#her flabby lips are so funny
Text
Idia, Silver: Somehow I’ll be Strong
Silver casually doing his usual knightly duties and Idia being shocked at such Chad behavior will never not be funny 🤡 but seeing Idia passionately share his hobbies in the vignettes was wholesome! (The story about Idia singing with Ortho as they went to the bathroom together at night was also adorable 🥺)
Idia’s legs are so damn long, everyone’s been memeing them to the Underworld and back 😂 … Okay, but wtf is up with THAT face he’s making in the groovy?? That’s on a whole new level of sinister 💀 Is this really your mans, Eliza—
asiulbdg8yoadasbqerqo I'M HYPERFIXATED ON ONE OF HIS VOICE LINES where Idia threatens to flick your forehead if you get in his way but then he also confesses that his finger will hurt from doing that so you'd feel bad for him... bro, how weak ARE you...
A Tale as Old as Time.
Gazing upon the good and righteous was nothing new for Idia. He had pored over countless manga and light novels, binged shounen anime after shounen anime.
Here was another hero, bathed in bronze sunlight, posing triumphantly, a sword to pave the way forward and a battered training dummy to protect. His trusty winged steed beside him, a stout, wizened satyr, his mentor, hanging off of one bulging bicep. True, the arena they stood in was empty, save for the training equipment scattered about—but there was no doubt that the world would soon know his name, and his face written in the stars.
A platinum frame divided Idia from that legendary man.
Clutching onto one limp, flabby arm, he quietly scoffed. Haaah, it looks like a scene straight out of some musclehead's training montage...
"You're admiring this painting too, Idia-senpai?"
Idia's thoughts came to a screeching halt. Goosebumps prickled his skin, hair standing on end. A young man with a build similar to the hero in the artwork had appeared, handsome-face framed by moonlight locks.
"E-Eep! S-Silver-shi?!" His voice was pinched, a reverberating squeak.
The knight bowed his head. "Hello. It sounds like you're in good spirits."
Idia took a step back, as if he were the night making way for the encroaching day. The shadows were where he felt the safest, wrapped up in a cloak that granted him near invisibility from the average onlooker. Not with Silver. He who cast a revealing light wherever he drifted.
"Y-Yeah, what a n-nice painting..." Idia mumbled, not bothering to summon the effort to lie. He attempted to skitter away, cutting the conversation short, but—to his dismay—Silver continued.
"I look up to him too. There's many historical heroes we can look back on and learn from," Silver said with a nod. "I refer to them when I consider my own training regiment. They're inspirations to us all."
What's this?! Idia paled. Obviously I was trying to signal to him that I was gonna go AFK but this guy just starts spamming the chat!! H-Have I accidentally tripped an event flag...!? Or does he lack even more social awareness than an introverted otaku like me!?
Silver regarded him seriously—innocently, even. "Can I ask if this is the one you aspire to?"
Idia grimaced at the suggestion. "You're joking, right? Th-There's no way I could be a fraction as buff as he is!!"
The second year blinked, seeming undisturbed by the flustered response. “I don't think that's a concern."
“How’s it not? A hero can’t do crazy godlike stunts if he doesn’t have the right stuff…”
Silver shook his head. “My father has told me stories of warriors who were able to overcome their lack of strength with other provisions. A woman once pretended to be a man to infiltrate the military. Her wit saved their entire country from collapse."
"This man too…” Silver indicated the placard below the platinum frame. “… He gave up his strength to protect someone he loved. It was his noble heart that made the heavens recognize his godhood."
“W-Well…” Idia but his lower lip. He knew the tales as well as Silver did, but still he hesitated. “That’s true, but… isn’t it too unrealistic to think ordinary people could rise to those kinds of feats?”
His grip on his sleeve tightened.
The main character in Star Rogue... He started off as a zero and became a hero. But that's just a video game. Can something like that really happen in real life...? When true heroes are one in a billion?
Silver-shi makes it sound so easy.
His stomach lurched, wrenching into distorted shapes.
“If you have the drive, you can go the distance and somehow become strong,” Silver told him. His tone, reassuring yet firm.
“Somehow? H-How vague can you possibly get? That’s no way to achieve results…”
“It’s not brawn alone that determines your worth as a hero. Please have more faith in yourself, Idia-senpai."
As if just saying that will make my faith meter shoot through the roof! Anxiety-induced sweat beaded on Idia’s forehead.
M-Maybe if I tell him what he wants to hear, he’ll leave me alone… He warily eyed Silver. “O-Okay… I get it already. I’ll try, so…”
Please stop talking to me!! I-I don’t know how much longer of this pure-hearted anime protag speech I can stomach!
“You will? That’s great.” Silver smiled softly. His expression, Idia realized, reminded him of that of the hero in the photo frame.
A sparkling face, full of hope for the future.
A hero in the making.
That could be you, a tiny voice in his mind whispered.
A weight in his chest steadily lifted, then dropped again. Like a lost soul bobbing between life and death. Unsure of which way to go.
No, don’t be deceived. Life isn’t a game route that plays out with an easy ending. One misstep, and I’ll be floating in the River Styx.
Idia cut away from his underclassman. The hero’s big grin snagged in the corner of his eye.
Perfect, pearly, perky. Not a visible crack in a man seemingly chiseled out of marble.
But nobody’s perfect, not even the immortals. Everyone has a weakness or two in their systems, a security flaw, bug to exploit—and the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Trust in excess turned into gullibility. Willingness to help could become one’s hubris. Goodness twisting into other shapes.
Suddenly, the hero was no longer infallible. His courage, painted foolishly.
If a hero could crumble, then so, too, could those at their lowest points rise up and rebuild a city. Make something of themselves. True one way, and true the other.
Someday, somehow, he’d be strong enough to face the odds—turning the impossible into the possible.
A slow, sinister smile crept onto his lips. Eerie, gleeful laughter filled the air. His shoulders, shuddering.
“Hihihihihihi…”
Silver’s ears perked. He inclined his head toward his upperclassman. It looks like Idia-senpai is reinvigorated. I’m glad I could encourage him.
#twst#twisted wonderland#Idia Shroud#twst imagines#twst scenarios#Silver#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland scenarios#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#spoilers#something no one asked for#chad silver vs virgin idia/j#Idia birthday takeover#I am so sorry if this one felt a lil sloppy#I was so sleep deprived writing this www
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
ghost new chapter preview by Natatat
“Oh come on her lack of impulse control is kinda cute.”
“Ugh I guess.”
“And besides are you gonna tell me that those doughnuts don’t look delicious?”
“I mean…”
“See?”
“I guess.”
Hmmm she was thin but a bit soft. Big boobs, big ass, small waist. She would probably put on weight evenly but even if she didn’t put on any I could have them both.
“Here we go.”
“How are we going to get it on her?”
“Come on up we go.”
Hannah had already finished the pizza and doughnuts. She was quite a sight. Her flabby tits resting on her flabby bloated belly. All of her spilling out of the chair. I tried tugging her out but she was really wedged in there.
“Oh no.”
“Fuck Hannah I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Hahaha this is actually hilarious.”
“How am I supposed to get out?”
“Well we could just starve you till you lose enough weight to get out.”
Hannah looked horny and horrified.
“Or we could just try pulling again.”
Brittany and I each took a hand and tugged.
“Ooooof maybe we could just grease her up.”
Hannah got all flushed at that.
“Yeah like the greasy pig you are.”
Brittany was playing with Hannah’s belly. It was so hot to watch Hannah be teased by another girl. And it would be even hotter if Britney accidentally started gaining as well. Oh god the irony and karma was so hot. So many fantasies were now possible.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It is though. You ate so much you busted out of your costume. Yoh also got yourself stuck in an armchair. That is funny.”
“It is kinda pathetic.”
“It’s so hot. And it was so hot seeing you bust out of your clothes.”
I whispered that in Hannah’s ear while pretending to check something on the chair. It also gave Britney a chance to look at my ass.
“Maybe you could pry me out?”
She was really rather brilliant at that moment. Sitting there stuffed, drunk, and horny as fuck. Biting her lip and squirming in anticipation of me fondling her fat rolls. Pushing on them to try to wrench her free from the chair. My hands sinking into the spongey flesh. Having to grab and grope god it was making me hard.
“Maybe. Here let’s see.”
Finally I got to grip her overflowing fat. It was pure heaven. I tried pushing them in further while Britney pulled at her arms. Loathe as I was to give up my grope fest we had to get Hannah out and into some clothes. Britney simply was not strong enough to tug her free.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Cortana, did you tell Linda the best way to make more Spartans is to breed female spartans?" Dr Halsey asked sternly.
Cortana, looked blue and bewildered.
"Not at all. That would be ridiculous."
"Cortana, she's currently gorging herself of fried chicken and scrolling through space tinder. Attempting to 'do her part'." Halsey said scathing.
"I had been curious about her softening waistline. She can still rip a mini gun off a warthog though so I dont see the issue..."
"Funny, see. Linda and Kelly seem to be under the impression, that a little blue imp told them Spartans need an excessive amount of calories to support the enhanced biology of their babies. And they've been blowing up like balloons and attempting to 'breeds with any soldier they can get to look at them. You can't think of ANY little blue imps that they might be jn regular contact with?"
Just then Kelly and Linda waddled through the room. Kell's gut bugging out from under a breastplate 4 times too small for all her wobbly, sagging bust. Her belly bouncing gently off her thighs as she walked. Linda's ass, almost 3 feet wide, was a shelf of dumpy blubber following her wherever she went. It knocked fancy knick knacks off Halsey's shelves as she walked beside her sister. Her own gut round and plump.
Cortana visibly bit her lip to suppress delight as she watched the two, tall, lumbering Spartans jiggle away. Noting each of them had love handles and back fat oozing out of the gaps in their armor plating.
"Nope." Cortana continued to deny. "I dunno who's filling their heads with this nonsense about getting big and sexy and pregnant. But you should probably get ONI in on it. Sounds like a devious plot."
"Cortana I have a breeding fetish, and a fat fetish, it stands to reason you got that from me. Stop trying to turn my life's hard work into lazy, flabby cows!" Halsey snapped.
But Cortana's eyes weren't paying attention. Though she stood squared against her creator, Cortana was still eyeballing the fatties as they waddled down the hall.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
I will make it up to you
@secretmongereaglegiant asked: Hey, I love reading all your Tom Holland imagines! Could you do one of the boys and Tom’s girlfriend y/n are stuck in quarantine but y/n and Harrison haven’t been getting along and it worries Tom.
Pairing: Tom x female reader
Warnings: angst, a sprinkling of bad words, fluff at the end.
Word count: 4.3k
A/N: My first request! Thank you so much for requesting this! I elaborated on it slightly, but I hope that you enjoy it and that I did it justice. As always, requests are open! And let me know if you want to be added to the tag list 💛
(the gif is not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)
Although being quarantined wasn’t the best, it did have its perks. You were spending more time with Tom than you had in a long time, and it was nice to be able to catch up on movies and TV shows that you didn’t have time to watch earlier. You were also becoming closer with the boys, and they were becoming more like your little brothers than they were friends.
Except for one.
Even from the beginning, you and Harrison butted heads. You were cut from the same cloth, and it only became more amplified when you were stuck in the same home. It could also be attributed to the fact that it’s already been two months of quarantine, and everyone was starting to become stir crazy.
The squabbles started off small, but as time went on, they became worse.
“I can’t stand you, do you know that?” You scoffed as Harrison stood in the kitchen.
“Back at you princess, I can’t believe we’re stuck in the same home, it’s unbearable.”
“Well it wouldn’t be so unbearable if you actually washed the dishes or took out the trash, or I don’t know, stopped blasting music at 2am when everyone is trying to sleep!”
“I didn’t realise me playing music interrupted your 23 hour beauty sleep. You should shoot for 24 hours instead.” He smirked, and you felt as though you could strangle him.
You stood there for a moment, bringing your hands up in the air, before letting out a sigh.
“Okay I’m going to be the better person here and walk away. You can have the last word.” You made your way out of the kitchen calmly, and were met with Tom standing in the hallway.
“Whoa baby what happened? Why were you two fighting?” He asked as he pulled you into an embrace.
“He just doesn’t do anything useful, you know? I have no idea how you’ve been friends with him for this long.” You spoke against his chest, and he rubbed your back. He paused for a minute and didn’t say anything.
Seeing you two argue broke Tom’s heart, and he realised in that moment that this could be a bigger problem than he originally thought.
“He’s not so bad, darling. You could try to play nice with him for a change.” You scoffed, and Tom just laughed.
“Well he started it!” You whined like a child, and Tom just pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, wanna go for a walk with me and Tessa?” He asked and you nodded, grabbing your coat.
—
The next week wasn’t much better. Another argument started when Tom suggested that everyone should watch ‘Knifes Out’ together.
“I don’t want to watch a film with her.” Harrison emphasized, “she talks way too much and gets excited and then you have to rewind it to hear what the actors said. It gets annoying after a while.” He huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Yeah well at least I’m not a stoic statue of a person who has no emotions whatsoever.” You retorted, and Tom only sighed.
You got up from Tom’s lap and stood up. “I don’t even want to watch the movie, I’m gonna go upstairs and take a bath instead.” You said as Harrison just smiled.
“Thank god, I can’t stand her sometimes.” He tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth as he pushed play on the film. Tom shot him a glance, and Harrison just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not my fault you decided to date Y/N, or should I say, the devil in disguise.”
—
A few days later when Tom wanted to exercise with Harrison, you became really clingy with him and insisted that he cuddled with you instead.
“But baby I have to work out, you don’t want me getting all soft and flabby do you?” Tom asked as you placed kisses all along his jaw.
“But I want to cuddle.” You whined as you kissed Tom down his neck. He moaned as he pulled you closer into his lap so that your chest was flush against his. You knew exactly what you were doing, but you just wanted him all to yourself. Also, you were doing it out of spite for Harrison.
“Fine darling you win, I’ll cuddle with you.” You let out a small squeal as you placed a kiss on his lips, before nuzzling your face into his neck.
A few minutes later Harrison knocked on yours and Tom’s bedroom door to see what was taking him so long. He opened the door to see you and Tom cuddling, and he gave Harrison a sympathetic glance.
