Tumgik
#balloon pumps? check
beatrixstonehill2 · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
"Look at how big my titties are getting.... so full of milk! I look like a regular breeding cow already. It's so wonderful seeing my pretty little boobs start to get so heavy and swollen. Pregnancy is amazingly fun! I was a bit worried when my doctor said he signed me up for this! I mean, I've been living as a girl for a little while now and my transition has been going super well. But as soon as I turned 18 he was like, "Emily, now that you're old enough I think you're ready to start carrying a few kids, don't you?" I was like "Uhhhh, sure?" And he had me sign all these wavers, despite me not 100% knowing what I was getting myself into!
Soooo, apparently I was entered into a trial to be continually impregnated on high doses of fertility drugs for a decade. My paperwork says that 'the patient's uterus is expected to produce a minimum of 100 kids in that time.' The minimum!? Ummmm...... wow. But I'm not too surprised. I'm only like six months along and I look huge. It's definitely making playing field hockey a lot more challenging, but as expected we are college girls now so over half of us are pregnant anyway. So I guess it's not a huge deal but when the other girls check me or tackle me I feel like my belly's gonna pop like a balloon, which would be fun to see, I suppose.... Hasn't happened yet though!
So, not only was I forcibly entered into this clinical breeding trial or whatever but I realized the procedure was pretty quick.... I asked my surgeon and I'm not going on Rocket, so I'm not giving birth urethrally, and they didn't hook my birth canal up anywhere, so I won't be giving birth anally like a lot of trans girls..... I decided to ask if they intended to do a new surgery and they said no. So I asked how am I giving birth? The people running the trial said a small device is hooked to my womb, when my babies are ready it'll emit a signal, telling them where I am.....
Guys, get this: I won't know when it's going off. They said they only perform the retrieval between 9-5 Mon-Fri. So I'll be at school or out, going about my day and they'll come by. Allegedly they'll have me take off my clothes wherever I am, they'll smear my belly with numbing cream, and..... perform a C-Section no matter where I am. College? A crowded mall? A movie theater? I'll have no choice, they'll just rip off my clothes, prep me, and open my belly like it's a casual, minor test they're performing, like drawing blood or weighing me or something. Then they'll take my babies to the usual government-owned civilian living centers all these babies are raised at by all these government-appointed breeders who manage to make it to thirty. I might end up being a full-time mom like that one day, if I'm lucky and I don't pop! So.... I have public C-Sections to look forward to! Wonder if it happens even if some random guy is fucking me as I try to go about my day? Wouldn't surprise me one bit.....
Guess I'm still glad I transitioned, even if being forced to have a uterus and pump out babies like a factory was not how I envisioned my twenties. No big deal, I guess. I love having this huge belly, and guys and girls go crazy about it! They go even crazier when they see I have a nice, thick cock between my legs, too.... I feel like it's getting even bigger lately, maybe it's just getting swollen because I jerk off so often? And every other person I run into gives it a few healthy tugs when they reach up my skirt or dresses..... Mmmmm, speaking of which I think I'm gonna put on a cute tiny dress and go out clubbing tonight. My poor pregnant body is just begging to be pounded by twenty or thirty cocks..... I'm sure my professors will understand if I'm late to class tomorrow!"
441 notes · View notes
mightyflamethrower · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Name me a single objective we’ve ever set out to accomplish that we’ve failed on. Name me one, in all of our history. Not one!”
-President Joe Biden, August 16, 2023 
Joe Biden in one of his now accustomed angry “get off my grass” moods dared the press to find just one of his policies/objectives that has not worked. Silence followed.
Perhaps it was polite to say nothing, given even the media knows almost every enacted Biden policy has failed.
Here is a summation of what he should instead apologize for.
Biden in late summer 2021 sought a 20th anniversary celebration of 9/11 and the 2001 subsequent invasion of Afghanistan. He wished to be the landmark president that yanked everyone out of Afghanistan after 20 years in country. But the result was the greatest military humiliation of the United States since the flight from Vietnam in 1975.
Consider the ripples of Biden’s disaster. U.S. deterrence was crippled worldwide. China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea almost immediately began to bluster or return to their chronic harassment of U.S. and allied ships and planes. We left thousands of allied Afghans to face Taliban retribution, along with some Western contractors.
Biden abandoned a $1 billion embassy, and a $300 million remodeled Bagram airbase strategically located not far from China and Russia, and easily defensible. Perhaps $50 billion in U.S. weaponry and supplies were abandoned and now find their way into the international terrorist mart.
All our pride flags, our multimillion gender studies programs at Kabul University, and our George Floyd murals did not just come to naught, but were replaced by the Taliban’s anti-homosexual campaigns, burkas, and detestation of any trace of American popular culture.
Vladimir Putin sized up the skedaddle. He collated it with Biden’s unhinged quip that he would not get too excited if Putin just staged a “minor” invasion of Ukraine. He remembered Biden’s earlier request to Putin to modulate Russian hacking to exempt a few humanitarian American institutions. Then Russia concluded of our shaky Commander-in-Chief that he either did not care or could do nothing about another Russian invasion.
The result so far is more than 500,000 dead and wounded in the war, a Verdun-stand-off along with fortified lines, the steady depletion of our munitions and weapon stocks, and a new China/Russia/Iran/North Korean axis, with wink and nod assistance from NATO Turkey.
Biden blew up the Abraham accords, nudged Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States over to the dark side of Iran, China, and Russia. He humiliated the U.S. on the eve of the midterms by callously begging the likes of Iran, Venezuela, Russia, and Saudi Arabia to pump more oil that he had damned as unclean at home and cut back its production. In Bidenomics, instead of producing oil, the president begs autocracies to export it to us at high prices while he drains the nation’s strategic petroleum reserve for short-term political advantage.
Biden deliberately alienated Israel by openly interfering in its domestic politics. He pursued the crackpot Iran Deal while his special Iranian envoy was removed for disclosing classified information.
No one can explain why Biden ignored the Chinese balloon espionage caper, kept mum about the engineered Covid virus that escaped the Wuhan lab, said not a word about a Chinese biolab discovered in rural California, and had his envoys either bow before Chinese leaders or take their insults in silence—other than he is either cognitively challenged or leveraged by his decade-long grifting partnership with his son Hunter.
Yet another Biden’s legacy will be erasing the southern border and with it, U.S. immigration law. Over seven million aliens simply crossed into the U.S. illegally with Biden’s tacit sanction—without audits, background checks, vaccinations, and COVID testing, much less English fluency, skills, or high-school diplomas.
Biden’s only immigration accomplishment was to render the entire illegal sanctuary city movement a cruel joke. Given the flood, mostly rich urban and vacation home dwellers made it very clear that while they fully support millions swarming into poor Latino communities of southern Texas and Arizona, they do not want any illegal aliens fouling their carefully cultivated nests.
Biden is mum about the 100,000 fentanyl deaths from cartel-imported and Chinese-supplied drugs across his open border. He seems to like the idea that Mexican President Obrador periodically mouths off, ordering his vast expatriate community to vote Democratic and against Trump.
Despite all the pseudo-blue collar dissimulation about Old Joe Biden from Scranton, he has little empathy for the working classes. Indeed, he derides them as chumps and dregs, urges miners to learn coding as the world covets their coal, and studiously avoids getting anywhere near the toxic mess in East Palestine, Ohio, or so far the moonscape on Maui.
Bidenomics is a synonym for printing up to $6 billion dollars at precisely the time post-Covid consumer demand was soaring, while previously dormant supply chains were months behind rebooting production and transportation. Biden is on track to increase the national debt more than any one-term president.
In Biden’s weird logic, if he raised the price of energy, gasoline, and key food staples 20-30 percent since his inauguration without a commensurate rise in wages, and then saw the worst inflation in 40 years occasionally decline from record highs one month to the next, then he “beat inflation.”
But the reason why more than 60 percent of the nation has no confidence in Bidenomics is because it destroyed their household budgets. Gas is nearly twice what it was in January 2021. Interest rates have about tripled. Key staple foods are often twice as costly—meat, vegetables, and fruits especially.
Biden has ended through his weaponized Attorney General Merrick Garland the age-old American commitment to equal justice under the law. The FBI, DOJ, CIA, and IRS are hopelessly politically compromised. Many of their bureaucrats serve as retrieval agents for lost Biden family incriminating laptops, diaries, and guns. In sum, Biden criminalized opposing political views.
Biden has unleashed the administrative state for the first time in history to destroy the Republican primary front runner and his likely opponent. His legacy will be the corruption of U.S. jurisprudence and the obliteration of the American reputation for transparent permanent government that should be always above politics, bribery, and corruption.
If in the future, an on-the-make conservative prosecutor in West Virginia, Utah, or Mississippi wishes to make a national name, then he has ample precedent to indict a Democrat President for receiving bad legal advice, questioning the integrity of an election, or using social media to express doubt that the new non-Election-Day balloting was on the up-and-up, or supposedly overvaluing his real estate.
The Biden family’s decade-long family grifting will likely expose Joe Biden as the first president in U.S. history who fitted precisely the Constitution’s definition of impeachment and removal—given his “high crimes and misdemeanors” appear “bribery”-related. If further evidence shows he altered U.S. foreign policy in accordance with the wishes from his benefactors in Ukraine, China, or Romania, then he committed constitutionally-defined “treason” as well.
Defunding the police, and pandemics of exempted looting, shoplifting, smashing, and grabbing, and carjacking merit no administrative attention. Nor does the ongoing systematic destruction of our blue bicoastal cities, Los Angeles, New York, Portland, San Francisco, Seattle, and Washington, D.C. All that, along with the disasters in East Palestine or Maui are out of sight, out of mind from a day at the beach at Biden’s mysteriously purchased nearly 6,000 square-foot beachfront mansion.
Biden ran on Barack Obama-like 2004 rhetoric (“Well, I say to them tonight, there is not a liberal America and a conservative America — there is the United States of America).”
And like Obama, he used that ecumenical sophistry to gain office only to divide further the U.S. No sooner than he was elected, we began hearing from the great unifier eerie screaming harangues about “semi-fascists” and “ultra-MAGA” dangerous zealots, replete with red-and black Phantom of the Opera backdrops.
What followed the unifying rhetoric was often amnesties and exemptions for violent offenders during the 120 days of rioting, looting, killing, and attacks on police officers in summer 2020.  In contrast, his administration lied when it alleged that numerous officers had died at the hands of the January 6 rioters. In addition, the Biden administration mandated long-term incarceration of many who committed no illegal act other than acting like buffoons and “illegally parading.”
The message was exemptions for torching a federal courthouse, a police precinct, or historic church or attempting to break into the White House grounds to get a president and his family—but long prison terms for wearing cow horns, a fur vest, and trespassing peacefully like a lost fool in the Capitol.
Finally, Biden’s most glaring failure was simply being unpresidential. He snaps at reporters, and shouts at importune times. He can no longer read off a big-print teleprompter. Even before a global audience, he cannot kick his lifelong creepy habit of turkey-gobbling on children necks, blowing into their ears and hair of young girls, and squeezing women far too long and far too hard.
His frailty redefined American presidential campaigning as basement seclusion and outsourcing propaganda to the media. And his disabilities only intensified during his presidency. Biden begins his day late and quits early. He has recalibrated the presidency as a 5-hour, 3-day a week job.
If Trump was the great exaggerator, Biden is our foremost liar. Little in his biography can be fully believed. He lies about everything from his train rides to the death of his son to his relationship with Biden-family foreign collaborators, to vaccinations to the economy. Anytime Biden mentions places visited, miles flown, or rails ridden, he is likely lying.
