#I was a bit too lazy to find a better

[greeneyeofenvy]

not done

These backgrounds are giving me a mental breakdown (not rlly but still)

[coronangelic1]

omg are u joking i just found out theres a minecraft movie x nyx cosmetics collab ????? like first tomodachi life announced n then i find about this. like this day cant possibly get any better.

anyways i have opinions about these things. so. yeagh.

i find the bee blush adorable ;u; i hope the collection is available in my country

i find the highlight balms colors rlly pretty too! but the presentation is kinda underwhelming ;; T_T it feels like a "slap the name on it, they will buy it anyways" kinda product ngl :/ like im not asking for a rendered emerald on top of the lid of anything but it just feels kinda lazy u_u

the lip oils colors are nice too!

also they have this compact mirror that i have Opinions on. Opinions that arent that nice.

[flashhwing]

in an effort to take care of and style my hair in a way that actually looks good i have, after showering and applying my leave-in, put my hair in twists then wrapped it in a t-shirt wrapped around my head and i gotta say. i feel really stupid rn.

[emeraldsquishmallow]

Petition for art of Barriss giving Kit the best 'fuck me' eyes in the galaxy. Because cmon, look at her. She's beautiful. She can make anyone do anything if she wanta.

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[a9saga]

no fights no tears no shade but is it fair if i say in 2024 that "fantastic baby" by bigbang rips off "abracadabra" by brown eyed girls and is worse than it?

[lizardho]

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[hpdfag]

hello mutual!! how are you? I hope you are well :D here are some asks from the ask game for you:

moment of death, rigor mortis, putrefaction, and skeletonization!

hihihihi im doing well thank u !!!!! ^_^ answers r under the read-more since this got a bit long v_v

moment of death: to what lengths would you go for your beloved? is there anything you wouldn’t do? any dealbreakers?

almost any length at all. if he wanted me to get worse, id gladly succumb to despair. if he wanted to see me alive and happy, i'd keep fighting to survive. almost anything i can think of as a dealbreaker i would handle just for him. though i guess i'd hate having to share him with someone else... i have a terrible time with jealousy.

rigor mortis: describe your darling.

he's everything, he's a concept, he's an ideal, he's a feeling, he's a wonderful wonderful man that i love very much. i like to say i'm in love with the sun. he's so bright, he lights up a room with his smile alone. when he's there, it feels like everything is going to be okay. he's passionate, and driven, and the most wonderful man i've ever had the privelege of knowing, let alone loving. he's intelligent, and witty, and gorgeous. he's love itself.

putrefaction: do you believe in soulmates? what about reincarnation? if so, do you believe your beloved has always been your beloved?

this one's complicated. i think that, in his original form, he does not exist in this iteration of reality. he couldn't, he's still alive and well and waiting for my recovery. but through being inside the program as a part of the killing game, he's left his mark on the world. there's a piece of him in every living thing. man was recreated in his image, a little kinder, a little warmer.

i used to believe in reincarnation, but i'm not sure anymore. all i do know is that, in a way, every form that hinata has taken has been one that i've loved very dearly despite it all. even if i don't want to admit it to myself. i've always loved him, and who he became, and then who he became again. nothing could change that.

skeletonization: how would you describe your obsession? what does it feel like?

it feels like a hazy fog settled over my senses. it feels like my whole body is bathed in warmth whenever i think about him. when im jealous it feels like something sharp is lodged in my chest, something thats always been there as a dull ache but stings whenever i think of him with someone else.

even my more violent impulses feel warm. sunny. like theyre glowing. when i want to see inside of him or taste his blood it is not out of a desire to cause pain but out of reverence, curiousity, a deep hope that in knowing him as completely as he knows me i'll be able to please him.

all in all i am less an aggressor than i am a servant at heart. i was put on this earth to make him as happy as i possibly can, to please him even if i recieve nothing in return. just the simple act of service to him, a higher power, brings me joy. as much as reciprocation would make me the happiest man on earth, i'd do it all the same even if i wasn't appreciated for a second of it. its all for him.

