#which does not change no matter what I do to try and love myself

[airanke]

Every day I sit here or lie in bed thinking about how much purity culture destroyed me.

[rustbeltbabey]

boo hoo sad pity party posting hours LMAO but I rlly truly don't think I will ever be in another relationship again. I don't feel that I will every b desirable or deserving enough, and I don't feel like I will ever even b seen as a guy n idk. I just don't know.

[wickershells]

Sigh. vent time u know the drill

[ziracona]

I guess what should be considered with Marie is whether your character starts a relationship with her because of their shared past drawing him back to her, or because he just feels bad for what part of him did to her. I don't know about Marie, but the idea of someone hooking up with me purely out of pity would be awful, worse than a rejection. No one is obligated to start a romance they don't want to soothe someone else's pain. Of course it's all up to you and how you're playing him, godspeed

TuT everyone seems to hear my quandary as “Am I responsible for this girl’s suffering and thus indebted to get with her to make her better.”

That’s really not it at all. I’m not responsible. I didn’t do that shit. And none of this has ever been based on pity. There’s certainly a level of justice to it and what’s right vs wrong in motivation, but fairness and pity ain’t the same at all.

It’s not “Do I have a responsibility to get with Marie?” (Read: do I owe it to her to romance her to make up for what a part of me did?) — its “Do I have a responsibility to get with Marie?” (Read: is this my dead wife?)

There’s a lot to consider. But. Idk why everyone seems to hear my distress as “Should I pretend to be in love with this girl so I can right a cosmic wrong and heal her, because I’m sort of a part of what did it to her and I feel bad?” and it distress me

I’m not a bad person TuT I don’t just think that way.

It’s “If this is a part of me’s dead wife, who he destroyed and abandoned, am I to me Izanagi? And am I Izanagi to her? Because if so, that means she’s my wife. It means I’m a part of the person who abandoned her, but more than that it means I have a chance to be a better me. It means I have a ‘for better or worse’ and even if I don’t remember the me who made that vow, we are the same person, and that matters to me. I take it serious. I wouldn’t abandon my wife. If we are Izanagi and Izanami to each other, that is more important to me than my character’s preferences or former plans. That’s my wife. I have a responsibility to her, and to myself. I have a chance to end the cycle of abuse. I have a chance to save someone. And even if I don’t remember her, and don’t remember making that promise, if we are to each other those two, it doesn’t matter, and it’s my wife memory or no. And I would put everything else aside for that. That isn’t pity. It’s responsibility sure but not in a begrudging way. In a desperately important choice of love. I would chose the spouse a part of me vowed to love over everything, because they’re me even if I can’t remember, and even if I never do. I would love and become who I need to be, because if that’s my wife, it matters, and it will always matter. The question is if I have that responsibility, if I have that bond. Because I don’t know if I am Izanagi to her. And I know my thoughts and my answers, but you can’t tell someone they love you. And I don’t know if I am to her, and if she does, and I don’t know how to know. So I don’t know what to do. It’s about what I want and who I am being tied to a determinate framework, and not having the other half of the equation, and if I have to guess, trying to figure out what the right thing is to do.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hi Maya I was one of your first anons back in March and I manifested my dream life. i just wanted to share some things that helped me, and hope we can all pass some knowledge so we all get our desires life. I did, you did, and everyone reading this can and will so let’s all try to help out by sharing a little of our journey. I’ll never create a blog because tumblr is a mess, so I’ll just share them here bc I trust you as a creator and I hope you agree with what I’m saying. Even if you don’t these are my assumptions and my truth

il get into my methods in one second but users of tumblr there are only 4 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE LAW (Inspired heavily by you bc I used your blog religiously) I will say you’re kind of too nice and I wish I had someone to yell at me like this, and tell me to stop being a victim!!! So if it sounds aggressive it’s because it is in the best loving way possible.OKAY SO.

★you need to understand that you want to fulfill yourself in imagination because you don’t care about the desires only how you feel about it. Bare with me it sounds stupid I know. But I don’t care about men or how they feel about me. I just want to feel worshiped and love, and I could fulfill that in my imagination. I don’t care about money??? It’s fucking paper !!! I just want to feel secure and financially free and want the feeling of buying my favorite clothes without looking at the tag. I GOT THE SAME FEELING FROM PINTREST EVEN WHEN I WAS POOR GODDAMNIT. I didn’t care about getting all As in school when I’ve always believed school is not a representation of intelligence. I wanted to feel recognized adored and respected which I had to feel for myself in my mind before it projected. I don’t care about looking skinny, I just wanted to feel snatched, I wanted to be envied, and feel pretty. And in my mind everyone wanted to be me even when I was ugly and fat. BUT I DIDNT FEEL FAT. Even with no change in the 3D I had my desires. This applies to all your desires, and you really need to understand that.

★you can affirm,visualize, understand states, understand non dualism, use the Bible or Torah m, wall twerk and say “I AM THAT BITXH,” use sats YADADAA . No one cares it doesn’t matter. you don’t have to feel anything or, even believe in wth you’re doing. As long as you think that having it in imagination means it’s yours that’s all that matter. I’ve read so many teachers, Neville, Abraham, Abdullah, Edward art, paid coaches, and they all do different things but say the same thing. FAITH IS KEY. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone you otherwise or tell you what you have to do. All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.

★YOU ARE GOD. You know what a god is, you know how a god works, you know god can do anything with a snap of a finger, kill anyone with a thought, look anyway it wants, have anything everything and create whatever. You are an omnipotent loving creator so create and give yourself everything.

★you can’t over consume, you can think from lack of whatever, and doubt can’t hinder you unless you think it does. Having a desire does not mean you’re lacking or else having the wanting for it would mean that too no? When creators say that I want to slam my head against the wall. Even now I have all my desires and I still think about them constantly. Thinking of new clothes to buy with MY WEALTH, I think of new food to eat that won’t even affect my SNATCHED BODY, i find new places to try and explore bc MY SOCIAL CIRCLE IS HUGE AND IM SO LOVED, I think of new makeup up to try to enhance my GORGEOUS PRINCESS FACE. I think of it in the same way from when I didn’t have my desired (I always had them in imagination but you know what I mean.) so there is no thinking from lack, or else you’re always lacking it lmfao the fuck. Anyways I doubted my abilities up until I manifested my dream life. I was okay with it in imagination and whether it reflected or not it was my escape I was content with. DID YOU SEE THAT. I had doubts up until the very end, and it doesn’t mean shit unless you think it does. Just affirm having doubts and obsessions only speed up your results. That’s really all it is.

Now to my story if anyone cares. I won’t make a blog for reason number 2 and 3 listed above. That’s all you need but if you want more info for curiosity go for it. I know I was curious and that didn’t stop me from getting my dream life. Anyways I have the same story as about everyone else here. My life sucked, I found the law, and it worked! HOORAY!!! But how did I do it???? Easy peasy, in a couple of steps.

☞ I tattooed my four rules above in my mind. When fear and doubt emerged I sunk that shit like the titanic and went with my laws that I created. It’s literally called the law of assumption like come on, stop fighting with yourself when you assume and create reality.

☞I ignored anything that I didn’t agree with. Sometimes I’d get so mad and be like WHAT NO WHY WOULD THAT BLOGGER OR COACH OR ANON or whoever say that?? But am I dumb ??? each of us have our own reality our own bubbles. The fact that it works for them and not for me started to only motivate me more. It doesn’t work bc I assume sooo… sooo why not just assume the opposite and focus on my rules like they did. The law is always in effect and working. Either it’s in your favor or it’s not. It’s up to you

☞I used affirmations bc repetition is the only thing that works for my logical brain. Anything can change with repetition. It’s basic science. So in the morning and night time I would affirm. ONCE. Repetition meant for me doing it everyday and not wanting. The rest of my day was lived in my imaginations. And the affirmation was to remind me in my vulnerable state that I already have my desires. That’s why my affirmation was “I have my desires no matter what, and everything I do brings them to me faster than the speed of light” it was kind of funny and made me chuckle but I accepted it as facts. Look guys…

☞I didn’t repress myself. If I cried or yelled or told myself “FUCK YOU” it wasn’t me tf. It was the devil or something. Be like those Christian fuckers who when their child comes out as gay…it’s the devil within them or whatever. I would talk to myself, yell when doubt emerged and when my thoughts weren’t the ones I wanted. It wasn’t fucking me so get the fuck out I have my desires so who tf are you ??? It will feel weird but you’ll get used to it trust me. If you’re uncomfortable it’s working. Getting rid of bad habits and your comfort in dwelling in bad thoughts is uncomfortable but it’s worth it.

I manifested my dream life back in March. I LITERALLY WOKE WITH MY DREAM LIFE. A complete 180. I won’t talk about my past life bc I completely revised it and I’m the only one who remembers so for the most part it feels like a long nightmare that has past. I’ll just talk about what I changed instead because that’s the stuff we all want to hear. Anyways I’ll just post some of my list here.