Biden continues with impunity because the media feels that a mentally challenged fabulist is preferable to Donald Trump and so contextualizes or ignores his falsehoods. Never has a U.S. president fallen and stumbled or gotten lost on stage so frequently—or been a single small trip away from incapacity.
So, yes, Biden’s initiatives have succeeded only in the sense of becoming successfully enacted—and therefore nearly destroying the country.
537 notes · View notes
kaneaken · 1 month
Text
Furina's Guide to Valentine's Day
From: Furina, To: Neuvillette
Tumblr media
author's note; pumped out a quick Valentine's day drabble for you guys 🫶 Here's some flowers for you 💐
content notes; furina and neuvillette have familial relationship, dad!neuvillette (use of papa by furina), teacher!neuvillette, teacher!reader, gn!reader, school/modern!au, short drabble
Tumblr media
0. Before anything, check target's interest
Furina picked at her lunch as she watched Neuvillette and you talk. With the way you were rambling on and on while Neuvillette nodded his head with a soft smile, Furina knew.
She chuckled under her breath. You two were too obvious! But, a little check wouldn't hurt.
Furina stood up from her seat and made her way over to the two of you. She planted herself next to Neuvillette and sent you a beaming smile.
You sent her one back before asking her about her day. She gave a simple response of fine before adding:
"But Papa isn't." Furina faked a sniffle before laying the back of her hand on her forehead. "Papa's been so lonely! I want him to be happy, especially with Valentine's Day coming up."
Furina settled her forehead against Neuvillette's arm with a sigh. She subtly glanced at your expression. Your brows had furrowed as you looked at Neuvillette to confirm what Furina had said.
"Ah, Furina is exaggerating-"
"Nu-uh! He always ends up watching these weird crime documentaries on Valentine's Day! It screams loneliness-" Neuvillette covered Furina's mouth with a strained smile.
"Please excuse Furina."
You waved off his concern with a smile.
"Well, Furina shows a lot of concern for you. You're lucky to have such a considerate daughter."
Now he had to marry you. No way Furina was gonna let you get away.
1. Make sure your target is free the day of
When Furina approached you one fateful morning, you weren't exactly sure what to expect. You definitely didn't expect her to ask about your availability on Valentine's Day.
However, you couldn't deny her an answer because of the puppy dog eyes she pulled on you. It's not like you had any reason to hide your plans for Valentine's Day, not that you had any plans to begin with.
Furina's bright, mischievous smile made you slightly regret your decision to spill about your plans to just stay home and do nothing for Valentine's Day.
Her slightly evil giggle made you worry more.
2. Plan and consult about your confession with your amazing advisor!
When Furina stormed into Neuvillette's room with a large roll of paper and colorful supplies, Neuvillette already had an idea of what she was planning.
"Furina.." Neuvillette watched as Furina placed the large paper on his desk. The pens and markers in her fist rolled onto the table as well.
"Please, please, lemme help?" Furina asked with her best pout.
"Furina-"
"C'mon, I think you two would be a great couple! And I know I can help! Not to brag or anything, but I happen to have an unbroken streak of getting people together!" Furina lets out a proud huff, hands settled on her hips.
Neuvillette sighed, subjecting to his fate. He moved aside his lesson plans and motioned for Furina to come around the desk.
With a beaming smile, Furina skipped around the desk and picked up one of the markers.
"So, first-"
3. Go for it! Make sure it's bombastic with a capital B!
Furina tugged on your sleeve, rambling about how much you were going to love her surprise. Her last surprise had been filling your classroom with balloons and streamers for your birthday. You appreciated the thought, but you did not appreciate how much cleaning you did. You could only guess the surprise this time. The megaphone and poster in her hand only concerned you more.
She dragged you to the field near the back of the school where you spotted a big group of students surrounding someone else. From the white hair you spotted, you assumed it was Neuvillette.
"Alright, formation!" Furina shouted into her megaphone. The group did some sort of messy dance routine before moving aside to show Neuvillette. You watched with confusion (as well as concern when you saw some of them bump into each other).
Furina turned to you and moved you closer to Neuvillette, whose face was just as confused as yours. Once you were face to face with him, she began speaking.
"Alrighty, now, you must be wondering why I've brought the two of you here today."
"Furina-"
"I'm here to convince you guys that you are perfect for one another and why you should get marri- I mean, go on a date!"
Furina cleared her throat, holding out her hand to one of the students nearby. The student handed her a large bouquet of flowers, which she handed to Neuvillette.
"First, he got you flowers! I mean, who doesn't appreciate flowers? If you guys date, you get flowers every day. I mean, that's pretty great, right?"
"Well-"
"Second," Furina motioned for a different student to hand her what seemed to be a photo album, "He takes the best photos! If you date, then, you never have to worry about a bad photo ever again."
"Third," This time Furina did not ask for anything. She simply moved to Neuvillette to hold up his arm, "He's very strong! He can carry you anywhere, whenever. He's got muscles."
"Fourth." A small tissue box was given to Furina. "He has feelings! He can be emotional, so you never have to worry about expressing yourself!"
"And fifth, and last reason." There was no object. Furina simply put herself next to Neuvillette with a smile.
"You get to have the bestest, smartest, most amazing daughter ever, me!" Furina let out a proud huff. "I think I'm the best reason, so please-"
Furina motioned for the other students to surround the three of you and throw some confetti at you. Furina unfolded the poster she had been holding and showed it to you. It read:
'Please, please, please, take my dad as your boyfriend! Also, please get married soon!'
Neuvillette sighed as he picked out some confetti out of his hair. He carefully moved Furina, so he could step towards you.
He extended the bouquet of flowers to you and said,
"I apologize for all of this, but if you would allow me, I would love to take you out this evening."
You chuckled and with a smile, took the flowers from him. You nodded to which he smiled and Furina cheered.
212 notes · View notes
growingthicker · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Exposing myself as a true overgrown pig. Pumping myself up like a fat balloon with 6 boost in a matter of minutes.
I need to be kept like this daily. Check out the full video here
298 notes · View notes
idsims · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
August Fasshion Catolog
New meshes
All lods
HQ texture
All maps
V.I.P gifts:
Over Strap Asymetric Dress
Laced Balloon Dress
Another Club Leather Set
Patch Outfit
GG felleings - outfit + acc coat
N'flate Pumps 02
Download V.I.P
- Check out my Patreon for exclusive cc and release access: https://www.patreon.com/idsims
Download Free CC:
Thank you all artistic support <3
167 notes · View notes
silent-raven13 · 7 months
Text
P FKN R!!! 🇵🇷 (Warning Harsh Language!)
Miles is always proud of his Puerto Rican side. Hell, he's the first one in Spider Society to burst out his Boricua music out loud. He wears his flag on his back when there's any Puerto Rican holidays or parades. Hell, he made a special suit with the Puerto Rican flag on it when he felt like showing off his culture, his Pride!
Yet today a racist asshole test him! Miles flew in the air using his venom strike, absorbing energy to give him a boost to do a flip before launching his webs to swing! The 19 year old wore his black, and red suit with the Puerto Rican flag on his chest to his torso.
Miles blasting Bad Bunny song "P FKN R" as he sings out loud as he swings from building to building: Si no sabes de dónde soy, no me ronquen, no -getting pump as he fight a rodder trying to steal from an elderly woman- Si no sabes de dónde soy, eh-eh, (ey) eh-eh, (ey, ey, ey)! -he beats up the robber as he give the purse back to the older woman before going up in the air to look for more crimes-
He sings along to his music: Yo soy de P fuckin' R (hoo)! -bangs his head as he swings- WHOA! Bad Bunny, you know me so well! -he chuckles as he went on a building keeping watch on the City's mainstream. The roads were closed off for Puerto Rican Day parade, he knew he needs to be home early to celebrate with his family. His mom took the day off for this occasion. Little Billie is probably wearing a cute dress with the Puerto Rican flag and her hair with ribbons matching the flag's colors- I should get a closer look to see if everything is good! -he saw the parade is about to start, so he should make sure no hate crimes were gonna be committed-
A familiar voice: Luv, what are you wearing? -Miles turns around to find Hobie standing behind him-
Miles happily smiles underneath his mask to find his boyfriend: OH hey, bae! -he went to hold his partner's hand- I'm glad you came! I thought you would miss today!
Hobie arched his eyebrow being masked: I never missed anything you invited me to. Now, what is this? -he eyes on the flag- A bit too Patriotic?
Miles chuckles giving him a kiss on the cheek with his mask on: Mi amor, it's my Puerto Rican pride.
Hobie: Isn't it a bit much?
Miles pouts: No! I think it's cool! -sounding a bit upset- You don't like it?
Hobie quickly change his statement: I meant, to be devoted to a country... the government, I meant. You know, how I feel about it. -he looks down at the parade seeing massive crowds- Isn't America's way to manipulate Puerto Ricans to appreciate being part of America? When they colonize your country and set up a military base! -he did a quick research on his partner's country and it's history-
Miles understood what he meant: Well, that may be true, but! -he hugs his partner's arm- Look, mi amor! You see how everyone is excited to celebrate being Puerto Rican! It runs in our blood, our pride, our culture is who we are! We may lost too much, hell Puerto Rico never had independence, but we're still here. Still Boricua! Still proud of our flag! It's who we are, and we throw the craziest parties, baby.
Hobie hears the loud music and many families gathering around to celebrate: I guess so.. you know how I am.
Miles: Hey, you're here so you're gonna get the full effect! Come on, let's check around. I know, you may judge America for their crazy ass colonization, but remember, you love protecting POC! There might be racists trying to commit hate crime!
Hobie became alert: Oh! I have no problem beating up a racist! -he grins under his mask, he follows his partner. As they got lower to the parade. The crowds cheers as they saw their Spiderman swinging by-
A random woman: Look! Mira! Mira! Es Spiderman! Boricua Spiderman!
The crowd in the parade cheers playing louder music and getting hype: Spiderman! Spiderman! Te amo!
One guy shouted: He's Puerto Rican?
Miles laughs: Por supuesto que soy puertorriqueño! -as he got low taking a balloon to give a little boy being carried by his mother-
Hobie saw the crowd wearing their flags in outfits, makeup, all sorts to show their pride. He follows Miles through the parade seeing no crime, yet. The music plays outlaid from the parade: Yo soy de P fuckin' R (P fuckin' R) Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh (ah)!
Miles turns around swinging backwards to look at his partner while singing along: Los maliante' con la' R! Prr-prr-prr-prr-prr -he chuckles- Come on, bae! Mejor que la boca cierre, ey Ah-ah-ah-ah
Some of the crowd started to sing or dance getting hype for their parade: Antes que los mío' te entierren (oye) Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh (yeh)
Hobie chuckles: You know what, I get it.
Miles smiles under his mask: I'm glad. You know, my mom made a lot of food so you can try.
Hobie: Yum, I didn't eat just to be prepare. -The two swing side by side-
Miles laughs: She made a lot of food! So you better eat like five plates! Also everyone is coming by for the roof top party! Isn't it exciting! -The loud Bomba music plays as they watch the parade starting having the female dancers following the rhythm of the music. Everyone enjoying the large floats, organizations, and other groups walking as they wave their flags.- Wow, it's bigger than last time!
Hobie saw a small group of men looking a bit suspicious: Aye, luv. Looks like we found a couple of muppets...
Miles looks over seeing them holding up microphones: Huh oh! Let's check it out! -being quick to get over the group-
The hate group had a leader preaching out about God and shouting at the Puerto Ricans: GO back to your countries! This a hate on America! You don't belong here -causing the crowd around to get upset-
A woman speaking in Spanish: No tienes derecho a estar aquí! ¡Estás arruinando el desfile! Déjanos en paz, Puñetas! Pendejos! Mama a tu culos! -some of the other crowd tried to held her back seeing they didn't want the cops to come in or worst stop the parade-
Miles flew down seeing the group of men: Hey fellas, what's going on here?