[kenqo]

dilf!nanami x virgin!f!reader (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

nanami shoving his big cock in your tight little pussy :( you two met at a bar the other day, you’re barely twenty one and he’s already in his early forties.

imagine his shock when he finds out you’re still a virgin at twenty one?! he stifled in a laugh at that, he didn’t want you to think he was making fun of you. you guys ended up hitting it off that night and started to meet each other more, from coffee dates to small pecks on the lips.. and the age gap didn’t seem to bother either of you, if anything you were into it way more than he was.

then you finally give him the words he’s been waiting to hear, that you want him to take your virginity.

and as he expected, you were as tight as a vice. he said he’d be gentle with you, (unfortunately he promised you) but he wanted to fuck you hard already. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he coos, his voice is so perfect. deep, soft. just like how he was entering you.

“s-slow, please,” you mumble, your hand coming up to grab his, interlocking fingers tightly. his eyes almost melted at the sight of your beautiful expression, the way your breath hitched and the way your hand was sweaty. “i’ll be slow, promised you, remember?” he watches his thick cock go inside you inch by inch, you could feel yourself getting stretched out. it was oddly pleasurable yet a bit painful as he pushed deeper.

he watches you nod your head and bite your lip, before speaking up again. “let me hear your voice pretty girl, that was our deal right? i want to hear all your sounds.” his free hand that was guiding his cock in your walls came to rub your inner thigh softly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your plushness.

“feels good yeah? say it feels good for me honey,” he talks again, you nod your head, “feels good, you.. you feel really good,” that makes him smile.

you can feel his shaft deep inside you now, but not fully bottomed out yet, and you wondered how big he truly was.

a few moments later of slowly pushing alllll the way in, he bottomed out, and he let out a deep groan at the way you felt. “you’re perfect, y’know that?” he whispers.

he disconnects his hand from your own, earning a soft whine from you that made him chuckle. he grabs your calf’s softly with both his huge hands and scoots you closer, lifting your body up so he can have better access as he puts your ankles on his shoulders. “this is much better..” he hums.

“you can move now,” you finally say after a minute of adjusting to his size. and what went from moving slowly became him thrusting into you a bit more roughly, if it was up to him he’d have you on your knees, spanking your gorgeous ass as he praises you, but this was nice too- especially because he loved the way those moans escaped your pretty lips and he knew this was what he wanted, what he needed.

© kenqo - do not plagiarize / translate my work

i got too lazy to finish it but dilf nanami supremacy !!

[glitterandwitchcraft]

Some little things I've learned over a decade of witchcraft:

If you are feel called to work but are tired/drained, sit outside. Take in all the energies around you. Nature can help charge you

Every witch does a little bit of a bunch of types of magic but sticks mainly to one or two in general. You usually won't be eclectic forever. You'll find what magics work best with you.

Never be lazy or cut corners with spirits. Always be respectful and always tell them to leave when you're done

When you see a plant or ingredient with a long list of properties, there are different things at play. Season of collection, the part of the plant, the health of the plant, etc all play a role in impacting which properties it will carry.

Don't call on spirits unless you have confidence and control

Be careful with sea/water magic. Get into it gently and slowly until you have the energy figured out because it can get out of hand quickly.

Adding a little pinch of magic into your breakfast can make a major difference in your day.

Your personal emotions/feelings over something will impact a work

Planting some plants is good, not only to have a garden, but the dirt helps cleanse you too. Get all dirty and muddy. It's good for ya

Not all trees are nice

The more you listen to your intuition, the easier it will be to tell it apart from your anxieties and worries

Incense is very easy to make which is why it's usually cheap to buy. But you can find a million tutorials online on how to make your own personal incense which is great if you want a spell to take effect over a while but also want to infuse the fire energy in it.

The more you work with something the better feel you get for it. Cinnamon goes in almost everything i cook and most of my spells because me and cinnamon just get right along

Your path is yours and no one else's. It will look like yours and no one else's

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[yuujispinkhair]

Imagine firefighterSukuna…..sigh….😵‍💫

I am losing my mind, Émilie 😵 Thank you for sending me this!

