#men's recovery program | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ramp-it-up · 1 month ago

Text

Sugar, Cubed

Photo found on Pinterest

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. How do you choose? And do you have to?

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, little bit of slow burn. Main character injury, allusions to sex, sexual tension, indecent proposal, caught between two lovers trope, idiots in love, Tony being Tony, truth or dare, talk of voyeruism, possibility of group sex, eventual polyandry.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part one, part two will be posted next week. I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

You met the two most hated men in your life while you were living together as recipients of the prestigious Stark STEM Fellowship at NYU.

There was an instant spark when you met James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, best friends from childhood. They sarcastically named you Sugar because of your initial rudeness, but the nickname just stuck around after you warmed up to them.

In the Stark Fellows program, life was hard work and hard play. Soon it was down to just you, Bucky and Steve, and life was a dream with parties, booze, and almost anything you wanted, as long as you lent your minds to the work.

Tony Stark tolerated anything that would keep productivity high. He knew that all work and no play would make Bucky, Sugar and Steve dull scientists.

So he encouraged you three to play. And funded it too.

Steve and Bucky were so protective of you, their sweet Sugar. The sexual tension that came with living with them was heady stuff.

You basked in the glow of Bucky and Steve's attention, while observant of the lines of partners at their bedroom doors and the competitiveness between the football quarterback and lacrosse captain.

You swore that neither Bucky nor Steve would ever win you, no matter the plays they made. But they each had you sprung in different ways. And they were so damn competitive.

They both wanted your heart.

It was only a matter of time before you gave it to each of them.

You fell hard for Bucky first. And it was urgent and intense.

But after just a year together, Bucky accepted a position with Stark Labs in Bucharest for a term that stretched into two years as he completed grad school at Politehnica. It happened without warning. You were angry at his choice and trapped in New York by your own contract with Stark for graduate work.

You and Bucky were over. And you were heartbroken.

Steve’s waiting arms were open, and it was effortless and freeing to realize that the golden boy was the one who truly loved you. And he’d always been there. Your heart healed. You thought.

According to social media, Bucky seemed to love his new location, extending his contract beyond the initial year-long contract to finish his degree. It seemed that all he did was work.

Not that you were stalking his IG or anything.

He didn’t communicate with you directly, and with Steve only intermittently. It was like he’d erased his best friend and his best girl from his life.

It made sense, since his best girl was now his best friend’s girl.

Then, during his second year, Bucky's stay in Romania was cut short, he came back to New York, although not in the way you imagined.

Bucky had been critically injured; losing a limb. Tony made sure he had the best care, flying with Bucky to Wakanda for experimental surgery and overseeing his recovery.

You found out via a social media after Bucky was back in town, and not from Tony or anyone else.

You were livid.

You raged at Steve, who had lied to you that he had to go to London for two weeks for work when he was actually in Wakanda at Bucky’s bedside.

The betrayal ran deep.

You and Steve were done after that, although you continued to work side by side at the labs. You felt as if Tony was trying to drive you over the edge, having you work around the clock with your ex. But he didn’t care. He had some insane theory that the tension would yield better results.

Each day, you longed for the hour that you could go to your posh new quarters in Stark tower. Although it was lonely, at least your apartment was private, and you could unwind in peace. Your days were tense, but predictable.

Until they weren’t anymore.

——

One afternoon, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you stared into the monitor to watch the results from the latest compound analysis roll numbers across your workstation.

“Hey there, Sugar.”

You froze, looking up and out over Manhattan through the window above your station. You couldn’t believe it, but you saw a pale reflection of him in the mirrored glass.

You slowly turned around.

Bucky looked good, his pale complexion not all the result of the blue gray skies over the Hudson. His face had grown more angular, his hair was shorter, and his eyes seemed older, but outside, he was the same Bucky.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

Bucky Barnes seemed whole, except his left hand, the “golden arm” that was the pride of Bobcat football, was now black and gold metal.

Vibranium.

You stared at it as it reached for you.

“So I don’t get a hug?”

Your eyes moved to his face while Steve cleared his throat and reminded you that he was there. You tried to forget his existence most days, but Bucky walking into your lab had erased him from your mind completely. For a moment.

“Sugar–”

You cut him off.

“Fuck you, Grant.”

You looked back at Bucky with tears in your eyes.

“And fuck you, James.”

Despite your epithets, you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing with emotion.

“How could you…?”

You whispered it into his suit coat, your fingers digging into the material at his back as you cried into his shoulder. Bucky held you tight against him, and he felt harder, more solid.

You realized that under all of the anger and hurt, you were mainly just relieved that he was alive.

Over two years of anxiety and unprocessed feelings were coming out, and Bucky rocked you as your body heaved. Steve came up behind you and hugged you both.

For a minute you relished the feeling, being held by the only two men that you ever had feelings for. You felt safe. But then you remembered the secrets and the lies, and anger flooded you again. You twisted out of their grasp.

“Don’t get any ideas, assholes.”

You moved away from them and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold.

“Do you know how worried I was? No one gave me any information. At all. I had to find out from social media. I felt like a fool, Bucky.”

You scowled at him.

“And you. You knew that, Cap. And you lied to my fucking face.”

You glared at Steve.

You looked from Steve to Bucky, who shared a guilty glance with each other.

“That’s my fault, Sugar. I– I made Tony and Steve swear not to tell you.”

Your dark haired ex boyfriend looked at his shoes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his new hand. He held it up and looked at it and then at you.

“Didn’t know how you would feel about this.”

You ignored the uncertainty and hurt in his eyes.

"What do you want? A cookie? A pat on the head? A tear? You are not going to make me feel sorry for you. Not when you let everyone else but me in on your secret."

You cocked your head and gazed curiously at the new appendage, then back at him.

“Bucky, I am stronger than you think. And I loved you.”

Both Steve and Bucky winced at the word ‘loved,’ but both for different reasons.

“I would have accepted you anyway you came. And I would have been by your side while you recovered. But you didn’t want that. But it looks as if you’re fine.”

Steve sat back down at his workstation, resigned. You shook your head at him. If it wouldn’t have cost you a million dollars, which you didn’t have, you would have walked out of Stark Industries and moved across the world. But you had work to do.

“You’re interrupting our work here. You need to leave.”

You wanted him away from you like fire.

“That’s what I’m tryna tell you, Doll.”

Bucky strolled over to the locker area and took off his coat, grabbing goggles and a lab coat.

“I’m reporting for duty. Tony assigned me back to the New York lab.”

—-

Tony leaned against the bar in his office, after he downed the drink that he’d offered you and that you’d refused. It was only 10:46 am. You were trying to hand in your resignation. Or at least ask for a transfer to a new location.

“And just where do you think you’re going to go, Sugar?”

You glared at your boss. Bolstered by anger, this was the least intimidated, and most angry, you’d ever been at him.

“Paris, maybe? Tokyo? Hell, even Des Moines. I’ll take anything. I need space.”

Tony shook his head.

“I need you here. The productivity with Barnes back is about to be through the roof.”

You just stared at him incredulously.

“You’re not thinking with your brain. Your heart and what is pounding between your legs are in the way.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“...But the tension between you Barnes and Rogers will make me a lot of money. I’ve studied you since your freshman year. I know what makes you tick, what motivates you to do your best work. And the numbers don’t lie. Being right in the middle of Bucky and Cap makes lots of money for Stark Industries.”