“Sorry mate, Y/N wants to cuddle right now but I promise I’ll workout with you tomorrow. Isn’t that right angel, you’ll let me workout tomorrow?” He cooed as you nodded your head. Just then, you looked up grinning at Harrison, shooting him a look as if to say “I won.”
Harrison huffed as he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
—
Tom felt really torn when hanging out with the both of you. You were his girlfriend and Harrison was his best friend, but you two didn’t get along well at all. It pained him to see that you two couldn’t stand each other for more than five minutes. And he felt guilty when he would spend more time with you than Harrison, and vice versa. It never seemed that he could please you both, but he was determined to make it work.
He was worried that the worst was yet to come, but he didn’t anticipate how quickly it would come.
—
As promised, Tom went to workout with Harrison the next day, but you weren’t keen on the idea of not spending time with Tom.
“C’mon Haz, am I not allowed to watch my strong boyfriend work out?” You cooed as you squeezed Tom’s bicep.
“You can, maybe you can even help with my workout, darling.” Tom said as you clapped. Harrison was glaring at you, and you shot him an innocent look back.
“You don’t even need her help! What is she gonna do, help you lift weights or something?” He threw his hands up, already exasperated.
“I don’t know, she can be here for support, isn’t that right angel?” Tom asked as you kissed his shoulder.
“Exactly.” You grinned as Harrison snarled at you.
You were always lurking around, practically hanging off of Tom, and it infuriated Harrison. He just wanted to spend some time with his mate but you were always vying for Tom’s attention as well.
And one day, Harrison set you off completely, and it was almost irreconcilable.
—
“You fucking idiot! I wish I could just go back home and not look at your god awful face every morning!” You chucked his phone at his face, and he barely dodged it. It smacked against the wall, leaving a dent, but his phone was in perfect condition.
Harrison picked up his phone and inspected it before stuffing it in his pocket. “Good thing I have an Samsung, there’s not one crack in it.” He smirked and let out a small laugh. “Unlike your iPhone that fell off the table and shattered into a million pieces.”
“My phone didn’t ‘fall off the table’-” you gestured, making air quotes with your hands, “it was shoved off the table by a certain someone who thought it would be funny to see how durable my case was. It fell outside on the concrete, of course it would fucking break!” You let out a laugh as you became more furious.
“Well then, you should’ve had a better case.” Harrison smirked. He was having far too much fun annoying you, and he began to laugh when he saw how visibly angry you were becoming.
“I swear I could murder you right now.” You sneered, and Harrison only laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re just a conceited asshole, who’s so vain that you have to have constant validation from literal strangers on the internet to make yourself feel better?” You took a deep breath, pausing before you continued. “But the truth is, if the fans actually knew you like I do, they would be repulsed by how unbearable you truly are.” You crossed your arms as Harrison’s smirk dropped and was replaced with a clenched jaw.
You two stood there in silence, and you were starting to become slightly afraid of the man standing in front of you. Sure he was only a bit taller than you, but the look in his eyes screamed ‘revenge’.
“You know what, Y/N? I literally have had enough of your shit as well. Tom thinks that you are a literal angel, but the truth is that you are the most high maintenance, manipulative and complainy bitch in the world. Trust me, I can see why fans are constantly sending you hate and saying that you don’t deserve Tom, because it’s true. You’re just vile.” He emphasized the last word, and he froze as he saw Tom standing there, jaw clenched.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” You looked over and saw Tom holding in tears. “Listen, I love you both equally. Harrison, you’re like my brother, and Y/N, I’m madly in love with you. But right now I can’t stand either one of you. The two people I love more than anything in the world can’t get along, and god it breaks my heart.” He sniffled as he wiped away a tear. You took a step towards him but he took a step back.
“I’m pissed off, and I don’t want to do something, or say something that I know I’ll regret. So until you two can get along, I want the both of you to leave me alone. Y/N you can sleep on the couch tonight.” He said coldly as he took another step back.
“Tom.” You pleaded, but he held a finger up.
“I am this close-” he held up two fingers and pinched them together, “to breaking up with you. Don’t say one more word. And you-” he pointed to Harrison, “are getting on my nerves so much that I’m tempted to pack your things and kick you out. I don’t care that there’s a plague going on, I am so furious that I would kick you out in a heartbeat. Why the fuck can’t you two get along?” He stormed out of the room and went into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.
You and Harrison stood there in silence, shocked at what just happened. After a minute, Harrison spoke.
“Shit, we’ve really fucked up now. He never gets this mad at people, and when he does, that means he’s at the end of his rope.” Harrison muttered as you began to cry. “Even if we can’t stand each other, we have a mutual love for Tom. And right now, he’s ready to get rid of the both of us if we continue to argue.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Half the time, our arguing is pointless anyway. How did this even start?” You wiped a tear away from your cheek and Harrison just shrugged.
“Honestly, I have no clue. I think it may be because we’re kinda similar in a lot of ways.”
“Maybe, we’re both slightly passive aggressive.”
“And we’re both competitive.” Harrison replied
“And we’re always vying for Tom’s attention. Does that make us jealous?” You asked, and Harrison nodded.
“I’ve always been jealous, it’s a bad habit of mine.”
“Me too.” You replied as you took a seat at the kitchen island. Harrison pulled a beer out of the fridge. He proceeded to open it and leaned against the counter, taking a long drink.
“You know, maybe we could put our differences aside for Tom. We’re both very important people in his life, and why would we toss all that aside just because we’re arguing? You asked as you massaged your temples. “Can you grab a beer for me please?”
“Since when do you drink? You’re always nagging us to stop drinking because it’s bad for our health.” Harrison replied.
“Yeah well I think the situation calls for it, now gimme.” You made grabby hands as he walked over and handed you the drink. You took a sip and grimaced. “God this stuff is terrible! How can you even drink this?” You scrunched your nose up as you slid the drink over. “I need a chaser, asap.”
Harrison laughed as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Coca Cola for you. He popped the lid off and set it down in front of you.
“Thank you.” You took a sip and smacked your lips together. “Now this is better.” You both laughed, and for the first time in a while, you were actually enjoying his company.
“I have an idea.” You stated, which caused Harrison to look up at you. He raised his eyebrow as took another sip of his beer, finishing it before reaching for yours.
“Oh no, what is it?” He asked as you grinned.
“Why don’t we do something really nice for Tom so that he can see that we work together well, and so he’ll forgive us really quickly because I already miss him.”
“Okay, let’s show Tom that we can be friendly so that he won’t kick us out of here!” Harrison walked over and you two high fived.
“So what’s the plan?” You asked as you took another sip of your soda. Harrison pulled up the chair next to you and sat down, contemplating on what to do next.
“I don’t know, maybe we can make him a cake that says ‘sorry for being ass-hats’.” He laughed as you sat there thinking about it.
“Let’s do it.” You clapped your hands together and stood up from the chair.
“You can’t be serious, really?” Harrison asked as you began to rummage around the cupboard for baking ingredients.
“Why not? What have we got to lose? And besides, it would show that we can put our disdain aside and collaborate on something. Can you grab the sugar for me please? I’m too short to reach it.”
Harrison laughed as he walked over and grabbed the bag of sugar for you. “Okay if I remember correctly, Tom loves chocolate cake. Or was it red velvet cake that he likes? Hm I’m not sure, anyway let’s make him whatever kind of cake that we can, with the ingredients we have lying around.” You nodded as you grabbed the well loved cookbook from the counter and flipped through it.
“What do we have in the cupboards? Can you please check love?” You asked Harrison as he let out a small laugh.
“Oh now we’re calling each other pet names? Look at us being amicable, princess.” He added as you let out a laugh.
After a few minutes of searching, you realised you had nothing good to throw into a cake.
“Well, so much for that.” Harrison tossed his apron on the counter, but you had an idea.
“We have an egg, graham crackers and some chocolate, right?” You asked and Harrison nodded.
“Good, I can make a French Silk pie real quick. it’s almost so good that it might make Tom forget how much he’s mad at us.”
And the pie was almost that good. Harrison even surprised the household by preparing dinner. He had made tortellini and garlic bread for everyone, and you had helped with dessert.
“Wow, what happened? And why are you two not killing each other?” Sam asked as he hesitantly took a seat at the table. Harry soon followed as he let out a gasp. “You didn’t kill Tom, did you? Is that why we haven’t seen him all day?” He asked as you and Harrison both shook your head no.
“Well, you see, Tom is mad at the both of us because we can’t get along.”
“He’s ready to break up with Y/N and kick me out of the house.” Harrison added.
“That is true, he did say that. But we’re hoping that he’ll forgive us, and see that Harrison and I are now friends.” He looked at you and nodded, and Sam and Harry just sat there in silence.
“Right, well good luck with that. I don’t think he can be won over that easy.” Sam added as Harry nodded.
Tuwaine came in and took a seat at the table as well. “Oh yeah I heard your argument, it was rough.” He said as he took a bite of the garlic bread. “Damn that’s good.” He said as he took another bite.
Tom came down from his room and stormed past you both so he could grab a glass of water. His face was puffy, and his eyes were swollen and red. You could tell that he had been crying, and it broke your heart that you couldn’t console him. You were the reason he was crying.
“Hey, um Harrison and I cooked for you. We made tortellini, garlic bread, and pie for dessert.” You spoke quietly, as if not to anger him anymore.
“That’s true, we make a good team.” Harrison added as he put his arm around you. Tom stood there expressionless, and just nodded.
“Cool, thanks.” He grabbed a plate and dished himself up. He stormed past you again, making his way back into his room and locking the door. Harry, Sam and Tuwaine all looked at you, pausing, before continuing to eat their dinner.
“Sam, I think you may be right. He’s gonna he mad at us for a long time.”
—
Later that night, after you and Harrison washed the dishes, you tried to get into Tom’s room. You remembered that he said you could sleep on the couch tonight, but you didn’t really think he meant it.
“Tommy, it’s late. Can you open the door so I can go to bed?” You asked through the door, and you heard some shuffling inside the room. Tom cracked the door open and threw some clothes at you, and swiftly closed and locked the door. “I meant it when I said you would be sleeping on the couch tonight.” He replied coldly.
You began to cry as you realised the extent of the situation, and how he was showing no sign of changing his mind. You picked up the clothes and made your way into the living room. It was nearly midnight and everyone else was in their rooms, so you got changed in the living room and crawled onto the couch. You sobbed loudly, letting out little hiccups as you cried some more. A few minutes later Harrison came out of his bedroom, pillow and blanket in hand.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up with my crying.” You sobbed as you rubbed your eyes.
“You didn’t, I mean I could hear you, but that’s not why I came in here. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for Tom to be so mad at you, and I didn’t think he was really willing to break up with you over our feud.” He handed you the blanket and pillow, and you set them on the couch. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I think I was just mad that you were always wanting to spend time with him. You do make him really happy though, when you’re not around he constantly gushes about you.” He looked down and you motioned for him to sit next to you on the couch.
“I’m sorry too, I also didn’t mean anything I said earlier. I think I was just jealous of you spending time with him; it felt like you were taking him away from me. And it’s been hard since I can’t go back home, you know. It’s hard not being around family, and I forget that Tom and the boys are your family. I guess I haven’t really handled this whole situation well, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” You sniffed. Harrison handed you the tissue box and you smiled.
“I’m sorry Y/N for being a jerk.”
“And I’m sorry for being a bitch.” You added.
“You’re not, you’re really good for him.”
“You too.”
You scooted closer to Harrison and put your head on his shoulder. He stroked your hair and placed a kiss on the top of your head.
“Friends?” He asked as he extended his hand out.
“Friends.” You said as you shook his hand, signifying that your feud was over.
“Would you want to watch a movie?” Harrison asked as you moved your head so that you could look at him.
“I thought you hated watching movies with me. I talk too much and get too excited.” You said as he frowned.
“I didn’t mean that either, you’re just really passionate about things and I envy that about you.” He added and you grabbed his hand. You gave it a little squeeze before letting go.
“And I envy that you’re not dramatic.” You let out a laugh, and Harrison joined in. He positioned himself so that he was laying on the couch, and his head was on your lap. You were stroking his head and playing with his hair.
“How about you pick the movie, princess.” He whispered as you grabbed the remote.
“Is Tangled okay, love?” You whispered back and he only nodded.
“Of course.”
A few minutes into the film, you both were starting to get sleepy. You crawled next to him so that you were both laying on the couch next to each other. He put his arm around your waist, and you covered both you and him with the blanket. Before you knew it, you were both sound asleep.
Tom woke up at 3am, and nearly had a panic attack when he realised you weren’t sleeping next to him.
Oh that’s right, I’m mad at my girlfriend and best friend. He thought to himself. His head was pounding from all the crying, and he knew that he was dehydrated. Slowly, he got up, holding a hand to his forehead as he went to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
He walked past the living room, but stopped in his tracks when he saw you and Harrison curled up next to each other on the couch. You two looked peaceful, and Harrison’s lips were curled into a little smile.
He let out a small smile, and a tear escaped his eye. This was the first time that you two had gotten along, and the sight of it made him cry. He tried to contain his crying but he couldn’t, the tears were steaming down his face. He let out a small sob, and he tried his best to not wake you.
You had woken up to see Tom standing there, sobbing. You looked over at Harrison, who was also stirring.
“Oh shit.” You said under your breath. Harrison immediately untangled himself from you as you both sat up. You were expecting Tom to be mad and accuse you of cheating, but instead he only shook his head.
“So, you two really do get along now.” He said as he wiped a tear away. You handed him a tissue and he took it, blowing his nose before tossing it in the garbage.
“Yeah, Y/N and I are friends now. We pushed our differences aside and realised that the other person isn’t so bad.” You both looked at each other and smiled, and looked back at Tom.
“Tommy I’m sorry for being terrible and for not getting along with Harrison.”
“I’m sorry for not getting along with Y/N, she’s lovely and I’m happy she’s your girlfriend.”
“I’m happy he’s your best friend.” You added as Harrison kissed you on the top of the head.
“And I’m sorry for threatening to break up with you, and also saying that I would kick you out. I didn’t mean it at all, and I’m sorry.” Tom let out a hiccup as he wiped a tear away. “Do you forgive me?” He whispered as you all nodded. Tom held out his arms as you and Harrison both went to give him a hug. After a minute and some more crying, you all pulled away. Tom then grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into a long kiss.