♥ my life feels like the song rich kids by freak ocean

♥I’m a pretty spoiled princess who gets everything I want but I’m still kind

♥I revised my entire family from looks to personality to zodiac to religion and etc. i rewrote my story which included my family

♥I have natural admired intelligent

♥my family has a net worth of 500 million dollars, and my entire family stems from old money. (Think aristocrats not slave or colonization money)

♥I can play many instruments and speak many languages

♥ I am 5’2, 100 pounds, I have natural stunning vixen beauty, and the most desires body in the world. I’m the beauty standard and people either want to be me or date me. I am naturally skinny and have no worries about my weight, I have clear skin that only gets clearer with my skincare routine, and I have my desired personality where I’m kind but also don’t put up with any shit from anyone because I know I’m that bitch. I also have great style and embody a princess !

♥my life is a combination of my favorite watpadd stories, Gilmore girls, gossip girl, and mean girls.

♥ too many people pursue me I have too many options

♥I have a perfect school life, social life, family life, friend life, and people always wonder what I did to be “so lucky it’s unfair”

♥my family has multiple mansions in America, monoco,Australia, france, and China.

♥I’m a daddies and mommies money girl

♥I put myself first (I HAD SUFFERED TOO LONG I NEEDED A SOFT LIFE)

♥everyone’s purpose it to make my life easier and make me happier

♥I’m spoiled and privileged in every aspect of my life

♥I’m a master shifter, and manifester

♥I revised my age to 14. I was 18 and graduating but I wanted to redo high school how I had envisioned it all my life

♥I have a “cool mom” people are always jealous how lucky I am

♥I have my main estate in Hollywood hills with my family that’s in a gated, gorgeous, gate kept neighborhood. It is 30,000 sq feet with my dreams decor, dream cars, dream pets, dream house help, dream room with all my stuff saved on Pinterest including decor, furniture, clothes, shoes, makeup and skincare.

♥everything good in my life I have manifested and it’s too much to list. THERES NOT REASON FEAR OR WAIT. Do what you want and assume it still works and it will.

You honestly said it better than I could have. Literally every single one of these points are so valid :)!! I’m glad you think I inspired you love but all I did was allow you recognize your own godly abilities. I’m very proud of you, and have fun girl 🥹❤️

Also. “All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.” This one million times !!!!! Invest your faith into yourself more than anyone else and you’ll see how fast your reality conforms. I also adore your point about the state of lacking bc I never believed in that. If wanting your desires insinuates it’s not yours, we would have no thoughts since that’s where it all originates from. In fact Edward explains it pretty well.

When Edward looks at lack, he sees it as being something that is only brought about by the individual. He believes that your own actions, thoughts, and attitudes will bring about an artificial scarcity of resources. Edward says that this artificial lack of resources is not actually real—it exists only in our minds, as we focus on the things that we don’t have rather than the things that are available to us.

He believes that true lack only exists when someone has no access to resources—whether those resources be financial, physical, mental, or emotional. When someone has access to resources but they squander them or don’t use them to their advantage, it isn’t a lack of resources that is at fault—it is the individual’s personal choices and attitudes that create the feeling of lack. Same way we see attractive people feel ugly though they have women or men chasing them, modeling opportunities, and experience many examples of pretty privilege lol. You’re a hot girl.. you’re just not using it to your advantage, same way you have everything in imagination and access to anything yet… nothing bc of your own perceptions. That’s not lack. Simply inappropriate usage of recourse. A waste for better use of words.

[emma-needs-attention]

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

[schattenhonig]

The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!

(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)

Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?

Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.

I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).

I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".

I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).

I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.

I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.

I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.

I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.

I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?

I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).

Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.

And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.

ETA: please feel free to add your own experiences of repression!

[liaswills]

Pick a card: What does this person want to say to you? ❤️

Good evening lovely darlings! I'm back with another Tumblr Tarot post- for the delusional girlies, this is another What would this person want to say to you? Particularly love focused! This could be a message from a S/O- or F/s/o or perhaps even a f/o! Depending on your degree of delulu, ofcourse. :)

Pick a pile! Use the pics underneath or go based on intuition. Thankyou! ❤️

Oh, love of mine. What wonders there are to be found when you look into my eyes. This is all poetic, truly, but in my soul, the deepest parts of it, I know that you'll still be hoping to come back to me. It is the way things are. I can't change it- even if I wanted to. I watch you. I see you. I hope you know I do believe in you- I love you. When I see tears on your cheeks, streaking like some porcelain beauty, some victorian soul, gauging at what is left of me, gauging at what the eye cannot see, I long to hold your hand, softly press a kiss to it and tell you all I have seen in you that you do not see. I would take you to my favourite spot, walk the whole way just to talk to you, I would tell you what I have been wanting to let you know- that no matter where I am, or what you do, or who we are, in our very souls, we are always one and the same. We are alike. Perhaps in spirit, personality, or maybe just in how we devote ourselves to spirituality, or God, but I know that I am yours if you will be mine. But you haven't been coming to me. You don't want to be mine yet. I know you think you do- but you're not ready for this. Neither am I. I have found myself trying to build what was left- to build a new. I have found I wanted to incorporate more of the old into my new life and therefore I am struggling to find my way to you- it will show some day but I will make time free. Free time for you. I promise you this. I fear some day, you may leave me entirely. Yet even when this happens, I'm but a cinder. I'm but a memory. A distant person you once knew. Distant eyes you once reflected upon, talked to, listened to, hoped for, wished and yearned. I'll not be the same because you won't either. We grow with one another. Tell me you love me. I need to know this. I need you to tell it straight to my face, to my memory, to my thought, to my soul, just think it. Think, say, breathe it. I will know when you do. Thank you for thinking of me today, I appreciate it.

You'll always be my true love, you know? ❤️

It's in his kiss, that's where it is. You can feel when I love you truly, baby, because I would kiss you like you've never felt before. I'd go as slow as you want, as sensual as I could ever be, as loving as I could try, I would do it for you. I know we don't know each other that well yet. We are new. But even if you know me for a long time, this feeling is new. We haven't been together before- not in other lives. I haven't loved you yet. This is new to me. I think we would fit together.... I am confused about it however. I'm not really sure what I want. I know, I am indecisive. But with you- it does feel right, it does feel... like I am a child again kissing his first crush. It feels this way- which is why I think it's important that we continue to communicate, about what you want, about what I want... it'll make this easier because I can't smell what is on your mind. I can sense your feelings, I am very empathic, but I don't know what you're thinking. And I have the feeling you're led by your thoughts, just as I am. We are horrible in listening to ourselves. Perhaps, I am better at giving you advice than I am for myself but in truth, it should be me who has to do the work and approach you, romance you, love you, not the other way around. You're so kind to me- this bamboozles the shit out of me because I am not technically seen as an approachable nice person, so your energy it really confuses me for that reason. Am I not repulsive? Do you not... want to run away from me? You're making my bad thoughts about myself resurface and dissolve all the same. When I think or look at you, even for a second, I just know that I am looking at something good. I know this is something to be cherished. Can I trust my own feeling however? I'm not too sure. I want you to know this. Just to make some clarification about where I am right now. I am not trying to push you away- nor do I want you gone AT ALL I need you and I want you by my side but I am just a torn up dunderhead. Forgive me?

"She's one of my favourite things." This is what I say when people ask about you. Hm, yes, I know. From me? You're surprised. I know some days you may think I don't know you, or don't like you, but I do, I like you a lot. You're my princess, in any fairytale that exists. And the divine to my subservient self. I'd worship you. Cherish you. Because, I know, that for you not to leave me, I have to step up and treat you well. I will be forthcoming, I will be consistent, and I will try to make your life as much of a priority as I will mine. It's not black and grey with me. It's quite clear with me. I want you to be mine. I need to marry you- some day or now. I do not care when. That's how serious I am. That's how real this feels for me. I don't need to figure this out by a 10 hour astrology research to compare my charts to yours. I don't need to figure out via a deity about what time you're going to call or text. I need to know just one thing- and that is that I can trust my feelings. I want you to trust yours. If you do- if you do feel for me, If you do cherish me, or even like me, or god above, if you even love me, if you could, that you won't break it hard on me. Do it gently. Tell me how you love me, and when you leave me, so I know it's easier. If you ever leave me, I would try to have you one more day. I really would. Not in spite or because I want some silly disgusting energy break up sex but because...I would just want to look at you, once more, see you, breathe you, just touch your hand perhaps, or even your hair, to just sit there and tell you nothing or a lot. But I wouldn't ever try to hurt you, I will never try to do this I just hope... perhaps... that you won't hurt me, all right? Can you do this for me? Can you do everything gently? (Except the sex, I don't need it to be gentle ok) but you get what I mean. My heart, my feelings, are much more tender than I can confess. I may look tough. I may be someone you think is tough- perhaps I am, maybe I am also that, but one word of you can silence me forever. Trust on that. So use your words well with me, it'll be better for both of us. Don't you think? I love you. ❤️