You stared out at the view of New Jersey, outraged.

“Besides. I have the exclusive contract over your mind, body, and soul for the next seven years. Might as well make the most of it.”

You sighed and took the drink Tony offered you this time.

—-

Bucky Barnes was the most infuriating man you’d ever met, second only to Steve Rogers.

Your brain was scrambled when you weren’t working, so you worked that much harder to stay in control. You hated when Tony was right.

Here you were, flanked by two gorgeous men whose work clothes only accentuated their powerful bodies. Bodies that you knew very well. Your tongue had traced every plane of each of them. Your hands explored their broad shoulders and taught, muscular frames. Your fists had clenched their throbbing cocks and you had accepted them inside you.

No matter how mad you were at them, you couldn’t get them out of your mind.

Imagining Bucky crashing his lips to yours as he backed you up against a wall made your core throb. And dreaming about Steve’s hands around your thighs as he lifted you onto a lab table made your nipples tingle.

Working in between them in the lab was torture for your neglected body and soul. You were doomed to work in between the two men who’d fucked you most thoroughly and recently.

You didn’t even want to think about your heart.

You ignored the lingering looks in their blue eyes, the way they gentled their voices when they spoke to you, and the way they tried to come in contact with you for no reason. The number of times fingers lingered over passed specimens, the way space became so tight that they had to squeeze behind you in the lab, and the uncomfortable number of times you ended up between them in the equipment closet made you lose your breath.

Steve and Bucky never pressed you for anything, and all you had to say was ‘excuse me,’ for them to move out of your way, but it was untenable. You would give neither of them the satisfaction of getting upset. You managed made it through work and home to your brand new vibrator every night after long days of fighting their pheromones in the lab.

After a week of forced proximity, you were experiencing the forced Stark Industries Happy Hour. As you waited for your drink at the bar, you thought it strange that Tony had never made them mandatory before Bucky came back. That was quite the coincidence.

You wanted to pace yourself with your drinking as you realized that you had to stay there for another couple of hours to get the bonus that came with attendance. The word ‘happy’ and the names Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers did not go together, so you participated in each round to numb the desire that was plaguing you.

For someone so smart. You were so clueless sometimes.

—-

As you rode the elevator in Stark Tower to your apartment later that evening, it seemed as if the elevator was moving extra slowly. You didn’t know if it was the tequila affecting your senses, or an actual malfunction, so you asked FRIDAY for analytics, but for some reason, she said you didn’t have clearance for the answer.

You were mad and mute for a minute, trying to clear your head for the security code. It was then that one of your fellow passengers, who you were trying to ignore, broke the silence.

“Okay Sugar, truth, or dare?”

You looked at him as Steve watched you both.

“I said, truth, or dare.”

“Truth is Bucky, we’re not kids anymore.”

“So you pick truth. You don’t get to pick the question, though.”

Bucky ignored your ire.

“Which one of our cocks is better, mine or Steve’s?”

Your eyes widened and you gasped as Steve interjected,

“Buck…”

“What, Punk? Remember she rated them before she experienced them. Did that hold out? Or did she tell you that you were the 9.9 too?”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to watching the floor count, mouth set in a thin line. You had not, in fact, told Steve that he was the 9.9.

“Stop being a little shit, James.”

You were rocked, memories flooding back, dysregulating your nervous system even more.

“So you’re saying you won't answer the truth?”

You crossed your arms and legs as you leaned back against the elevator wall. You looked up at the floor indicator lights, trying to stop the emotions from getting to you.

“You can pass. Or you can take a dare, Sugar.”

You huffed, fighting the urge to just say pass. Some lingering adolescent urge refused to let you.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

You spoke it outwardly, but you were talking to yourself, to your riotous body, which was reacting to these two men in this enclosed space in the most alarming way.

Bucky was watching you intently, but Steve hadn’t turned around, just replied in that voice of his.

“Those are the rules, Sugar. You should probably answer the question or take the dare.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you realized what this was. You were dealing with male egos and competitiveness. And they wanted to know the answer, hear you talk about their cocks when for some reason the agave gods were making you horny.

You had to get out of there.

“You’re not making stupid bets and putting notches in the bedposts any longer. Bucky, we were together, and then you left. I thought it was something that it was not. Then Steve and I got together. I loved you both and in return, you both played me. You both won.”

Steve turned around and faced you as Bucky advanced closer. He licked his lips and you wanted, no you needed, to run.

“You think I didn’t love you, Sugar? Shit, I worshiped you.”

The sensation of Bucky’s firm body crowding you in bed, taking up the mattress, leg wedged between your thighs while he delivered hot kisses and a slow grind against your clit came out of nowhere. You missed it. You wanted it again. But you lifted your chin as you straightened your spine, determined to resist him.

“You left me.”

“Stark made me!”

Bucky’s blue eyes were wide with emotion.

“‘S’okay Buck. She doesn’t believe I loved her either. Even though I always have. And I caught her when you were gone.”

You looked up at Steve and saw the hurt, and you were preparing not to care, but the feeling of Steve naked against your back, his hands roaming all over you, whispering assurances and praise as he rocked inside and made you come apart in his grip almost made your knees buckle.

You had to move, so you pushed at the rock hard wall of them and they let you move them to get to the elevator controls.

“Why. Won’t. This. Thing. Move!?!?”

You pushed too many buttons at once as Steve and Bucky tried to stop you. The only thing that stopped was the slow progress of the elevator. The small room jolted to a halt, and you stumbled, right into Bucky and Steve’s arms as everything went dark.

“Well now, Sugar. You should have just taken the dare.”

Bucky’s sass enraged you and you cursed and batted their hands away from you as you reached for your purse to find your phone.

—-

A half an hour later, you were all sitting on the floor, Bucky’s jacket beneath you and Steve’s jacket around your arms because the climate control was off. There was no telling how long it would be before someone would find you.

There had been silence since you realized you had not cell phone signal and cursed for 3 minutes straight. You were more than sober now.

God, you wished you were drunk.

“Answer the question. Or take the dare, Sugar.”

This time it was Steve.

“Your fucking competitiveness is so annoying, you know that? Can you two accomplish anything on your own, just for your own pride? Or altruism? Or shits and giggles?”

You could feel their eyes on you in the dark. You fought against them in the darkness, or you were just fighting the darkness, because the lack of sight was enhancing your other senses, and lord you didn’t really want to feel those right now.

“Truth. Or Dare?”

Bucky’s velvet voice was undeterred. You shook your head at it.

“Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone. Dare.”

“I dare you to give up control.”

The response was immediate, as if he were waiting for you to say that.

You groaned, a sound that sounded to sensual, even to your own ears. You were going for annoyed.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m stuck in an elevator with my two exes. This is a nightmare. And you’re daring me to give up a concept?”

He chuckled.

“Not the concept of control. I think you know exactly what I mean. Give me control. One long weekend. It will be just like when we were roommates. But without the endless teasing and blue balls. This time you give us both that we deserve.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?”

Your head turned toward Steve, whose voice was on edge.

“I get to watch. You and Sugar, Steve. And direct. And participate…and we find out who is the best…”

“Hold on…”

You could feel Steve shifting in his position on the floor.

“Are you talking about….? Watching me and Sugar… what–?”

“Really Bucky? Do you have a metal brain as well?”

You wanted to fight, but them touching you was out of the question. Bucky was pure chaos.