FIREFIGHTER!SUKUNA X READER (FEMALE) 2.5k words. 18+, fluff + smut, mentions of cigarettes. Sukuna is a bit of an asshole at first lol, but we change his ways, and now he will be a good boy only for us ;) Divider by lacedolliee + benkeibear. Minors don't interact.

Sukuna isn't the typical firefighter. He isn't like those heroic guys you see on TV or read about in sappy newspaper articles. Sukuna doesn't do this out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn't need to save random strangers out of a burning house to sleep better at night. If he's honest, he doesn't give a fuck!

But Sukuna is good at his job. He is strong, fearless, and insane enough to walk into the worst situations. He is here for the thrill of it. He loves the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he gets called to a fire. And the more dangerous it is, the more fun it brings Sukuna!

He doesn't hesitate before walking into your burning apartment complex a second time, even when everyone around him says it's too dangerous. Sukuna just gets a mad glint in his eyes, and a feral smirk lifts his lips when he says, "You think I'm scared of a little fire? One day, I'll burn in hell anyway, so fuck it!"

The Itadori twins are the only ones who enter the building a second time. Sukuna knows his brother does it because he has a little savior complex, always willing to sacrifice his own life to save someone else. Sukuna, on the other hand, does it for the challenge, for the thrill. He always wants to win, no matter who the opponent is, a guy he fistfights in a bar or a fucking fire. Nothing will defeat Sukuna!

Sukuna kicks down the door of your apartment when you thought all hope was lost. He carries you out of the burning house, smirking victoriously under his helmet when he feels your hands cling to his muscular biceps desperately.

He brings you to one of the ambulance cars, setting you down on a stretcher before he pulls off his helmet and his heavy jacket, revealing the white tanktop beneath it and a good portion of his broad chest and muscular, tattooed arms, sweaty and smeared with grime and ashes, and yes he finds the way you stare at him very amusing.

Your wide-eyed gaze slowly trails over his body until you finally look up at Sukuna's tattooed face with tearstains on your cheeks, your lips trembling, and your voice raspy from all the smoke when you ask him dazedly for his name.

And Sukuna flashes you a playful smirk while running a large hand through his pink hair as he fixes you with a smoldering gaze out of his eyes, which glow red right now from the flames of your burning apartment complex reflected in them.

He tells you his name in a low, seductive drawl and watches your face twist with emotions. A shaky sob escapes your lips, and fresh tears slip out of your eyes,

"Thank you so much, Sukuna! You saved my life! You are my hero!"

Sukuna laughs gruffly, shaking his head and smirking at you,

"Trust me, sweetheart, I am not a hero."

He really isn't. He isn't doing this because he is a good guy who wants to save people. He is only here because his brother dragged him along to his work after Sukuna got fired from another job, unable to stay employed because he simply doesn't do well with authority.

And then he went into a burning building for the first time and realized that fighting against the flames and the smoke and tearing down walls and kicking in doors, somehow was where he felt at home. So Sukuna stayed.

Well, and the nice side effect of this job is all the girls he gets to fuck because of it.

Sukuna watches you with a lazy, amused expression on his face, already knowing what will happen. You gulp hard, reaching out to touch his arm tentatively, eyes wide, full of admiration and a desperate plea swimming in them,

"Please, I want to thank you. I want to pay you back for saving my life. What can I do?"

Oh, Sukuna knows exactly how you can pay him back, but he just grins and shrugs his broad shoulders,

"It's no big deal. But you can check into my cousin's motel if you need a place to stay until you find a new apartment."

It's extremely convenient to have a cousin who owns a motel, and of course, you agree, thinking that way, you can at least do Sukuna a favor by giving money to his family.

"Come on, I can drive you, princess."

Sukuna wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, steadying you, taking care of you, making you all kinds of crazy for him. The big, strong, sexy firefighter who saved your life. You lean gratefully against his strong body, letting him lead you to his car, help you inside, and even buckle your seatbelt for you.