The hate group scowls at Spiderman's outfit with disgust. The leader had his microphone on: You are an American! You are disrespecting our country's belief! USA! USA!
Miles could only scowl under his mask: Hey man, people are allowed to celebrate where they come from!
The leader kept over talking Spiderman: Your just Spiderman 2! You're not even the real Spiderman! WE WANT SPIDERMAN!
Hobie crosses his arms getting super pissed off. Miles stops him: I got this. -he turns to the group- I kinda suggest you all to leave! Your ruining-
The leader of the hate group: FUCK YOU! GO BACK TO MEXICO! -the crowd behind Miles started to get super mad, almost riling up with anger. The racist insult was enough to cause them to shout back. MEXICO? Miles got mad too. This group is testing him- You and all your Mexican, pals should go back to your country! USA! USA! -the hate group chanted wearing their American flags-
Miles: I'm giving you one chance to apologize to me and my people! Before-
The leader over talks him: Or WHAT? You're gonna hit me? I'm using my first amendment! FREEDOM OF SPEECH, BUDDY! YOUR NOT EVEN A REAL SPIDERMAN WITH THAT TACKY FLAG YOU HAVE ON! -The older leader grins widely to pissed off Spiderman-
Hobie took out his guitar: That's it. I'ma beat this bloke! -the crowd behind him agrees-
Miles push him back: NO! We are better than them! -He turns to the group- you left me no choice!
The leader said: Oh yeah! You're nothing but a dirty sp- -Miles quickly uses his webs to shut up the leader then quickly uses his webs to tied the group, then he swing them high on the building-
Miles smiling happily: Ah-ah-Ah! Tsk. Tsk. I give you a chance to apologize and to go home, but since you want to harass me and everyone here. I think I have the right to shut you up! -the crowd cheers out loud as they saw the hate group being web against the building up high. Some took photos and laugh out loud-
Hobie grins widely seeing one of the dumbass racist pissing himself crying about his fear of heights: Wonderful, luv! -He slouches on Miles being a bit handsy with him-
The leader of the group shouted spotting the two Spidermen being a bit too close for his liking: UGH! YOUR NOTHING BUT A FUCKING FAGGOT! UGH, DISGUSTING! YOUR GOING TO HELL TOO!
Miles arched his eyebrow under his mask: Oh yeah? Well -He lift Hobie's mask to reveal his lips, then he lift his own mask to show his lips. A bit of his nose showing his pierced Septum. Then his lips pressed against Hobie's without a care who was watching. When he pulled his lips away then to hide his lower mouth- I RATHER BE A FAGGOT THAN A FUCKING RACIST!
Hobie froze being too in shock by his partner's action, he felt Miles' hand pulling down his mask to hide his mouth. He could've never love any more than he already did- No, he's falling in love with Miles all over again! Miles grab the Pride flag from one of the civilians having to tie it around his neck, flaunting it. Hobie could only awe at his boyfriend.
The crowd cheers having mix reactions from being shock to joy about the scene. Hell, most of their reactions were positive. The hate group were making loud taunts, until Hobie shut their mouths up with his webbing. Then he got close to the leader: Aye, mate. You're lucky if it wasn't me! I would've throw you in the Hudson River and let you all drown! -his voice low and menacing- I'll left you off with a warning, mate. Start another racist shit, and I will fucking kill you myself, huh? -the men looked horrified.- So you will stop this crap and not bother my darling, do you hear? -they all nodded- Good! -he harshly patted the leader's cheek almost slapping him-
Miles shouted: Come on, we gotta patrol some more, bae! -he launched his web shooter causing the to swing as he wave at the crowd-
Hobie follows him seeing the crowd being so happy, they can have a peaceful parade. The hate group being stuck on the building to be made an example of. As they made their rounds, the two got up on a building to watch one last time. Miles being happy by the parade, then he heard Hobie being breathless: I love you, Miles.
Miles being surprised: Huh, what made you say that? -he giggles being so bashful-
Hobie pulls Miles close to him for a close hug: You were amazing! No Spiderman would've done what you did!
Miles: Hahaha are you implying not even you would've stop them racist assholes?
Hobie shook his head: You know, what I mean. You kissing me in front of the crowd? Heh, New York City is gonna go crazy for you being bisexual, Sunflower.
Miles snorted: Pfft, good! Let them know that this bisexual boy issuing their asses! AND HE'S PUERTO RICAN! DOUBLE PUNCHES! -he chuckles- I love you, too Hobie.
Hobie: Can I get another kiss, Brooklyn?
Miles chuckles: Do you have to ask?
Hobie holding his love: Consent is important, luv.
Miles smiles widely: Sure, baby! -The two lift their mask to reveal their lips to kiss again. This time Hobie holds Miles like his special gem, being oh so gentle. The parade being loud and proud as the crowd celebrates their Puerto Rican Day while Yo Soy Boricua, Pa'Que Tu Lo Sepas by Taino plays in the background.-
(Sorry for the harsh language! Was listening to Bad Bunny and saw a post that made me inspired @babyhellboy post and comic photo also another comic post of Hobie Brown saying he rather be a F-word than a Fascist. Hehe, you know his Sunflower is heavily inspired by him😉.)
98 notes · View notes
Text
Poe Dameron Protection Squad: (Poe x GN!reader)
Genre: A N G S T
Author’s note: I had barely any energy today so this is not finessed in any way, but my brain decided “angst!” and made me quickly write this. (I’m so sorry.)
Warnings: canon typical mentions of war and death, reader being self-sacrificial, that lovely angsty trope of Poe arguing with you for doing something reckless in the air the very moment you touch your X-Wing down on the runway.
GIF by @prideandprejudice
Tumblr media
“What the kriff were you thinking?” Poe spits, rounding on you as soon as you’ve landed. You’ve barely -rather shakily- descended your ladder, and his boots are already pounding the duracrete. You tug off your helmet, everything suddenly stifling, and you immediately wish you hadn’t when Poe’s assault notches up from muffled to ear-splitting. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Poe…”
“Oh, that’s it,” he jabs his finger. His lips are drawn back, baring his teeth. “You weren’t thinking at all, were you?”
In the face of his ire, his animation, however, you remain still. Perfectly stoic, despite the buzz of adrenaline still rattling your limbs. “I was thinking. I’ve already thought about it, Poe. Made peace with it.”
He shakes his head silently, as if he can’t possibly be hearing you right. “Made peace with dying? Recklessly?” You wince, your ears still humming from the flight. You swallow and they pop. They hurt.
“No. Poe,” you attempt to placate, sliding your hand down his chest as the barrage of him crowds you. You succumb to a resigned smile. Almost eerily calm now. “No. Not just dying. I’ve made peace with… With dying for you.”
His big umber eyes flash with confusion. With betrayal. A galaxy of pain swirling in them. Glittering like star shine. His eyes search yours, and his anger deflates like a popped balloon, his whole body sagging. “What?!” The word is so quiet, so small, that you could have sworn you’d mistakenly replaced your helmet.
Still, you force another watery smile, unable to meet the pain in his eyes. Cowardly in your confession. You look down to his chest, bringing your hands up to fumble idly with the harnesses and lapels of his flight suit. As if you are checking he really did make it back alive. That if you touch him, he won’t disappear in a puff of smoke like he almost had up there.
You feel warmth bloom over the back your hands as Poe folds his own palms up to cover them. To still your feeble attempt at a distraction. He jostles you, and he repeats his question. His voice sounds frayed. Thoroughly out of fuel. “What in the stars are you saying?!”
You look back up at him for the briefest moment, but that is all that you can stand before you are snatching your gaze away from the liquid pain in his eyes.
As if you could feel his pain through his touch, you pull your arms away from him abruptly, folding them around yourself. Feeling and suddenly recognising that your heart is still thudding inside your chest.
It had been a close call.
You’d taken fire for him up in the air just now - despite his orders. Your ship had lost a thruster, and you’d barely scraped her down to safety on the runway. You can smell the charring. Feel it stinging in your nostrils and your eyes. Hot metal and oil. Can feel scrapes red and burning on your skin.
You’d put yourself in the line of the blast to protect him. And evidently, Poe is none too happy about it.
You could have died.
That’s what matters to him.
All that matters to you is that he didn’t.
“I’ve thought long and hard about it. About dying for you.” His brows tilt in disbelief. Anger. His lips wobble as he clamps them into a thin line. “Don’t look at me like that, flyboy,” you scold, maintaining your steady conviction. “This is a war, isn’t it? Every single one of us should know the limits of what we’re prepared to do.” You pump your eyebrows at him. “Don’t you?”
He swallows. Tips his chin down and shakes his head at you. His face contorts with an undisclosed, gnarled emotion. “I do. But not you. Not f-,” -he pauses as his voice cracks like dried out duracrete. He tugs in a breath. Composes himself enough to get the words out. Barely. “Not for me.”
You scoff. Look at him almost pityingly. Almost. “Poe, love. Are you really that naive?” He searches your eyes, still not understanding all of this, the corners of his mouth slipping down in a vague display of agony. “I’m expendable, Poe. But you?” You reach out for him now. Again. You squeeze his shoulders between your palms, your eyes glowing with a proud, ferocious fire. “You are our best shot.” You set your face, every bit as determined as you has been in the air to save him.
“No,” he whispers, the word powerless. Weak. Dying on his lips. So unlike him. Unsurprisingly, you do not take his protest as compelling. It simply tells you there are realities he still refuses to accept.
You step tentatively towards him though. You catch his cheek in your palm. “You have your mission,” you say as softly as possible. You see steel glance through his eyes as he recalls it - his purpose. “And I have mine.” Your mettle is every bit as tough as his.
“Your mission is to follow my orders. To-“
“No, Poe.” His mouth opens and closes wordlessly when you refuse to fall in line. “My mission is to protect you while we’re in the air. Any old fool could see that you’re the hero here, right? And me? Little old Black Five?” Your eyes mist with a film of tears, but your resolve does not waver. “I’m just collateral. I’m just there, to stop them getting to you.”
“That’s kriffin’ ludicrous,” Poe bites, tearing your palm away from his cheek. Stomping his foot adamantly. “We’re a team. We’re kriffin’…” his eyebrows leap up towards his hairline as he devised a new line of attack. “I’ll go above your head! The General will-“
“The General signed off on it Poe,” you snap, tired of his ire. His naivety. Too tired for this. Too tired for him to try and argue plain facts.
You’ve made peace with it. He should too.
Still, despite the stark reality of the situation, you do almost hate yourself, when you speak those words. Hate yourself for how sunken Poe’s face looks in that moment. How hopeless.
“No.” His words are nothing but a prayer now, and you know those will get him nowhere.
Still, a gnarled agony twists itself deep in the pit of you. Snakes of guilt; pity; regret. You don’t want to do this to him. Don’t want him to have to live with the burden of any more blood on his hands.
Poe is a good man. The best. And his conscience tends to claim far more kills than he causes. If you’d gone down today, you know he would have washed his hands in your blood too.
“You can’t do that!” Poe’s argument becomes increasingly animated, nonsensical, as he attempts to appeal to you; but, his attempts are wholly futile. Your mind has been made up for a long time. You know what you are prepared to do.
“I can. I can, Poe. And I’d do it all over again.”
“Please,” he pleads, his fingertips extending towards your own, but you withdraw from him, snatching away from his touch.
