his fingers clean as your legs dropped from the counter to sit up fully. Once you’d cleaned off Suguru’s fingers, savoring your own taste, he gave you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Please,” Suguru added gently, suppressing a laugh as you stalked away to the bedroom.

[roots-symphony]

do you think the reason agatha’s trial felt weird is because she was the only one who did not actually buy into the mythos of the road since she knew the truth? like that was why no perspective change and all the other reasons why people thought it was a fake trial

[leveloneandup]

re—inc delivering the goods 🌈

[haxo-wolfie]

who up tacticalling dey wizards

[thelastspeecher]