“If we do this, what would that accomplish?”

“The fuck are you entertaining this nonsense for, Steve? Who the fuck–”

Bucky interrupted your rant.

“Well, you’ve entertained both of us, Sugar, haven’t you? Teased us. Toyed with us. Played us against the other. Wore our clothes and nothing else, slept between us in our bed. Teased us with that body well before we could really do anything about it.”

You dropped your head in your hands, exhausted, as Bucky continued.

“And then, when you finally granted us between your legs, one by one, there was always this spector hanging over the bed, or the floor, or the counter, or the lawn that we fucked on, wasn’t there?”

Bucky paused and you heard the bitterness in his voice.

“The other one of us was always in the closet or the bushes, or in your head, weren’t we?”

"Don't blame me for your twisted predilections, Bucky."

“What about your predilections, Sugar? You’ve played us against each other long enough. Don’t forget. We both know what gets you off.”

Bucky’s voice wrapped around you in the dark, and you wanted to climb on and ride it as your clit began to pulse. You cursed your body’s reaction to him.

“We know what gets you off hard. Steve told me everything. And it was the same as with me. Your fantasies, Sugar…”

Steve spoke up.

“Bucky, this is uncalled for…”.

"Stop being such a boy scout."

“We know you, Sugar. What we don’t know is who you like the best. We deserve to know.”

“Bucky…”

“It would give us all closure, Steve.”

“You’re crazy, Bucky.”

“Put up or shut up, Sugar.”

Suddenly the lights came back on and you scrambled to stand up as the elevator started again, this time moving at normal speed. You looked between one man who was flushed red and the other who had a smirk on his face.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, as you bolted out, you replied to Bucky.

“Why don’t you just fuck each other? That will kill two birds with one stone.”

——

Next part: Simple Sugar

Let me know if you like it! 😊

171 notes · View notes

lisenberry · 3 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday Thoughts

Working title: There’s smoke seeping out of your bloody teeth (but you’re home somehow)

(From 28 by Zach Bryan)

Recovering Price x Recovering Reader

A/N: I have way too many WIPs at the moment, but this one came out of nowhere and I’m wondering if there’s something more here.

It’s a little darker than my usual, but somehow rides the line of more fluff than angst if you can bear with me through the backstory. I’m also seeing a trend where I love to paint Price as a complete mess and struggling with himself. I just know he has some Big Repressed Feelings buried deep in that broad chest. Like, the Captain takes care of everyone else on missions but needs more help than he lets on in the real world.

CW: Accidental overdose, Addiction/Recovery, Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous, a whiff of PTSD, single parent/recovering addict Reader, written with afab/fem reader in mind, but it came out fairly neutral. Overall heavy subject matter, but with some hope/humor to follow.

John fucked up. He knows it, Kyle knows it. And now Kate does, too.

He’d promised his sergeant that he’d lay off the whiskey, but he didn’t tell him about the pills. The oxys and the benzos. And sometimes, when things got really bad and he got in a little too deep, the ketamine and fentanyl.

It was pure luck that Kyle found him. That he was worried enough to kick the door in, strong enough to pull him out of the bathtub, and quick enough to do CPR until the ambulance arrived with the Narcan.

He hadn’t meant to end it. His life, that is. Just the never-ending pressure in his brain. The headaches, the sensitivity to light, everything being so bloody fucking loud. Two decades of explosions, gunshots, and crashes had racked up on him, each one a tithe to be repaid down the line. And it seemed they’d all come due at once.

In the aftermath, Kate had paid him a visit when he’d been ready to check himself out of the hospital, and she’d given him a directive. It wasn’t even an ultimatum. There was no other choice.

Get help.

She wasn’t kicking him off the team. She wasn’t even putting a note in his file. The military wouldn’t know, other than an extended personal leave signed off on by high enough names no one would question it. A 30-day stay in a doctor-supervised substance abuse treatment facility, and another 60 days at home with weekly check-ins.

Who he told other than Garrick would be up to him.

He agreed, of course. It was his last chance to get his shit together, maybe even more than he deserved. The look on Kyle’s face when he regained consciousness would be ingrained on his brain for the rest of his life.

“I always thought it’d be Ghost. Never you, Captain.” It wasn’t disappointment that clouded the kid’s eyes with tears, but fear. That it could happen to any of them if they weren’t careful. That the danger didn’t end when they came home.

Price hadn’t asked for help, but he knew when to take it.

Which is how he met you...

He tried to attend four to five meetings a week. They were usually at night, after dark, when the urge to settle into his chair with a bottle of scotch and a few extra Percocets was all he could think about. When the distractions of the day faded and he was alone with himself.

If he could hold the urge at bay long enough, in the company of others, even if he just sat and listened, then it would pass like a mad dog thrown a bone. And then he could go home in peace, until the dog came back around again.

In the beginning, he jumped around to a new meeting each night. There was St. Stephen’s, St. Giles in the Fields, St. George’s, the Salvation Army, and the Tenant’s Hall. Some were for beginners, and others just for men. He didn’t want to become familiar with any particular one, preferring instead to lean on the Anonymous side of the program.

He sipped his tea and ate his biscuits, all from the back row. Quietly reflecting on the opening speaker, and the stories of hope and struggle that followed. At first, he found it hard to relate. Kids who got hooked on drugs in school to escape from abusive parents, or former gang members and dealers looking to buy their way out of poverty and the system that abandoned them.

He’d been born into money, went to good schools. His demon didn’t come at him until later. It had taken its time and made roots into an already established foundation. Like a parasite, it didn’t take him young, or weak. It took him when he was at his strongest and broke him down from the inside out. He was already infected long before he saw the signs.

He had no one else to blame, and didn’t think he’d find much sympathy from telling his story. He didn’t want it, anyway. He just needed to get through his 60 days and be back on a mission again.

But then one Friday evening, he walked into your regular 7pm meeting in the basement of an old church and everything changed...

It was the best around, because they had a small children’s area in the next room, with a library and a sweet old nun who would read books and watch the kids for free. It had become a local favorite for parents without childcare, and the group had grown as close as a family.

There were a few of you who took the snack duty very seriously. There were no stale, day-old donuts or flavorless boxed biscuits. Instead, the spread was enough to rival the set of the Great British Baking Show. Cakes and puddings, shortbreads and tartes. The coffee was freshly brewed, not the cheap instant granules.

It had made you very protective, still always a little wary of newcomers, as against the spirit of the program as that was. It had become your safe space. Where you brought your children, and shared your biggest regrets and darkest moments. And mainly because, despite the progress you’d made in your recovery, you’d never fully be able to trust again. To look at another person and not see a potential threat.

Outside the church, you knew where the dealers stood waiting to find you on an off day. Where the pimps lingered in the dark alleys ready to meet you when you were broke and desperate. They were the obstacles you could see. Like a video game level you’d failed so many times you could jump and duck and kick your way a little further with each respawn. You already knew there was a bad guy waiting on the other side of that door and all the tricks to avoid him.

It was harder to tell with the quiet, six-and-a-half-foot tall, bearded man in the beanie hat and combat boots slumped in the back row. He’d popped up about a week ago, and always arrived exactly five minutes early. He'd wait patiently until the snack line died down and load his plate before sitting in the same seat, closest to the door.