God speed your love to me. You thought this was going to be the romantic pile, didn't you? Hahahaha! Bitch please! I am your worst nightmare. Just kidding, I am just incapable of showing you the love you so desire and dream of. What is it with you and me? You like me obsessively. Trust me, your guides and I have been chatting away for a bit and you're.... well, let's just say, you're at wits end about me, aren't you darling? Hehe. I like when you're mad. Some days, I just think how lovely it would be if you'd be in my arms and I could just... have a peek at that lovely chest of yours. Too dirty? I understand. You think I'm a pervert. Honestly, darling, I do too. That's what I hide behind, mostly, truthfully, I'm disgusting myself sometimes, especially during those solo hours. You don't want to believe the things I've thought about you- oh my god. If my life's work and thoughts would ever get published, it would be the biggest event of all lifetime. The world would stop. The M25 would be in a traffic jam all fucking year- don't know why, but it would, wouldn't it? Say, I know you from somewhere... that's what I always say, I always begin with that. And then, I would transgress your interest and I would try and lure you into thinking of me. And when you're thinking of me, I am thinking of how you're hopelessly and desperately thinking of me and then I'll- you know, get creative thinking of you. Honey, what am I to you? Though? Like- can we be real? Am I your friend? Your lover? Your nemesis? Your teacher? Your mentor? What the fuck are we? I am so confused ! 🤣 You say things that literally bolder me off the side of the road and throw me right into the cut. Like can we pretend that for one day, you and I aren't you and I and then we can be delusional together in our own little world? You'd like that right? Well, I would too. I need to escape whatever the hell this is, or this life is, and then we can get coffee and a drink or two and you can tell me what we're going to do about this, about us, because I can't stop thinking how we are going to solve this or do this or just... how. Hm :) You look good. Just wanted to say that. Take some medicine when you feel bad, especially cramps. Take good care of yourself. I could write to you forever- know that. You can reach out to me.

[wileys-russo]

love love LOVE your mary & Delilah fics! was wondering if you could do one where little delilah is brought to a match and she sees mary interacting with young fans who are about her age and gets a little jealous and clingy because that’s HER MAMA

part of the a date to remember universe

my mama II m.earps x reader

"okay which one lilah? purple, black or green?" you questioned, holding up the choices and doing a little dance making your daughter giggle. "i wanna dress myself today please." she informed crossing her arms over her chest with a determined nod.

"okay baby. but its cold, so dress warm!" you chuckled, hanging the jumpers back up and moving to sit down. "no mummy, by myself!" she pointed to the door and hurried over, pushing at your legs.

"okay okay! god i thought i'd get a few more years before i got kicked out of your room, this hurts lilah." you gasped dramatically as she shoved you from her room, only met with a door slammed in your face.

"was that-" you turned around and nodded to your wife. "she wants to dress herself today." you informed with a chuckle, moving into your wifes waiting arms which wrapped around you.

"we've told her she isn't allowed to grow up right?" "nearly every day since was born my love, she just does not want to listen."

~

"delilah grace earps are you done now?" you called out with a sigh, leaning against the wall by her door which you'd tried to open several times only met with a yell and it pushed closed again, your daughter firmly stating she wasn't ready and you weren't allowed to see until she was.

mary had already been picked up as to not be late for warm ups and you shook your head as you checked the time again already knowing the two of you would be stuck in traffic and miss kick off if you didn't leave soon.

"okay lilah we have to go, i'm coming in." you warned, though before you could even grab the handle the door it flew open and a bundle of colour and blonde hair came tumbling out.

"do you like it!" your daughter beamed, bouncing happily as you bit your bottom lip taking in her choice of outfit.

she had on a pair of black and white light up custom trainers alessia had gotten her for her birthday, pale yellow nike joggers with a pair of green man united kit shorts over the top. on her top half she on a bright purple hoodie with an orange lionesses jersey that was far too big for her with toone on the back and a bright red man united beanie on her head, with its matching scarf tied around her hips like a makeshift belt.

"well...i'm not going to lose you in the crowd, thats for certain." you smiled, knowing no matter what you said or tried there wasn't a chance you'd be getting your daughter changed without a fight and missing the game.

"you don't wanna wear mama's jersey lilah?" you tried, knowing your wife would kick off and ella would be absolutely insufferable in your daughters current choice. "nope! aunty el was sad last time i saw her so i thought this would make her happy, cause you and mama always say orange is a happy colour!" she grinned and your heart melted.

the last time she had seen her favourite aunt and godmother was after a particularly rowdy team night out where both had wound up crashing the night at your place, mary their designated driver and apparently a key influence in just how many shots they'd downed which you'd told her off for afterwards.

the two had wound up crying crocodile tears as mary and you both disallowed them to see delilah, trying to remind it was hours after her bedtime and the two of them were very drunk. which had in turn woken your daughter who'd come to investigate, not understanding why she wasn't allowed to say hello to either of her favourite people.

mary had practically needed to sit on top of both your adopted daughters to stop them racing after you, reminding them over and over that your four year old didn't need to see them in their current intoxicated state and they could see her in the morning.

"we do say that don't we." you agreed with her words, shaking your head in amusement but giving in, not wanting to squash the independence you and mary were trying to instill in her.

"at least you listened about the cold and did lots of layers babe, now time to go!"

~

you sent polite smiles to the strange looks you received walking your daughter through old trafford, meeting up with marys mum and wordlessly shaking your head at her questioning stare as she scooped up her granddaughter and the three of you made your way to your seats.

normally marys siblings and father would be in attendance but all had fallen ill with a stomach bug so you laughed at the way your mother in law was so relieved to be surrounded by 'healthy non whinging human beings'.

"do you like my outfit nanna?" your daughter chirped for the third time in the hour as you waved to your wife who was very clearly looking around stressed that she'd not spotted you, sighing in relief once she had.

"don't ask!" you mouthed to her perplexed look toward your daughter stood up in your lap furiously waving her and her team mates down. "els!" you cupped your hands over your mouth to gain the midfielders attention as she began to walk off the pitch after warm ups.

maya heard you and grinned before tapping ellas shoulder and gesturing toward you as you spun delilah around to show her last name plastered on your daughters back as her face lit up and you laughed as she raced right over to jump on your wifes back and no doubt lay into her about it.

now delilah was older she'd become a different sort of handful to take to marys games. gone were the earmuffs, dummy and baby blanket she'd needed to settle previously, where she'd often sleep the whole way through happily budled up in someones arms.

nowadays as your mothers both liked to remind you two she was just like you and mary had been as kids, a little unstoppable bundle of energy who often required distraction or bribery of some sort to sit still for prolonged periods of time.

which is how you found yourself racing off midway through the first half to sort out some food, having left in such a rush you'd completely forgotten the bag of snacks and toys you normally carted along with you whenever you left the house with delilah in tow.

thankfully with her grandma more than happy to listen to her chatter and answer her millions of questions you made it through the entire match without a single issue.

the problems started when the game finished and julie had needed to rush off to get back to the family, catching mary quickly before ducking off and leaving you and delilah to patiently wait your turn.

it would seem patience today though was not on delilahs agenda.

"i wanna see mama now!" the girl whined, wriggling furiously to try and yank her hand out of your grip as you sighed and took a deep breath. "mama's just saying hi to some people first baby, thats part of her work!" you tried to explain, even offering her an ice cream as a last minute ditch to distract her but it was to no use.

not even alessia could capture her attention for more than a few minutes as your daughter grew more and more fussy and inpatient the more time passed.

"go! it'll be fine." you forced a smile toward your wifes team mates who'd all taken turns trying to distract delilah as the two of you stood in the tunnel, mary signing autographs and taking photos with a larger crowd than normal.

"wanna go kick a ball tiny?" millie offered in a last ditch effort and that seemed to work as your daughter nodded eagerly and latched onto the taller girls leg, her giggles echoing around as millie zoomed off back onto the pitch.

you kept her in sight as you followed after them, hanging on the sidelines and waving to a few fans who called out your name, mary glancing over apologetically as you sent her a smile and a nod assuring it was fine.

but that tiny lapse in attention was all it took for delilah to break away from millie, maya and ella, sprinting off toward mary who had her back turned and ignoring the older girls calls after her which gained your focus back toward them.

intercepting her you scooped delilah up into your arms and sat her on your hip. "no! i wanna see mama!” you winced as she smacked your chest a few times and pushed away ella who'd appeared to try and help, and you could tell from the wobble of her bottom lip that she was a few moments away from a meltdown.