Sukuna can already see the little hearts dancing in your eyes. It makes him grin to himself as he starts the car.

It's a rather long drive from here, and you get stuck in traffic for a long time. And Sukuna learns that, as shy as you are, you seem to be uncomfortable with silence, and so you start to fill it with babbling about all kinds of things. Your apartment, your job, your family, how you like your coffee.

It's amusing how awkward you are, but somehow Sukuna's smirk softens into a smile one hour in, and he catches himself replying with a playful tone, asking more questions about you and your rather boring life, which, to his surprise, is kind of cute to him.

When he finally pulls up in front of the motel, Sukuna already knows what will happen. He accompanies you to your door, standing before you, tall and strong and with a sexy smirk, and you get on your tiptoes to kiss his tattooed cheek, letting your soft lips linger almost longingly on his skin as you whisper,

"Thank you again, Sukuna. I will never forget what you did for me."

And before you can pull away, Sukuna places a large hand on the small of your back, keeping you right there in front of him, so close that your body brushes lightly against his, and his other hand cups your chin and turns your face so he can claim your mouth in a playful kiss, his tongue licking teasingly over your lips, pushing inside to flick slowly against yours, making you gasp softly and twist your hands in the front of Sukuna's tanktop, pulling him closer.

Yeah, that's it, princess, Sukuna thinks to himself. If you want to thank him, this is exactly how he wants it. Thank him with your tongue in his mouth and your hands on his body.

Sukuna knows he is an asshole, but he doesn't care. All his coworkers are far too decent guys. They say it's wrong to sleep with the ones they saved. They say it would feel like taking advantage of them.

Sukuna can only laugh about that. The way he sees it, there is nothing wrong with getting rewarded with sex. And after all, it's not like you don't get something out of this, too. Sukuna will show you the night of your life. He will dick you down so good you will thank him again afterward.

He scoops you up into his strong arms for the second time today and carries you into the motel.

It's you who touches him first and yanks on his tank top. So needy for him and his dick, so desperate to get your hands on his naked skin. So why should Sukuna feel guilty?

He mounts you from behind, fucking you hard and fast in doggy with a hand around your throat before he pushes your face into the pillow and continues to take you in prone bone, pressing you down onto the bed, covering you completely with his heavy body, making you sob his name anytime he pushes his fat cock into you.

He was right, you really thank him as he feels your pussy becoming tighter and tighter around him right before he fucks you over the edge.

For the second round, you turn around and look up at Sukuna, and maybe that was a mistake because your eyes are so full of those damn little hearts, and your face is alight with total bliss and adoration and, yeah, love. Your arms are wrapped so tightly around Sukuna's body, your fingers tangled in his pink hair, caressing him, pulling him down, begging him with breathless whimpers,

"Closer... please come closer... please, I need you, Sukuna."

He kisses you just to shut you up and make you stop looking at him like that as if he is your world. But he still hears the way you moan his name, not Sukuna, but Kuna, when you squeeze around him, and it makes him cum harder than he has in years.

Sukuna slumps down on top of you, not thinking for a moment in his post-orgasm high, basking in the way you feel under him, so soft and warm, and your silky heat still pulsing so deliciously around his cock. He turns his head to lightly bite your neck as if he needs to leave his mark on you, when usually he never leaves anything behind.

Sukuna frowns, rolling off you and lying on his back next to you, staring up at the ceiling with a slightly uneasy feeling. Why is he acting like this? Maybe he inhaled too much smoke tonight. Maybe the heat was too much.

No matter what it is, Sukuna finds himself staying in your bed much longer than he usually does. Every other time he finds his way into someone's bed, he acts as if his alarm went off and he has to leave for another fire, finding the perfect excuse to leave while his dick is still wet.

But tonight, he doesn't bolt right after cumming. Maybe he really just needs some rest. And it's just very comfortable how your smaller body seems to fit perfectly into his side as you roll over and snuggle against him, like some housecat looking for cuddles.

Sukuna knows he should get up, but he is too comfy. He will just rest for a moment longer, just close his eyes for a few seconds, and enjoy the way it feels to get cuddled like this.