It pains you, to do so. Of course it does. You want nothing more than to reach out for him. But that won’t help things at all. It won’t change things.
“Any one of us here would do it, wouldn’t we?” You reason. “We’d die to take the First Order down?” You know he would. He’s come close too many times to count already. “Sometimes, that means protecting your assets. Giving the Resistance the best possible chance to succeed.” That’s him. The best possible chance. The spark that will light the fire.
“We’re not assets. Damnit. We’re people!
“We’re soldiers, Poe! We’re at war for crying out loud! Up there, you’re the one who’s most vital.” You point at the sky, whipping your finger around like the trajectory of a frenzied X-Wing. “Is it really so hard to believe, huh? They know it too. They gun for you. You scare them. You’re by far the most important-“
“-I don’t care!” Poe exclaims suddenly, his voice torn to shreds by the shards of emotion which spike in his throat. Poe grabs at your elbows before you can turn away from him. “I don’t care about all that!”
“You do though. It’s everything you want, to take them down.” It’s the core of who he is. His good heart shines with it. Shines with his mission to bring light into the darkness, everywhere it tries to hide.
“I don’t! Not more than-” You finally wriggle free and turn away from him, cutting his words short. You turn away quickly - before he can say the words you know are coming. Before he can say the words you have hoped for and dreaded for years. But, it’s a last ditch effort, and it doesn’t stop him. It doesn’t stop him, and he simply speaks the words to your back. That’s one small mercy, at least, because then he can’t see the way his words make your heart break as he delivers his watery, weighty confession. It’s another small mercy, that you don’t have to face him in this moment. “I could care less what’s best for the Resistance when it comes to you. How kriffin’ ‘vital’ you say I am. You’re the only one who is vital to me!” You hear him sniff, his voice increasingly overcome with emotion. “I can’t do this without you. Kriff, I… I don’t want to do this without you. Any of this. I can’t. Stars - I love you. So much. I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.”
Your eyes close, screwing shut as if you could shut him out too. For a moment, you are completely still, your body tightening with tension, and a lump lodging firmly in your throat. You feel his words so deeply that your whole middle rattles with them, your heart pounding more out of control than when you had barrelled through the air just moments ago, certain of death. Your eyes stinging with tears more than the smoke from your engine fire had caused.
Poe is everything to you.
Everything that you have always wanted.
Everything that you want forever.
But, this isn’t about you. This isn’t about your heart, and whether it is in pieces like a smashed mirror inside your chest, hurting you on every breath.
This is about keeping the lights on in a galaxy where the dark side is determined to snuff all good things out. To erase everything bright and good. To erase everything like him. And so, when you turn towards Poe, you do your best. You do not allow your heartache to show.
You have a greater, more essential mission than being happy.
You don’t get to be a person.
You don’t get to live a life with him. Grow old with him.
But there is one thing you can do.
You remain stoic, determined, and calm - at least, on the surface. You remain a few paces away as you turn to face him. You scrub your voice clean of your feelings for him - and a part of you regrets that instead of neutral it comes out cold. “I made the right call today, Commander. I know what it is I’m prepared to do.” You set your mouth into a thin line, even as tears bead in Poe’s eyes. Even as he dolefully searches for the warmth he knows should be over spilling in your voice, your eyes, your gestures. He searches, desperately - but he does not find it. He will not. There is nothing you can change. “And I’d do it all over again.”
You set your face. Hold your ground.
You want him to swallow it. Want him to swallow the line that it’s not about you. It’s not about him. That it’s about something bigger. About the people who come after you being happy, and safe, and loved, and warm, even if you can’t be. That it’s worth it. But, as you stand there, firm and cold, watching tears wet Poe’s cheeks, you can’t even swallow it yourself. Instead, a tight ball forms again in your throat. Gets itself stuck there.
“I know there’s a war,” Poe pleads, his voice hampered - weak from the weight of this crushing sadness. “I don’t care. You have to make it. You have to.”
“Because you need me?” It’s stupid, you think, that he would pin all this on you in the midst of this war. It’s stupid, and it’s also the most beautiful thing you can comprehend.
He nods. A tear courses down his cheek and drips from his chin, leaving a shined trail like star fire in its wake.
You want to run to him. To kiss him deeply.
To run with him.
To take him away from all of this. Away from all this pain. The best you can hope to give him, you think, might be a life after you. After the war.
“Okay. So you need me? Well. The whole damn Resistance needs you, Poe.” You dip your head, unable to meet his gaze for a single moment longer. There is a beat, and then you lay your final words on him. With conviction. Without regret. This is your mission. “I’m just your protection squad.”
You turn around, and you leave this spot, this conversation.
You leave, knowing that you must have truly crushed him; because the Poe you know would always follow. Would never give up. Would always have hope. This time, however, there are no boots pounding the duracrete in your direction. No snarky words of protest. He does not follow. He does not hope.
In fact, there is nothing except him standing there, tears shining his cheeks as you spin and walk away.
You had won today - you had saved him - but it somehow feels like your worst defeat.
Still, it simply has to be this way, doesn’t it? Regardless of if you’re a soldier. Regardless of whether this fight is bigger than both of you. You would save him, again and again. In truth, you would give your life for him not because he’s an asset or a hero or a pawn in some galactic war. You’d do it because to you, personally, no-one in the galaxy is more vital or more important than Poe Dameron. You would save him, because you are madly in love with him, and will be until your dying day.
It is about you. It is about him. It always was.
You’d give your life to protect him, if you needed to.
And you’ve already made your peace with that.
324 notes · View notes
peepshow321 · 2 years
Text
Never Break the Chain: Part III - Pumping Iron
Click for Part 1 and Part 2
Kyle packed away his laptop and started to walk home from his local cafe. He had been writing out some additional code for the chain, something to try and stop or slow the strength of the personality changes he was experiencing, but hadn't been able to crack it yet. Because of this, he hadn't used the chain in a few weeks out of am abundance of caution, but Kyle couldn't deny the temptation - to become a flirty straight guy as Marcus, pound some guys as Alejandro, or trying someone new - was always still there.
It was starting to get dark as he walked home, so Kyle quickened his pace. He didn't live in the best neighborhood having spent most of his limited income on the equipment needed to design the chain. He started to panic a bit as he sensed someone on his tail, someone obscured by a hat and large coat. Maybe he was overthinking it, but he started to speed up and was convinced his tailer also quickened their pace. Increasingly uneasy, Kyle started at a near jog and frequently cast his eyes over his shoulder, with his stalker still keeping up. By the time he was at his apartment entrance, Kyle was in a panicked sweat and struggled to get his keys with his trembling hands. After some fumbling, he was inside with the door locked behind him as Kyle watched the man just casually walk past the building, apparently not noticing Kyle at all.
Kyle entered his apartment, his heart rate and adrenaline still up. He was embarrassed, hating that he felt so small and worthless, that he didn't even feel save walking home from the cafe! He needed to do something to feel safe, to feel secure in his own skin. And so without really thinking, he grabbed the chain. He had been good taking a few weeks off and he just needed a few hours Kyle told himself, he just needed to feel like someone else and get out of his own skin.
The chain in one hand, he pulled out and rifled through the bag of clothes. He could be Marcus or Alejandro if he wanted - both confident men no one would easily mess with - but he had his eyes on something else, an item he had eyed up and was sure would give him the large body he was after. A plain but clearly overused tanktop, stretched out in the chest and reeking of musk and sweat.
He should be doing more tests, run some more code, but rght now, Kyle just wanted to big and he thought this would be the ticket. So setting his alarm for 3 hours and without waiting any longer, he put on the oversized tanktop and donned the chain.
The feeling was instantaneous and overpowering, a surge through his body and mind. His chest ballooned and he grimaced as his shoulders broadened dramatically, the once loose tanktop now being stretched. His arms throbbed as they packed on muscle on top of muscle - Kyle laughed, this guy was going to put even Alejandro to shame. Kyle was momentarily off balance as the ceiling got closer and he shook his new huge legs, watching them get loaded down with thick corded muscle and feathery dark hair. An itch over took his numb face and when he grasped his face with his new chunky fingers he felt a thick beard, and blocky facial features.
Kyle ran to the bathroom to see his new self, watching as the final changes swept over his body, his eyes and skin darkening and hair becoming unruly and unkempt.
Tumblr media
Not wanting to waste any of 3 hour window, Kyle whipped off the tank to examine his new bod. He was already glistened with sweat and Kyle felt himself up, grasping as his new muscles.
Tumblr media
This body was a machine, a unit, and Kyle felt an overwhelming need to put it to work. A trip to the gym - only 10 minutes away - felt urgent, felt necessary. So checking his alarm timer, Kyle put the tank top back on - struggling much more this time to fit in - and a pair of flexible running shorts that barely held his ass in and showed off his new throbbing package. He finished off the look with an old baseball cap to hide his unruly hair and felt himself get hard as he admired himself in the mirror - he looked like a complete jock and gym bro. No one would surely mess with him now.
***
It was late by the time Kyle got to the gym, but there were still quite a few guys around - mostly big muscle beasts like him working out solo or in pairs, not chatting and not wasting around. Kyle eyed up the handsome guy at reception who was clearly eyeing him back, and felt a sense of superiority over him - the receptionist was buff but had nothing on Kyle. Conscious of the alarm timer, Kyle chucked his wallet and keys in a locker, and made his way onto the gym floor.
Kyle looked out at the gym in front of him and falters a bit - what should he actually be doing? Just pick up some weights and go? He wandered around, doing his best to blend in amongst the other gym bros while eyeing up their routines and watched as a guy his sort of size finished up on the leg press machine - it looks easy enough Kyle thought. Kyle jumped in, dropping the weight significantly and laughed when he was able to push the plate away with minimal effort. And so Kyle went heavier... and heavier..., feeling more and more of a burn each time. Kyle felt himself counting reps, counting sets in his head and he finally understood how people could spend hours at the gym. The routine, the structure, it felt addictive. It felt familiar.
Tumblr media
Before long, Kyle found himself touring the whole gym, copying the other guys and trying his hand at machines, barbells, dumbbells, everything. Whether it was muscle memory or something else, every lift, every movement, every strain felt natural. And it felt good. The burn in his legs, the ache in his chest, seeing his veins pop and his tank top get drenched with sweat, he enjoyed the challenge and the mundanity. As someone prone to overthinking and who spent too much time in his head, it felt good to just let his body take over and do the work. And so he followed his body's instinct when he removed his tank top, and got back to work.
Tumblr media
Kyle lost track of time. He only clocked the passage of time from the increasingly empty gym and his increasingly sweaty chest. He glanced at the clock and tried to work out how long he had been here for, somehow struggling to focus, when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. "Travis, is that you?" Kyle instinctively turned around in response to hearing that name which felt oddly right. The man - who Kyle felt a shimmer of recognition towards - had a few inches over him, and rocked a bulging body under his gym clothes. His dark eyes looked at Kyle inquisitively and with a glimmer of mischief.
Tumblr media
"Hey man, it's Brody - you remember me right? Bro, what are you training here for? I thought you were based the other side of town" the mystery man asked. Kyle hadn't anticipated bumping in to someone this body - named Travis apparently - knew, and wasn't sure how to answer. "Eh, I dunno" he responded in a deep voice. He knew he needed not to raise any suspicions, but he in the shock of meeting this guy he was struggling to think straight. "Change of scenery?"
Brody chuckled, "Not sure how John would feel about that. He still in charge of your training?" Kyle nodded uncertainly. He needed to get out of this conversation but couldn't think how; his head felt cramped and he was stuck to the spot. "And I'm assuming he's still hooking you up with the good stuff, I mean look at you, you're even more of a beast than the last time I saw you." Kyle felt a wave of pride wash over him. He was a beast, and he needed that recognition. He craved it.