"hey lilah, look at me please." you dropped to your knees and stood her on her feet, your hands on her shoulders stopping her from running off. "we don't hit people, okay? i know you're having some really big feelings and you miss mama but-" you started, yelping as your daughter suddenly scratched at your hand, racing away toward mary.

"delilah grace!" you called after her, mary looking up a second too late as her daughter barreled into her. "my mama! mine!" she snarled at a young girl who mary was trying to take a picture with as the keeper quickly picked her up and apologised to the fan and her dad right as delilah started to scream.

apologizing to the crowd still awaiting her attention mary hurried back toward you, the two of you falling into step as you made your way into the tunnel and down the hall toward the change rooms. "lilah baby-" you started as her screams turned into sobs and she buried her face in marys neck.

"no, get off!" the girl snapped again scratching your hand as you inhaled sharply and paused, catching your wifes eye who nodded in understanding as you stayed outside and she dissapeared into the change rooms to try and calm your daughter down.

"hey, you alright?" you glanced up to meet concerned blue eyes and nodded, exhaling deeply as the taller girl pulled you into a hug. "thanks less." you mumbled as she rubbed your back, assuring over and over that you were the best mum ever.

promising her you were okay but that you'd need a raincheck on dinner plans you all had tonight both her and ella gave you another long hug and headed off to see their families.

with another deep breath you headed into the change rooms, only a few of the girls remaining as you spotted mary by her cubby. you caught her eye again and raised an eyebrow as she nodded, your daughter still tightly wrapped around her.

"lilah what do we need to say to mummy please?" mary started quietly, bouncing her knee up and down gently to gain your daughters attention as she pulled her head out of marys neck.

"im very sorry for scratching and yelling mummy." the girl apologised softly, climbing off marys lap and moving into yours, warmth flooding your body as she hugged you tightly and you kissed the top of her head.

you melted even further as your daughter grabbed your hand, carefully kissing over where she'd scratched you before clambering right back into marys lap.

"i'll shower at home, or else little miss is gonna wind up soaked." mary chuckled, gesturing to the way your daughter clung onto her like a monkey, refusing to loosen her grip as you took your wifes bag for her and the three of you waved goodbye to the few girls left and headed for the carpark.

"mama in the back with me!" delilah ordered with a frown once you reached the car, mary having gained a lift with alessia this morning meaning she at least didn't need to drive herself back.

"okay baby, just this once." mary gave in clearly picking up that delilah was being abnormally clingy after seeing her interacting with other kids, something the two of you would need to speak with her about another time.

and for the rest of that night it was the same story, your daughter refusing not to have some part of her in contact with mary at all times. so much so that she'd stayed in the bathroom while your wife showered, insisting you sit with her as well as she held marys hand through the shower door making you smile in amusement.

"my mama." was all that seemed to be repeated, the possessiveness also something new but a conversation for another day as mary waved off your concerns, too thrilled with having your daughters full focus and attention all night.

"oh for god sakes." you'd chuckled later that night at the sight before you. your wife having spent an abnormal amount of time putting delilah to bed you'd wandered up to check in, only to find her dead asleep in the tiny single bed belonging to your daughter, long limbs hanging off the sides with delilah curled into her still very much so awake.

"sh! mama is very tired mummy." delilah warned as you entered the room. "you should be asleep little miss, not mama!" you reminded quietly as she gave you a cheeky smile looking far too much like her other mother and held up the book which was previously laid open on marys chest.

"one more story, please?"

[even-disco-baby]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

[preeningpisces]

Gojo NSFW Headcanons

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate/write something about any of these 🩵

I make fun of him a lot in these, I couldn't stop myself I'm afraid

18+ content below the cut, mdni, implied chubby f!reader

◉ We all know he’s a tease, he runs on bastard energy. There may or may not have been a few incidents where he denied too much, took too long, and legit made your pussy dry up—you never let him forget when it happens too. Good, knock this bitch down a peg

◉ Speaking of peg, I think we as a community have agreed this guy is a switch. Being the strongest & always having to be in control makes giving up control appealing & relieving for a lot of ppl, Gojo included

◉ In fact, I think you get the most emotional reactions from Gojo when he’s being submissive because he trusts you & is free to loosen up the tight hold he has over himself. So mushy gushy

◉ Literally does not stfu in bed—he just streams his consciousness when he’s having sex. Everything in his mind just comes out. Which sometimes leads to ridiculous scenarios, like the time he accidentally moaned pizza because he was hungry

◉ Goofy-ass man in bed, but he can be very serious & intense too when he wants to be—yum

◉ Loves loves loves quickies, especially if you’re wearing a skirt and the risk of his cum rolling down your thigh is present. Especially loves it when you're all 'Satoru, we can't do it here >:[' and he relents, and then a few moments later you go '....well, i mean maybe we can just makeout a bit,' and then suddenly he's fingering you, and you're giving him a handjob. Whoops

◉ A live male-whimpering asmr audio, he is noisy af in bed like he doesn’t try to keep quiet at ALL. This makes sneaky sex in public places super stressful, you gotta gag him with his blindfold more often than not

◉ Also likes role play, especially corny porn tropes, like “oh no, I can’t pay for my pizza“ 10/10 super fun time. Y'all are giggling the whole time

◉ Pretty much willing to try anything once, within reason. Has a high sex drive, but isn't too picky about what you do. Very spontaneous, and instinctive--all do, no think. This means there isn’t really a strict ‘I’m dom your sub now’ approach to sex, you two just go with the flow. Sometimes it changes often in one encounter, other times it doesn’t change at all

◉ Bad habit of tearing your clothes off. He’s too excited, and of course he can buy you a new one, so why does it matter?

◉ If he’s blindfolding you, he has to wear his blindfold too; he just thinks it’s too funny. Pretends he can’t see & intentionally misses and feels around like a loser. “I can’t find your pussy!” in an awful Velma impression. God I hate him

◉ I’m sorry I can’t stop thinking of stupid scenarios in bed with him LMFAO

◉ Is a slut and sends you pics all the time, tho sometimes it’ll just be his balls at odd angles for funsies (I literally can’t stop I’m sorry)

◉ Very grope-y. You’ll just be minding your business when this lanky menace comes up behind you, and feels up all your soft parts. He just enjoys squeezing, and kneading anywhere you’re squishy

◉ Unfortunately, he is one of those types that will pinch your belly or love handles, intending it to be flirty. It makes you think he’s poking fun at you, at least in the early stages of your relationship. Eventually you accept he’s doing it because he likes touching you everywhere. I’d say he’ll be respectful and stop touching you, but I’m sorry I don’t think he would tbh 😭 this is why gege murked him

[gavisimmaculaterizz]

It was evening and y/n was in the bath doing skincare routine, but then she started crying because she started getting acne. She didn’t want to show it to Hector, but he did find out and he started supporting her and explaining that she was the most beautiful girl

Sorry for my English, is not my native language 🤪🤪

— beautiful girl / hector fort.

summary: you’re having troubles with your skin, but hector tells you he loves you no matter what.

warnings: mentions of breaking out (acne), some negative thoughts

masterlist

university has been eating at you, not being able to care for yourself properly. school work on top of school work, test on top of test, you never got enough rest. you always hated yourself for not being able to care for yourself when uni got that bad.

you were such an organized person, always doing your skincare, and as of now, even the smallest parts of your daily routine were far gone.

to say the least, you were a mess.

your boyfriend héctor always offered to do your skincare, being fond of your perfectionist routine. but you always denied, telling him that it wasn’t his problem, and that he shouldn’t have to worry.

————————————————————————

as you finally had a day of rest, you decided to take matters into your own hands, and finally fix yourself up. you did your nails, had your everything shower, and put on nice pajamas.

the evening was nice and calm in barcelona , and that set you in a better mood to continue in with your routine.

but as you started on your skincare, you noticed red dots on your skin. as you got closer and closer to your bathroom mirror, there it was. something you never expected..

acne..

it never occurred to you to check in the mirror before you went to uni, because of how busy you were, but now looking at yourself, you were deeply regretting not checking once in the mirror.

you rarely had problems with acne, your skincare routine always provided a good protection against acne. but since you haven’t been able to take care of yourself, there you were, having to deal with problems on your skin.

it could’ve been hormonal changes you were going through, but you couldn’t find why you broke out. but there you were..

you couldn’t help but start to tear up, thoughts racing through your head.

“how come i never noticed?”, you whispered to yourself. tears began streaming down your face, not being able to control your emotions anymore.

as your emotions began to take over, your mind went wandering..