“I love you Y/N, so much. I can’t spend any more time without you.” He sobbed as you put your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his.
“Will you sleep with me, please? I miss you.” He whispered and you replied “Of course.” He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his torso.
“Harrison, I love you mate.” Tom said, still carrying you as you placed kisses along his jaw.
“I love you too mate, now go get some sleep.” He replied as Tom led you into his bedroom.
—
After this, you and Harrison were nearly inseparable.
“Okay so I was thinking, you could join me on my jog today and then you could teach me some yoga.” Harrison stated as you were all having breakfast. You took a sip of your coffee and nodded. You two were sitting next to each other, with your shoulders touching.
“And after that, we can watch Fleabag together.” You added as he nodded excitedly.
“Oh! We can’t forget about working on that puzzle.”
“And you still have to buy me a new phone, you did shatter mine.” You added as you both laughed.
“With a better case, of course.” He said as you lightly elbowed him in the side.
“Oh, definitely.” You laughed, as Harrison looked over at you and grinned.
Tom sat across from you both as you made plans for the whole day, and a smile crept onto his face.
“Can I join in?” He asked as you and Harrison both glanced at him.
“Hmm, nope, sorry mate. She’s all mine now.” Harrison said, leaning his head on your shoulder as Tom pouted.
“Something tells me I’m going to be the third wheel from now on.” Tom remarked as everyone at the table broke out in laughter.
——
Mes petits anges (taglist): @starkissedholland @scarletxwidow @fangirlwithasweettooth
#soft boyfriend Tom#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland blurb#tom holland imagine#tom holland imagines#tom holland#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fanfics#tom holland x female reader#tom holland and you#tom holland and y/n#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland writing#mine#text#tom holland headcanon#tom holland one shot
751 notes
·
View notes
Text
On The Inside
Prompt- reader and Bucky are in a relationship for a long while now. She gained some weight during the time and is afraid that he might not find her attractive anymore. But he does and doesn't mind showing her.
Warnings: Self esteem issues, Language, Bucky worshipping your body, implied smut, semi smut.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Words: 636
A/N: this is written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club thank you for allowing me to write for you!! ♥️
Bucky's long and slender fingers skimmed across your warm skin. Your back was flushed against his chest as the two of you watched a movie in your bedroom.
"You're so gorgeous." He whispered against the shell of your ear, praising you like you were his goddess. "My gorgeous baby."
For the first time in your whole five year relationship, his words made you cringe. You were thin and toned at the beginning of your relationship, but now as years passed you've gained weight. Your toned stomach was now a bit flabby as it spilled over the waistband of your skinny jeans. How could he think you're gorgeous?
You shifted slightly out of his embrace and Bucky's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What's wrong?" He asked, concern laced in his voice. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, no. I was just getting comfy." You lied, but didn't want to use the ever annoying phrase 'it's not you, it's me.'
Bucky furrowed his eyebrows even deeper. "You're lying." He stated. "Tell me what's wrong."
With a deep sigh, you sat up facing towards him and tucked your legs underneath you. "I just..." You cringed at what you were about to say and rubbed your face. "I don't feel gorgeous anymore. I've gained weight and feel like a blob next to you and I don't know." You looked down to your lap in shame and fiddled with your tassels on your pajama shorts.
Bucky was silent for a few minutes, taking in everything you said and wondering where this negativity was coming from exactly because he swore he would kick someone's ass if they said anything to you about your weight.
"Doll, look at me." He whispered and your eyes looked up expecting to see nothing but disgust in his baby blue ones. "Now you listen to me, I couldn't care less about your weight. Your personality is the winner for me. You're kind, sweet, funny, sarcastic. You make me laugh so hard that I cry. I love coming to bed with you, I love waking up to you. Our sex life is fuckin' amazing." You smiled with pride at his words. Each word engraved on your heart as you knew he spoke nothing but the truth.
Bucky sat up on his calves and he motioned for you to lay down and you did. Shimmering down the bed so your head could rest on your pillow and you smiled up at Bucky.
He hovered over you returning the smile. His fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top and lifting it up over your head and discarding it.
You were bare for him and he sucked your nipple in between his soft plump lips. Twirling his hot wet tongue around the little bud. "Gorgeous." He stated kissing your breast and going to the other one, giving it the same attention.
He released your nipple with a 'pop' and trailed open mouthed kisses down between the valley of your breasts and down your tummy.
"So sexy baby." He whispered against your skin and you whimpered when his thumbs hooked your shorts, his breath hitched when he saw you weren't wearing any panties and pulled them down your legs.
His lips trailed kisses up on the inside of your thighs. His stubble scratching your skin, causing a delicious burn.
"Bucky!" You whimpered, looking down to watch him. His lips moving closer to the spot you needed his most. He blew some cold air on your glistening pussy. He looked up, his eyes a different shade of blue as he was practically drooling over you. "My best girl." He praised you once again as his head dipped down, his tongue going to town and your head thrown back as he took your breath away. Showing you he loves you the way you are.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#james buchanan barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky fluff#bucky angst#the hbc#hbc drunk drabbles#hbc drabbles#self esteem#body issues#bucky barnes angst#fluff
344 notes
·
View notes
Text
Untitled / Against all odds - Part 2.2
Here’s the next part of my little story. Still untitled found a name!
I have given the MC a name now because it feels so impersonal to only write “she” all the time. So meet Anna, but feel free to insert any other name if you want to.
Against all odds - Part 2.2
Part 2.1
Part 1
Henry Cavill x mc / reader
Summary: it’s a mess
Warnings: none
Unbeta'ed
*****
After throwing his heart at her feet out of the blue Henrys knees felt so wobbly he had to lean against the wall in his living room. “Breath, Cavill. Calm down. Calm. Down.” Catching his breath again he sat down on his couch, where Kal joined him, falling asleep immediately. He had no idea what had come over him to tell her what he just had. It was all true of course. Every damn word had come from the bottom of his heart. He had thought about confessing his feelings for her multiple times. And the way he had done it 10 minutes ago had never been one of the possible scenarios. According to his plans it would have been a little more subtle. Much more romantic. On a date maybe, if he had ever found the courage to ask her out. Candlelight, nice music, a decent dinner, hands touching, laughing, flirting, deep looks in each other’s eyes. A few tender words. A confession. A kiss. Hot passionate sex optional.
But no…he had to hammer it home to her.
Hey…listen, babe…I never asked you out or anything, ‘cause I’m scared as fuck ‘bout my feelings for you…but hey…now that I still don’t know if I’m possibly your type…let me get this straight…I literally love everything about you…let me serve you my heart on a silver plate…
FUCK. He banged the back of his head on the wall behind him a few times. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. He was screwed.
Usually he was good at these things. Flirting. Dating. Sex. Relationships. No problem. He knew the ladies love him and he wasn’t shy. So if he liked a woman he normally pulled out all the stops and started flirting. If she flirted back he would ask her out and the rest ran by itself.
But Anna was different. She had been resistant to his charms all along. Wether she didn’t even realize that he was flirting with her or if she just didn’t care. The result was always the same. He flirted, she laughed it off. End of story.
And that did something to him. It made him insecure. Was he her type at all? What kind of men did she like. He didn’t know much about her ex Lestat. They had been together for 14 years. He was a solicitor or a notary. Or both. He didn’t quite get it when Anna mentioned it once. Whatever. So he was smart. And sophisticated. He knew that much from the few times Anna had talked about him. The kind of guy who takes his girlfriend to the opera. Theater. Ballet. Art exhibitions. Readings.
Henry was quite sure that Anna was attracted by brain much more than by muscles. Maybe she didn’t like his beefy body. It wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea.
Not that he was stupid or uncultivated. He got his education at a private boarding school. He was one of the drama class geeks. He had an exceedingly good general knowledge. But compared to the other men in Annas life he sometimes felt inferior and that nagged on him.
There was this guy for example she always mentioned. Milton Arnold. Viscount Brankhurst. Their mother’s had been best friends and their families were still very close. And Milton seemed to be a Saint. Milton held a ball for charity. Milton tried to run his castle climate-neutral. Milton only did organic farming on his estate. He wouldn’t be surprised if Milton even managed to feed the world and stop all wars. And to make things even worse Saint Milton was single and quite attractive. He knew because he had googled him. Successful entrepreneur/gentleman farmer/climate activist with his pockets full of money and a heart of gold. One of the most eligible bachelors in England or maybe in the whole UK. Milton Arnold made him want to puke.
But there was no use in self-pitty. The damage was done. His only hope was that she returned his feelings. That his words would encourage her to make a move too. Now it was her turn. She had to react somehow after all. It would take him less than 24 hours to find out he was completely wrong.
*****
Around the same time when Henry was trying to think straight again by hammering his head on a wall, Anna was sitting at the desk in her office, that was actually the castle’s beautiful library, completely at a loss of what to think about Henrys words.
She should have been working on some statistics but she simply wasn’t able to. She couldn’t help but think about what had just happened. Henry’s words echoed in her mind, making no sense to her. Without any doubt he had described her. As his type. His words came close to a declaration of love. But that was insane. It couldn’t be true, could it?
Had he flirted with her before? Of course. But he did that with every woman. So she had always laughed it off. He was a true ladie’s man, a charmer. Even Mrs Brown, Braxton Castle’s aloof housekeeper, couldn’t resist him. This tough woman in her late fifties, notorious for her discipline and strictness, blushed like a schoolgirl when he complimented her. And he did that often. Every time he came to the castle for a visit he took his time to have a little chat with her. And each and every time Mrs Brown started to bloom like a cherrytree in spring.
No, no, no. It must have been a joke. Maybe he had realized that she had this tiny little crush on him. And maybe this was his way of turning her down carefully? By means of exaggeration. By making it sound so funny and unlikely. When she thought about it… Her “darkblond curls” were always a mess because these unmanageable locks never did what she wanted them to do. Her “sensual lips”…she wondered where that came from. She had never liked her mouth. It was too small for her face and her lips were…well…ordinary lips. Not sensual at all. And then…“perfect curves”. She couldn’t see it this way. When she looked into the mirror she saw a big ass and flabby thighs with cellulite. Her breasts were all right but at 36 not as firm as they used to be. How should it be possible that a man like Henry, literally a superman, shredded and fit to the core, could like her body.
Heavens, she was so confused. And then she decided to do something she had never done before because it had always felt wrong and unfair. It still did. But she couldn’t resist any longer. She opened Google on her notebook and typed “Henry Cavill ex girlfriends”. The result of her search was devastating. There were many exes. And every single one of them was attractive and talented. Long sleek hair, small, slim, well-trained bodies, beautiful faces. A stuntwoman, a professional showjumper, a student, an actress and so on and so forth. None of them older than 30. All flawless and radiant at public events and on red carpets. Nothing she could ever compete with.
With a sigh she closed her notebook. The decision was made. She would erase this morning’s event from her memory. Act like nothing had ever happened. She would bury her feelings for Henry deep down inside and most of all she would accept that he was out of her league. She was luckey enough to call Henry a good friend. What more could she even ask for?
******
Thanks for reading. I would love to hear your opinion.
@hell1129-blog
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Change of Pace - Epilogue (Late Summer 2019)
cowritten by @achinglyshawn
summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love
warnings: language
wc: 3.5k
----------
Shawn doesn’t settle at the piano until the crowd at Emilia’s has grown. The loud chatter echoing in the small restaurant quiets when he turns down the music tinkling through the soundsystem. Heads turn towards the sleek black piano in the corner of the restaurant as he places his well-practiced fingers on the ivory keys.
He speaks into the microphone as he begins to play his favorite melody.
“This is a song about finding love again when you least expect it,” he coos softly, so as not to interrupt anyone who doesn’t care for the live music.
(He’s not sure why you’d come to Emilia’s on a Thursday night if you don’t like live music, but to each their own.)
“Maybe I had too many drinks, but that's just what I needed. I hope that you don't think that what I'm saying sounds conceited…”
Chatter in the restaurant kicks up again, but those closest to him seem willing to forgo conversation for a free concert. It’s quiet in this little corner of Emilia’s, save for the plinking of the piano and the delicate croon of his falsetto.
“When I look across the room, and you're staring right back at me, like somebody told a joke and we're the only ones laughing...”
Maya’s at her new favorite table watching her old favorite guy do his favorite thing. Back in the day, she and Shawn used to cozy up in a booth in the far corner. They could be gross and kiss there without anyone looking at them funny. They were kids.
Shawn plays regularly at Emilia’s now and Maya loves to watch, especially on days like today. Maya’s been in the studio she shares with Shawn since just after her sunrise surf. She’s had one of her first commissions since starting to paint semi-professionally in Avila and spent her whole day focusing on the piece — it’s a landscape, oil on canvas, based on a crumpled old Polaroid the client got from his grandparents of the boardwalk when they lived in Avila years before. It’s nice. Maya’s proud to do it.
She and Shawn expanded his studio when the space next to his came available. Now it’s their studio. Mostly, she adds her artistry to his instruments, adding little painted elements or even much larger ones, like in the case of that first piano Shawn built. She ended up adding a whole gorgeous Avila sunset mural on top. It sold for a lot (!) more than expected. Her business acumen has also helped them in their new ventures together.
Tonight is a welcome break from it, though. They’ve both been working themselves so hard to finish pieces commissioned by some of Margaret’s San Francisco finance friends. But tonight, back at Emilia’s like nothing ever changed and at the same time like they’re brand new, Shawn plays her song.
Not her only song, obviously. He’s written her many over the years. This is the new one, the one he started a decade ago, tripped over through that first hazy summer and finished around the time they decided to move in to Maya’s cottage together. She’s heard it before, whispered into her hair, plucked quietly against the backdrop of sea and sand on their daybed outside. Never like this, in front of a crowd of strangers who mostly all know their story.
Maya watches him smile as he sings the words like he always does, like he has a secret, like he got the girl in the end after all the trouble. It makes her smile too.
Shawn takes a breath, suddenly aware of Maya’s eyes on him from across the room, though he hasn’t looked up since he began playing.