"Look, I don't know what program you're on" Brody noted in a hushed tone, "but I've got something new you need to try, follow me." Brody started walking towards the changing room and Kyle, despite the alarm bells going off in his head, followed closely behind. Despite his new size and bulk, Kyle felt weirdly deferential to this unknown stranger and struggled to think of any ways out of this encounter. He didn't feel that his brain was firing on all cylinders, his thoughts feeling sluggish and broad. Had he worked out too hard at the gym?
Brody grabbed his bag and pulled out a small locked box, opening it up to reveal a few vials of clear liquid. "This stuff is incredible, it's going to take your training to the next level Travis. Just don't tell John - I know he likes to be in charge of his boys' programme" Brody said with a wink. Kyle tentatively picked up a vial and tried to read the small print. The writing was small and Kyle squinted as he tried to concentrate on the words and lettering. He had to follow the words along with his finger and struggled to sound them out in his head. He was a scientist, why the hell couldn't he make sense of what was in the vial.
Brody laughed. "Woah dude, you suddenly an expert in this stuff? I didn't even know you could read haha." Kyle panicked. Travis - whoever he was now - was clearly was lacking in the brains department. Maybe he had dyslexia or maybe he was a bit slow, but whatever it was, Travis wasn't the sharpest to in the shed. But right now he - Kyle - was Travis. He had Travis' brain, didn't he? So was he slow now? Kyle couldn't think straight and started sweating.
"Dude, are you okay? Don't stress man - just look at yourself." Brody gently grabbed Kyle's broad shoulders and pivoted him towards the changing room mirror. "Look at that bod man - that's a you. You're a tank, a machine." Brody's words sunk into Kyle, calming him down. He was a fucking tank, he was huge. He looked good, but he needed to get bigger. "That's it man" Brody continued, "now flex. Show me what you've got." Kyle followed his instruction without question.
Tumblr media
He still felt the ache, the burn from his workout but this was the reward. Admiring himself, what he had built in the mirror, it was addictive. Not being stuck in his head, overthinking everything, just doing what others tell him, it was freeing.
It was too freeing. This isn't right Kyle thought. He was an independent genius, not some slow bull of a man. And yet, he couldn't stop flexing, the moves and positions coming naturally. And before he could do anything to stop or slow down, he felt a sharp pain in his thigh and yelped as he saw Brody had jabbed him with the vial. A second later, Brody injected whatever it was into his system and before Kyle had a chance to react - to scream, to yell - he felt an overwhelming flood of sensation across his body. It felt like his entire body was in the post workout burn and it made him lightheaded. "Dude", he grunted, "what the fuck..." This wasn't right, he needed to get out. The room began to swirl and morph and before he could get any further, he felt the ground come up to meet him and his vision fade, the sound of his phone alarm ringing in his ears.
*****
He woke up, disorientated and sluggish. His memories of where he was, who he was, took a while to catch up. In front of him, crounching over him and looking genuinely concerned was Brody, his... friend? "Bro, fuck, I'm sorry - I knew this stuff caused a reaction but didn't think it would be that bad. You've been out for like 10 minutes, snoring away like a big baby."
"Whhaa" Kyle responded, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. He started to get up, his body feeling heavy. As he stood up, supported and helped by Brody, he felt vertigo and was confused by that man in the mirror. It was him - Travis - but also he knew that it wasn't right. He was skinnier than this right? Lighter skinned? And he wasn't this hairy or this sweaty. He looked at his eyes and they seemed unfocused and empty. The image of his old self felt more ephermal, and was fading away the more he saw the muscled down man reflected back at him.
Tumblr media
"Bro, let's get you out of here. Where's the rest of your stuff?" Travis gawked at Brody, unable to respond. He brought other stuff right? But he couldn't remember which locker. Brody looked concerned, "ok man, we can pick it up later - you're looking even more out of it than usual!"
As Travis looked backed at the mirror he caught a glimpse of the shimmering chain. And he remembered. He started violently pulling at the chain, struggling to get it up and around his bearded jaw and thick head. "Dude", he grunted, "help me out with this fuckin' thing." Brody looked confused, but helped nonetheless. "Travis, how old is this thing? I mean how did you even get it on." Travis stopped janking suddenly. "I can't see a clasp or anything, and that chain is way too big to get over your big noggin."
Travis panicked, he needed to get it off so that he could.. Why did he need it off again? It was important but he couldn't remember. And also, looking at himself, the way that the chain sat above his shelf made him look big. And that's all that mattered, right?
Brody looked at him concerned. "Ok man, let me drive you home - that fall must have knocked around whatever you've got going on upstairs. Where are you staying?" Travis paused. He didn't know. His brain fog - which he increasing worried wasn't just a temporary thing - was thick. After a long wait Brody replied, "well, look man, maybe you can come back and crash at mine? I don't know what your situation is, but I can help you with your training? And keep you supplied on the good stuff. How does that sound?"
Travis nodded back slowly and Brody's eyes lit up. "And you don't have to worry about rent man, I've got a few ideas how you can pay me back."
The last vestiges of Kyle shouted out to get his keys, go home, and get out of there, but Travis barely recognised or understood the concern. His body was a built machine and he needed someone else to help guide it. He wasn't smart enough to do it himself, but Brody was. Brody was Travis' bro - it was even in his name! And so Travis, trusting and loyal as ever, once again followed Brody outside and to an uncertain future.
To be continued?
309 notes · View notes
footygirl114 · 1 year
Text
Sorpresa (Barca x Reader)
This is a special birthday post for @redhairedwolfwitch who has way too many favourite players to pick just one, that I left this special birthday ficlet open for which ever player you want it to be. Happy birthday friend, I hope you have an amazing day!!! 
Waking up you had this sense of excitement, and when you rolled over in bed and were met with empty sheets and not the warm body of your girlfriend you were immediately disappointed. Rolling back over to your side of the bed to reach for your phone you see the red rose, and ice coffee and a note. You smile to your self feeling the excitement rise in you again, you sit up and grab the rose bringing it up to your nose for a sniff as you read the note.
“Hermosa, I had to go in for an early session with the physio. See you soon Mi amor” 
Smiling at the cute note, you also feel a little disappointed that she would forget your birthday. Reaching over for your phone you see the messages from your family who are still back home in the states, but the Timezone mean they messaged you at midnight. Reading through the messages you notice not a single one of your teammates had reached out. 
Shrugging it off you remember it wasn’t a special birthday, it wasn’t a milestone or anything, who really cared it was just another day. Deciding to get out of bed and shower and get ready to head to training you mentally prepare yourself for the disappointed that was inevitable to set in. 
After breakfast and catching up on trashy Spanish reality tv, you loved to watch to help with your english but also for the drama. You are ready to face your day and head into the field for your session. Before you leave you stop and see yourself in the mirror and you give your reflection a sad smile and think about how you just needed to get through the day, and your parents would FaceTime you later and sing to you. 
Pulling up to the field you take a moment in the car again and pump yourself up for the disappointment. You are so distracted giving yourself a pep talk you fail to notice how full the parking lot is, as most of the team was normally late, but also the faces of your girlfriend and teammates in the window waiting for you to come in. 
With your head down you walk in and still do not notice how quiet it is, or how there is no one around. You are so lost in thought you don't even notice the one lone birthday balloon they forgot to hide and was floating in the hallway outside the change room. 
When you open the change room door you finally notice the quiet and the lights being off. Confused you check your phone and know the timing is correct, you reach over to where the light switch is and when you flick them on you immediately surprised as your team stands there and they yell.
“SURPRISE!! FELIZ CUMPLEANOS Y/N!!!!”
Immediately you feel your heart rate speed up, your hands go to your mouth and you can feel the tears running down your cheeks. You are fully speechless as your girlfriend steps up and places her hands on your cheeks as she says “Mi amor, I am sorry but we wanted to surprise you.” 
You smile at her as you shake your head too stunned to speak. She leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips and when she pulls back she says “feliz cumpleaños Mi amor” 
“thank you babe” you reply and before you can say anything else you feel the rest of the team surround you and offer their birthday wishes as well. As you are surrounded by your teammates and the love of your life you cant help but to feel the love of them all. You know that no matter how far you end up you have these goofballs who will always have your back. 
205 notes · View notes
Note
i know it might be a bit weird but... seeing you're still online here after saying you were trying to cut down on being horny is so cute to me. just falling back into seeing all that tummy you want no matter how hard you try... i'd love to stick a pump in your mouth and watch you go from scrawny to filling up the room <3 my personal little beanbag
ok im still trying but kinda got horny and curious so i decided to check here before bed, PLEASE do that to me i need to go from scrawny to a kinda chubby puffed belly to a balloon to a blimp to filling the entire room up with my soft, air-filled body!!!! and tbh being someone else's balloon just. does something for me so much
ofc i dont wanna be like that Forever and can say no to being someones personal little balloon but. hough most times i would say yes so bad.... puff me!! squeeze me too!! make me go shhhhhh fffsssssssss shhhhhhh ffssssssssssss and then crrrrk sqrrrrrrrrk!!!! pump me until I'm smothering you with my huge overinflated belly... Maybe.. Maybe pump me further than that until I... I....
*pop*
maybe.... maybe i do wanna be a balloon forever... not always plump and full.. but still...
right now I'm a flat deflated little balloon in need of some pumping......
18 notes · View notes
dentiststoothfairy · 7 months
Note
Do a pico x darnell one shot. Do it. You won’t. Make them kiss and be stupid
[ 🦷🎀 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷! 𝙸 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝙸𝙲𝙽𝙴𝙻𝙻! 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚡 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚘 𝚡 𝙽𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚡 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝙾 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙽 𝙲𝚄𝚃𝙴 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍]
‼️ FAN ART IS NOT MINE ‼️
Tumblr media
🔫 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐱 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐋 💣🔥
Ah. Saturdays. The best days ever... The day where Nene goes on a crazed shopping spree with all her girlfriends and the two more sensible guys are left to their own record. Which usually resulted into something... Not sensible.
Listen. They were allowed to have their fun too!
"Eat shit, Pico!" Darrell's voice shot out as a rubber balloon came flying at the other. A splash of water flickered on the Ginger's skin as the balloon burst upon impact. The cackle of the boys rung out as the summer sun beat down on them like there was absolutely no end.
Pico had wanted to do a little bit of training so he could keep his skills in check... But Darnell wanted to keep cool in the sun and not sweat like an absolute pig until sunset. So, after about twelve minutes of arguments and bickering, they settled on a compromise.
"Not before you!" Pico sneered as he pumped the water gun with efficiency. The water fired out of the nozzle with ease as his feet beat against the grass. Dirt kicked up from under his shoes as he ducked behind a tree, allowing for cover before Darnell could splash him with another water balloon.
Summer in Philly was always like trying to survive in an oven. It got ridiculously hot and the pair were pretty sure that is why Nene ducked out to a nice, air conditioned mall with yoghurt and desserts. But whatever. They both knew that if they tagged along with her, they would be carrying her stuff. Fuck that.
"I see we're at a Mexican standstill." Darnell had kneeled behind a bush, the playful tone in his voice made Pico's inside flutter with adrenaline and excitement. The shades of the trees above them provided good shelter from the relentless blaze of the sun. Pico's smile only grew a mile as he thought of something witty to shoot back.
"We're in Philly." Great one Pico.
Darnell's loud laugh rung throughout the small clearing. It was rare to be having fun like this nowadays. Ever since... That. Pico and his two best friends had been... Different. Darnell was lucky that he wasn't there on the day it happened. But... Seeing Pico go from this enthusiastic, still kind of raunchy guy to this a thousand yard stare survivor practically broke his heart.