When he opens his eyes again, the lights are off, and only the soft glow of the streetlamps drifting in through the window casts some dim light into the small motel room.

"Oh fuck..."

Sukuna curses under his breath, the instinct to run kicking in, but he gets stopped by a pair of arms wrapped around him, and everything comes flooding back. The drive here, the sex, the way you looked at him, how nice it felt to let you cuddle him.

Sukuna freezes up. He knows he should leave. Knows he should untangle himself from you and sneak out while you are still fast asleep. Run away like he always does, never to see you again.

But somehow, the way you cling to him makes him hesitate. He must have turned onto his side in his sleep, and now you are behind him, playing the big spoon, which is ridiculous considering your size difference, but here you are, hugging Sukuna tightly from behind. Clinging to him, pressing your warm, naked body against him.

Your face is buried in Sukuna's broad back, breathing softly against his tattooed skin. And somehow, Sukuna doesn't know how to breathe anymore because the realization washes over him that he likes to get held like that.

But there is still a little fight in him left, and Sukuna growls softly, gritting his teeth and carefully plucking your small hands off his abs. He doesn't get far, though. He has barely moved when your arms wrap around him again. Of course, Sukuna could easily slip out of your grasp, but what really makes him stop is your soft whisper,

"Stay. Please... don't leave me alone. Not tonight."

You sound so small and scared, and Sukuna has no idea why his heart clenches at the sound of that. But what he knows is that he stops moving and mumbles something about just stretching his legs a bit because he is about to get a leg cramp.

And his large hand cups yours to give it a reassuring squeeze, something he only ever used to do when his brother and he were still kids, and Yuuji cried because of something. It makes him feel awkward and weird and so fucking weak.

But you let out a relieved sigh and snuggle against Sukuna's broad back again, hugging him and whispering, "Thank you."

Sukuna's mind is whirling because why the hell does it feel so fucking nice to be held by you like this? It's concerning.

But he doesn't try to run, just huffs softly and interlaces his fingers with yours where your hand is resting against his naked chest.

"Get back to sleep, princess. I won't leave."

And he means it. For the first time in his life, Sukuna stays.

He wakes up in the morning to the warmth of your body wrapped around his and the feeling of your lips trailing sweet little kisses over his broad shoulders, and your soft fingers caressing his tattooed biceps tenderly. You say his name all sleepy and sweet-sounding, and Sukuna asks himself if the fire last night fried his brain because everything about you makes him feel such weird things right now.

Maybe it's your sweet and slightly shy smile. Maybe it's the way you babble so cutely when you are nervous. Maybe it's how innocent you seem to be, how genuine with the affection you give him.

Sukuna fucks you again, but slower this time, with the sunlight pouring in through the window, and somehow he can't look away from your face. Somehow, he gets lost in your eyes when you whisper his name and dig your nails into his broad back. You cum so sweetly on his cock, so wet and hot, sucking him in even deeper, crying out his name and calling him your hero, and Sukuna's vision goes black for a moment when he cums with such a loud and feral moan, that he never heard coming out of his mouth ever before.

He stays an incredibly long time in your bed. Cuddling with you, kissing you, almost purring like a cat when you run your fingers through his pink hair while he rests his head on your tits.

When a real alarm tells Sukuna it's time to leave and do his job, he groans and only reluctantly gets up. His eyes never leave you while he gets dressed, watching as you wrap the blanket around you and smile dreamily at him.

And Sukuna catches himself stepping closer to the bed again, leaning down to grab your neck and capture your lips in another kiss, which is too long, too tender.

You ask him for his phone number, and Sukuna gives it to you, which is also something he usually never does.

He walks out of the motel with a casual wave of his hand, but the strange feeling in his chest isn't casual at all. He tries to ignore it, gets in his car, lights a cigarette, and takes a deep drag as he turns up the music and drives off. But even as he's driving away from you, he can't suppress the feeling that a part of him stays with you right there in the bed of that shabby motel.