‘why does my boyfriend even like me?’ ‘am i even good enough for him?’ ‘why did i not take care of myself properly?’

as you were so in your head, you never noticed the bathroom door opening.

héctor had just came back from an outing with his teammates. when he came back home, he heard soft sobs heard from your shared room, and he decided to investigate.

when he opened the door to your shared bathroom, he noticed you crying. confused as he was, he decided to walk quietly to you, trying to figure out why you were crying.

he noticed you rubbing at your skin, saying something he couldn’t comprehend, but that’s when it hit him.

you were crying because you broke out.

he felt sad that you weren’t able to properly take care of yourself, and deep down he knew you were blaming yourself for having university overload you with stress.

he quietly hugged you, which quickly got you out of your thoughts.

while there were no words exchanged, the only thing heard were quiet sobs from you.

as minutes passed by, you spoke up.

“dime la verdad héctor, me quieres as�� de fea?”, you said, clearly emotional. (tell me the truth hector, you love me this ugly)

“como crees que no te amo!! i love you the way you are baby.. why do you think that?”, hector said, voice lingering with sadness and confusion. (why do you think that i don’t love you)

“don’t you see my skin amor! how do you love someone like me, who’s skin looks terrible..?”, you said quietly, voice cracking at the end.

“i love you with or without acne amor,” hector started.

“you need to understand that this happens to people. you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes upon! te quiero sin o con maquillaje, sin o con problemas de piel.” héctor said softly. (i love you with or without makeup, with or without skin problems)

his words calmed you down. you thought you weren’t enough for him. he was a gorgeous man, with great skin, not a single problem with his skin.

you felt insecure with those pimples, although it would be gone, you still felt a bit insecure.

he noticed your face and decided to reassure more..

“you know amor, you’re the most beautiful girl ever.. i love you no matter what.”, your boyfriend said.

he ended it with a kiss.. problems soon faded away.

you were his beautiful girl and he loved you no matter what.

a/n: first héctor fic! ngl i didn’t know how to even start it so if it seems weird pls forgive me! also mind my shitty writing for dear life.. please send requests if you have some🤍

[wowevenmoreloveonearth]

You know what? I have become a gaylor sympathiser

This is going to be a long post, sorry! Please read the full post before even thinking about commenting.

Over the past few days I’ve seen a few posts on my dash about taylor swift and her fans that have left a bad taste in my mouth.

I know that a lot of people think that some fans of her are “trying to make her gay” and I just wanted to put the record straight and defend some people after actually looking at what’s going on. And I know I’m probably opening myself up for tumblr’s poor reading comprehension but before I start I’m going to say this:

I do not think taylor swift is a lesbian

Ok? Now let’s have a conversation.

First of all from what I’ve seen most of the fans who talk about Taylor swift and queerness do it from a point of literary analysis and learning queer history. This is a huge part of the community and lots of people have said that they never would have learnt so much about queer history without reading taylor swift’s works through a queer lens.

Adding on to that point, it seems a little hypocritical for the gay site which loves queer readings of books, tv shows, songs, musicals, films etc to be bullying a pretty small group of people who are mainly doing queer readings of lyrics. Especially when those people get near constant death threats. Instead of bullying these people (who don’t think or do what you think they think and do) why don’t you go outside and think “does this affect me? No. Do I agree with them? No. Am I going to cyber bully them because of this? No.”

Secondly, for the people who believe that any speculation on a real persons sexuality is 100% wrong. I used to think this too but I have changed my mind a bit about this recently after stopping and thinking about it properly. I’m not trying to change your mind at all I just want you to stop and think for a minute.

If you only get mad when speculation is queer in nature, then maybe think about that for a minute. Why is it totally wrong to think a person might be queer. We probably do it in our daily lives with people we know and they likely do it with us, back in the day that’s how queer people found each other-by speculating on sexuality. Would you be upset if you found out someone that you know thought you might be queer? I wouldn’t, maybe you would but if you would, why? Why is it terrible to think someone might be queer (this is NOT about hounding a person to admit to being queer like shawn mendes, this is just thinking in your head and on your small blog that the person will likely never see). Also this is literally the website where we talk about historical (real people) being gay even when they would have never said something to the equivalent.

An addition to this point before people start saying in the comments is that this is NOT the same situation as with kit connor. The issue there was people assuming that he was straight and taking that role away from a queer person. Speculating that he was queer was the opposite of what happened in that situation. So this is not an example of what happens when you speculate queerness.

Final things to say:

1) don’t believe every post you see with someone looking insane about taylor swift being gay, a lot of them are fake.

2) before anyone says “they should listen to real queer artists instead” most of them very much do. There’s a lot of fans of Hayley kiyoko, girl in red, Janelle monae, tegan and sara, zolita, kehlani etc.

3) there are some queer flags that are there. Sorry but there are. Hairpin drops, lavender, the ladder, flag colours, songs about women, friend of dorothy reference. Whether they are intentional is a different matter.

4) shipping real people is not what is happening for the majority of the people in the community. Also this comes back to queer vs straight again. Plenty of swifties ship taylor with men she’s been seen with and no one goes into their inboxes and sends death threats even when they are the ones making taylor swift all about the men she may or may not have dated.

5) taylor swift has never stated her sexuality. I know this may be hard to belive based off of how some people act, but it’s true. She has made vague statements which could have many meanings but she has never clearly stated anything. When gaylors get upset with taylor it is not because she said she is straight, it’s because they are getting death threats and doxxed and she seems to either be unaware of it (which is unlikely given how she seems to be a little terminally online) or she doesn’t care enough to tell her fans to stop.

6) if she does explicitly say she’s straight then there will probably be disappointment in her use of queer history and flags and her potential queer erasure (as we saw with lavender haze, with straight women describing their relationships as lavender) and centring herself in queer spaces (like the you need to calm down music video) but no one will be angry that she’s not gay. And a lot will probably be grateful that she actually explicitly stated for the record to absolve any confusion. The main issue would likely be other fans ramping up the death threats and bullying.

In conclusion: these people who do queer analysis of Taylor’s work are not trying to out her or make her gay etc. if you don’t understand it that’s fine it’s clearly not for you and you can go quite easily without seeing any of it. It’s not illegal to read works through a queer lens and if it means more people know about queer history then I think that’s a very good thing.

I changed my mind after looking at what a lot of people are actually saying rather than what people perceive them to be saying and maybe you will too?

Just be kinder to people online please and if you don’t like what people are saying block them and do not engage!

[transmascissues]

hey i know your post about your mom was mostly just a personal vent, but i have to say, do you realize that also happens with trans girls and their fathers? literally happened to one of my friends. i’m not trying to downplay your experience or something but i found it strange that you seem to think this is something that only affects transmascs

i have one question for you: so fucking what?

i don’t doubt that trans girls have experienced similar things and yeah, that’s bad too, but what the fuck does that have to do with me and the specific things i’m facing as a result of being a trans man? i never said “look at this thing that happens to ONLY trans men and NO ONE ELSE,” i just said “hey, isn’t this thing that happens to a lot of trans men, including myself, fucked up?”

i would also like to point out that what you’re talking about is in fact a different (albeit similar) thing. the way cis people treat trans people can differ dramatically based on the cis person’s gender because their commitment to gender roles is, like, a major part of problem. the specific way a cis mother reacts to her trans son’s transition is often going to be very distinct, while a cis father will likely respond to his trans daughter in a different but equally distinct way.

what i’m talking about is a very specific kind of ownership and control and self-victimization and total lack of boundaries masquerading as love and care and maternal concern that cis women (i would argue white cis women in particular) project onto their transmasc kids when we do literally anything to our bodies. i’m talking about a phenomenon which is closely related to the way moms often pass eating disorders onto their daughters (or children they view as daughters) because they see a body that looks something like theirs and project all of their insecurities and ideals onto it. i’m talking about a form of parental transphobia and projection that’s specific to the dynamic of a cis mother and her child who was “supposed to” be her daughter.

if you’ve never felt that, you’re not even remotely qualified to tell me shit about how i should be talking about that experience, and if you couldn’t recognize that experience when you read my post, i’m guessing you probably haven’t experienced it because the replies to that post made it very clear to me that anyone who has experienced it firsthand immediately knew exactly what i meant.

like, yeah, cis dads also project onto their trans daughters, but are they likely to have a reaction like running away with actual tears streaming down their face? do you expect them to passive aggressively make comments about how sad their kid’s transition makes them, how it’s such a difficult emotional time, how it’s so tragic because their kid’s body was so beautiful before? do you think their go-to transphobic reaction will be weaponizing their emotions? i’m sure there are some dads out there who are like that, but i think we can agree they’re in the minority because that’s not how cis men are taught to react and parents like this tend to be pretty damn committed to following the gender roles they were taught.

and even if i’m wrong and our experiences are exactly the same, let me reiterate that i never said this was an experience exclusive to trans men. all i said is that it happens to us. that’s just a statement of objective fact.

this started in my life when i got my hair cut short for the first time almost a decade ago and it has not stopped since. i’ve watched my mom cry over me changing my name and respond to being asked if my happiness matters more to her than my name by saying “i care about both”, i’ve watched her melt down in a mall over me getting a suit for prom and give me the silent treatment for days after, i’ve heard her plead with me to stop t because it “looks unnatural” and she’s just so “concerned for my health”, i’ve watched her stare at me post-op and say “my poor baby” over and over like she’s looking at my corpse in a casket. i’ve watched her turn herself into the victim of every single aspect of my transition. i’ve had to live with this for 9 years and spent the early years of the pandemic literally locked in a house with it. this has been my entire adolescent and adult life, and the question of if i’ll have to cut her off someday (and maybe never see my cat or my little cousins who i love more than anything in the world ever again as a result) haunts me every single day.

who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk about that?