The flat top poked his head above the bush, trying to spy where his lighter friend had gone. But for some reason... His eyes couldn't spot the other.
Oh hell no.
He raised from the bush, immediately rolling out into the open. He knew what that fucker was doing. You'd think having bright red hair would make it difficult to hide in a dark green Forest and sneak attacks would be significantly harder. But both Pico and Darnell knew that the green that Pico wore was enough to seal his movements. And Pico's training wasn't for nothing. He was as silent as a mouse when he wanted to be.
The only thing that could be heard was the wind attempting to warn the pyromaniac against his trigger happy friend. But, Darnell unfortunately wasn't fluent in 'psscchuuuwwwww psshhnncchhh' so the wind's cries fell upon death ears.
"Hiding? Wow Pico, that's a cowardly thing to do. In character, but cowardly." He taunted, backing up slightly. He knew that Pico would want to jump from behind so he had to press his back against something so Pico couldn't get the jump on him.
Every rustle raised the tension in the air and Darnell knew it. He tossed the water balloon up and down, his senses heightened and reflexes on standby. He waited.
And he waited.
He felt his back press up against something that.. Wasn't the size of a tree.
No no.
It was a fucking gun muzzle.
"Sup handsome."
Was all Darnell heard before the squirting of water struck his back with immediate effect. He cried out in 'agony' and Pico took this motion to pin his best friend under neath him, tackling him to the ground.
Laughter bounced off the two like a rubber ball being hit in a game. Pico sat on Darnell's back, with his water gun pressed against the other's head. Water slid down them as the pair caught their breath.
"I like the feeling of you on me." Darnell teased the red headed knowingly. Pico's pale skin turned pink for a moment, as he let out a slight gig-. No. Pico doesn't giggle. He... Uh... He chuckles?
"I like the look of you under me." He retorted, a smirk on his face as he held his finger on the aquatic trigger. Darnell let that settle in his mind before bursting out again.
"You're a fucking idiot." Pico raised off the other, allowing Darnell to stand up, but not before he pulled Darnell into a sweet summer kiss. A short kiss, but enjoyed by the two nonetheless.
"Round two?" Darnell questioned, trying not to snicker at Pico's deflated face.
"Before another kiss?" He asked, pawing at Nell's shirt playfully. Darnell shoved him off, with a crooked, smug smile.
"If you win this one."
"Oh you are so on!"
19 notes · View notes
shroomtime00 · 1 year
Text
Right Where I Want to Be (hunter x reader)
You cross off the loopy letters off your list, “Okay, done with the ‘happy birthday’ banner, balloons, and party hats…what’s next?” you turn to ask Hunter, who’s carrying two bags in each hand. You’re still confused as to how he can manage all that weight and still offer to carry the bags you’re holding (“I was raised in a military fortress, trained everyday, and regularly fought criminals, what did you expect?” he chuckles when you asked him). Hunter checks his own list, “Uhh, party streamers and colored paper to make roses.”
“Okay, okay. We can work with this.” you glance up at the sky, which is dreary and a little dark, “It’s a little dark, you think?” He looks up and squints his eyes, “Maybe the human realm’s sky is like that.”
You shake your head, “Looks like it’s about to rain. We should probably be ready if it does.” when you turn your head to gaze at Hunter he’s grinning like an idiot. And you realize —- oh no. 
“This is exactly what I’ve been telling you about at the house, but nooooooo, you said that my backpack was unnecessary and,” he makes his gloved hands into bunny fingers and bends them up and down for effect, “ ‘Hunter, you’re worrying too much again!’ “ You scoff as he makes his voice into a high falsetto, “But I was right, wasn’t I?”
“You big doof.” you roll your eyes sprightly as you fight to get rid of the twitching smile that tries to appear on your lips, “I just said it might. Stop showing off your stupid backpack!”
Hunter’s eyes are closed as he sticks out his tongue mischievously, as he turns around to give you the full effect of his stuffed backpack. It was filled with rations, bandages, first aid kits, some scissors for self defense (even though Luz had tried to tell him that criminals don’t just randomly show up in the streets shooting people down with lightning bolts), and more importantly, a mini umbrella Hunter found a few days ago in a store he was very proud of (“ (reader), it’s so useful! You can carry it around in a bag!”). Your annoyance to his immature teasing turns to amusement as he blows you a raspberry. Really, despite all his protests that he isn’t ‘that angsty, annoying teen anymore’, he reminded you of his former persona, the golden guard, sometimes. 
“Okay, you’ve done it enough times to make it annoying, not charming. Come on, let’s continue before it starts to rain.” you grab his hand and drag him to the next store, ignoring his surprised and definitely delayed exclaim, “you thought it was charming?!”
“There’s the paper off the list!” you cheer, scratching it off your paper, “man, I am pumped! We’re on a roll, Hunter!” He chuckles as you pump your fist. “How do you even make them into roses?” he asks.
“Through origami folding!” you pipe up, “Amity showed me a few techniques. I can make tiny little flower bouquets and small stars now.” you gasp as stars appear into your eyes, “I can show you! When we get back,”
“Okay, back on track, (reader),” he laughs breathily, “Where do we get party streamers?”
You search around the variety of shops that sit in the open air mall. The colors are bright and blinding all around the two of you. 
“Hmm…” all of a sudden, something wet and cold touches your cheek. You yelp in surprise, Hunter looking over to you in confusion before you glance up. A drop touches your eyelid.
“Shit. Fucking called it,” you sigh, “get out your umbrella.” he pretty much has sparkles in his eyes as he beams from ear to ear, rummaging through his backpack before taking out the bright blue umbrella and opening it. You walk under quickly, not wanting to get your sweater wet. 
The rain rolled off softly your umbrella, making a quiet pitter-patter against the blue. 
For some reason, you and him still. No one moves for a bit, and you’re a little grateful for that. 
You always liked the human realm rain. It was calming, comforting almost. You don’t realize you’re inching closer to the boy beside you until you graze your knuckles with his. 
You flush with embarrassment, glancing at him, but he’s not looking at you. 
He’s looking at something in front of you. 
You trail your eyes to where he’s staring at, and its…
A puddle. 
“(reader)?”
“Hm?”
“I know this’ll sound stupid, but..” he chuckles nervously, rubbing the nape of his neck. You nod encouragingly. 
“...I’ve always wanted to jump in a puddle.”
Okay, you didn’t know what you expected but it definitely wasn’t that. You were a tad bit surprised, but before you can ask any questions, he continues. 
“I know it’s a little dumb, but…can we–?  I-I mean, I was never allowed such childish indulges in the emperor’s coven, y’know.”
And in a second, you understand. 
A soft smile breaks through your lips, and this time you don’t try and hide it. With a spell circle the paper bags you and Hunter carry disappear in a flash of light, teleported safe and dry at home. “Let’s do it,”
With that, his face immediately brightens, even if his cheeks and ears are still red, “Really? You don’t think it’s stupid, do you?”
You shake your head, “no, of course not. You deserve to have your childhood. Even if it’s a few years overdue,” you feel a sting of pity for him all of a sudden. He hasn’t had a childhood at all, not really. Not when he was raised as a child soldier and his only family was a manipulative asshole. 
When you glance at him again, he’s simply staring at you. Waiting.
With a quick nod, you close the umbrella, letting the rain wash all over the two of you. You giggle at the sensation before Hunter grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly as if asking for confirmation. You squeeze back, and that’s all he needs.
He leads you to the puddle, hesitant yet giddy and excited. He skids to a halt and stares at the reflection. His aureate hair tangled, wet, as you shake yours out of your eyes. Your face, smiling and happy, and his mouth splits into a beam. 
SPLASH!
He makes the first jump, water splattering everywhere. People stop to stare, but that’s not your concern right now. You let out a little giggle before following his lead. 
The both of you, two giddy teenagers, interlock fingers. Each of your hands had another to hold, and you both spin, laughing and smiling like idiots.
The water gets all over your sweater,  but you don’t mind as Hunter tugs at your hand and leaps to another puddle. The two of you dance, him twirling you around before you catch him in your arms, his body dipping down. You whirl him around, the two of you dancing to the symphony of the raindrops, as you and him jump from puddle to puddle. 
Your laughter rings throughout the air as his eyes reach your face and he looks at you and only you. Just…admiring you for a little.
Before you surprise him with a kiss right on the tip of his nose. 
“(Reader), what the Titan—“
“Don’t be off your guard, Hunter!” You chortle as you drag him to the next puddle. “You’re forgetting who you’re with!”
And with that little action, he knows. 
He’s right where he wants to be. 
99 notes · View notes
17-goingunder · 11 months
Text
Chapter Forty
Tumblr media
Masterlist
Previous | Next
Tumblr media
Sam
"Happy birthday, darlin'," I smiled upon noticing that Rory had woken. My voice was quiet, careful not to wake Thea, who was still sound asleep in her next-to-me cot, her little snores filling the silence of the room.
The corners of Rory's lips tugged upwards as she shuffled closer to me, nestling herself under my arm and resting her head on my chest. "Thank you," she murmured, splaying a hand across my bare chest.
"Thea's still sleeping for once, so we've got about five minutes to ourselves," I snorted, pressing a kiss against her head.
"I can't believe we've actually woken up before her," she smiled, peering over her shoulder at Thea. She was splayed out on her back, her face turned towards us and her tiny mouth opened slightly.
"She's probably knackered after her little stint last night," I joked, recalling her waking up at around 2 AM.
"Little stint?" she asked in confusion.
Rory had been fast asleep when I noticed Thea was up last night. I had woken up to go to the toilet and checked on our daughter who I assumed would be sleeping but alas, she lay in her cot, wide-eyed and staring up at the ceiling wondrously. I was surprised she hadn't cried at all but I took it as the opportunity for some quality daddy-daughter time as I tried to settle her back down.
"What're yer doing up, baby girl?" I whispered. Thea let out an excited squeal and kicked her legs outwards. "Shh, mama's sleeping," I laughed quietly as I reached into the cot to lift her into my arms. "It's well past your bedtime, missy."
I gave Rory one last glance, noticing she was still sound asleep and made my way downstairs with Thea in my arms. I switched the lamp on in the living room and tiptoed into the kitchen, grabbing one of the bottles of milk Rory had pre-pumped and running it under warm water.
"Is this what yer want?" I asked with a fond smile, holding the four-month-old in one arm and the bottle in my free hand. "Is my lil' madam hungry?"
She gurgled, staring up at me with her big blue eyes that showed no sign of tiredness. The opposite reflection of my own. But I didn't care. I loved spending time with my baby girl and if I lost a few hour's sleep over it, I wasn't really too bothered.
"All ready," I smiled, uncapping the bottle and holding it to Thea's mouth, laughing as she began gulping at it greedily. "Yer'd swear we don't feed ya, ducky."
She finished the bottle in record time, having to stop every so often to burp but the little delinquent showed no signs of sleep.
"May as well decorate for Mama's birthday whilst we're up, eh?" I spoke, mostly to myself. "If you're not gan go to sleep anytime soon."
I rested Thea in her bouncer and secured her, ensuring the straps were buckled correctly before grabbing out the balloons and banners I had hidden.
"I was planning on doing this in the morning before Mama woke up but we'll kill two birds with one stone," I grinned, settling on the sofa with the bag of balloons and pulling Thea's bouncer in front of me. I began blowing up the balloons, tying them up and throwing them on the floor.
"Balls," I cursed as one slipped from my mouth, letting out a loud noise as it flew around the room. Thea started laughing and kicking her legs in amusement, pulling a smile from my lips. "Oh, yer think that's funny, missy? God, you're so cute." She gurgled in response. "Aye, and yer know it, don't yer? Daddy's pretty baby."