He hadn’t shared with the group yet, but offered a few pleasant nods and greetings to anyone who’d initiated a conversation. It seemed rude not to reach out, if for no other reason than to gauge his intentions for yourself. Was he here because he was serious about his addiction, or was someone forcing him to come? Some set number of days on his coin before he’d be free from his sentence and never be heard from again.

It didn’t matter, and it wasn’t any of your business.

But that didn’t stop you from looking over at him a few times during your share, only to find him paying close attention. His serious features unreadable. Enough to make you stumble on your words and lose your train of thought. Everyone there knew your story already and could probably recite it for you. It just helped to recount the good parts, along with the bad.

“Did you make these?” he asked afterward, a rumbling voice breaking through your thoughts as you sat in a folding chair sipping the last of your coffee.

He held up a half-eaten salted caramel chocolate chip blondie.

“Yes, those are mine,” you answered with what you hoped was a polite smile.

“I thought I saw you bring them last time I was here. Fucking delicious.” He popped the rest of it into his mouth, catching the crumbs with his thick dark beard. “But your hair’s different, isn’t it?” he added, once he’d swallowed his bite.

You reflexively raised a hand to your head, remembering with a laugh the events of your day. You’d nearly forgotten the fiasco at work a few hours before.

“I work at a training salon. I let the students experiment on it when there aren’t enough dolls.” You didn’t have time to fix it before you had to pick up your kids from their afterschool program.

“It’s green.”

“Very green, yes.” You found yourself smiling again. Before that, it’d been black with purple tips. “Who knows what color it will be next time.” You stood and folded up your chair.

And tried not to read into it as he took it from you promptly and stacked it over with the others.

“Reason enough to come back and find out, then,” he called over his shoulder.

And you didn’t miss when he stopped to grab the last blondie on his way out.

#call of duty #john price #captain price #captain john price #price x reader #parent reader #addiction #substance abuse #recovery #john price x reader #captain john price x reader

76 notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 1 year ago

Text

BTS Military enlistment thoughts...

These are my thoughts and opinions. Information is out there if you seek it yourself. Nothing has been confirmed by any of the members or the company.

News media says Korean male citizens Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be enlisting soon: Dec. 11 for the first two and Dec. 12 for the latter pair.

And that Jimin and Jungkook seem to have chosen the companion enlistment option. Yes, "option" because they could have chosen to go in separately.

Koreans who are familiar with how this all works, have tried to explain the process. From what I understand, the companion option allows them to serve their entire enlistment together.

They weren't forced and this wasn't their only option for enlistment. They chose this themselves for a reason, for personal reasons, that none of us can know because we aren't them.

Many speculate but NO ONE KNOWS their reasons!

According to various sources, they will be at the same training center as Jin. There are many groups doing ongoing training there. But I don't believe they will be in the same company that Jin serves as assistant trainer. Credible sources say that Jin's unit at the training center is not accepting recruits on Dec. 12 which is the supposed date that Jimin and Jungkook will enter the military but we don't know for sure. But being at the same training center would allow them to see each other when they have time.

This reunion:

We won't know for sure until it actually happens.

Many are throwing around wild speculation regarding the fact Jimin and Jungkook are the only two with tattoos and therefore had fewer options. But they aren't. All the members have tattoos now. The Korean military needs all the manpower they can get, they aren't excluding men with tattoos, they are just limiting the situations they can serve.

The options are limited (and only slightly) for them because very visible tattoos, especially on the arms and hands, would allow them to be identified too easily. This is a consideration and criteria that is regulated in militaries and law enforcement around the world and is not isolated to Korea. Criminals are identified by their tattoos. Military personnel can also be identified by visible tattoos. In a situation where it is imperative that enlisted remain anonymous, hand tattoos would be a dead giveaway for identification. I'm sure there are other reasons for no tattoos allowed in certain assignments.

The application process began months ago and is the same process all Korean male citizens would go through to be approved for the companion program.

No one is really discussing Tae and Namjoon, everyone is going batshit crazy over Jimin and Jungkook. Let them do their service in the manner they wish. None of you have any say-so in it so shut up.

No one is capable of or even wants to step back and consider the big picture which is more telling.

Regarding Tae and Namjoon, I would venture to say that after basic training, its possible Namjoon will serve in some capacity with the Defense Ministry's Agency for KIA Recovery & Identification which he was named ambassador for earlier this year. That office is located in Seoul I believe. The fact he is well-known publicly and he can speak English would enhance his success in an assignment of this sort. This agency recovers those who lost their lives in action during the Korean War in which American soldiers also perished.

Recovering those KIA happens near or in the DMZ.

IF the hearsay about where Jimin and Jungkook might be assigned after training has any truth, they are supposedly headed to this area as they also perform minesweeping when searching for KIA remains. Again, none of this is confirmed, I am just employing critical thinking...

Tae supposedly has chosen the Special Task Force of the Army's Capital Defense Command. That seems like it implies he'll remain within Seoul during his enlistment.

It's all speculation, but I think these men carefully considered their options and the ramifications. None of this was done on a whim, from Namjoon's ambassadorship and the possibilities of it, to Jimin and Jungkook's companion enlistment and why they chose that option, NONE OF IT WAS DONE WITHOUT CAREFUL CONSIDERATION. They had to apply MONTHS ago for the options they were allowed to choose. They are not the only men in Korea enlisting this year, there are tens of thousands of others.

No one is considering, IF Namjoon is in Seoul during his enlistment, he would have something in common with Tae. And Yoongi. And Jin will be discharged in June, Hobi will be discharged in October... the implications, the connections... their target is 2025. Nothing is a coincidence. They can't be working while enlisted, however reuniting briefly with friends over dinner and drinks is allowed... what they talk about during their get togethers is none of our business.

ALL THAT BEING SAID... Hybe did a tremendous job this past summer with the 10th anniversary Festa celebration, involving various municipality governments, procuring large corporate sponsors and communicating to news media in the almost month long series of events. They elevated the general public's awareness of BTS's impact and therefore instilled value and pride for their continued success.

No military commander would want anything to happen to the members while under their watch.

NOTHING IS A COINCIDENCE.

P.S.: The idiots sending in emails to the Defense Ministry are hurting EVERYONE. The level of lunacy knows no bounds with certain people. They suffer from a pathological psychosis. Don't engage, don't acknowledge.

#We Wait™️#bts military enlistment #jimin #jungkook #hobi #namjoon #yoongi #taehyung #jin

222 notes · View notes

hurtspideyparker · 8 months ago

Text

Tony Stark and PTSD

Tony didn't develop PTSD when he came back from Afghanistan because he knew he'd get out. He was able to save himself, use his intellect and resources to build the iron suit and escape. Yes he was tortured, and feared for his life, but he had an escape plan; Tony left the cave hopeful for the future, with extraordinary ideas and a revelation. For him, that was enough.

In the battle of New York Tony didn't have an escape plan. Even with his fancy Iron Man suit he was left alone in space to die- no amount of the money, brains or power he possesses would be enough to get him out of there.

It terrified him. To think that with everything he is, he wouldn't be enough to save his own life.

So while his thoughts in Afghanistan were that he would out-smart all these men because he's Tony freaking Stark, his thoughts in New York were that in the end he was helpless. That loss of control, the spark of real and imminent death, is what follows Tony home and gives him PTSD.

The idea that at any moment he could face something beyond the planet and anything he's ever known, that being the smartest and richest man on Earth just wouldn't be enough. Tony is mortal- even he can't cure that.