“Don't know why I tried, ‘cause ain't nobody like you, familiar disappointment every single time I do…”
She must’ve tucked into their new favorite table right as he started playing, or else she would’ve pressed a good luck kiss to his temple like she always does before he performs. She insists he doesn’t actually need luck, but they both like the tradition, anyway.
“Every single night my arms are not around you, my mind's still wrapped around you.
Baby, tell me when you're ready, I'm waitin'. Baby, anytime you're ready, I'm waitin'...”
He knows where she is without searching, so when he tilts his head and finally opens his eyes, she’s there, staring him down like he’s something magical she’s never seen before. His face heats, because even after all these years, being the sole focus of Maya’s attention makes his heart race.
He catches her gaze with his and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a tender smile. Memories of the night before race through his mind and send a shiver down his spine; memories of staying up far too late to make love over and over until sleep pulled Maya under, with Shawn easily following.
His breath hitches, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he continues to sing the words he’s already pressed into the curve of her neck while tangled together between their sheets.
“Even ten years from now if you haven't found somebody I promise, I'll be around. Tell me when you're ready, I'm waitin'...”
Maya’s lips switch around a shy smile. She knows, somehow, when he’s looking at her like that, that he’s thinking about last night.
Last night is just the latest in a long thread that they’ve had since reestablishing their relationship. They’re hot and frantic or lazy and sensual and completely perfect. They’re the kind of nights when sleep holds no appeal at all, that touching each other is the only kind of satisfaction they need.
A curl flops over Shawn’s eyes as he plays and sings right at her. She grins for real because she can’t help it and props her chin up in her hand as she watches.
A pair of warm, flabby arms wrap gently around her shoulders and she feels the weight of a chin on her head.
“You know,” Emilia’s gritty voice says softly near Maya’s ear, “I think the two of you are my favorite thing that’s ever happened in this little beach town.”
Maya rubs Emilia’s arm and nods. “I think I agree.”
Emilia winks at him from her perch above Maya’s head. Shawn flushes, still unable to control the rush of blood to his cheeks each time Emilia looks at him with that mysterious twinkle in her eye. He watches the women murmur to one another, and his heart beats a little faster, just enough to feel against his ribcage.
But before the galvanized rhythm can overwhelm him, Shawn closes his eyes and continues to sing. His voice is soft, as though he’s decided to sing the rest of the song to himself. Sometimes it’s the quiet moments with his music that have the most powerful impact on an audience, and more importantly, on the woman he’s in love with.
“And if I have to, I'll wait forever, say the word and I'll change my plans.
Yeah, you know that we fit together, I know your heart like the back of my hand…”
Shawn’s energy shifts. He gets quieter, like he forgets he’s not in the studio playing quietly for her or in their house, sitting at the baby grand piano he built for them as a housewarming gift when he moved in.
But there’s just so long he can go without looking at her. His gaze is drawn to her, as if pulled by a magnetic field so strong he couldn’t fight it if he wanted. His fingers climb along the piano keys while he watches Emilia press her cheek into the top of Maya’s head. It’s his turn to wink, but he directs it at Maya.
“So baby, tell me when you're ready, I'm waitin'. Baby, anytime you're ready, I'm waitin'...”
She giggles at the way Emilia squeals teasingly in her ear. As Shawn’s voice fades out and the song ends, the restaurant claps politely. Maya mimes whistling at him and continues clapping.
Emilia releases her from her loving near stranglehold. Maya tilts her head up at the woman’s face, grinning ear to ear and covered in sunspots.
“Can I have a coffee milkshake with caramel and whipped cream please?”
Emilia tosses her head back and laughs, a big, strong belly laugh that doesn’t match the finer aesthetic she’s created for her still quirky restaurant since the renovation. They don’t even have milkshakes on the menu anymore -- too lowbrow. But Emilia kept the machine. Maya and Shawn are glad she did.
Shawn manages to catch Maya’s request when he’s heading to their table. He grins up at Emilia, slings his arm over Maya’s shoulders and slides into the seat beside her.
“I’ll take a chocolate shake, Em, if it’s not too much trouble.” The smile that splits his lips is as sugary as the treats they’ve ordered. Emilia calls it his ‘popstar smile’ when she’s trying to give him shit, but he thinks she likes it more than she lets on.
The woman shakes her head, but smiles as she wipes her hands on the front of her black apron. “You’re always too much trouble, kid.”
Emilia gives Maya one last look, something Shawn can’t quite read, then scurries back to the kitchen, repinning her curls to the top of her head as she goes.
“So,” he murmurs, angling himself towards Maya, “What were you two talking about? I can only assume it was me.” His nose nudges her temple, lips brushing over the apple of her cheek.
With his heavy arm around her shoulders, Maya curls comfortably into Shawn, resting her hand on his stomach as he peppers her cheek with kisses. She can feel the way he smiles through it, just happy to be close to her. She knows the feeling.
Maya crosses her legs, resting her foot against his calf. She shrugs. “You always think everything is about you. You’re not the sun.”
She’s teasing. He knows she was talking about him anyway. She moves some floppy curls out of his eyes.
“She just loves us, that’s all.”
“Everyone seems to love us these days, don’t they?” he asks with a smile.
Maya and Shawn are a bit of local lore. The town is small and it talks. Everyone knows about the guy who owned the workshop whose long lost love came back to where they spent a few weeks in love one summer, and how the beach brought them back together. They’re not too nosy, but Maya and Shawn are noticed, and not just by Emilia.
She brings them their milkshakes, making a silly show of pretending to hide them so the other customers won’t wonder where they came from.
Shawn nearly moans. The milkshakes are beautifully decorated, with a smooth caramel drizzle topping Maya’s whipped cream, and a deep brown ribbon of chocolate swirled around his own.
“Em,” he says with a laugh, “If you wanted to be inconspicuous with these, you shouldn’t’ve made them so pretty.” Shawn grabs his spoon and digs into the homemade whip Em always keeps around just in case he and Maya stop by.
“Maybe,” hums Emilia, “But y’all deserve a nice treat every now and then.” With that, she drops a kiss to the top of Maya’s head and shuffles off to the busy kitchen.
“She’s spoiling you rotten, Lemon,” Shawn garbles around a spoonful of milkshake. As he swallows, his mouth stretches into a wide, close-lipped smile, his cheeks ruddy, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I don’t think I can blame her.”
Maya rolls her eyes, swallowing her own enormous mouthful of espresso-y goodness. She winces at the slight brain freeze and shakes her head quickly before answering.
“Spoiling you, too. She gave you extra whip, I can tell,” Maya accuses playfully, jabbing her spoon at his overflowing glass.
She settles back into his arm and continues poking at her own shake. The restaurant is lively tonight, warm with conversation and good energy. Emilia’s is almost always like that. It’s why she and Shawn love it so much. She may even miss it while they’re gone.
“How much do you have packed?” Maya asks him carefully after swallowing, narrowing her eyes.
They leave for Greece tomorrow. Three weeks of beach hopping around the coast, exploring little towns, enjoying history, even taking some sailing lessons in the Mediterranean.
Maya herself has barely packed. But he doesn’t need to know that.
Shawn wipes a dribble of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. He tilts his head, swirls his spoon in his glass so the rest of his whipped cream mixes with the shake.
“Packed? For what?” he asks with a quirk of his brow. He keeps his gaze trained on his glass, the most promising method for maintaining his silly rouse.
A bag full of light summer linens packed specifically for Greece is stashed on his side of the walk-in, where it’s been for a few weeks now. Shawn’s been eager to get away with Maya since even before they bought the plane tickets. Packing his bag so early was a cathartic release for the frantic energy of his anticipation.
He certainly has more to pack, though. It’s hard, however, when every free moment he has tends to be occupied by efforts to make his girlfriend come as much as possible.
Maya rolls her eyes and swallows a mouthful of ice cream, elbowing him softly.
“For what, he asks. Like you’re not counting the seconds.”
They both are. They both have been. They don’t lead extraordinarily stressful lives, but they’ve been pushing hard lately. They took on their first commissioned project together, a harp with an intricate design described and ordered by a doting grandfather for his granddaughter. He sent to pick it up yesterday and called the studio to relay his effusive praise personally, letting them know it would not be his last purchase and he wanted to tell all his friends about them.
Now that that project is done, they’re ready for vacation. Maya herself still has some things to toss into a bag. She’s packing light, though. Staying in a series of villas around Greece with Shawn doesn’t call for much in the way of clothes. Some light, breezy dresses, plenty of bikinis, and not much else.
She can’t fucking wait.
She finishes the milkshake with a deeply contented sigh and presses her cool lips to the side of his neck.
“What are you most excited about?” she coos, the same question she’s asked over and over since they booked the trip -- a fun way to anticipate and daydream as they prepared for their first vacation together since they came to Avila as kids.
Shawn hums. He pushes his own empty glass away and curls his arm tighter around Maya’s shoulders, tipping his head so his cheek brushes the top of hers.
“I think--” the word is drawn out, as if he really has to consider what might possibly excite him during their trip, “I think I’m most excited about finding a little cafe where you’ll jump up on the table and start singing Dancing Queen to me. Or Mamma Mia. Whichever fits the cafe scene better.”
Shawn smiles into the kiss he presses to Maya’s head. The scent of her coconut milk shampoo floods his senses and he sighs, content to spend the rest of his life with his nose buried in her hair. As much as he’s looking forward to their trip, nothing beats being nestled together at their favorite table in their favorite restaurant, full of their favorite milkshakes.
Maya snorts. “Gonna have to feed me a lot of ouzo to get that to happen.”
She has no doubt there will be a lot of ouzo and a lot of cafes. But if Shawn wants Maya singing in public, he’s also going to have to smile real pretty. Which, as it turns out, he’s an expert at.
One of their regular waiters drops the check on their table. Maya lets Shawn put down his card because she’s footing most of their vacation bill, since it was her idea.
“What about you, Lemon?”
“I thiiiiink,” she teases him with a smile, running her fingers against the back of his neck, “Probably all the skinny dipping we’re gonna do in the Adriatic. Or Mediterranean, either or. I’m not picky.”
She nips his jaw and reaches for her purse to stand. They have more to pack, so it’s probably time to be heading back. Maya blows Emilia a kiss and catches the one she sends in return. She makes a mental note to find her a nice gift while they’re abroad.
“I don’t know about skinny dipping, Lu,” Shawn muses as he guides her out of the restaurant, aiming a friendly wave over his shoulder to Emilia as she bustles around the main dining room. “Those European seas get pretty chilly. And I’ve got precious cargo to protect.”
She almost chokes on a breath.
“Did you just refer to your cock and balls as precious cargo? Not that I’m disagreeing, but Jesus, Shawn,” she laughs, squeezing his hand playfully.
Shawn grins, the dimple in his chin popping out. “Bad joke? It was Geoff’s, first. Blame him.”
He swings their joined hands between them, making sure to keep his pace at a leisurely stroll while they head down the boardwalk. Sure, there’s some packing to do, but Shawn’s not in a rush. The sun hasn’t even set. The breeze is warm, salty, perfect. Maybe Maya will go for an evening surf before they have to get down to business.
The waves swell, roll in, crash, retreat.
Maya finds herself slowing her pace to match his. Sometimes she catches herself power walking around this sleepy beach town like it’s Manhattan at rush hour and she has to remind herself to slow down. There’s no need for that anymore, and Maya is so grateful that he’s here to help keep her from sprinting through life.
Maya admires the way his curls rumple in the shore breeze. He squints adorably through the golden hour sun. She thinks about painting him this way and wonders if she could ever hope to capture the colors accurately.
Shawn turns so he’s walking backwards ahead of Maya, their hands still clasped together. “You wanna go for a surf? You didn’t get out there this morning.”
She shrugs and plays with his fingers while they walk. “Maybe. Kind of just want to stay on land with you.”
He watches her bend and stretch his fingers as he continues his backwards trek. She studies his face, and he knows she’s got her artist eyes on from the contemplative intensity of her gaze. He stays focused on their linked fingers. A look like that from Maya is full of weight Shawn’s not sure he understands.
He comes close, though, when he writes music about her.
“Do we have to pack right away?” he asks eventually, swinging around to walk forward again when they near the house. “Let’s get stranded on the beach for a little. Watch the sunset. If no one’s around, I could make you come.”
Shawn’s itching with the need to savor this last night in Avila, because it feels as though tomorrow will change them. They’ll be a different couple on the other end of this trip. He’s eager for it, to really begin his life with her, but he’s not in any rush.
They have the time for another sunset.
Maya’s eyebrows lift. “Well, I certainly think I could make time for that in our very busy, very official pre-travel schedule.”
Maybe they’ll be up late throwing clothes into a bag, dazed and smiley after spending another several hours in bed like they’re prone to do. Maya doesn’t mind. It’s always worth it with him.
They live far enough off the boardwalk to avoid most foot traffic. The house is quiet but warm -- they left a few lights on when they left for dinner, giving it a cozy glow. Maya looks up at it with pride. It was the best thing she’s ever done for herself, buying this house. And now it belongs to them both. It feels right.
The sun is starting to dip below the horizon when they arrive out on the beach in front of the house. She stops and drapes his arms around her shoulders like he’s a blanket, facing them toward the sunset. She looks down at their feet, hers between his, and traces her toe around the inside of his foot.
“Love you,” she murmurs softly. Maya’s not afraid to say it. She saves it for the most special occasions, and for some beautiful, cosmic reason, this feels like one.
Her gentle words push his heart into his throat. His pulse is loud— drum drum drum— in his ears, and he hides his satisfied smirk in her neck.
She makes him feel painfully twenty-one again with such simple words.
But he’s not twenty-one anymore, and he’s pretty fucking glad for it. He was a huge idiot back then, even if he did fall in love with the right girl. He’s better at loving her now, with his newfound, middle-aged wisdom.
“I know,” he growls into her neck when he manages to find his voice. He bites at her throat, then kisses his way to her ear. “Now stop bragging about it, Lemon, and watch the sunset with me.”
-----------
Thank you for joining @achinglyshawn and I on such a special journey! We loved sharing this story with you and appreciate every message, like, or reblog. 💜 wishing you all safety and love.
@smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @siennarossi @lostinshawnsmemory @umbreakablesoul @sleepybesson @shawnsheaven @desire-to-live @jillian-nd @shawnwyr @curlsofshawn @graysonmendes @tnhmblive @meltingicequeen
#shawn mendes#shawn mendes fan fiction#shawn mendes fan fic#shawn mendes fiction#shawn mendes fluff#shawn mendes fanfic#shawn mendes fanfiction#shawn mendes au#shawn mendes angst#shawn mendes smut#shawn mendes series#shawn mendes rpf#shawn mendes blurb#Shawn Mendes Imagine#shawn mendes drabble#shawn mendes one shot
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
National Enquirer, September 28
You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks
Cover: Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s secret husband unmasked
Page 2: Royal renegades Prince Harry and wife Meghan Markle have turned their backs on the U.K. forever by paying back $3.1 million borrowed from British taxpayers to renovate Frogmore Cottage because Harry always felt the weight of the public loan and he’s paid it back in full as one of the last stages in divorcing himself from the royal family and the U.K. itself -- the California-based couple who recently bought a $15 million mansion in Montecito also claimed they will no longer take handout from Harry’s dad Prince Charles after signing a Netflix deal said to be worth as much as $150 million
Page 3: Slimmed-down Jessica Simpson has told chubby hubby Eric Johnson to shape up or ship out -- she’s been laser-focused on healthy dieting and exercise since giving birth to daughter Birdie Mae 18 months ago but her flabby ex-football star spouse has been piling on the pounds
Page 4: Angelina Jolie has shrunk to a skeletal 99 pounds after launching a hunger strike to force hated ex Brad Pitt to cave to her child custody demands but friends and medical experts fear the star may be killing herself in the process -- Angie’s surviving on handfuls of grains and nuts and avoiding full meals and she’s banking on Brad cratering when he sees her in such a sorry state and giving her anything she wants, sober and svelte Kelly Osbourne is on a mission to find a man
Page 5: Demi Moore is drooling over love rat Justin Hartley’s Instagram posts and she’s got it bad for the lothario -- she’s had it bad for him ever since they filmed a funny skit together on The Tonight Show last year -- Demi has not had a serious romance since her catastrophic breakup in 2013 with Ashton Kutcher but she’s coming out of her shell after swearing off dating and now she wants to have some fun and she’s zeroed in on Justin
Page 6: Katie Holmes has given up on Hollywood hunks and found romance with a Big Apple chef -- she was snapped getting hot and heavy with Emilio Vitolo Jr. and the single mom is hungry for love with a man more focused on her than stardom
Page 7: Sharon Osbourne chased Marie Osmond off The Talk -- Marie thought the show would be fun and just a bunch of girls gabbing about their lives and whatnot but she found out that was totally naive because Sharon disliked her from the start and Marie felt Sharon was jealous of her and thought she didn’t belong and there was a definite rift between them and an undercurrent of bitchiness that everyone noticed
Page 8: Big-ideas guy Chip Gaines is clashing with wife Joanna Gaines over money as he wants to expand their empire but she wants to slow things down, Hollywood Hookups -- Jay Cutler and Tomi Lahren dating, Kathie Lee Gifford’s son Cody Gifford wed Erika Brown, Lily Allen and David Harbour wed
Page 9: Scandal-scarred Kevin Spacey has been accused of trying to sexually assault two 14-year-old boys during the 1980s in an explosive new lawsuit filed in New York -- one accuser has not been named but the second accuser in the lawsuit is Star Trek: Discovery actor Anthony Rapp
Page 10: Hot Shots -- Brian Austin Green stocks up at a supermarket in L.A., Gerard Butler hopped about his motorcycle after having dinner in Malibu, Olivia Wilde at the beach in Malibu, Anne Heche stepped out in L.A.
Page 11: Martial-arts movie master Jackie Chan got his butt kicked by Chinese officials out into the streets of Beijing when they seized two side-by-side luxury apartments in Beijing where the Hong Kong-born karate king’s family lived and put them up for auction in an ownership dispute but Jackie is fighting back by filing a lawsuit to reclaim his property which he bought estimated to be worth $5 million at a massively discounted $2 million in 2007 after doing promotional work for the owners, Oscar-winning vegan Joaquin Phoenix hopes to whip up a career as TV’s next top chef -- he loves to experiment at the stove adding different spices to traditional dishes but those who have sampled his stuff have confessed he’s not that good -- despite his kitchen limitations he has no plans to ditch acting but he wants to go all in on trying to become a YouTube or Food Network personality
Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Alessandra Ambrosio played volleyball in Santa Monica (picture), new Dancing with the Stars host Tyra Banks has kicked former frontman Tom Bergeron from the ballroom blocking a final farewell appearance after 15 years on the show and now Tom’s responded by giving tyrant Tyra some lip by openly mocking her bizarre new promotional video where her kisser was enhanced to mimic the show’s mirror ball trophy, it’s bye-bye booze on The Real Housewives franchise because seeing older white privileged women getting drunk and fighting isn’t fun anymore and it’s put a lot of viewers off and Bravo execs believe it’s one reason the ratings have tanked so now there will be less booze available during tapings, Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani are clashing over politics among other things -- Gwen hosted an Obama fundraiser at her house in Beverly Hills while Blake is much more conservative and they’re struggling to find common ground and the weeks leading up to the election could rip these two apart
Page 13: Keeping Up with the Kardashians is ending its 14-year run because the famous family members can’t stand each other anymore
Page 14: Crime
Page 15: Broken-hearted Priscilla Presley is on the verge of an emotional breakdown and dealing with daughter Lisa Marie Presley’s past struggles with addiction and ongoing divorce with Michael Lockwood and the recent tragic suicide of her only grandson Benjamin Keough have taken a devastating toll on the 75-year-old along with the impact of the global pandemic and the country’s social unrest -- she locks herself in her room and cries uncontrollably for hours at a time and has had trouble keeping up with her daily routines -- she’s selling her Beverly Hills home and moving back to Graceland but the walls outside the estate are covered in graffiti with messages like Black Lives Matter and No Justice No Peace
Page 18: Their Marriage Failed So They Tried Again -- Pamela Anderson, Larry King, Jean-Claude Van Damme
Page 19: Melanie Griffith, Elliott Gould, Marie Osmond, Elon Musk
Page 20: Brainiac Ken Jennings the all-time winningest contestant on Jeopardy! is being groomed to replace the show’s ailing host Alex Trebek by the beloved TV legend himself
Page 22: Prized props pilfered from Hollywood sets are big business for underground dealers and can fetch up to six figures on the black market and even worse some memorabilia heists have disrupted the making of major blockbusters costing studios a pretty penny
Page 28: Cover Story -- Sex monster Jeffrey Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell will never be convicted due to a provision in the U.S. Constitution that forbids married couples from being forced to testify against their mates and now facing charges of sex trafficking underage girls for the pervert billionaire Maxwell has a get-out-of-jail-free card because she secretly married the pedophile before he was murdered in a federal prison last year
Page 34: Prankster Sacha Baron Cohen secretly shot a sequel to his 2006 blockbuster Borat and it’s already been screened by select industry bigwigs, Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond is blazing her daughter Alex’s path to the altar with fiance Mauricio Scott
Page 38: Health Watch
Page 42: Red Carpet -- Venice Film Festival -- Cate Blanchett -- hot, Tilda Swinton -- not, Arizona Muse -- hot, Maya Hawke -- hot, Elodie -- hot, Vanessa Kirby -- hot
Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Gerald McRaney and Aubrey Dollar and Kim Cattrall on the new drama Filthy Rich
Page 47: Odd List -- a gory piece of history has landed on the auction block -- a lock of Abraham Lincoln’s hair that was wrapped in an 1865 telegram stained with the dead president’s blood is expected to fetch up to $75,000
#tabloid#grain of salt#tabloid toc#tabloidtoc#jeffrey epstein#ghislaine maxwell#prince harry#meghan markle#jessica simpson#angelina jolie#brad pitt#kelly osbourne#demi moore#justin hartley#katie holmes#emilio vitolo jr.#sharon osbourne#marie osmond#the talk#chip and joanna gaines#kevin spacey#anthony rapp#jackie chan#joaquin phoenix#keeping up with the kardashians#kuwtk#priscilla presley#jeopardy!#ken jennings#alex trebek
1 note
·
View note
Text
Weight of Competition (pt. 3)
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: KyoHaru
Summary: Haruhi spends the day at home, doing nothing but eating. Just like a girl as big as her should. (Inspired by this and this)
Contains: Weight gain, Chubby kink, Mutual gaining, Stuffing, Sub Kyoya, Dom Haruhi, Breaking furniture. Fat Haruhi and Chubby Kyoya
Haruhi had definitely overdone it.
As she leaned back into the sofa's plush cushions, belching softly and with her chubby hands resting on her bloated, stuffed stomach, she tried to stay very still. Even the slightest movement set of gurgles of discontentment, and no wonder. The coffee table in front of her looked like the remains of a battlefield, empty packages, plates and cartons piled high. She hadn't stuffed herself quickly, her speed more of a constant graze since she awoke, but it was still a wonder that she managed to put it all away by herself.
She'd had to unbutton her pyjama shirt not even half-way through, buttons pulling the fabric too tight around her gluttonous body and making it less comfortable to eat. She'd then had to let her belly hang completely over the waistband of her obscenely tight, fraying trousers. Those would be signs to stop for anyone else, but no; she'd kept stuffing her face with anything she could reach.
Even now, nearly stuffed to her limit, her mind wondered over to the fridge. She still wanted more, wanted to be so fat and stuffed for Kyoya when he came home, telling him about how she'd "accidentally" eaten all the food in the fridge, and they'd have to get takeout. Not that Kyoya would mind that, of course; he'd be all cute and red and flustered, giving her massive gut soothing belly rubs as they waited for the delivery, and then he'd eat as much as he could fit into his own chubby belly, until he could only lay his head on her cellulite dimpled thighs to drift into a food coma.
She chuckled to herself, getting to the task of heaving her heavy self off the sofa and into the kitchen. Her stomach protested the movement, but at the same time her grabby fingers ached for more food. A few more belches escaped her, but she was determined to get up despite the feast she'd consumed pinning her down. Huffing and puffing, her flabby arms straining, she finally managed on the forth attempt, but had to just stand there a moment as she caught her breath, hands on her stomach once more in an attempt to keep her balance.
She couldn't even hope to button the shirt now. Soft rolls had been overtaken by her stuffed stomach, smoothing it out and making it seem more like she'd swallowed a particularly large beach ball, rather than just eating and eating to excess. The though thrilled her, making her underwear feel a little more wet, but rather than take care of that for the moment, she took waddling strides to the kitchen to see just how much more she could eat; Kyoya would be more than happy to take care of her needs when he returned from work.
She opened the fridge, surveying what was left after the day's stuffing. It looked a little bare with all that food gone, but there was still enough for her to eat. Fruits, a package of strawberry donuts she'd somehow missed, sticky rice left over from breakfast that, originally, was going to be part of dinner - although that didn't matter now.
Rather than carry that all back into the living room, and not wanting to be stuck should she decide she wanted even more, she just pulled over one of their oak dining chairs, placed it in front of the fridge, and tentatively lowered her hefty form onto it. She was very heavy now, after all, and the chair let out a disgruntled groan at having to carry all her bulk. Her backside was even to big for it, fat draping and overflowing the seat. Her thighs were in a similar situation also, and if she kept this up, they'd certainly have to order more specialised furniture.
She opened the fridge once more, grabbing the donuts and all but tearing into the packaging. Those belches had gotten rid of some of that pesky, trapped air in her gut, and she was all too impatient to eat until she was fit to burst. Perhaps she'd pop a seam or two before Kyoya came home; that'd be a lovely surprise.
She greedily plucked donut after donut from the packaging, the pink icing smearing around her mouth due to her impatience. She wasn't a slob as a general rule, but her gluttony definitely got the better of her with all those thoughts of how much she was eating and how big she'd be by the time Kyoya returned.
She could feel the dough slither down, expanding her stomach slightly with every bite. It wasn't exactly painful, just tight. Perhaps she should have just abandoned her top and trousers, just lounging around in the replacement bra and panties Kyoya had gotten for her - even if she was on the cusp of outgrowing them already. The sheer material was pulled so tightly across her ass now, and there were generous rolls of fat spilling over and beneath the band of the bra. She'd never been particularly big in the chest, and that was true even now. All this weight, and she was only a c-cup, her belly pushing out much farther than her breasts ever would. But... she loved it like that, and so did Kyoya. It made her look even bigger, and Kyoya always loved to mouth and lick and play with her nipples, telling her how cute her small breasts were.
The donuts were finished in record time, barely two minutes had gone by and she was already reaching for more food.
Next was the rice. A little bland, maybe, but it'd be so stodgy and filling that she couldn't resist. After licking the strawberry icing off of her sausage-like fingers, she helped herself, not even bothering with a fork. She ate with her hands, and she ate so quickly. She could hear the chair give out another groan as she leaned forwards over the container, stuffed belly a little in the way but not too obstructive, despite how far it pushed out and how much of her lap it filled.
Again, it was finished far too quickly. She gave an unsatisfied hum, before remembering the gallons of ice cream in the fridge. She'd have to at least eat at a reasonable pace with that. She scooted back a little, her stomach unhappy but she could care less, and reached for the chocolate first. However, as she leaned over to one of the draws to get a fork, the chair gave up. There was an even louder groan and, before she could heave her bulk out of the seat, two legs snapped and sent her crashing to the floor.
A little sore, a little bruised, and very stunned, the only thing she could do was blink for a good minute. She'd gotten fat enough to... break the kitchen chair? Oh wow... She knew she was heading in that direction, but all that food must have tipped her over the edge. All she could really do in the face of that was laugh, her fat hands cupping and playing with her generous love handles. She had a butt that could destroy furniture, it just... seemed funny.
Not having the energy to get up, and luckily having grabbed the spoon before her gluttonous hubris had sent her falling to the kitchen floor, she pushed the remains of the chair out of the way, and decided to try and eat at least two cartons of ice cream to celebrate.
---
Kyoya was dragging his feet as he got in through the door, head down and just tossing his bag by the door. The only thing that got him through the day was the thought of his fat, beautiful girlfriend, sitting at home and just eating and eating. It made him happy that she was letting him take care of her more and more, and her size only attested how pampered she was letting herself become.