Sukuna goes through his work day routinely while the ghost of your touch still stays on his skin, reminding him of last night and this morning, and not even the adrenaline of running into a burning building can chase the memories of those lingering touches away.

He rescues another girl from a burning house, and she smiles at him and thanks him profusely, lifting a hand to touch him, but Sukuna takes a step back and out of her reach. When she asks him how she can pay him back, he just shakes his head and says

"No need to pay me back, ma'am. That's my job."

Sukuna feels strange when he drives back home to his apartment. All alone, just his music and the cigarette smoke filling his senses. But he finds that he doesn't regret turning this girl down. Because there is something else he craves. Someone else.

At the next red light, Sukuna pulls out his phone and presses dial, and then your sweet voice fills his car.

"Sukuna? Heyyy, how are you? I am so happy you called!"

A grin lifts Sukuna's lips when he answers,

"Hey princess, I'm coming over. What kind of food do you want for dinner?"

Sukuna has no clue how or why this happened, but it feels right. It feels right to call you and to drive to your motel. It feels right to spend the whole night in your arms and the next one, too, and maybe all of his nights from now on.

Maybe it's because no matter how much Sukuna still denies being a hero, he really likes being your hero.

OH BABYYY. I really want him to be my hero, too 😵😵 I hope you enjoyed this short story about sexy firefighter Sukuna! Thank you so much to Émilie for putting him in my mind. I can't wait to see your drawing of him!! 💗😋

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[iamlost16]

Being born too soon for convenience.

I feel like a cheap ho when I remember that Im salty about the fact that I HAD to get pushed out of my mom genitals ,after spinning in it, a day before Indonesia's National Independance day. Fyi , if your birthday is 17 of august, your plane flights bought from the main airline of indonesia are FREE. >:/

[em1i2a3]

Now that I know asks are open *rubs hands*

I got a bit of juicy drama for you! A magic user!reader who is in a stable relationship with bob. The rest of the team know but they all keep things on the quiet. But Valentina finds out and wants to make a PR stunt out of it.

All The Rage Back Home

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Magic User!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob have been in a relationship for eight months, and somehow everything has managed to stay extremely stable…That is until Valentina Allegra de Fontaine gets her hands on it.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because Bob is in this and on top of that some little plot points are mentioned. No warnings apart from that, there’s some fluff though? Yeah some fluff

Author’s Note: Hehehehe, we love drama, we love drama a lot, and we love when Valentina caused the drama because that just makes it even better. I didn’t know what kind of magic to choose so I settled on Necromancy? There’s too many magical powers to choose from lol. :)

Word Count: 3,641

The room smelled like incense, lemon, and sage–sharp, earthy, and a little sweet. It clung to the linens, soaked into the floorboards, and drifted in the morning light like a second skin over the space. It was one of the things Bob loved most about your room, though he never said it the same way twice.

Most times he would hold you close and quietly ask where you got it–like maybe if he got it bottled, he would be able to bring a piece of you into every room he walked into. But more often than not, he just took in a larger breath of air the second he crossed the threshold into your room, like it was easier to take in with you laced into it.

This morning was no different, as you laid tangled up with one another, whispering as softly as possible, and touching every plane of skin that was available to the both of you.

Bob was on his back, and your head was on his chest, you were listening to his heartbeat–the way it would steadily increase every time you shifted, or how it slowed when the both of you got into a position where it felt like you were more in sync with one another. His fingers were tracing idle shapes along your spine, sometimes it would be random numbers, other times he’d spell out words and make you guess what he was writing, but today it was squares, triangles and circles.

Your hand was against his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek, trailing down to his jaw every so often to feel the sharp bone of it.

“We’re like two furnaces when we’re in bed like this.” You whispered, pressing yourself closer to him, looking at the way his face slowly took on this deeper crimson, deeper than the pink that usually dusted his cheeks when he was around you.

”Told you…We need to buy a fan. I have this innate fear that I'm going to give you a heat stroke.” You smirked at his comment, placing a gentle kiss on his chest.