This is why we see him depend so heavily on the suits as a coping mechanism. He is all too aware of his own flesh and becomes obsessed with his armor; making it stronger, more plentiful, a cocoon. It is a part of him, and he's trying desperately to catch up to all things extraterrestrial he just learned about.

He puts sensors under his skin so the armor can always find him. When he's scared, even in his sleep, his instinct is to call the suit.

Which is why being forced away from it is so important for his recovery. He has to relearn that Iron Man isn't the suit, it's him. He'd be dead if he didn't program Jarvis smart enough to save his life without being told, like in IM3 when he's drowning and Jarvis pulls him out of the rubble by controlling the hand of the suit. Or when he fights the superpowered soldiers with just his wits and some kitchen appliances. Then finally marching into a heavily guarded facility with his Home Depot weapons.

It's not that he's beaten mortality, it's that he's broken from the need to constantly protect himself from it.

#tony stark #iron man #marvel mcu #mcu #iron man 3

119 notes · View notes

quordleona03 · 1 year ago

Text

"Janet Wilkerson had a problem. As vice president of human resources for Peterson Farms Inc., she was having trouble filling the overnight shift at her chicken processing plants. The hours were long. The pay was low. And there never seemed to be enough workers."

"It was a slave camp."

“We felt like nobody had ever listened to us,” said one of the plaintiffs, Lucas Miller-Allen, when reached by phone today. “When all of our drug courts send us there, it’s like you don’t exist. It feels like you’re forgotten, like you’re thrown away. Like slavery. You’re dreading waking up each day, working for free, for nothing.”

But Janet Wilkerson was having trouble filling work shifts at her chicken processing planet, and she doesn't now. Judges in Oklahoma are still sending her men to work for free. The "rehab program" keeps their wages and workers-comp for injuries on the job.

The above stories are from 2017. OPINION AND ORDER by Judge Terence Kern ; dismissing/terminating case ; granting (Document 131) Motion to Dismiss for Lack of Jurisdiction U.S. District Court for the Northern District of Oklahoma / Copeland eta v. C.A.A.I.R et al

This is from 2022:

CAAIR, as it is commonly known, began more than a decade ago sending residents to work at Simmons Foods Inc., a processing giant that Walker touts as a principal partner and supplier to his distributorship, Renaissance Man Food Services. State judges assigned convicted offenders to CAAIR, giving them a choice between the residential program and its requirements or serving time in conventional jails or prisons. Simmons would then contract with CAAIR for labor at its plants; CAAIR program participants were not paid.

Herschel Walker, who was Donald Trump's preferred Republican candidate for the 2022 US Senate election in Georgia, appears to be one of those "Christian businessmen" who profits from the free labor provided by CAAIR.

#CAAIR #Janet Wilkerson #slave camp #modern slavery in the US #Renaissance Man Food Services #Peterson Farms Inc #Herschel Walker

295 notes · View notes

tomjefferys1990 · 14 days ago

Text

Men's Addiction Treatment Center: Your Path to Lasting Recovery

At Rippling Waters, we understand that addiction affects every part of a man’s life—physically, mentally, and emotionally. As a leading men’s addiction treatment center, we are dedicated to creating an environment that empowers men to reclaim control over their lives, find inner peace, and rebuild a fulfilling future. Located on a serene 400-acre property in the Catskills, Rippling Waters offers specialized, personalized treatment that focuses on holistic healing, addressing the core issues that fuel addiction.

1. Why Choose a Men’s Addiction Treatment Center?

Men experience addiction differently than women, often facing unique societal pressures and stigmas around mental health and addiction. They may struggle with expressing emotions, coping with trauma, or finding support systems. At Rippling Waters, our men's addiction treatment center provides a men-only environment that eliminates distractions and promotes an atmosphere of camaraderie, support, and understanding. Here, men can openly share their experiences and challenges, gaining strength from each other’s journeys.

2. A Holistic Approach to Healing

Our center integrates traditional therapies like cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) with holistic practices like yoga, meditation, and ecotherapy. These therapies go beyond treating addiction by addressing the underlying mental health issues and stressors that contribute to substance dependency. With a combination of group therapy, individual counseling, and experiential therapies, we aim to foster healing that extends beyond the physical aspect of addiction.

3. Equine Therapy and Nature’s Role in Recovery

Rippling Waters offers equine therapy and ecotherapy as part of our comprehensive approach to recovery. Equine therapy allows men to work with horses in a supportive environment, encouraging them to develop patience, empathy, and self-awareness. Our 400-acre sanctuary also provides numerous opportunities for eco-therapy, with activities that promote mindfulness, reduce stress, and reconnect individuals with nature. These activities help men gain new perspectives, reframe challenges, and cultivate a stronger sense of self-worth and resilience.

4. Experienced, Compassionate Staff

Our team is composed of experienced professionals dedicated to guiding men on their journey toward recovery. With compassion and expertise, our therapists and counselors work with each individual to develop personalized treatment plans that align with their unique needs. Every aspect of our center, from the therapy sessions to the supportive community, is designed to promote lasting change.

5. Building a Foundation for Lasting Recovery

Recovery is more than overcoming addiction; it’s about building a new life filled with purpose, resilience, and connection. At Rippling Waters, men engage in life-skills training and relapse prevention strategies to prepare them for life beyond our center. We believe that recovery is an ongoing journey and provide the tools and support needed for men to sustain their progress and build a fulfilling, addiction-free future.

Begin Your Journey at Rippling Waters

At Rippling Waters, our mission is to empower men to overcome addiction and find the strength to live fully and purposefully. If you’re ready to start this transformative journey, we’re here to help every step of the way. Our men’s addiction treatment center offers a safe, welcoming space for healing and growth. Reach out today to learn more about how we can support you in achieving lasting recovery.

For more information, please contact us.

#addiction treatment services #retreat treatment center #men's recovery program #men's recovery center #best therapy for addiction #men’s addiction treatment center

0 notes

shaanks · 1 year ago

Text

listen what i'm saying is, I know the perv trope thing with Sanji is annoying and overplayed. i know it is. i know that some of it is Oda's humor and some of it is like. shit that anime always seems to find one character to shunt onto, and I don't like it and nobody likes it but like

pretending that's the only character trait that he has, or refusing to connect the dots through what appears to both be some vestige of the Vinsmoke programming (since ALL of his brothers have the exact same kind of nosebleed awooga behavior despite their lack of other meaningful human emotions), and a strict adherence to anything Zeff taught him (bc children do not process trauma and traumatic events the way adults do, and at that point Zeff was not only his first and ONLY example of paternal love, but the only hand capable of reaching in and stopping the knife he'd been twisting in his own guts), isn't just stupid, it's a deeply shallow and backwards take of an incredibly complex character.

yes, Sanji is flawed. they're all flawed. that's half the point of the story, that people are more than the sum of their parts, or the circumstances of their birth, or their pain.

Sanji's journey in this story so far is one of broken shackles, of healing, of finding comfort in himself and trust in his found family despite how deep the roots of self-loathing and fear run in him. in that way, of course he took Zeff's perspective to heart. Zeff who cut a piece of himself off and chose Sanji's life over his own well-being again and again, when Sanji's birth father abandoned him to torment and death. Zeff, who thought he was wonderful, and kind, and intelligent, and nurtured his potential, and taught him how to make sure nobody could ever hurt him again, when his birth father discarded him as damaged goods. Zeff, who is proud, in his own way, to know what his son is up to, and for people to know that's his boy, when his birth father's only direct words to him were to make sure to never bring him the shame of letting anyone know they were related.