However, his heart stopped as he entered the kitchen, seeing his beloved on the floor. He barely hesitated rushing over and dropping to his knees, calling her name. He could see her breathing, but why was she one the floor? His deft fingers searched for her pulse, when he was interrupted by… giggling?
“Kyoya, that tickles,” Haruhi laughed, having stirred, but his mind wasn’t set at ease just yet.
“Haruhi, are you alright? Why are you on the floor? Did you faint? Did you –”
His rambling was cut of by a couple of soft shushes, a plump finger resting against his lips. “Sorry I worried you, Kyoya, I’m fine,” Haruhi grinned, “I was stuffing myself in here and, well, a couple of legs snapped off the chair. And no, I wasn’t hurt – I’ve got a lot of padding. However, I felt way too full and heavy to get up, and I already had my ice cream, so I just ate on the floor. I must’ve fell asleep.
Oh… Wow. That was… That was…
“Hot,” The word escaped Kyoya’s lips without permission, looking at her with eyes full of stars and love, face as red as she’d pictured, “So… You can’t get up right now?”
“I mean… Maybe? If I tried?” She shrugged, turning pink herself and biting her lip, looking all too flirtatious, “But I really can’t be bothered to put in that much effort. Besides, my beautiful boy’s here now. Help me up?”
Kyoya nodded quickly, extending his hand and putting all his strength into helping Haruhi get off the floor, her fat jiggling tremendously. She was just so huge, all over. Even her wrists, hands and ankles. She couldn’t fit into the sizes most stores stocked, teasing him as she modelled new clothing that definitely wasn’t suitable to wear in public.
“I’m not uncomfortably full now, though, baby boy,” She hummed, hands going right to his chub rolls and squeezing, massaging, playing with them so perfectly, “I want to use all this fat to pin you down on the bed, and fuck you until you cry.”
“Yes, mistress ~”
#Smut#sub kyoya#dom haruhi#chubby kink#ouran high school host club#OHSHC#kyoharu#Kyoya Ootori#haruhi fujioka#weight of competition series
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Making-Over vs. Making-Do - To Be or Not To Be (X-Men fanfiction)
Written in part by the loverly @supesofherown, who has offered me much inspiration for this particular X-Men snippet, ft. the one and only Remy LeBeau and some...other...weird mutant.
Whether the entire story will be written remains to be seen. But I did want to map out at least the introductory scene, see what it looked like in my mind and all that.
On the corner of two busy streets, where traffic was heavy and to walk there was a constant struggle of hugging the sidewalk so as not to collide with a speeding car, someone had decided to set up a small antique shop. It was bursting with little trinkets, many of which were on display behind smudged window-glass. There were a few rusted toy cars, a typewriter with some of the keys stuck, mismatched earrings, a stack of dusty books, and a few wall decorations (styled as late-1900’s-advertisments) among many other curious objects. However, out of all the oddities which this corner store boasted, there was only one which demanded attention. It was a necklace, and it was a fine piece of work, indeed. When sunlight hit the window just so, after working its way past car windows and weaving between the mobs of pedestrians, the necklace would glitter as if it were made of the purest gold. A few small gems would wink at passers-by from where they rested against the velvet blue neck of the display bust. It seemed to be calling out, to every person that passed:
“Pick me! Take me home!”
And there was one who certainly heard that call.
He had been eyeing the necklace for a few weeks, now, ever since he first saw it on his way to a sandwich shop further down the block. Whenever he passed by the smudged window, he would pause and look in, just to assure himself that no one else had purchased it yet. Every time he saw it, the same thought shivered its way down his spine and made his fingers tingle and his mouth crinkle.
“Rogue would love ‘dat.”
And why, indeed, wouldn’t she? Remy LeBeau didn’t know her inside-out, but that necklace had been made for her. He knew it.
Of course, in addition to being Rogue’s closest friend and a runner-up for the newly-assembled team of mutants known as X-Men, Remy was also an expert thief. If he’d wanted to, the necklace would have been in his pocket and back at the mansion the first time he set eyes on it. But it was one thing to give a gift, and another to steal it…at least, there was a difference when it came to Rogue.
Today he idled a little longer than usual outside the shop, peering at the necklace and trying to gauge the price. He would have felt better if this were a pawn shop, but he doubted he had enough on him to buy such an extravagant item. Someone at the school might be willing to lend a little cash, but Remy hated the thought of asking such a favor. If he wanted to get Rogue a gift so badly, he would do it himself, just like he did everything else. He could go inside and ask…but that would mean facing the possibility of embarrassment if the price was too high, and he wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs.
Today, though, Remy was not alone by the shop. An elderly man stooped on the front steps, rattling a pewter cup against the side of the wall as people stepped past. No one paid him any heed; he was just one more matted, filthy bit of pavement decoration, not worth the time nor the attention. Remy would’ve done the same, and was just tucking his hands into his pockets, ready to mingle with a passing crowd, when the man called out him.
“Eh! Boy! Got something to spare for an old friend?”
Remy paused. “I don’t usually carry anyt’ing on me, sorry.”
“Aaaah!” The man winked at him with one milky-blue eye. “’Usually’ bein’ the operative word there.” He motioned with the cup, “And did I ask for money? No…no..” his words died into a mumble and he rocked himself back-and-forth on the step. He looked up, saw Remy again, and his expression split into a wide smile, showing gaps where his teeth were missing. “Come here, Boy. There’s one thing you can give an old friend.”
Despite himself, Remy was intrigued. He lingered by the window. “Yeah? And what would that be, ‘mon vieil ami’?”
The old man laughed; it rattled about in his throat like the cup against the wall. “You can give me a story, Boy. Everyone’s got one of those.” He looked at him through one eye, the other still closed in his wink. “Tell me a story about that necklace.”
Remy’s gaze darted to the window, then back to the man. “Not’ing t’ say. It’s just a necklace.”
“Aaaah…but a special kind of necklace. Not buying it for yourself, are you?”
“As entertainin’ as that notion might be…yer right.” Remy leaned against the window. What were a few more smudges? He’d already fogged up the glass by standing too close to the pane. “And I’m not buyin’ it, anyhow.”
The man chortled. “You don’t have to tell me, Boy, I’ve figured it out already. There’s some special lady…hmmm? Such a cliché story…but I can’t help myself liking it.” He wriggled excitedly under his ragged clothing. The coat draped about his shoulders was far too large to begin with, dwarfing his rickety frame.
“You guessed it,” Remy admitted. “But I can’t afford it.”
“Oh, oh. That’s a shame.” The man shook his head and made a “tsk, tsk” sound that hissed between the gaps in his teeth. “Would’a looked lovely on the girl, I’m sure.”
Remy nodded absently. He might have ended the conversation there, but something moved him to keep talking, to get what had gone unsaid off his chest:
“There’s a lot I wish I could do for her. Jus’ a few fancy trinkets, maybe…a necklace like ‘dat and a dinner at a fancy restaurant…”
A better family, he might have added. A more appealing personal history, a more stable friend…someone she might be able to envision “forever” with…
“We always want to give away something we don’t have,” the man sighed. He peered into his empty cup as he spoke. “Always so ready to make a change, thinkin’ it’ll make the world better for it.” He looked up at Remy with both eyes, one a milky blue, the other finally open so its dark hue, either brown or black, could be seen. “Speaking of change…” he extended the empty cup, “How’s about something for me to remember you by? A little ‘good-bye’ present.”
Remy slipped one hand into his pants’ pocket, pulling out a few bills and stuffing them into the cup. He knew what life on the street was like, had favored it and enjoyed it, but it was harsh. Many were the days he’d wanted a little extra help and had gotten none.
“Afternoon,” he murmured. Then he turned to go, thinking the exchange over. He did not expect the visceral grip around his wrist.
“Wait!” The old man bobbed up in front of him, pulling back his flabby lips and making his eyes wrinkled up in an attempted smile. “I’ll do it.”
Remy blinked. “Do…what?”
“You’ve given me an abundance today: first the story, then the money.” He pulled Remy away from the shop, towards a little turn as the sidewalk reached the corner and branched off in several directions. “Now I’ll return the favor. Friend-to-friend, eh, Boy?”
Remy tried working his hand from the bony grasp, meaning to explain that he didn’t need anything, he was fine, and it really wasn’t a big deal. But the man wouldn’t let go. His grip was like a talon, and his stride surprisingly quick, so Remy had to stumble along behind him to keep from falling on his face. They rounded the corner and Remy found himself in a dead-end alley, quite deserted and surrounded on both sides by smooth, stone walls. At this time of day, streets crawled with activity and sound…but even the sunlight seemed to have overlooked this particular spot.
“Where in ‘da world..?” He looked over his shoulder, but the busty intersection they had just left had vanished into thin air.
“They always know what they want without ever asking the other,” the man mumbled to himself as he hobbled along. He moved with uneven steps, making him sway to-and-fro. “It makes me laugh. Isn’t it funny how they always know?”
Remy reached into his coat, feeling along the inside jacket for his deck of cards. He grabbed a few – three was more than enough – and filtered a bit of energy into them, just enough to throw this weirdo off his guard. Before he could flick them into the man’s face, the other stopped, spun around, and snatched the cards from Remy’s fingers.
“Now, now,” he said with a shake of his head, “that looks a bit dangerous to me. Better not have any explosives for the wish grantin’, should we? Don’t want to hurt anyone.” As he spoke, the man took one of the glowing cards and rubbed it between his fingers. It crumbled under his touch, turning into a spray of white dust that he blew from his hand and into the air. “That’s better.”
Remy was stunned into silence, a rare accomplishment. So stunned was he that, when the elderly man tugged off his coat and wrapped it around himself, he couldn’t react until after his coat had been effectively stolen.
“He-HEY! What’s the big idea?!” Remy launched himself forward. Mutant or no, this hobo was about to learn why it was never a good idea to steal something from a thief.
The other’s response was to raise his hand in the air, as if to ward off an oncoming blow, and Remy found himself frozen in mid-leap. His limbs were held in place by some unseen force, and his body hung just above the ground. The elderly man looked up at him, hand still splayed in the air, the other shuffling through Remy’s card collection.
“Now…” he muttered, “it was so much easier when the only options people had were three different types of carriages…or bareback.” He held one of the cards up to Remy, “Does this look like a car you wouldn’t drive?”
Remy blinked. The image on the card, rather than a clump of spades, diamonds, hearts, or any normal arrangement one would find on a playing card, had been transformed into the image of a sports car. He opened his mouth to respond, trying to think of an appropriate response to any one of the numerous things currently happening. But the elderly man didn’t wait for him to speak, choosing instead to flick the card behind him and draw another one. A different car appeared on its face.
“What about this one?”
He continued in this way for several more seconds, progressing through a series of extravagant and expensive items, ranging from cars to furniture to suits. Remy was silent through the whole ordeal, partially due to the shock of it all, partially because the other wouldn’t offer him enough time to get a word in edgewise. For as he went, he would mumble to himself between cards, engaged in an intense, one-sided conversation.
“They always think they know…helping those who help themselves, my foot…Just pick the things that aren’t like him…What wouldn’t he choose, yes, yes…only the things he wouldn’t…”
When the last card had been tossed to the wind, the old man drew near to Remy, stepping around the cards strewn about the pavement.
“I don’t know who you are or watch’a want,” Remy ground between his teeth, “But yer gonna regret it.”
The old man didn’t respond at first, only stared up at him with those multicolored eyes. They were old eyes, filled with a distant pain that reached beyond Remy and the dark street.
“Shush, now. No talking. I have to think.”
He smiled a bit. It was wrinkled grimace of smile that twisted his face in all the wrong ways.
“Has anyone ever told you that change is painful, Boy?” He placed one hand against Remy’s chest as he spoke, and the other he rested against his forehead. “Because if they have…they had the right idea.”
He closed his eyes, curling in on himself, letting a breath of air escape his lips. Then he threw himself back, arching and twisting his body, though his hands remained fixed on Remy’s chest and head.
There was a blinding light, a rush of sound, and then…nothing.
Outside the little alleyway, people continued along their respective routes, mixing with mobs of like-minded peers. A gold necklace winked at strangers in the window of a tiny antique store, and an empty tin cup rested on the steps by the shop’s front door.
#X-Men#writing#my writing#fanfiction#Remy LeBeau#Gambit#Aladdin AU#supesofherown#shared story#OC#mutant OC
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beauty and the Beast (The Magicians)
Martin leaned back huffing, red in the cheeks, and for all intents and purposes, making a scene. Julia looked up from her sketching in irritation. For all of the tense lead up to their meeting, Martin had proved to be a roommate on par with a stereotypical teenager: she never knew what mood he might be in, he was up all hours of the night, and he frequently gorged himself on junk food. Currently he was doing the last one. Unlike a teenager, however, Martin didn’t really have the metabolism to keep up with his appetite and it showed.
This, Julia reflected, had been an unexpected perk of kidnapping the terror of Brakebills. As irritating as it was that he perpetually wanted her attention while she was working, she had to admit that the sight of his clothes stretching to cover his gain was worth looking up from her books for.
“So, what? Fillory doesn’t have bakeries?” she quirked an eyebrow. Martin, sprawled on the couch, set the empty sheet cake platter aside before responding. “They *hic!* haven’t quite figured out *hiccup!* refined sugar yet”
She smirked, “Apparently you haven’t either. If you don’t slow down you’ll outgrow that suit”. Martin scoffed, refusing to acknowledge that his clothes were, in fact, perilously tight. His belly protruded into his lap, buttons revealing flashes of his undershirt and his pants were almost impossible to get up in the morning.
“That ridiculous,” he huffed and propped himself up on his elbow to better address her, “I could quit anytime I want”. The statement was punctuated by his slacks button popping off and making a bid for liberty.
He looked so shocked that Julia, despite the thought of catching Reynard gnawing away at her mind, she laughed. Color tinged Martin’s cheeks, his soft, plump belly now ever so slightly exposed to the cool air. “That- that means nothing. I’ve had these for years. They were bound to give out eventually”
Julia doubled up laughing, making Martin blush and protest even harder. Finally, once she calmed herself, she stood up and pulled Martin to his feet. “Come on fatty. Let’s see just how wrong you are”
Irritably he allowed himself to be led to the kitchen where Julia opened up a drawer and pulled out a measuring tape. As collected as a doctor examining a patient, she undid his vest and shirt then lifted the tshirt below to reveal his stuffed swell of a tummy. Even clinical, the way her hands felt made him grateful he was already blushing.