”Can’t kill me that easily Bob.” He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that warmed your hair and curled his chest against your cheek as it moved. His fingers kept up their lazy trail against your spine, not quite mimicking shapes anymore, but just moving for the sake of touching you. His other hand slid down the length of your arm slowly, letting the pads of his fingers catch on every tiny ridge of your skin, watching goosebumps bloom like a silent spell you never had to cast.

Then, with such care and warmth, he took your hand and drew it away from his face, shifting it just enough to look at it properly, cradling your wrist in his palm like if he was holding an ancient relic–something sacred. His thumb brushed gently along the edge of your coven mark, the intricate chain of carved sigils that rested deep in your skin–a scar that never quite stopped whispering.

It wasn’t ink. It had been branded–sliced into you when you came of age, sealed with blood magic and bone ash, symbols of what you were bound to before you even had a choice.

His thumb traced the deepest cut–right near the base of your palm–then slowly, with such gentleness and care, he brought your wrist to his lips, closing his eyes before kissing the mark, like a vow. His lips were wet from the amount of times he had licked them, but you didn’t mind the dampness because the act itself was always something you loved–it was his way of expressing that he loved every part of you, even the ones people feared.

His eyes fluttered open, looking down at you for a second, seeing the soft, golden-haze that lingered over his naturally bright blue irises. His cheeks flushed even deeper when he saw the way you were looking at him–with the tenderness and love you had for him as a backdrop. He pulled off the mark.

”Sorry…” He murmured, voice a little shaky, “I know I do that a lot.” A small smile came up on your lips, as you shifted to get closer to his face, your bare chest dragging along him until you were eye to eye.

”I like it…You know I do. It makes me feel like you’re loving every part of me, not just the normal side.” You whispered, pushing a lock of his light brown hair out of his face so you could get a clearer look at him.

“You do the same though…” He replied, voice barely above a whisper, “With me, I mean…The Sentry, The Void…All of it,” He added, his eyes falling away from you for a moment, “You’ve never made me split myself up…Never forced me to hide anything or be just one…You just take all of it, all of me…Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.” Your hand slid down his cheek to cup his jaw.

“That’s because they don’t scare me, they’re not strangers, they’re just different versions of you, and I love all of them.” You could see the way his eyes softened from the words.

”Even…The Void?” He whispered, voice small and hesitant, like saying its name might conjure it by accident. You nodded, sliding your hand to the back of his neck, your thumb brushing along the little baby hairs that laid there.

”Even The Void Bob…Because it’s still you, and I love every version and every layer of you…Like I always say.” He went scarlet. His eyes flitting up to yours before immediately dropping again with a smile coming up on his lips. Beneath you, his chest fluttered like his heart wanted to bust out of its confines, but he didn’t pull away or hide from you.

”I love you too.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, and he let out a soft laugh, nose brushing against yours.

And just before he could lean in to kiss you.

The door slammed open with a crack that made Bob jump so hard he nearly flew off the bed. You groaned loudly and dropped your forehead against his shoulder with a thump, already knowing who it was.

”James Buchanan Barnes,” You snapped, “It better be important, because the next time you don’t knock, I’m going to make sure we’re doing something way worse than lying here, and you’ll be scarred for life.” Bob turned bright red from your words, blinking over at Bucky who stood with his arms crossed, holding a glossy magazine in his hands.

”Well good morning to you too, necromantic hellspawn,” He replied, “Get dressed. We’ve got a situation.” He added, tossing the magazine across the room, letting it land on the foot of the bed with a slap. Your entire posture shifted in an instant–from soft and pressed against him to rigid and coiled.

Your gaze dropped to the magazine now lying crookedly in front of you, and the photo on the cover hit you in the face like a slap.

There, under bold, gleaming headlines, was an image of you and Bob on the rooftop garden. The lighting was dusky, but you remember that day like it was yesterday. It was just as the golden hour was slipping behind the both of you. The both of you had gone up there to get some fresh air and talk, you had no clue you were being watched, and it was evident by the photo.

Your hand was cupped gently at his jaw, and his fingers were curled around your wrist, the two of you were so close your noses were touching, and it was clear–achingly clear–that you were just about to kiss. Your eyes trailed up to the headline above the image.