(and that's the wild part, one of the things that really breaks me about Sanji sometimes, is that he kept that promise, too. If WCI hadn't happened he might never have told anyone at all.)

Zeff saved Sanji in every way a hurt little boy could possibly be saved, and so when he said "You never hit a woman, that's wisdom from when the dinosaurs walked the earth." and "Beat any man's ass you want, but if I ever catch you raising a hand to a woman I'll cut your dick off and then myself too for teaching you that." like???

He's not being a misogynist, he doesn't refuse to fight women because he thinks they're weak and frail and the fairer sex that needs to be protected at all costs by big strong men, he respects Nami and Robin and Vivi and refuses to give up on his friends and even forgives Viola despite her almost killing him and agrees to help her, like?? he internalized everything Zeff ever told him, not just how to make risotto really well or how to pair wine to cheeses and desserts.

does Oda sometimes play that up for laughs, or run it to extremes? yeah, absolutely. I actively like to pretend Fishman Island was 10 episodes of political backstory and Jinbei. But those moments of hyperbole aren't the fucking point of his character, or his development, and to pretend like they are removes Sanji--and an incredibly poignant story about abuse, recovery, self-love, and the acceptance and importance of found family--from the story.

#av speaks #OP #Sanji #that's it that's my dissertation #you don't have to like him #there are a jillion characters in one piece nobody is gonna like everyone #but some of the things I see people write about Sanji are insane #feels like people consume this story with their ass sometimes

307 notes · View notes

haggishlyhagging · 3 months ago

Text

Many women have been helped by therapy. I have heard enough women say "it saved my life" to feel almost guilty about challenging psychology. Many women say that it was only with the help of therapy that they became able to leave an abusive relationship, to rid themselves of incapacitating fears and anxieties, or to stop drug abuse. Anything that saves women's lives, anything that makes women happier, must be feminist—mustn't it? Well, no. It's possible to patch women up and enable them to make changes in their lives without ever addressing the underlying political issues that cause these personal problems in the first place. "I used to bitch at my husband to do housework and nothing happened", a women from Minnesota told Harrit Lerner (1990, p. 15); "now I'm in an intensive treatment program for codependency and I'm asserting myself very strongly. My husband is more helpful because he knows I'm codependant and he supports my recovery". For this woman, the psychological explanation ("I'm codependant and need to recover") was more successful than the feminist explanation (women's work as unpaid domestic labour for men, Mainardi: 1970) in creating change. With the idea of herself as sick, she was able to make him do housework. As Carol Tavris (1992) says, "women get much more sympathy and support when they define their problems in medical or psychological than in political terms." The codependency explanation masks what feminists see as the real cause of our problems—male supremacy. Instead we are told that the cause lies in our own "codependency". This is not feminism.

-Celia Kitzinger, “Therapy and How it Undermines the Practice of Radical Feminism” in Radically Speaking: Feminism Reclaimed

#Celia Kitzinger #radical feminist theory #anti psych #therapy as antifeminist

33 notes · View notes

malebodyexhibit · 2 years ago

Text

A Second Chance (a Next Door Boy tale)

Do you think someone could do a better job at your life than you could?

That’s my friend, Erik. We were best friends growing up, but slowly lost connection with each other in middle school. He was more sports oriented than I was. He tried out for football, hockey, and basketball (basically all the sports), and he became the star of many people’s eyes. He was the object of many girls’ affection and the goal most guys wanted to be.

I thought I wanted to be like him, but I realized I had a crush on him. This truth just drove a deeper divide between us as we moved onto high school. I became more bookish and defined myself by becoming the opposite of him. When he got a sports scholarship and became a star athlete in college, I got an academic scholarship and became an honors student. He got a fiance and body other guys only wanted. I struggled to maintain a long-term relationship and was a certified twink.

No doubt I fit some’s idea of cute and sexy, but it never lasts. Everyone wants bigger. Everyone wants someone like Erik.

Because we were at the same college, I heard the news in class when it happened. He was rock climbing with friends when his hand slipped, but his gear (was it a belay?) failed to function and he suffered a fall.

The following weeks hung with a held breath as his fans waited to hear news of his recovery, but it released in a flood of sobs when it was found out he wouldn’t fully recover. There were loads of support, but also other athletes. He was respectfully replaced. The world had to move on.

So did his fiance after a year. “What he needs is a caretaker, not a wife,” she said when releasing a statement. “He won’t even be able to complete his marital duties.” Erik dropped from school shortly after. He didn’t feel like a real person anymore. Just a hushed tragedy why you shouldn’t take your health for granted.

I, on the other hand, failed a few classes, dropped from the honors program and did nothing remarkable for the past year. My last boyfriend cheated on me with his personal trainer. I walked in on them fucking on my bed.

But honestly, I’d cheat on me to if I had a chance with that hunk.

But what changed my life was finding the Next Door Boy agency. I fantasized living a life as some hunk getting pounded by older men. But alas, I was poor. When I wondered if I could become talent, the agent for Next Door Boy scoffed at me and said, “Who would want to be a scrawny gay nerd?”

I left pretty dejected and my thoughts went to Erik. He’d have no problem becoming talent before the accident Anyone would want to wear the skin of an attractive, undergrad athlete. But I doubt he’d do it if it was available then. He was honest and kind hearted. He worked for his goals and he would probably find the idea disgusting.

But now in his current state, would he consider leaving his life behind? The idea struck a fire in me and I finally looked him up all these years later. When I arrived at his family’s home, it seemed to be held in a state of quiet. After letting me in with smile that spoke of remembering her son’s childhood friend, she led me to Erik’s room. It was no longer an elementary kid’s room who loved card games or Tony Hawk. It was an almost hospital-clean room with him at the center.

It was hard to describe or be there. The reality of the situation hit me, but we spoke timidly. We reminisced about the old days, then he wanted to know more about my life. Each day, he’d pry a bit more as if wanting something from ‘real life.’ Finally it came out that I was depressed and the past few years flooded out. He listened intently and tried to comfort me. A good guy like him shouldn’t face this fate.

When I got the nerve to ask him about the Next Door Boy agency, his face twisted into a venomous and spiteful grimace. “Don’t mention them again.” It turned out that his ex-fiance had a series of arguments with him before she left about the agency. She wanted him to take all the donations, some loans, to find someone willing to house his mind in their body. She would even help him find the perfect body, but it was too much. He would rather not be a parasite and buy athletic performance and live someone else’s life. Then his parent’s brought up the idea a couple times, but he shot it down.

He then confided in me that he had thought about it. But there was just no money. The donations couldn’t afford it all and his adoring fans moved onto the next hot star. His parents would have had to take out so many loans. Imagine getting out of this broken body and falling into soul-crushing debt.

Also, who would give up their body for him?

“I would,” I said. I initially said it reflexively, but as I said it and saw the expression on his face change, I knew it was true. “We’ve been friends, Erik. You’ve always been someone I idolized even after we stopped talking. Especially since we stopped talking, because you kept doing your best and pushing yourself to new challenges. I can’t seem to even exist without failing. And there’s something else…”

I told him about how I felt growing up with him. About my crush on him and how I pushed him away because I was afraid of him rejecting me.