“Are you going to tell me your waist size or do I need to check the tag?” she smirked. Martin felt the blush reach his ears. The last thing he was prepared to handle was her hand anywhere near his pants. He mumbled, “34 inch waist”
Her hands were shockingly warm on his skin and as humiliating as it was to get measured like this Martin couldn’t bring himself to tell her off. Even when she cinched the tape around the doughiest point of his gut he found that his heart rate well out paced his temper; especially when he saw the change come over her features. He hiccuped again and his belly jiggled out of the tape measure and into Julia’s waiting hands.
He leaned down, panting a little from the sudden arousal, “Well luv? What’s the damage?” Instead of answering Julia looked him in the eye, smirked, and squeezed the flabby muffin top, “wouldn’t you like to know”.
Martin had to physically swallow a moan. He cupped her jaw, tilting her head so she looked him in the eye, “Lust is a lovely color on you Miss Wicker”
She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, retreating only to take a breath. Even as she dropped back onto her heels he could still feel her teeth dragging gently over his lower lip. She ran her hand through his hair one more time, body pressed firmly against his, then whispered headily into his ear “Funny, I was just think of how good you look in gluttony”
Gluttony. He pondered the word hazily and found that it fit him much better than his clothes currently did. “Did I gain that much?”
“39 inches fatty” she kept a hand on his waist, “There’s cookie dough in the freezer though. We’ll have you in some 40 inch pants by tomorrow morning”
#Weight gain#julia wicker#circa start of season 2#the magicians#the beast#martin chatwin#belly#stuffing#tummy#fat!martin#porker#fatty#julia/martin#wg#piggy
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Butterfly [56]
summary Walking on the milky way
Spring was the best part of the year, in Itachi’s opinion. Sweetness lingered in the air as most of the flowers opened their faces to the sun. But the best part was the gentle whisper of the gingko leaves as they brushed against each other in the breeze.
He heard the distant clang of a door opening and closing. Footsteps echoing up the concrete steps. Another door opened. And then there was a pause. Just the leaves gossiping to each other as another breeze whisked through.
And then, Sakura asked, “Are you sleeping?”
He shook his head. He opened his right eye, tilting his head in the direction of her voice. The book he had been using to block the sun from his face slid down, flopping into his lap.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her cheeks were red, damp hair clinging to the back of her neck. She still carried her duffel bag over her shoulder.
“I thought you were working hard so I brought lunch,” Sakura said. She held up a plastic bag from the convenience store. “But you’re napping.” Even though she pretended to scold him, she sat down beside him. He heard the hard snap of a bento box opening.
“Salmon or beef?” she asked.
“Salmon,” he replied, opening both eyes.
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?” Sakura inquired a few bites into her lunch. She looked up in time to see Itachi open a bottle of water and hand it over to her.
“Painting. I don’t have a separate studio, so I’ve just been using the art room here at school,” replied Itachi. He leaned back on his right palm, closing his eyes to soak up a little more of the gentle sunlight.
Sakura tilted her head as she thought. “What if.... hm...”
“What if?” Itachi repeated.
“Sarutobi-Jiisan might have something you can rent for cheap,” she suggested.
The Sarutobi's had once been the biggest family in Konoha. Even though many of its members had moved to the city in search of jobs and better education, the family’s land was still there. Although the old man stubbornly continued to farm some of the fields, there was so much space he couldn’t use anymore. This included some of the old houses that his relatives had once occupied. His children hadn’t been able to convince him to sell any of it off.
“Oh. Do you really think he’d be open to something like that?” asked Itachi, sitting up straight. Sakura laughed.
“If he drops off food for you, he already considers you one of his kids. Ask him,” she encouraged.
Now that Sakura knew what was up, she couldn’t believe she had missed the weirdness of all her friends and colleagues. The married women in town stared at her any time she even stepped close to Itachi. And she knew that if they spoke in the faculty room, all the other teachers hunched behind their newspapers and lunches, eavesdropping on every word.
“I must be blind,” Sakura said out loud.
She held her arms out so that Itachi could tie her apron. And then he turned around so she could do the same for him.
“You’re very focused on certain things and not others,” Itachi suggested instead.
“Nope. I’ll just be over here densely cutting this chicken. Like the blockhead I am,” she sighed. She picked the knife off the cutting board. But Itachi pushed her hand back down. She released the handle, turning her head toward him to ask what he was doing. His lips met her forehead.
“I like that part of you. So stop talking like that,” he chastised her, wrapping his arms around her.
“You might not think it’s so cute in a few years,” she muttered against his arm.
“That’s true,” Itachi conceded. “Just like how you might not think my snoring is cute in a few years.”
“You only snore a little,” Sakura pointed out. That made Itachi smile. He kissed her forehead again.
“I’m also really bad at managing my finances. I’m jealous. I get discouraged and depressed really easily. See? If I wanted to, I could spend a million years pointing out all my faults. But how does that make you feel?”
“....Bad,” admitted Sakura. She returned the hug, resting her cheek on his chest. “Bad. I don’t like hearing you being so tough on yourself...”
“And why’s that?”
“Because... well, because I.... Now you’re just making fun of me,” Sakura protested, struggling in his grasp. He chuckled, relaxing his hold. But she only gave him a light push to the chest before she hugged him closer.
After a while, she tilted her head back to stare up at his face. He returned the look, eyebrows rising.
“Jealous?” she repeated.
It was Itachi’s turn to look uncomfortable. He avoided her gaze a little as he nodded.
“Why? Nara and Inuzuka?” she questioned. He shook his head.
“Hey, I’ve just demonstrated that I’m kind of slow. You need to explain this to me or I’m never going to understand,” she then insisted, shaking him a little.
Itachi pressed his lips into a thin line. She could see him thinking as his eyes moved. And then, slowly, his gaze returned to her. He let out a long breath.
“Skaters are all in really good shape. And most of them are also really good looking,” Itachi stated.
Sakura’s expression went blank as she thought. And then she tilted her head to one side. “That’s all makeup. Most of them look ‘meh’ when they erase it all. Even the guys,” she told him. Mangetsu, especially. She remembered cackling so hard that she cramped when she saw him without his eyeliner and foundation for the first time.
And then, smiling, she added, “And have you noticed? I’m in really good shape. If I wanted to look at muscles, I’d look in the mirror, not at some other guy.”
Itachi said nothing. But she saw his eyes drift down.
He wasn’t in bad shape at all. His arms were strong from years of painting and carrying his tools. But of course he would look flabby in comparison to Olympic athletes and world champions. Some of them looked like Greek statues with the way their muscles stuck out. She could see why Itachi would feel a little insecure.
Sakura hid her face against his chest before she mumbled, “Besides, most of the guys are wearing butt pads.”
It took a couple of seconds. And then Itachi’s knees buckled a little as he burst into startled laughter. They both grabbed onto the counter, struggling to speak between giggles. Tears springing into their eyes as they laughed and laughed.
Dinner was only semi-burnt. And that was only because the chicken hadn’t cooked all the way through the first time. Itachi threw open a window as Sakura waved the smoke out with a dish towel.
“Not bad,” commented Sakura, squinting down at the teriyaki glaze and chicken sticking to the bottom of the pan.
“We can cover up the burnt parts with scallion,” Itachi suggested.
They clinked beer cans together as they sat at the kitchen table to enjoy their dinner.
Itachi’s eyes widened just a little as Sakura rested her feet on top of his as they ate. When their gazes met, she just smiled. And he slowly smiled back.
Early one Saturday, Kiba banged on Itachi’s apartment door. Akamaru let out a single bark before he began scratching at the door too. Kiba shifted back and forth on his feet, waiting. He knocked again, but there was still no response. He tried calling Itachi, but there was no answer. Itachi wasn’t typically such a heavy sleeper.
Raising his phone to his ear again, Kiba took a few steps away from the apartment. Akamaru scratched a couple more times before he followed after Kiba, his ears drooping.
“What?” Shikamaru growled as he picked up.
“Is Uchiha-sensei with you?”
“No.”
“Okay. Sorry. Go back to sl-.”
Shikamaru hung up before he could finish his sentence. Scratching the back of his head, Kiba headed down the steps, onto the sidewalk. He stretched his arms over his head. Beside him, Akamaru let out a yawn.
“Guess we should go ask Sakura. Right, buddy?” Kiba suggested. As soon as Akamaru heard the familiar name, his ears perked up again. Tongue lolling out, he began running in the direction of the ice rink. Kiba ran after him, flip-flops slapping against the pavement.
“Woah! Akamaru, wait up!” Kiba yelled.
Kushina barely moved when Akamaru bounded into the lobby a little while later.
“Sup, doggy?” she greeted him. Akamaru let out a deep bark. Her eyes drifted back to the door as Kiba staggered in, huffing and puffing.
“Hey, kiddo. Is Akamaru taking you for your walk?” she teased.
“Oh, ha-ha. Very funny,” panted Kiba. He opened the glass doors leading onto the rink. The temperature difference was jarring, as always. Kiba shivered as he closed the door behind him.
A sharp piano tempo greeted them. Sakura whipped past, her arms held out at her sides. Even with what little Kiba knew about skating, he knew that she was about to jump. So he kept his mouth shut as he approached the edge of the ice.
She took off from the edge of her skate, elbows tucked against her sides as she spun through the air. She blurred, just for an instant. And then she landed, blade barely making a sound as it hit the ice. Her right knee bending, left leg stretching out behind her.
Still, as she straightened, she shook her head a little, hands on her hips. Her eyes landed on him as she lifted her chin.
“What’s up?” she greeted him. And then she smiled, waggling her fingers when Akamaru lifted up on his hind legs to greet her. Grabbing the remote off the wall, she reached back to pause the music.
“Nothing, I guess. I thought Uchiha-sensei might be here with you. He’s not at his place,” Kiba told her. Sakura blinked a couple times. And then she shrugged.
“Nope. Not here. Have you asked Nara? Maybe he slept at his place,” she suggested.
“Nah already tried that,” Kiba responded.
“Sorry. Dunno,” she said. Sighing, Kiba nodded a few times. He tapped the barrier a few times before he pushed away from it.
“I’ll see you later,” he called over his shoulder.
“Bye!” she responded, waving at Akamaru.
Sakura spent another hour at the rink before her stomach began to growl. Wiping her blades off, she changed into sneakers. Waving to Kushina on her way out.
She walked home at an easy pace. She ran into Mirai and Kurenai on their way back from grocery shopping. She listened patiently as Mirai listed out all the different vegetables they’d bought while Kurenai gave Sakura an apologetic smile over her daughter’s shoulder.
By the time Sakura got home, it had been a while since Kiba had stopped by the rink. Sakura opened the front door and pushed her sneakers off to the side in the foyer. Right next to the larger pair of men’s loafers that had sat there since the night before.
When she poked her head in the kitchen, it was empty. The glass and plate she had washed before leaving for the rink still sat in the drying rack.
Sakura nudged her bedroom door open. A lump lay tangled in the comforter. The faint light from a phone on the nightstand illuminated the ceiling.
Sakura perched very lightly on the edge of the bed. She listened to the soft breathing that seeped out from somewhere between where the pillows and blankets met.
“Are you hungry?” she whispered.
There was a pause. And then a soft groan answered her.
“Mmm- you’re up already?” slurred Itachi’s voice. Heavy and scratchy with sleep.
“Already?” she repeated. “It’s almost 10.”
“Wow,” grunted Itachi. The comforter stirred a little. Sakura reached over and tugged it aside, revealing Itachi’s tangled hair and stubble. She smiled down at him, chin resting on her palm.
“Inuzuka’s been roaming around town looking for you. What’re you going to say, Uchiha-sensei?” she questioned.
Itachi rubbed his eyes with his fists. And then he blinked a few times before he looked at her for the first time.
“I’ll say I was taken prisoner by the world’s most comfortable bed. What is this?” he replied. His arm appeared, patting the mattress a couple times.
Sakura laughed. “It’s called a hybrid. Memory foam on top. Coils on the bottom,” she informed him. “Better than your futon, huh?”
“Definitely,” Itachi agreed.
Sakura looked at him for a couple more seconds before she poked the tip of his nose with her finger. “I’m going to shower. Let’s get breakfast,” she told him. As she tried to slip off the bed, she felt Itachi grab her hand. She turned to look at him.
He kissed her knuckles.
“Morning,” he croaked.
She smiled. “Morning.”
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
Admin Emma’s Smut Guide or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Word ‘Cock.’
Hi there! Admin Emma here! Sorry I haven’t been posting a lot lately; life has been a little crazy and I’ve been working on this super long project that I am tantalizingly close to finishing and I don’t want to lose momentum, so I’ve been hyperfocused on it. It’s not Haikyuu, but I will still probably post a link here so anyone interested can still read it.
Anyway, I am sort of aware that smut is sort of my forte… it’s weird to have that legacy, but I do know that it’s tricky for a lot of writers. And you know what? That’s ok! So today, at the request of a few of my writer friends, I am going to pass along some knowledge!
Full disclosure: I have had sex before. I have a tiny human sleeping in the other room as proof that I have had sex before. But this is not entirely necessary to writing good smut, even though it helps. Knowing your own body and reactions is a good way to bring authenticity to a scene, but it’s not required. Also, please keep in mind that I will mostly be talking about penises and vaginas together today, considering that is the majority that I write.
So, to start, here are my Rules for Smut Writing:
1. Don’t just think about the What, but the Who, Where, How and Why
- One of the biggest mistakes that writers new to smut make is thinking that the act of sex will speak for itself and just… write sex. The ‘he put his penis into her vagina and it felt good’ stuff. This is a good start, but it can sort of read like an Ikea manual--insert part a into slot 2 to achieve orgasm. Character and relationship development is a big part of good smut. Why should I, the reader, care that these two people are having sex? What does it mean to feel good? Who are they to each other?