[buckyalpine]

Hiiii Loveeeeeeee

I am in LOVE with the Untouched AU..

and i was wondering, would Bucky ever suggest maybe some anal play?

maybe he brings the idea up to you, and you think he’s talking about your ass and when he sees you get all panicked he’s just “no no no, bubs, i wanna play around with mine”

maybe start with a plug… move up to fingers… then maybe a strap? 👀👀

I’m gonna see myself out-

18+ 

AY SEE YOURSELF BACK IN RN. I only changed a little here and there, build his curiosity a bit after some play time with you first. We love our inexperienced babies trying new things together. Also I didn’t mean for this to get this filthy or long and I deeply apologize for what you’re about to see if you decide to read this. 

Warnings: anal play (f & m), M masturbation, use of toys, All the smut and fluff with switch!College!Bucky, as always I love him desperate, needy, feral and filthy all in one. His mouth is a warning cause I live for horny desperate Bucky’s dirty talking. 

-

“Let me prep you baby” Bucky grabbed the bottle of lube, squeezing some onto his fingers. You shuddered while he hummed, his eyes trailing up and down your naked body while you laid spread out for him. Bucky had looked like a puppy when he first brought it up, too shy to even get the worse out until you some got it out of him and what he wanted to try. 

He’d wanted this for a while. Whenever he was wrapped up in your wet warmth, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he filled you up there. How tight it would be, what it would feel like, how beautiful you’d sound for him.

You felt your body heat up like it was on fire; no one had ever touched you there, fuck you hadn’t touched yourself like that there either. Still, you couldn’t resist how badly you wanted it too and there was no one else you trusted more than him. 

You yelped at the feel of the cold gel, instinctively closing your legs while Bucky chuckled, his other hand soothingly rubbing your thigh, gently spreading your legs open again.

“It okay baby, open up for me” He rubbed gently circles on your tight ring of muscle while you felt your face heat up at the foreign sensation. “You feel okay?” 

“Keep going James Please?”  Your breath hitching in your throat feeling nervous. Bucky could feel you twitch against his finger, his cock jumping against his briefs. 

“M’gonna go slow, okay? Breathe for me baby” He slowly breeched your hole with his middle finger, stopping at the first knuckle to check on you. “Still okay doll?” You nodded, gasping when he pushed in a little further, pulling back slightly, the muscles in your body tensed. 

“Shhh, breathe, that’s it” He kept gently rubbing your thigh while he continued to gently push his finger in and out, “Relax for me sweetheart, doing so good for me baby, does it hurt?” 

“N-no, feels good” You whimpered, the strange feeling slowly melting into something pleasurable when he went a little deeper, slightly curling his finger “O-oh fuck” 

“Can I add another baby?” He continued to build up a comfortable rhythm till he felt your body relax, before he carefully slipped a second finger into you. You hissed at the slight discomfort which quickly went away with how gently he was being with you. 

“You’re so tight sweets, don’t know if I’ll fit in you” He breathed out, his own heart racing at the way you were wrapped around his middle and ring finger, your pretty little moans making his cock wet. He couldn’t help but moan himself at the way your hips squirmed on the bed, the way your back slightly arched off the bed, the way your jaw was slack. 

Angelic. 

“Buckyyy” You whined, your eyes dropping to where he cockhead nearly poked out of the waistband of his briefs, hard and desperate for relief. You clenched around his fingers, needing to be filled by him. 

“What is it angel” 

“I-I’m ready”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, giving him grabby hands so you could slip his boxers off; it didn’t matter how many times you had seen him naked, he was always a sight to behold. He kneeled in front of you, having you sit up with him, pulling you into his lap for a moment. 

“I promise I’ll be gentle but we can stop any time if it hurts you doll” Bucky cupped your face to make sure your eyes were locked with his, he’d never do anything that hurt you. “Promise you’ll tell me if you want to stop?” 

“Promise bubba” You leaned up to kiss him before lying back down again while Bucky grabbed the lube again, spreading more on your ass before smearing it over the length of his cock. He gave it a few tugs before guiding you to on all fours, with your ass up and face against the mattress. The sight alone caused drops of precum to drip onto your skin. You bit your lip at the feeling of his blunt tip catch against your hole, rubbing the lube around more, his other hand resting on your hip. 

“Are you ready for me baby?” 

“Mhm” You wiggled your hips teasingly, both of your hearts beating erratically as he gripped his cock, pressing the head and starting to push inside. The second his tip breeched your hole, Bucky knew he was screwed, your sweet tightness nearly choking his cock and he wasn’t even fully in you yet. 

“Oh god” his head was thrown back, your body sucking his cock in, “your ass is so fucking tight, what the fuck-”

“Buckyy” Your voice was muffled, burying your face into the pillow, clutching onto the sheets, your body squirming at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“You okay sweets?” He stilled his movements, panting, his cock throbbing, desperate to spill into you. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to calm the way he was twitching but he had 0 control over how badly he wanted to-needed to- cum hard and deep inside you. “You want me to keep going?” You nodded, relaxing your body, slowly started to feel the stretch melt into pleasure.

“Breathe for me doll, relax for me” His eyes rolled back, hissing as he pulled back slowly before filling you up again. He set a slow pace, letting you get used to the stretch, his hands bruising your skin with how hard he was gripping you.

“You’re so so fucking right, I-holy fuckk” His voice dropped to a whimper, stroking up and down your spine, soothing the ache from his thick length. “You’re such a good girl for me baby, making me feel so good” His head was thrown back, jaw slack, how the hell did you feel so good. “Y/n…s’too sensitive, m‘ not gonna last baby” 

“Its-it-s okay, cum for me baby” You were too turned on to care, the way he sounded was enough to make you feel satisfied. Your entire body buzzed with anticipation, feeling every throb and twitch deep in your walls, pulling him back in each time he pulled back. 

“M’gonna fill this pretty ass with my cum baby, I can’t stop”  He moaned louder, both hands grabbing your ass. “I-fuck it’s so tight, squeezing the fuck out of my cock doll, m’gonna cum okay? Fuck I promise I'll make you cum after but I can’t hold it right now-shitshittt I’m cumming, m’fucking cumming” You could feel him his warm cum pump you full, while he grinded his hips so he was still deep inside you, grunting each time more cum spilled from the tip.

“Oh fuck” Bucky whimpered, his pink cock overly sensitive and throbbing against his tummy as he slumped over on your bed, his body drained. 

“You feel okay doll?” Bucky rolled you over, brushing the hair that clung to your face, kissing your forehead and checking to see if you were in pain. “Did s’good for me angel, does anything hurt?” 

“M’okay” You whispered, your body still felt like live wire between the slight soreness you felt and your throbbing clit. Bucky smirked at the way you clenching your thighs together, crawling down you body until he was face to face with your dripping cunt. He placed a sloppy messy kiss onto your clit, tossing your legs over his shoulders. 

“Time for me to take care of you babygirl” 

A few weeks later

Bucky blinked, his unable to take his eyes off the video he had clicked onto, not realizing he was stroking his cock faster, breaths getting heavier. He wasn’t exactly new to porn but this was certainly something new to him. He knew people were into this, but he didn’t realize he’d be into it. Until now. He watched the girl wrap the guys thighs around her waist while she filled him up with a strap on, pumping his ass while stroking his cock. Bucky didn’t even realize he was moaning, feet planting on the bed, thrusting into his hand, blowing his load all over his chest, reality sinking in after his post orgasmic haze cleared.

He wanted it. 

He needed it. 

Bucky bit his lip, wondering how he’d bring this up with you, he knew you wouldn’t judge him but it still felt a little risky to bring up. 

A few days later

“Sooo...”

“Spit it out Bucky, you’ve been hiding something all week” You playfully rolled your eyes while he let out the breath he was holding, sitting on the edge of your bed with you. 

“I um...I saw something I wanted to try”

“Just tell me baby”  

“Would you-would you want to try more anal play...with.me?” Bucky played with his fingers, his cheeks blushing furiously, “Like...you play with me?” 

Your stomach erupted into butterflies, your pussy already starting to drip, why would you not want to try something that would make him feel good. You tilted his chin to look at you, kissing his nose softly, making him blush more. 