When I was finished, his eyes glistened with tears, we sat in silence for a moment, before I said, “If you’re okay with it, we can speak with NDB. This is something I want for you.”

And that’s how it happened. We spoke with the NDB agent and the process was available. Because we were providing the bodies (how morbidly put), the cost was vastly cheaper. As long as I could prove I wasn’t coerced into this decision, it was a go. We went through the procedure to place the implants and went over what to expect.

Unlike the usual subscription other clients get where one mind goes in and one mind goes out, we opted for sharing the same body. Erik wouldn’t have it any other way. “We’ve been apart long enough, let’s spend this together.” It was touching, but we also couldn’t afford a replacement body for me.

The agent mentioned that this was a proven safe method of co-habitation. It couldn’t be that we take turns in control. One of us would always be ‘watching’. Erik almost volunteered himself, but I interjected. I made him promise to live his life and let me experience it. The agent mentioned that this set up would lessen risk of something. I didn’t hear it.

When the procedure was finished, I watched as Erik as me stood up. He struggled for a bit orienting himself. He worked with a physical therapist to gain more confidence in his movements. When two weeks passed and he was able to spend an entire day doing normal activity, it was decided he could attempt strength training.

I could feel the effort he poured into the body as he lifted the dumbbell over his head (no longer can I call it my own). What had been my soft stomach was now glistening in sweat as he pulled himself up in a sit up. He gasped for breath and the start of a washboard stomach flexed with each exhale. After his workout, he stood in front of the mirror and flexed his biceps. What had been twig arms now bulged with muscle newly acquired from Erik’s training. He still wasn’t at his pre-injury form and probably won’t be for many years, but he taken a non-athletic body to such a piece of meat.

“Thank you so much,” he said.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I said in his thoughts. “You thank me everyday, but this is all you. I could never have done this.”

“I will keep thanking you until the day we die. Well, it’s time to shower.” He walked to his gym locker and stripped his underwear off. His cock flapped down. Before he had been hesitant to touch it without apologizing to me, but now he absent mindedly adjusted it. He started his strut towards the showers when a guy exiting the showers glanced at him. The man looked at Erik’s package and was about to say something when Erik said firmly, “Sorry, dude. I don’t swing that way. Got a girlfriend back home” He continued on his way.

After lathering his body and drying himself off, Erik pulled on some clothes. He has a great fashion sense and it looks great on his muscular frame. If I tried to dress that way before with my twink body, it’d look embarrassing.

Erik took out his phone and dialed his girlfriend. They got together several months after the procedure. He already worked my body semi-presentable, plus with a good haircut and a great personality, he snagged an awesome girl. My sexuality never passed onto him and I watched on many occasions as he rode his girl to climax. I never knew my dick would be so awesome in the hands of another guy.

“Hey, babe,” Erik huskily whispered into the phone. “I’m headed home. I worked myself hard, but I think I still have energy left in me for tonight. Yeah, I’ll pick some up on the way home. I love you, babe.”

I thought I’d be hurt to hear those words, but as Erik hung up, we both released a sigh of contentment.

#possession #male possession #male body possession #male takeover #gay male story #gay to straight #male transformation #male body exhibit #a next door boy tale #next door boy #jock #mental change

464 notes · View notes

growingstories · 1 year ago

Text

The soccer star

Jaimy, a born and raised working-class boy from the countryside in England, grew up with dreams of becoming a professional soccer player. His talent was noticed by the local scouts, and by the time he was 14, he was on the Chelsea youth program. His family was extremely proud, and he became a star in his village. At the age of 18, he turned pro and started playing for Chelsea.

Jaimy had always been a fan of cars, especially sports cars, and he dreamed of one day owning a Ferrari. When he was promoted at the age of 19 and signed an amazing sponsor deal, he was sold to Liverpool. He moved into a villa in a suburb with local rich people, fulfilling his dreams of living a lavish lifestyle. He also found a girlfriend, Jules, who turned out to be a golddigger who enjoyed hanging out with other footballers' wives and living the high life.

At 20 years old, Jaimy's big dream came true when he was on the reserve bench for England. He finally had the means to his buy first Ferrari, and all his friends were happy for him. He drove the car with pride and even got invited to Italy to visit the Ferrari factory. Jaimy's love for cars grew, and he ended up buying a big barn with land to create his own car collection. He invested in an old-timer Porsche and was filled with immense pride.

However, at the age of 21, disaster struck. Jaimy suffered a severe injury on the field, with ruptured knees and a broken ankle, causing him to miss the entire season. During his recovery, Jaimy decided to study mechanics and cars to keep his mind off the disappointment.

When he finally returned, his position had been given away to another player. Jaimy trained harder than ever, but another jealous player intentionally injured him again, breaking his other ankle. The doctor advised him to stop playing, as he would be prone to constant injuries if he continued.

With his dreams of becoming a professional soccer player shattered, Jaimy had to find a new path. He sold his old-timer and used the money to buy two other vintage cars to fix up and sell again. He decided to study mechanics and open his own car workshop in the barn he owned. Jules broke up with him and immediately found another soccer player to fund her lifestyle. Jaimy's old mates from his soccer days were proud of his achievements and started bringing their expensive cars to him for modifications and enhancements. They would take him out for dinner and parties like in the old days. The football wives, feeling sorry for him after his breakup with Jules, started taking care of him, bringing him breakfast, pastries, sweets, lunches, and snacks. Jaimy's athletic body slowly started to change, and he had to wear bigger overalls as he gained weight.

One day, Liam, the handsome 25-year-old son of a local factory owner, walked into Jaimy's workshop with his Porsche in need of repair. Jaimy couldn't help but be nervous around Liam, as he unexpectedly found himself attracted to him. Liam, who had heard stories from his girlfriends about Jaimy's appeal, found him cute and decided to ask him out. Jaimy was overwhelmed by his feelings and wondered if he might be gay.

When Liam came to pick up his car, Jaimy mustered up the courage to admit his feelings. To his surprise, Liam also had feelings for him and agreed to go out with him. Jaimy panicked, as all his normal clothes no longer fit due to his weight gain. He quickly bought new clothes in a larger size, worried about what Liam would think.

On their first dinner date, Jaimy and Liam kissed and instantly fell in love. The next day, they went out again and felt incredibly comfortable with each other. As they started undressing, Jaimy voiced his concerns about his weight and asked if Liam was okay with him being a bit chubby, promising to lose the weight later. Liam reassured him, explaining that he loved his men big and didn't want Jaimy to lose weight.

Jaimy had never felt more desired and loved, and their physical relationship became incredibly satisfying. They spent almost every night together, with Liam taking care of Jaimy's food and bringing him lunch during the day. Jaimy's female visitors continued to bring him snacks and food, eager to hear the latest gossip. With the combination of regular hearty meals and less time for the gym, Jaimy continued to gain weight, and his body transformed.

One evening, during dinner with his old teammates, they mentioned Jaimy's weight and asked if he was in a relationship. He proudly announced that he was with Liam, surprising everyone. They were happy for him and supported his newfound happiness. They even invited Liam to dinners and parties, embracing him into their group.

Jaimy's car shop flourished, and more and more people sought his services. However, Liam's jealousy grew as he witnessed the attention Jaimy received from others. To subdue his jealousy, Liam started bringing more food then the football wives to Jaimy, who happily devoured it.