In thirty minutes, the rest of the living room had been decorated with balloons and streamers and Thea was settled comfortably in my arms. It was my tactic to try and get her to sleep but it wasn't looking likely anytime soon.
"I know yer wanna spend more time with daddy but we've got a busy day tomorrow," I teased, holding her against my chest so she was lying on her stomach. "It's your mama's birthday so we've got lots of spoiling to do."
I ended up having to lull her to sleep with a bit of Springsteen, the infant back in bed by half past three, which I was glad for.
"Aye, found her wide awake about two o'clock s'morning," I snorted.
"Why didn't yer wake us up?" she frowned softly.
"Because it's not a two-person job," I told her. "There was no point waking yer up if I was already up."
"I know but..."
"It's fine," I assured her, rubbing her arm gently. "Y'kna I love it anyway. Me and Thea had a whale of a time."
"What time did she settle back down?" she asked.
"She was back in bed by half three. She was a stubborn one last night," I joked. Thea stirred, almost as though she could hear us talking about her, and let out a loud sigh. "And sleeping beauty awakes."
Rory rolled over, lifting Thea out of the next-to-me cot and settled her in her lap, shuffling to sit up. "Mornin', baby girl," she cooed.
"Hiya, ducky," I smiled, resting my head against Rory's hip and pressing a kiss against Thea's knee. "Say happy birthday, mama!"
She gurgles loudly, a wide smile spreading across her face as her blue eyes stared up at her mother.
"Thank you, my baby," Rory beamed, smothering Thea's cheeks with kisses, which earned a fit of giggles from the infant. "You're the cutest baby in the whole world, aren't yer?"
"Oh, definitely," I agreed, squeezing her chubby thigh lightly and getting a loud squeal in return. "Let's go downstairs. Mama needs to open her presents."
"Ceemon then," she agreed, the two of us rolling out of bed. I took Thea from her grasp before we made our way downstairs. Rory gasped as she stepped into the living room, "Sam."
"What?" I grinned whilst adjusting Thea in my arms. She was pressed against my chest, her little head turning so she could see the balloons and streamers that decorated the room, blue eyes lit with wonder.
"When did yer do all this?" she asked, curling herself under my free arm and pressing a kiss to my jaw.
"Me and Thea did it last night, didn't we, ducky?" I gleaned, kissing Thea's temple and then Rory's head.
"It looks class, thank you, babe," she smiled softly.
"Don't thank us yet," I smirked. "Gan open your presents."
"Areet," she scoffed playfully as the three of us settled on the sofa. She unwrapped the first present revealing two charms, one in the shape of a heart that read beloved mother whilst the other had Thea's name engraved on it. It was similar to the one I had gotten with Oli's name for her birthday last year, although whereas Thea's had a pink gemstone beneath her name, his had a blue one. "Aww, they're beautiful."
"We're gan have to get a new bracelet soon," I joked, gesturing to the ram-packed charm bracelet on her wrist. She barely ever took it off, only when she needed to shower or go to bed. Or like now when she needed to put a new charm on.
We, and by we, I meant me and Thea, also had gotten her a spa day treatment for her and the girls, some earrings, makeup, a new pair of pyjamas and clothes and her favourite perfume. It was fair to say she had been spoiled.
"Thank you," she smiled, laying a sweet kiss on my lips. "Yous've spoilt me once again."
"Anything for wor number one, ain't that reet, ducky?" I grinned.
Rory's phone began ringing loudly, which she quickly answered, bringing the phone to her ear. "Alreet, pet?" she answered, pausing as whoever was on the other side of the phone replied. She laughed lightly, "Cheers... what? Are ya serious? Now?"
"What is it?" I asked in concern, watching as Rory started chewing her nails nervously.
"Alreet," she replied, completely blanking my question. "We'll be reet there... bye, bye."
"What?" I repeated as she ended the call.
"Er, we need to go, Harlow's in labour," she told me.
"Oh, shit," I gaped.
20 notes · View notes
ftm2bbw · 1 year
Note
When that clay idol first showed up in your mail four weeks ago, you didn’t give it much thought. It was a small figurine of a pregnant woman with hips twice as wide as her torso and large teardrop breasts resting on her full-to-bursting stomach. You imagined it was some dumb prank from work (you made a mental note to send HR an email), but the figurine was cute enough so you opted to keep it. Placing it on your nightstand, you would treat it as nothing more than a neat decoration.
On the first day after taking the figure, your body felt bloated. There seemed to be an extra bit of weight your step. Your jeans started hugging your hips ever so slightly. Your belt digged into your waist more than you remembered. There was a tenderness to your breasts and your binder seemed tighter. Your face also felt… different. The skin was clearer and softer. There was a slight gloss to your short hair. Your already delicate peach fuzz seemed fairer. You had even started having these wild cravings and hunger pains. You brushed this all off; you were just imagining things.
Over the next week, these changes became more pronounced. Your legs felt vacuumed sealed in your jeans, displaying your already fairly fat ass. Your stomach poured over the waist in a playful muffin top, even after you had already let your belt out to the last notch. It had even felt surprisingly firmer than usual, with a tightness to the skin. Your breasts had definitely gone up a cup size, they were still quite sore, and it was getting harder to breath in your binder. Your face was clearly softer and showed less stubble, and your hair was reaching down your neck. You thought something was abundantly wrong as you wolfed your second burger for the evening.
They continued into the second week. Your face was completely re-femmed and your hair hung down to your shoulders, shiny and beautiful. You had abandoned your jeans collection for sweat pants after your newly thunderous thighs burst the seams in every pair, though with your door-jamming ass they felt more like yoga pants. Your belly was so much fuller than it was before. You could still pass it off as regular fat with enough creative layering, but underneath it all you know you looked like you were smuggling a ripe county-fair pumpkin. And oh god, your breasts! Any attempt at putting your binders on felt like you were being choked, so with your dysphoria screaming at you, you bought yourself the biggest maternity bra you could find. Even then it wasn’t enough, as your aching breasts spilled out of the cups like watermelon sized water-balloons. It was impossible to hide these. You looked absolutely pregnant with twins. Emphasis on “looked” — you checked, you were negative on every pregnancy test you took. That didn’t stop all the onlookers from telling you how good a mother you would be, how you were “glowing”, how they called you “miss.” It was demoralizing, but from the back of your mind, a little part of you tickled with excitement. Wet patches started forming in the cups.
Week three. You were cashing in all your sick days and staying on the couch eating takeout by the hour. Any pretense of wearing pants was gone, or clothes for that matter. Anything you bought or borrowed  to cover your oil-drum thighs and massive ass would be useless by the next day. You stomach was taut and full, reaching out in front of you like a beach ball with your now inverted belly button as its air nozzle. Your breasts rested at your side, each one only slightly smaller than your belly and completely engorged. Your milk was producing at a rate that overwhelmed the pumps you borrowed and now constantly dribbled onto the floor. Your hair hung down to your mid back, full-bodied like a glamour model, and you lips were plump and pursed. This was beyond a parody of pregnant femininity. You were unrecognizable as the man you are. You didn’t seem to care though; as a consequence of your now constant milking you were in a state of constant pleasure, and any thoughts of dysphoria slipped away.
The fourth and final week. At some point, you had been taken away from your apartment during a post-pump delirium and brought to a temple chamber. You were raised onto a central daïs, your enormous body on display. Unable to stand on your own, you now rested on your stomach, a bulbous sphere the size of a large boulder, dwarfing your original body. Your hips stood twice as wide as you were tall, with ass cheeks bigger than most people and your luxurious hair draping over them. And of course, your breasts. They had finally overcome your belly in size and took up a full half of your body weight. Zeppelins in the truest sense, they rested on the cold stone floor, milk streaming from trashcan-lid sized areolas. Hooded figures came from the shadows and knelt to the ground in worship. Platters of food were laid before you. You were unto a god to them. Delirious with pleasure, you thought to yourself that if they couldn’t see you as the man you were, a fertility god was a good runner up.
~🍨
From man to fertility god(dess) in only a month. Fuck...
I would be so conflicted with the continued changes, my body utterly betraying me. Nearly a decade of hard-fought transition undone, and there'd be no going back. But it would be so hard to think straight through the constant need to stuff my face, it would be so hard to fight the deep, mysterious pleasure as my body was reshaped against my will.
I wouldn't be able to stop my hands from wandering, either. Constantly finding myself cupping my heaving tits, or ghosting across my widening hips, or palming my swelling ass, or rubbing at my sensitive belly. Dysphoria and embarrassment and shame screaming in the back of my brain, contrasting with the deep ache between my plush thighs and a deep desire to have others feel me up...
And of course, by the time I was brought to the temple there'd be no fighting it anymore. It would just feel too good to give in, to let others worship my massive, feminine form and taste of my milk. It would feel right.
36 notes · View notes
Text
The Trench Coat
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Genre: EXO AU, Baekhyun AU
Characters: Baekhyun x Reader
Warnings: Slightly suggestive, discussion of nudity, implied smut
Word Count: 1.5k 
Summary: It’s your boyfriend’s army discharge day and you’re ready to spend the day together–that is, until your boyfriend’s friends show up unannounced for a surprise welcome party. When your boyfriend arrives, he’s got other things on his mind, mainly what you’ve got underneath that trench coat of yours! 
A/N: This was a request for a Baekhyun discharge story, so I hope you like it! Please re-blog if you liked it so that others can find it easier <3
*Please note: I do not own the pictures above, so credit should be given to the original owner(s)*
~*~
You opened the drawer, running your hands over the multi-colored garments within. It had been a long time since these particular clothing items had seen the light of day. You surveyed your options: red lace, pale pink satin, green chiffon, and purple silk. You pondered long and hard, wondering which ensemble would be most pleasing to your man– it was his welcome home party today, afterall, and you wanted to welcome him in style. 
Sometime later, you stood in front of the mirror, modeling a red lace teddy and analyzing its effect. Unsatisfied, you removed it, dropping it onto the floor in frustration. Nothing seemed quite right and you had no time to go out and buy something else, with your boyfriend being due in–
You jumped at the sound of the doorbell. 
You frowned, looking over at the clock. Baekhyun wasn’t supposed to arrive home for another two hours and you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Hurrying to your closet, you threw on a tan trench coat, making sure the thick fabric covered all the important bits. 
Walking barefoot to the front door, you checked the video feed, surprised to see the faces of your boyfriend’s best friends–Chanyeol, Jongdae, Minseok, Junmyeon, and Kyungsoo, and Yixing, carrying an assortment of party decorations and snacks. You had no idea what they were doing here–sure, they knew Baekhyun was coming home today, but he’d been very clear that he wanted the first night to be with you and you alone. 
Chanyeol’s voice booms through the speaker: “Y/N-ah, we’re here!”
You cracked the door open part-way. “Hey, guys”, you greeted lamely. “I–uh–wasn’t expecting you…what are you doing here?”
“We’re here for the surprise welcome home party for Baekhyun, of course!” Minseok fist pumped the air, clearly jazzed for a celebration. 
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. At no point did you recall having a conversation about a party of any kind. “Right…the surprise party…for Baekhyun…”, you laughed nervously, struggling to play along. 
Junmyeon’s smile faded. “Yeah…the one that Chanyeol asked you about last week…right?” 
When you gave no response, Junmyeon looked to Chanyeol, who had suddenly gone very quiet, for an answer. “Right, Chanyeol?”