“Is that all baby, you want me to play with you there?” You cooed, your thumb caressing his cheek while he shyly nodded. Bucky had always taken perfect care of you and you were more than excited to give him the same love, care and pleasure he craved so badly (you may or may not have already read up on how to please a guy there because curiosity had gotten the best of you while you were reading a spicy article) 

You pulled him to lie down on your pillows, helping him strip his clothes off until you were both bare, kissing down his body while he felt his breath hitch his in throat, his leaky cock making a mess. 

“Just relax for me baby” You whispered, taking his cock down your throat, licking up his precum before pulling off and running your tongue down his shaft to his balls. You moaned at his salty taste, rolling them against your tongue, smiling to yourself as he spread his legs further for you. 

“Tell me if this is okay” You whispered, kissing below his balls, licking and pressing your thumb in soft circles around the area making his body jolt at the sensation. You smiled to yourself, applying more pressure. 

“Fuck-f-fuckk” he could only contain his whines for so long, each time you licked and pressed against his perineum was too much, he needed you there. “Need you doll, need it” 

“Open up for me baby boy” You cooed, your stomach clenching over the way his eyes locked with yours as he spread his thighs apart for you. You squeezed the lube onto your fingers, gently spreading it around his tight hole, loving the way you could already feel him clenching against your fingertips.

“Want it doll” He whined again, his bottom lip red from how much he’d chewed it. 

Greedy baby. 

“Shh, I’m right here baby” You pushed your finger in slowly, stopping at the first knuckle, giving him some time to adjust before going further. “You okay James?” You carded your fingers through his hair, stroking his forehead while he whined, his greedy hole begging for more. 

“Feels good baby, more”

“More?” 

He nodded, holding his thighs apart for you, letting out the breath he was holding as you pushed your finger in further, a throatily groan slipping past his lips. 

“Oh fuckkkkk” He closed his eyes, relaxing his muscles so you could move faster, the feeling of your finger pushing in and out of him was unmatched. He moved his hand down to grasp onto his cock, squeezing the base so he wouldn’t cum too soon. “Can you-can you add another finger baby?”

“Are you sure Bucky?”

“Stretch me doll” He shuddered, desperate to feel full with your pretty fingers. You grabbed more lube before carefully inching inside him again, a deep satisfied groan dripping from his lips. 

“That’s-fuck that’s it, fuck it feels good” Bucky started to lazily stroke his cock, barely applying any pressure because he knew he would blow his load. You licked your lips at the beautiful sight before you, his legs spread apart for you while he played with himself, with pretty moans he couldn’t contain. You wanted more though. You wanted to give him pleasure where he wouldn’t have any self-control or restraint. 

“What if I-” You bit your lip, pushing your fingers deeper in him, crooking them slightly, pressing and stroking his prostate, and-

“OH FUCCKKKKKKK”

Oh he liked that.

“GOD FUCK” 

He liked that a lot.

“YES”

“YESYES”

“Y/N RIGHT THERE, DON’T-DON’T FUCKING STOP” 

You moaned at how sexy he looked, massaging his prostate, bending down to take his swollen cockhead in your mouth. Bucky grabbed onto the sheets, his legs shaking, he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to, the second your silky tongue licked over his slit, he was done for. 

“IM CUMMNG FUCK” 

Your eyes grew wide, swallowing the ropes of cum that kept throbbing out of his cock. You kept working your fingers faster to ride him through his high, gently suckling his tip to catch every drop. 

“It’s-its soo sensitive-too sensitive-oh my god” Bucky was a babbling mess, whining when he felt empty again, his eyes still shut as he lay on the bed panting. You quickly cleaned your hands off, grabbing a damp cloth to wipe Bucky down as well, careful not to touch him anywhere where he’d be too sensitive. 

“Bubba come back to me, are you okay?” You kissed his sweaty forehead, giggling over the way his eyes took a moment to focus again, his vision hazy. “Hi baby” 

“Holy. shit” Bucky breathed out, his chest still heavying. “That was...shit” He chuckled, still reeling over the most intense orgasm he’d ever felt, it was almost an out of body experience and that was just from your fingers. 

That started it. The absolute craving Bucky had for more. 

You continued to use just your fingers with him, getting him used to the stretch, sometimes using two fingers and when he was very relaxed you’d even try three. Eventually you asked him if he was ready to try toys to which he immediately agreed too. All shyness disappeared the second the cool metal slipped into his tight hole; just when he thought fucking you couldn't feel better, this increased every sensation he felt but 100.  

His orgasm nearly lasted minutes. 

Bucky slept like a baby for the rest of the day, comfortably cuddled up in your arms. 

He loved your fingers and the toy was nice but he knew what he really needed. 

*****

“Are you sure about this Buck?” You tightened the straps of the strap on, the toy hanging heavy between your legs. Your pussy clenched over the way it was just about the same size as Bucky, your thighs a sticky mess just looking at the way he had his legs apart for you. You wanted to give him as much pleasure as possible but you also wanted to make sure it’d actually feel good and not hurt him. 

“Very baby” He shot you a wink; he found your concern adorable and it just made his cock harder “I trust you angel” 

Bucky reached over, grabbing the lube and spreading some onto his finger, rubbing it around his tight hole, and pushing his finger in with ease. 

“See? All ready for you sweets” 

You nearly whimpered at the sight of him touching himself like that, making a mental note to suggest mutual masturbation later. You spread lube all over the toy before spreading a bit more over him, your other hand stroking his thigh. 

“You ready?” You pressed the tip of the toy against him, locking your eyes with his. 

“I’m ready baby” Bucky lifted his legs slightly while you started to push the toy inside him, your eyes still connected with his. You both moaned together; nothing was more gorgeous than the way his head was thrown back against the pillows, his brows furrowed, a deep flush covering his skin. 

“Oh god Angel what are you doing to me, FUCK”  You could see goose bumps erupt over his skin, his nipples hardening, muscles pulled taut. You pushed the fake cock about half way in, pausing to let him used to the feeling, “You okay baby?” 

“Yes, st-stretch me” Bucky groaned, his cock jumping against his tummy as you continued to slowly sheath yourself inside him, “Don’t stop, keep going, I wanna feel you fuck my g-spot baby”

You braced yourself, slowly moving your hips until you found a comfortable rhythm, thrusting in and out of him, watching in awe at the way he opened up for you. 

“YEah-yeah like that, that’s it, good girl, fuck baby you’re stretching me s’good” The stretch was unlike anything else he had ever felt before, his ass pulling the toy right back in every time you pulled out. 

“You’re so tight Bucky” You could feel the way he gripped around you, making you have to use more force to fuck in, his greedy needy hole begging for you to go faster. 

“Yeah baby, you like stretching my t-tight hole huh? You like forcing my ass open for you? My pretty angel stretching my tight ass so good” 

You were both moaning messes, desperate for different reasons. 

“M’so wet, fuck Buckyyy” You whined, getting off at how much pleasure you were giving your boyfriend, every moan making your clit throb, your slick starting to cover your thighs. 

“Shit, you like that doll? you like making me feel good?” He smirked at how focused you were, rolling your hips perfectly, wanting to make him scream.  “Cause you’re doing perfect princess, see?” He took your hand, wrapping it around his aching length, giving it a few soft strokes before letting go and letting it slap against his tummy “So fuckin’ hard baby, swollen, it’s so god damn sensitive, I’ll blow without you touching me” 

You swiped your finger over his soaked tip, sucking off the precum that pooled onto his tummy making him shudder, his cock throbbing again. 

“Baby touch-touch my balls” He whined, nearly crying when you gave them a gentle squeeze, holding onto them as you continued to fuck him. 

“You like that baby?” You panted, giving his cock a few tugs before focusing back on thrusting into him as deeply as possible, You angled your hips, gripping onto his legs to brace yourself, fucking him harder, the tip of the cock hitting his prostate. 

Bucky hooked his hands under the back of his knees, spreading himself wider for you, his eyes squeezed shut, tears streaking down his face as you pounded him, your stomach flipping when he let out the most pornographic moan you’d ever heard. 

“Oh FUCK I can feel it in my balls” Bucky could feel his balls throb, pulled tight to his body, spurts of precum starting to dribble down the sides of his stomach, onto the sheets. “You’re gonna make me cum baby, gonna make me cum without even touching myself”

You could see the ripple and tensing of his muscles, his cock swelling as you fucked him hard, barely pulling out, keeping it deep inside him. 

“Babygirl, pound me, c’mon, I’m gonna make such a mess for you” He forced his eyes open, blown with lust and teary from how turned on he was, no one had ever made him feel this good. 

“Make a mess Bucky” You moaned with him, not tearing your eyes away from his. 