2. Language Matters
- I tend to find words like ‘penis’ and ‘vagina’ in smut writing to be a bit… clinical. It’s not absolutely wrong to use them, per se, but a big part of writing smut is setting a mood, and they can rip you out of the mood very easily. I tend to stick to the ‘Just Use ‘Cock’’ rule when it comes to describing genitalia, and it works wonders, but sometimes it’s not right for your scene. ‘Cock’ is a little abrasive for softer sex scenes, so you might have to find something else that fits the mood. Just remember that your word choices will affect the mood. “He grabbed her tits” vs “He touched her breasts” have totally different moods and belong in totally different scenes. (See below)
3. Take Your Time
- Most writers are so excited to get to the actual intercourse they tend to sacrifice the pacing of the scene in an effort to get penises into vaginas as quickly as possible. And that’s just… not good. The pacing and timing of the scene is so important. Unless your goal is to drop your reader right into the middle of the actual sex--which can be effective--you have to build it up a little bit. I have found myself thinking ‘dear fucking lord, this smut scene is quickly becoming a smut novel’ but when have you, as a reader, ever been reading a piece thinking ‘this is great, but I wish there was LESS of it.’ Fucking never, is my guess. Let your scene build; let those long, lingering touches be long and lingering; let them make-out for three straight paragraphs. If it gets flabby, you can cut some in the editing process but during the writing process, the more time between the the first smooches and The Big O, the better.
4. Write What You’re Into
- Smut writing is about honesty and vulnerability. Not just between characters, but for the writer as well. A person’s writing is a little window in how their mind works, what they find funny, what they like in partners and friends, and yes, what they find sexy. I run a request blog, sure, but my smut writing is still pretty catered to what I am into, and in my opinion, that is a huge part of what makes it enjoyable for others. You have to be honest when you’re writing smut, because your readers will absolutely sense if you aren’t into what you’re writing. If you’re trying to sell something as sexy, then you have to think it’s sexy first. I’ve read a few romance novels in my time, and I can always tell when the writer is very clearly not into what is happening on the page. Conversely, I can always tell when a writer is into something just by their writing alone. So if you’re not into bondage, a/b/o dynamics, or razor-wire suspension, then don’t write about it.
These are absolutely not hard and fast rules, and they may or may not work for you, but most of the really good smut I’ve read in my time have followed these rules.
Some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten when it comes to writing smut is to remember your Five Senses. Not only does it keep things from getting too repetitive (because let’s be real, there are only so many descriptors that sound sexy) but it really helps put the reader into the moment. Here, an example for you (featuring Daichi, because I’m trash):
Daichi ran his hand over your leg, pressing your thighs apart with his. He growled, tasting your wetness with his fingers, before he rolled his cock into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. He took it slow at first, letting you get acclimated, before he picked up his pace. He fell forward, moulding his body to yours, before he pounded into you.
I mean… that’s ok. Not great, but ok. A good start. However:
Daichi brushed his fingertips down your leg, sending shivers down your spine. In his deep voice, his hum of approval sounded more like a growl; the primal sound made heat boil in your core. His thick thighs pressed yours apart, exposing you to the cool air. His rough fingers gathered your wetness, and the slick pop of him tasting you was explosively loud in the quiet room. The hands that pried you apart shivered, like he was as affected by all this as you were. You wanted his cock; you needed that unbearable heat. The smell of his sweat and sex overwhelmed you, and when you looked over your shoulder at him, he stared at you like you were the only person in the entire world. Affection bloomed in your chest when his lips turned into a wobbly smile, and his eyes filled with such warmth and love that ease settled into your chest.
That’s better. And the sex hasn’t even happened yet. But even if you, personally, have never had that happen to you before, you can really feel it, right? That’s because I’m evoking your five senses. Even if you’ve never had sex, you can relate with a lot of the language because the sounds, the smells, and the sensations are familiar and relatable. Also as a side note, even though the POV is limited, by giving hints that the partner--in this case, Daichi--is into it can often add to the scene. It also implies an intimacy and familiarity that adds to the emotion of the scene.
So… about that sexy language…
I stick to one hard and fast rule: just use ‘cock.’ Granted, there is a time and place when cock isn’t appropriate--like softer scenes or the character is a little shyer. I find words like “length” and, sometimes, “hardness” can be effective, but for the most part? Just use cock. Dick can also work, and it’s somewhere between “cock” and “penis” on the sexy scale, but words I find never work are things like “member” (it makes it sound like a period drama) “rod” or “shaft” (are we fellating auto parts?) or anything ridiculous like “noodle” or “staff.” (You laugh but I swear to Christ I have seen both of these before). {Admin Alyx’s addition: Shaft can work but usually only if you’re referring to a specific part of the penis and not as a euphemism for penis. Staff is only acceptable if both characters are mages and they’re making terrible puns.}
Vaginas get a little trickier. I really like ‘cunt’ because it’s just sexy to me. I prefer it to pussy. But some people don’t like either of those things. Sometimes it can help if you compartmentalize parts: clit, labia, vagina etc. Words like “opening” and “entrance” can work. “Wetness” is good for softer scenes (I tend to avoid using “wetness” and “hardness” excessively, though, as too many euphemisms and you start to sound very squicked out by sex itself and I refer you to Rule 4)
And those are Admin Emma’s Rules and Guidelines for Writing Smut! Once again, these are not hard and fast rules. Just what I’ve picked up from reading good smut and lots and lots of practice. I do recommend reading good stuff--not just fanfic. Published stuff too. Here are some recomendations:
The Boss series (a not-shitty take on the 50SoG concept of BDSM+Billionaire but, you know, not abusive garbage), as well as Penny and Ian’s stories (side story from the same universe as The Boss) by Abigail Barnette (also follow @jennytrout on here, I crib so many notes from her, she is my hero and my inspiration)
Fit by Rebekah Witherspoon (POC and chubby protagonist, which I am very very into)
Hot as Hades by Alisha Rai (Hysterical and very sexy take on the Persephone myth)
Asking For It/Begging for It by Lilah Pace (This is a great series, but full disclosure: it does deal with rape in a big way. The protagonist and the main love interest engage in (consensual) rape fantasy and it can get a little bit vivid, so if you’re triggered by that/can’t handle it at all, I don’t recommend this one. But if you can handle it, I think it’s great and the mains have great chemistry, and nothing nonconsensual actually happens on the page)
Sadly, these are all fairly heteronormative (The Boss series deals with both characters’ bisexuality in a big way, but the main couple is still a cis man and a cis woman) as I haven’t read a lot of great queer published erotica.
I’ll leave you with a list of For Your Information TMI Factoids:
The penis is not a magic missile that finds Prostates and G-Spots alike.
Most people with vaginas have trouble achieving orgasm through penetration alone; some can’t at all. Foreplay is key to pussy satisfaction!!
Remember the clitoris, people. The clitoris is your friend, but she’s sensitive, so treat her gently.
Penises don’t drip pre like a goddamn fountain. Some penises produce more than others, but it’s not going to gush all over the place
Lube and condoms are great. Consent is sexy. Never worry about ruining the mood with safety. Trust me--there is nothing sexier than a confident man asking me if he can kiss me.
Vajay doesn’t taste sweet… just trust me on this one. It does not taste sweet.
When in doubt remember the BDSM Creed: Safe, Sane, and Consensual
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
Designated - One
(Pietro Maximoff/Steve Rogers x Reader)
Growing up you were always the ugly friend, always passed over. It’s something that's stayed with you all your life. You resigned yourself to it and closed yourself off from ever thinking someone might like you. Even when they make it pretty obvious.
Words: 1236 Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language (the usual :p)
An: Let me know what you think. x
One Two
Masterlist
"See those two blondes?"
"Nope."
"They've been looking over here for the last ten minutes?"
"Really?"
Of course you'd noticed, but you assumed they were looking at Nat. She always attracted attention from guys in bars. Her confidence, amazing figure and luscious red hair made her the most beautiful person in any room.
You glanced over again and my god they were hot. One guy was early thirties, blond hair and built like a house. The other was younger with ice blue eyes and scruffy blond hair with dark roots. When was that ever in fashion? You had no idea how he pulled it off and the way his blue shirt clung to his chest and arms...it must have been a size too small at least. Nat was in for some fun, you could think of a few things to do with them both yourself.
You pretended to drink when you realized the younger guy had noticed you staring. His eyes flitted away quickly and you groaned to yourself. Yep, you were just the duff again. You took a big swig of whiskey and went back to talking to Nat.
"The younger guy likes you," you nearly choked on your whisky, trying to cough away the burning feeling in your throat, "WHAT? he does I can tell."
"You mean you want the beefy one and you want me to distract the other guy."
"That other guy is exactly your type!"
"Exactly why he won't even glance at me."
Nat grabs your hand and leads you onto the dance floor, "Then give him something to look at sweetie, you need some sex."
"Nat!" You yelled at her.
"There's only so much fan-fiction and toys can do for you y/n, you need a man, and that over there is a man."
"You're forgetting one crucial thing, Nat, no one would want me!"
"Stop putting yourself down! Copy me and when I tell you to, look over. If he's not looking in this direction I'll..."
"What?" you grinned,
"Do your files for a month!"
"Deal." You started dancing, following Nats lead and getting self-conscious when she started doing the rolling hips thing. You really didn't have the figure to get away with that, but you were pretty drunk and figured if no one was watching you anyway who cares.
"Look now," she whispered and you subtly look over, well, as subtly as you could manage, the whiskey creeping up on you making you feel a bit dizzy.
Both men seem to be looking in your direction, but again he looks away. You grin back at Nat, while inside your stomach sinks. It would have been nice, just for once. Even after years of rejection it still hurt.
"I'll give you Stark's expenses Monday!" You smirk at her and you both keep dancing, Nat still watching the guys who seemed to be leaving, disappearing into the crowd of people.
"Huh, maybe he's shy?"
"Nat, if he's shy, I'm Marylin Monroe!"
"A little after my time, but she had a great smile." You spin around and lock eyes with the older guy. He's even taller than you imagined and, wow, was all that could form in your mind at that moment.
"Hi ma'am," Ma'am? Well, this night just gets better. He must have noticed your irritation because his smile faltered, "I'm, er, Steve Rogers." He held his hand out and you shook it, noticing his firm grip and large hands.
"Y/n. Nice to meet you sir." You smiled attempting to make it easier for him.
"Sorry, I forget things aren't so formal anymore."
"Just how old are you Mister?" You put on your best Marylin voice and both share a chuckle, notice his shy grin and are about to talk again when Nat grabs his arm.
"Hey handsome, come dance with me?" Nat pulls him away for a dance and you make your way to the bar, letting Nat do her thing and hoping the other guy had found someone too.
You try and get the barman's attention, but it was so crowded you just waited patiently. After a while you catch his eye and order.
"I'll get those." The young guy paid the barman, brushing your arm when he reached over the bar to pay. Your skin bristled from the contact and you felt goosebumps. He grabbed the drinks and handed one to you, moving around to stand in front of you.
"It's ok you don't have to, I know you're only here because your friend likes Nat."
"That is what you think I'm doing?"
"Yo, duff one here." You joke and he looks at you strangely. You point between yourself and Nat, who's now grinding herself on Steve's thigh.
Well, he went from sweetheart to daddy quickly.
"You are the what one?"
You huff a little, noticing his accent. Maybe he hadn't heard the term for it in English.
"It means designated ugly fat friend," You stammered out noticing how his eyes got wider and more confused with every word, "it means, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to."
"What's your name?"
You glanced up at him over your glass, pondering why he hadn't already run away. Most men took the hint, most men didn't want to be there in the first place.
"Y/n."
"Well, y/n," he drawled and the way he lingered on your name with the accent, it was so hot, "we both wanted to talk to you, but while he was fumbling with his old man words I asked your friend to dance with him so I can talk to you. So she must be the duff tonight yes?"
You didn't believe a word of it and let out a nervous laugh. It had to be a line, he must be one of those 'last resort' guys that would chat up anything.
The idea that someone would actually find you attractive and not Nat... it just didn't happen.
"Why is that funny?" he pouts, "I've been working up the courage to speak to you all night, draga."
"Wait? You actually like me?" He smirks and moves closer, his hand going to your waist his other lifting your chin and he pulls you into a kiss, pressing you back into the bar.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long time y/n," he whispers after pulling away, leaving you startled and breathless, "call me when you realize that."
He steps back to pull a card out of his pocket and places it in your palm, curling your fingers over it. The next instant he's grabbed Steve's arm, pulling him over to the exit. Steve gives Nat a quick peck on the cheek and waves over to you. Just before he leaves Pietro glances back at you, flashing you the hottest smirk you had ever seen. What the hell just happened?
Nat's excited voice yells in your ear, "What did he say did he ask you to go home with him? Y/n got a kiss! Isn't that your first in like ever?!"
You weren't really listening, your eyes reading the scrap of paper he left you, Pietro Maximoff? Holy shit.
"Well, was he a good kisser?!" Nat grinned and you gulped, your lips still tender from the kiss.
"He was probably just drunk." You shrug.
"Why did he leave you his number then? Y/n's going to get laaaiiiid!"
"Shut up!"
"Celebratory cocktails!" She yells fluttering her eyes at the barman, he instantly caves and gives you shots and cocktails for free.
By two in the morning, you were both too wasted to carry on and went back to crash at your place. After helping Nat to bed you got changed and sat on the edge of your own bed. Glancing in the mirror you didn't seem any different tonight. You were still ugly, still flabby. You couldn't work out what had made someone like him, like you. With a groan you flop down onto the bed, closing your eyes to the spinning walls above you, slowly succumbing to sleep.
Two
Tags: @goal-mine, @officialstegosaurus, @bugalouie, @iamtheonewhocares, @itsdarkwitch, @iamwarrenspeace, @n0th0, @bywonater, @wellfuckbuck, @tremilyteapot, @deidreexx , @the-sassy-slytherin92 , @ginger-wayward-assbutt
(Let me know if you want to be tagged/removed in this or anything else )
#pietro maximoff#steve rogers#aaron taylor johnson#pietro x reader#steve x reader#steve rogers x reader#captain america x reader#pietro maximoff x reader#quicksilver#quicksilver x reader#my stuff#my fics#designated#part 1
167 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
schofieldundercurrents
UNDERCURRENTS
asofterkiss
the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak
numberonenerdfury
Untitled
fvaleraye
🌸✨A Lesbian Disaster✨🌸
evolcore
Do you love me ?