The workshop was an amazing succes and Jaimy had to hire another car mechanic. Dozen boys lined up but Jaimy picked Rody, Rody was handsome but not interested in soccer so he wasn’t just a fan of Jaimy. Rody was a succes, and instead of coming just for Jaimy, the ladies visited the workshop to catch a glimpse of handsome shirtless Rody. Realizing that Rody was the new star of the company with his impressive six-pack, Liam's jealousy escalated. He decided to not only feed Jaimy but also Rody. Rody had to lose his sixpack too. However, Rody declined to indulge in excessive eating, focusing on his work and fitness routine.

In an attempt to monetize the visits to the car shop, Liam proposed opening a lunchroom in the showroom. The plan was to attract more customers by showcasing Jaimy and his cars while their vehicles were being fixed. The renovation was completed three months later, and the new car shop with the lunchroom was a bigger success than expected. Instead of bringing food, the ladies now hung around in the showroom, attracting even more customers. Jaimy acted as a host in the showroom, constantly indulging in Liam's pastries.

Jaimy and Liam's relationship continued to thrive, with the bigger Jaimy got, the better their sex life became. But what will happen to Rody? Can he keep up with the constant flow of pastries?

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories

228 notes · View notes

theroyalhouseofwindenburg · 6 months ago

Text

Echos of Solitude

The months that ensued after Cordelia's return showed promising signs. The King frequently joined her on walks, finding solace in the altered landscapes that aided her recovery. King Edward transcended his role as a mere sovereign; he evolved into a beacon of hope. His benevolence and generosity starkly contrasted with his father's legacy. Edward's court was a realm open to all, where nobles and peasants found equal footing. He earned the title of "The White King," deeply revered and cherished by his people.

King Edward was also renowned for his extreme piety and unwavering devotion to the Jacoban Church, a faith deeply instilled in him by his mother, Queen Cordelia. His faith permeated every aspect of his rule, beginning each day with hours of prayer and attending Mass daily. After banishing the previous clergy involved in the conspiracy against his mother, Edward sought to restore the church's integrity. He replaced them with devout and learned men, instituted rigorous training and educational programs, and founded seminaries to ensure a well-rounded and ethical clergy. He also reformed church finances, promoting transparency and accountability. Through these measures, Edward revitalized the Jacoban clergy, restoring its sanctity and earning respect and faith from the people of Windenburg.

While residing in Windenburg, Margaery and her daughter, Empress Mary, deliberated on a potential union for Mary's son, Prince Fernando of Tartosa. After thorough consideration, they concluded that Princess Augusta would be an ideal match. At 21 years old, Princess Augusta was prepared for marriage and welcomed the proposal with joy. Subsequently, they presented their decision to the king for approval.

King Edward sat in his office, deeply engrossed in state affairs, when Queen Margaery, Princess Augusta, and Empress Mary of Tartosa entered the room. Edward looked up, a faint smile gracing his features as he acknowledged their presence.

"Good day, Your Majesty," Mary greeted with a respectful nod, her demeanor poised and regal.

Edward returned the greeting with a nod, "What brings you all to my chambers today?" he inquired, curious about their unexpected visit.

Margaery spoke first, her voice gentle yet firm. "My dear grandson, we have come to discuss an important matter regarding Princess Augusta."

Edward's interest piqued, and he turned his attention towards Augusta, awaiting her words.

"Brother," Augusta began, her tone earnest, "Empress Mary has expressed an interest in a potential alliance between our kingdoms through a marriage proposal."

Edward's brows furrowed slightly, processing the information. "I see," he responded thoughtfully. "And who is the intended groom for such an alliance?"

Empress Mary spoke up, her voice carrying a sense of diplomacy. "Your Majesty, I humbly request the honor of Princess Augusta's hand in marriage for my son, Prince Fernando of Tartosa."

Edward nodded, acknowledging the strategic advantages of such an alliance. "I appreciate your candor, Empress Mary," he said. "However, my sister's happiness and well-being are paramount. Augusta, how do you feel about this proposal?"

Augusta smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be honored to ," she replied, stepping forward to embrace her brother in a heartfelt hug.

Edward returned the embrace, a proud smile gracing his features. "You will make a fine empress one day," he remarked, his tone filled with confidence and affection. "I look forward to working alongside you throughout my reign, sister."

Windenburg appeared to be finding its footing, yet the saying held true: where light shone, shadows lurked close behind.

In the autumn of 1354, King Edward presided over court at Windenburg Castle. Among those who approached him was the Countess of Westfield, Lady Dorthea, who performed a graceful curtsy as she addressed him.

"Your Majesty," she began with a tremble in her voice, "I implore you to release my son Richard from his confinement. He has suffered greatly, and my heart longs for his freedom."

Edward's gaze softened with understanding, though his tone remained firm. "Lady Dorthea, I cannot grant that request. I have already extended great mercy to Lord Richard by sparing his life."

Dorthea persisted, her desperation evident. "Since Princess Corrine and my grandchildren left Westfield, Richard has been my sole comfort. Please, Your Majesty, allow me to see my son."

Edward's reply was gentle but resolute. "Richard is currently confined, and I cannot permit any visitors at this time."

Overcome by emotion, Lady Dorthea dropped to her knees, her voice filled with anguish. "Please, Your Majesty, just a moment with him. I beg of you."

Edward rose from his throne, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. "We will discuss this matter further at a later time, Lady Dorthea. Rest assured that your pleas have been heard."

With a heavy heart, Lady Dorthea rose solemnly and left the throne room abruptly. Edward watched her departure with a mixture of concern and empathy, understanding the depth of a mother's love and the weight of his responsibilities as a ruler.

As the golden hues of dawn painted the horizon over Westfield Manor, one of Lady Dorthea's devoted servants approached her bedroom door, a sense of duty driving her actions. She knocked softly, awaiting permission to enter. Minutes ticked by in unnerving silence, and the servant's concern grew with each passing second.

With a heavy heart and a growing sense of dread, the servant cautiously pushed open the door. What greeted her shattered the tranquility of the morning. Lady Dorthea's lifeless form hung from a makeshift noose, she had taken her own life.

The servant's screams echoed through the room, mingling with the sound of her pounding heart.

The evening sun cast a warm glow through the stained glass windows of Windenburg Castle's chapel as the royal family attended their nightly prayers. Among the solemn hymns and flickering candlelight, Sir Walter Arnold, The King's hand and Dorthea's cousin, quietly entered and made his way towards King Edward with a heavy heart.

"Your Majesty," Sir Walter's voice trembled with sadness as he approached the king. "I bear grave news. Lady Dorthea… she has passed."

Edward's expression shifted from serene contemplation to one of shock and devastation. "What? How can this be?" His disbelief was palpable, having just spoken with Dorthea the day before.

As the weight of the news settled upon them, the men exited the chapel to address the sudden tragedy. Margaery, Edward's grandmother, followed with a troubled expression, hoping against hope that she had misheard. "What is it, Walter? Please tell me it's not true," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Sir Walter's solemn nod confirmed the heartbreaking truth. "I'm afraid it is, Your Grace. Lady Dorthea has taken her own life."

Margaery's grief poured forth in tears, her hands covering her mouth in shock. "Oh, Dorthea… my dearest friend," she whispered between sobs, her heart heavy with sorrow at the loss of a cherished companion.

38 notes · View notes