Chanyeol handed the balloons off to Minseok. “Hyung, I definitely texted Y/N about this last week,” he said, confident at first. He scrolled through his phone to locate the afore-mentioned texts. Gradually, his shoulders slumped, as he tried and failed to find what he was looking for. “Sorry,” he said, looking abashed.
“So, let me get this straight…Y/N had no idea we were coming and we just showed up here, out of the blue?” Junmyeon looked ready to give the taller, yet younger man a stern scolding. 
You intervened, hoping to ward off a fight and avoid making a scene in the hallway. It’s fine–really,” you said, lying through your teeth. “I’m sure Baekhyun will be excited to see you.” You held the door open and waited as they filed through, returning Kyungsoo’s small smile of sympathy as he passed by. 
~*~
You were overwhelmed. No, that was an understatement. You were really overwhelmed. What you’d hoped to be a quiet night with just you and your lover had turned into nothing short of a circus. You watched in a daze as Chanyeol hung the piñata filled with sour candies. In the kitchen, Kyungsoo grilled meats, rolled kimbaps, and seasoned side dishes. Minseok was setting up the bar area and Jongdae was getting a song playlist going. When Chanyeol started vetoing most of his song choices, Jongdae could be heard loudly exclaiming, “Ahhh waeee?!” 
Looking for a bit of peace, you quietly slipped out the door. You made your way to the stairwell, still clothed only in your tan trench coat, having been unable to change due the boys’ presence in every room of your apartment. With a sigh, you plopped down on the top step. Nothing’s going according to plan, you thought miserably. You’d wanted nothing more than to have Baekhyun all to yourself, to touch him and hold him as much as you wanted. To fall asleep in his arms, his familiar scent on your pillow. 
You hid your face in your lap, tears burning in your eyes and slipping traitorously down your cheeks. You didn’t want to be sad, not when the day you’d been waiting for had finally come. 
“Y/N?”
You looked up, struggling to see through your tears. But, you didn’t need to see to know he was there. You’d recognize his voice anywhere. It was your Baekhyun, coming home to you at last. 
Dropping his pack, he came to you immediately. “What’s the matter, baby?” He held your face in his hands and tenderly wiped the tears away. 
You threw your arms around him, holding him close, remembering what it felt like to be held. More tears came and went, soaking into Baekhyun’s coat, as the events from today melded with the long, lonely nights of waiting. How long you stood there, you didn’t know–seconds, minutes, years, it didn’t matter, time stood still.
“Y/N, why were you sitting in the stairwell crying? Did something happen?” Baekhyun ran his hand rhythmically over your hair, making it hard for you to concentrate. 
You hummed into his chest. “It’s a long story, Baek,” you said quietly. 
“Yeah? Well, let’s go inside and you can tell me all about it.” Baekhyun bent to gather his pack in one arm, keeping the other tightly wound around you, clearly wanting as little space as possible between you. He led you out of the stairwell and down the hallway.
“Baek, before we go in, there’s something I need to–” 
Before you could finish your sentence, the door opened and you and Baekhyun were pulled through. Confetti poppers exploded around you as the boys swarmed Baekhyun for hugs and enthusiastic back pats. 
Looking over Jongdae’s shoulder, Baekhyun mouthed, “What?”, confusion obvious on his face. 
Resigned, you simply shrugged, not wanting to ruin all the hard work the boys had put into everything. Kyungsoo offered you a drink and you accepted, noticeably parched after your waterworks episode earlier.
 As the swarm thinned and the boys went to grab food or drinks, Baekhyun made his way back over to you. “So this is what you were trying to tell me about, babe?”
You nodded your head affirmatively, learning towards Baekhyun so the other boys wouldn’t hear. “Yeah, they showed up about two hours ago…unannounced,” you admitted. 
“Chanyeol?” he asked, clearly understanding of the score. 
“Who else?” you asked rhetorically, a small smile in your voice. 
Baekhyun sighed, gathering both your hands in his. “I know this isn’t what either of us were envisioning for tonight, but soon they’ll be out of here and then it’ll just be the two of us. And then the real fun begins,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 
That definitely sounded good to you. 
“That coat looks kind of warm, Y/N. Do you want to take it off?” Baekhyun moved to undo the belt at your waist. 
You assured him you were fine, skillfully moving out of reach before you happened to flash anyone at the party. 
Undeterred, Baekhyun continued: You don’t need a coat in here, Y/N, you’ll get overheated–” 
“Baekhyun, stop,” you hissed. Lowering your voice so you were sure no one would hear, you added: I’m. Not. Wearing. Any. Clothes. Under Here.” 
Baekhyun’s pupils dilated and he released the breath he’d been holding in a loud whoosh. He slid his arms around your waist, pulling you close till his lips rested at your ear. “You’re naked under there?”
His voice had taken on a strained quality, spurring electrical pulses in your belly. 
Baekhyun turned abruptly to address the guests in the room. “Everybody out.” 
The room stopped and all eyes turned to you and him. It was Chanyeol who spoke first. 
“But hyung, we planned this whole part for you, we can’t just–” 
Kyungsoo grabbed Chanyeol and pulled him to the door, muttering that he should “be quiet” and “read the room”. The others took their cues, emptying the place in record time, with Junmeyon assuring you they’d be back tomorrow to clean up.
Finally alone. 
Before you could blink, Baekhyun pulled you in for a mind-numbing kiss, pointedly fingering belt on your coat. “Now, let’s see the present that my baby got for me,” he whispered, a wicked smile on his face. “And look, she was so kind as to wrap it up.”
You squealed as Baekhyun hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you into the bedroom. 
After depositing you on the bed, Baekhyun slowly loosened the ties at your waist, his hands shaking with anticipation after so long. 
Watching as Baekhyun took in the sight of you, you were reminded of one of the most basic tenets of fashion: sometimes simple is better. And as far as this outfit went, you were very inclined to agree. 
~*~
Thank you so much for reading, The Trench Coat! If you liked what you read, I would so appreciate it if you re-blogged this so that others can find it easier and enjoy it too! I love hearing from people, so feel free to leave a comment or send an ask with feedback or reactions :) 
XOXO,
Emmy
68 notes · View notes
ultram0th · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
“Peter! There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Stiles exclaimed as he stomped into the gym, heading over towards the weight pile where the shirtless werewolf was working out. He was ready to chew him out for being M.I.A. for several days, but froze in his spot when he looked over the older former alpha.
Instead of his usual dapper self, Peter was a hulking beast. The shirtless stud sat on the bench and lifted dumbbells, his inflated biceps bulging to the size of bowling balls and without a doubt being no longer able to fit in his tailor-fitted shirts. Speaking of which, his cumbersome pecs were enormous, ballooning out from his chest to the point where they obscured part of his neck and to where his erect nipples were pointing straight downwards. Even his abs were pronounced and his waist seemed pinched inwards before meeting a pair of raggedy cargo shorts that he would normally never be seen dead in. This over-muscled Peter was nothing like the arrogant werewolf Stiles was used to, making his jaw drop in wonder and confusion.
Peter looked over at the surprised Stiles and flashed him a smile, yet his eyebrows were worriedly knitted together. “Yeah Bruh,” he said, his voice sounding deeper than usual, “all you had to do was check the gym. Ya know I’d here workin’ on my pump!”
He set one of the dumbbells down and flexed a giant bicep in front of Stiles’s wide eyes.
“Feel it,” he teased, leaning closer towards the small human. The cocky smirk that the werewolf wore did not at all match the panicked look in his eyes, which seemed to be silently pleading with Stiles.
“Um, maybe later,” Stiles mumbled, cocking his eyebrow at the muscle man. “Anyways, Peter, why have you been here? I’ve never known you to ever go to the gym once. In fact, I seem to recall you calling guys who go, and I quote, ‘Stupid Muscleheads’.”
“Peter wouldn’t say that,” an unknown voice said.
Stiles looked over to see another muscled up stud sauntering over to the weight pile, clad in nothing but spandex shorts and a yellow tank top that had the sides cut in a way that allowed his hairy, beefy chest to be prominent displayed. The unknown bodybuilder stopped right by Peter and patted his broadened shoulder.
“Peter here lives for working out,” the man laughed. “All this guy’s good for is buildin’ muscle and fuckin’. Right, Peter?”
Peter looked straight into Stiles’s eyes, and the pleading look that they conveyed made the human’s stomach churn slightly. However, the buffed up werewolf bellowed out, “Hell yeah! I love to build up this mass!” To punctuate his point, he made his inflated pecs bounce, the massive mounds leaping up and slamming back down with power, sending a ripple throughout his huge muscles.
Stiles immediately knew that this bodybuilder was behind Peter’s new body and attitude. However, he kept his lips sealed when the man looked over at him, smirking.
“You know what?” he said. “I think Peter’s done for the day. You can take him home.” He turned down to the new muscled up werewolf. “See you tomorrow for your workout.”
“Wait— what?” Stiles called out as the unknown man walked away, leaving him all alone with the bodybuilder Peter.
The newly transfigured Peter stood up, looking about twice as wide as he was before. His large arms rested on his flaring lats, being stuck at an odd angle. His thighs were so large that they rolled around each other with every step, turning his walk into a waddle. He must’ve put on at least one-hundred pounds of solid muscle, completely warping his formerly lean body into a body that oozed muscle and roids.
“Um, should you go get dressed first?” Stiles asked, figuring that he should at least take Peter to Derek or Deaton to try to see what was wrong and how they could help him.
Although the embarrassed look in Peter’s eyes looked like he wanted nothing more than to cover up his new bulk, he shook his head. “No way, Babe,” he chuckled in his deep, slow voice. “I gotta show off these gains wherever I go!”
When the two of them exited the gym doors and were out on the public street, Peter’s face turned bright red with blush as the citizens of Beacon Hills turned to look at his massive, inflated form. He was normally used to people looking at him in admiration due to his designer clothing and charming demeanor, however, now they were marveling at his massive size— some of them drooling with lust while others looking in disgust.
Peter, much to his horror, felt himself throw both of his massive arms up above his head, forming a double biceps pose for all to see. His mouth stretched out into that cocky grin he was forced to wear, and despite himself, he hated that he was getting so incredibly turned on by showing off his vast form to the onlookers… but that paled in comparison to how rock hard he got at the thought of smothering tiny Stiles with his giant pecs, his heart racing at the thought.
“Don’t worry, Peter,” Stiles said as he grabbed a hold of the werewolf’s beefy hand to lead him to his Jeep, “we’ll figure out how to change you back.”
He helped Peter into the passenger seat, trying to hold back a smile when the seatbelt completely disappeared into the cleavage of his giant pecs. When Stiles got into the driver’s seat, he stifled a laugh when he had to lean to the side a little bit due to the hyperbolic broadness of Peter’s shoulders.
“Yeah, I guess I’m just a little too buff for your ride, Little Man,” Peter boasted, and Stiles knew that was his way of apologizing for the inconvenience his size created.
“It’s cool,” Stiles reassured him, patting him on the hand. As he did so, he felt Peter grab a tight hold of it.
Instead of his eyes looking panicked, Peter’s eyes actually looked pleased as he stared down at the little human by his side. “Ya know,” he playfully growled, “I can show ya another muscle of mine.” He winked and gestured down at his shorts.
Stiles’s eyes nearly exploded as he saw the giant arm Peter’s cock had become. It snaked down his leg, looking about as thick as Stiles’s forearm.
Peter flirtatiously bounced his pecs, looking at Stiles expectantly.
“Well,” Stiles hummed, flooring the Jeep in the direction of his apartment, “I guess we can fix this a little later.”
-- -- --
[Photo Source: https://www.deviantart.com/doryfan1/art/Muscle-Morph-Ian-Bohen-1-544217699]
47 notes · View notes