“F-fuck, s’good, it’s so good, I needed this, keep hitting my g-spot baby, pleaseplaseplease, push your cock deep in my ass baby, fuck I’m gonna bust” You could tell he was close, finding it hard to move, his body gripping onto you with a vice like grip, clenching and sucking the cock back in. “FUCK YES, Oh god m’gonna cum on your cock doll, c’mon fuck me fuck my ass till I cum” 

You slammed into him, ignoring the way your pussy was screaming to be filled, your jaw slack at the way his cock bounced. 

“I-I’M CUMMING, HNNG, HNNNGG FUCKKK” Thick ropes of cum burst from his sensitive head, covering his chest and abs without you even touching him, his own hands still holding his legs apart for you. “Don’t-don’t stop baby, fuck me till my balls and cock are empty, there’s so much cum, I can’t hold it” 

Bucky had been reduced to a babbling mess, his head lolling to the side, tears soaking the pillow, his chest heaving while he continued to cum, his abs covered in his cream. 

“Oh fuck why won’t it stop, fuck me slowly baby? Please? I want it, just-m’so sesntive, slow down a little” You cooed, gently thrusting into him, his length jumping each time you pushed in. You made sure you didn’t go deep this time, helping him through his high. “That’s perfect” Bucky panted, his eyes hazy as he gazed at you, his body limp while you hardly pushed in and out of him, your hand gently stroking his thighs while he cock slowly dripped. 

“Fucckkk baabyy, look how much m’cumming for you” His legs dropped to his sides while he closed his eyes, completely drained. You carefully pulled out of him when his orgasm came to a stop, helping him clean off with a warm cloth and cuddling him close to you while he rested. You kissed his forehead as he nuzzled into your chest, humming contently.  

“You’re so good doll, come here” Bucky shifted so he was on top of you, showering you with kisses. Your eyes grew wide as he spread you legs open, his cock already hard again, nudging against your pussy, 

“James-

“shhhh”

“Oh fuckkkkk” You moaned, as he pushed his cock into your sopping wet hole, grinning at how wet you were. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” 

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[henneseyhoe]

Adonis being clingy with his wife and new baby.

Adonis x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: postpartum depression mentions, other baby related stuff

SUMMARY: Adonis trying to be as helpful as he can, but the reader finds it a bit overwhelming while dealing with postpartum depression.

✮✮✮✮

“Pacifiers?”

“Check”

“Burping cloth?”

“Check”

“Bibs?”

“Check. Babe, we have everything. I promise” I chuckle, watching Adonis go through a list of baby necessities on his phone, while trying to calm the whining boy in his arms, the man being adamant on keeping everything where they need to be just for times like this when his son was irritated.

“We have diapers right?”

“Mhm”

“What about wipes?”

“Yes, all in the nursery, Donnie”

“Okay, good, good….you need anything? Thirsty?” He tucks his phone away, rocking the now resting baby in his arms.

“Mmm…water, maybe?” I shrug and he nods, rushing out of the room. He had been acting like this all day, running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. I hadn’t even been home for two hours yet, just coming back from the hospitals secondary check up after a very unplanned home birth. The house was a mess from two days ago, my poor mother and brother being stressed out of their minds trying to deliver a baby that wasn’t supposed to be here just yet.

Luckily, him coming two weeks earlier didn’t matter and he was healthy as a horse. with the way he was screaming at the top of his lungs, you could tell that was a healthy baby. But, meanwhile I was pushing a 5 pound, big headed baby out of me, Adonis was scrambling to find a flight back to Cali so he could make it to the birth, which was unsuccessful. It took an entire day and some change to get back home, the man so disappointed in himself that he took a business trip so late in my 3rd trimester.

Though I told him to do it, he still felt bad, promising to never leave my side in circumstances like this ever again. The birth went smoothly even though it wasn’t expected, and as soon as Adonis landed, he was blowing up my phone with FaceTimes back to back. And he was completely serious with the ‘never leave your side” thing, cause he was on me like white on rice when he got home. Helping me to and from the bathroom, even though I could walk fine, supplying me with any kind of food or snack I asked for, diaper duty, which was the best perk, and massages.

He was showering me with all kinds of love and affection, but as fast as my high came from giving birth, the lows swooped in just as quick. The 6th day after birth came and postpartum depression came knocking. I was still functioning though. Not cause I wanted to, but because I had an infant now and had no time to dissect why I really felt the way I did.

As more days passed, I became more agitated with my circumstances and Adonis constant ‘bugging’. I knew it was from a place of love, but I needed rest before anything. I was just too cautious to tell him that, afraid I’d end up sounding like a bitch because I wanted a break from my husband for a few hours. Some women would have to beg their husbands to do what Adonis does, but I felt ungrateful because I didn’t have to, and quickly got tired of that because of emotions I couldn’t control.

✮✮✮✮

About three more days had gone by, and it had officially been a month since giving birth. My postpartum depression had subsided a bit, and I felt better about myself, but Adonis was the same, and so was my sleep schedule.

“…can I help you, sir?” I look over my shoulder, spotting my husband watching me intensely. The infant I had in my arms whines and mixes at the sudden movements, unlatching from my nipple for a moment before going right back to feasting. I was reclined in a couch placed in the nursery, praying to god that I could catch some Z’s.

“Huh?” He queries, still staring.

“You’ve been following me around the house like a lost puppy all day. Now you over my shoulder watching me nurse like I don’t know what I’m doing” I say, a bit agitated since I haven’t slept for more than a few hours everyday for the passed month.

“What? I know you know what you’re doing, baby” He completely ignores my other statement, his attention still drawn to my current ‘activity’. I blink at him for a prolonged second, then laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, well back up off my bumper, can you?” I suggest, waving him off with my hand. He sighs, leaning up and walking away. “Your daddy is a bit obsessed, don’t you think?” I look down at our son, his brown eyes fluttering closed as he begins to drift off into his fourth nap of the day.

I close my eyes too, relaxing.

‘Maybe I could sneak in a nap too’

just as I thought I was gonna have peace and quiet, I feel Adonis plop down right besides me, looking over my shoulder. I was in my right mind to lock him in a room now. I sigh, opening my eyes back up to the unpleasant sight of the sun shining through the baby blue curtains across from me. I’d rather see the inside of my eyelids. I was exhausted.

“…he looks like me, doesn’t he?” He pokes, smiling down at his new found pride and joy.

I slowly turn my head to the man, his face being so close to me that our noses touch. “Donnie…get outta my face” I mellowly warn him, ready to run him out of the nursery.

“I’m sorry! I’m just intrigued. I wasn’t there for when he came, I just wanna make that time back” I bite back a loud cackle for the sake of not scaring my son out of his cinnamon toned skin. Snorting, I cover my mouth.

Giving him a ‘be serious’ look with the tilt of my head, I uncover my mouth. “Donnie, please. It’s been almost five weeks since his birth, you came a day late, and it’s not your fault. Be happy you even found a flight that would get you back here so suddenly. Plus, you already made that 24 hours back, now you just being clingy” I say, pecking his lips twice. “It’s just a bit…overwhelming right now, that’s all,”

“I’m not saying it’s you, I’m not not really in a place to…ya know…be as social with you as I was before”

He nods, understanding. “And you know I love you, but sometimes I don’t need anything at all, just silence” Taking in everything I say, he doesn’t argue, understanding that maybe he was doing a little much on the waiting hand and foot, asking me questions at every movement I made.

He caresses my thigh, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m really not trynna stress you, I just don’t wanna feel like I’m not doin’ enough, or want you to feel like I don’t care”

I smile. “It’s okay. Just tone it down a bit, okay? Next week I promise you can be as clingy with us as you want” he nods, starting to play with the little mitten that covered our sons hand. I knew he still wasn’t gonna leave any time soon yet, waiting for the baby to stop eating so he could hold him again. I just let him be. For now.

“Does it hurt?” He asks suddenly, and I shake my head. “Not really. It did for the first few times, but since he’s latching better, no”

“…he getting enough, right?”

I pause, my eyebrow raising at the man.

“Yes, my titties produce enough milk for our son. Any other questions, doc?” I ask with playful attitude.

He shakes his head, still looking. It was silent for a moment , only the sounds of summer rain tapping against the window and swallowing followed by shallow sighs from the infant being heard. That was until I decided to put my boob up and replace my nipple with his favorite paci since he had fallen asleep, remembering the doctor told me not to feed him while he’s not awake, considering my milk supply was fine and he gets full fast.

Yet, that still doesn’t stop my husband from breathing down my neck, attempting to reach for him, which I dodge by brushing him off with my shoulder.

Taking a breath, I glare at him. “What, Adonis? You wanna feed him?”

His eyes glimmer with excitement as he smiles, perking up at the simple question. “I can? Yeah” he asks before quickly answering.

“Grow some titties then” I pat his chest then stood to my feet, now attempting to burp the resting baby.