”DEATH AND DIVINITY: Inside the steamy new relationship between two of the world’s most powerful Avengers.” Your mouth fell open,

”What the fuck.” You breathed, which got Bob’s attention immediately. He sat up with you, the sheets slipping down his chest, and his hair flopping messily over his forehead as his eyes caught the front page of the magazine.

“W-What? What is it?” He asked, confused, like he was still trying to catch up. You were speechless, so all you could do was pull the magazine closer to him so he could get a better look. He took it out of your hands carefully, and squinted down at the image, then his face went red.

“O-Oh my god…” He whispered, his eyes going wide, “Is that…Is that us? When was this take-”

”Three days ago.” Bucky replied, cutting him off, “I remember because Yelena and I were playing poker in the surveillance room and we were both betting on how long it’d take before you two started kissing.”

“You were watching us?” You snapped.

”No, we turned the screens off before it got all mushy…But someone else was definitely keeping tabs.” He shot back, walking over to the bed to tap on the photo.

”This image is definitely not from the cameras. It’s way too zoomed in, and edited…This was a planted shot.” Bob’s brows furrowed, and you could see the way panic was rising behind his eyes.

“Are you saying someone…Snuck onto the roof?” Bucky shook his head.

”No, this was taken by someone who had access. If nobody apart from us knew…Then it must’ve been Val.” You went still, feeling the rage building in your chest–hot and thick, vibrating just beneath your skin.

”She fucking followed us and waited till we were alone to take these.” Bucky nodded.

”Probably sold them too,” He responded, “Page three has an ‘anonymous quote’ that’s oddly specific how the Sentry ‘looks at her like he’s made of light and she’s the only one who can hold it without burning.’” Bob’s jaw dropped.

”Wait…Wait, that's something you said to me,” He hissed, looking over at you. “I remember because you were sick–how does she know that?” Your hands curled into tight fists against the sheets.

”Because she’s been listening.” Your voice was colder now–quiet and laced with venom, “She’s been watching us, and waiting for us to slip up.” Bob looked devastated at this information. His shoulders hunching forward, as he glanced over at you, showing the guilt that was creeping in behind his eyes.

”I’m so sorry,” He whispered, “I shouldn’t have kissed you on the roof, I should’ve–“ You cut him off, raising your hand up.

”Don’t do that. We didn’t do anything wrong. She did.” Bucky exhaled loudly through his nose.

”You’ve got maybe three hours before this becomes a press frenzy. I would recommend figuring out what kind of damage control you want to do.” You glanced down at the magazine again and looked up at Bucky,

”Is killing Valentina on the list of options?” You muttered, voice flat and simmering.

“Could be arranged, “ He replied, deadpanning, “Might take a few minutes for Yelena and Walker to collect their matching shovels though.” Your lips curled faintly, but the rage still burned beneath your eyes like hot coals. You were already calculating how you could make her life a living hell, and you didn’t know how extreme you wanted to go.

But then you glanced at Bob, seeing the way his eyes were glancing between the photo and the headline. He looked overwhelmed, and it automatically diffused the feelings you had towards Valentina, because she wasn’t the person you cared about the most…It was him.

You reached out immediately, placing your hand over his, curling your fingers so they were pressed against his palm. He looked up at you, seeing that the colour in his eyes had faded into a grey.

”Hey. We’re okay Bob…You’re okay…We will get this handled and I promise we will be fine, alright?” He nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

“I just…I just wish people didn’t see us like that…That’s just for us…” You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment to let the contact settle him, before pulling away.

”They don’t know anything about us, and no matter how they spin it, or how they plaster it on the headlines they will never be able to really understand what we have. That part is only for us to share…I will make sure we won’t have to answer to anyone about our relationship, okay?” He looked at you then, and in that moment you watched the panic retreat from his eyes, like a wave sliding back into the sea. His eyes shifted back to blue, like you had diffused a ticking time bomb.

”Okay…” He whispered, his breath catching a little, “I trust you.” You squeezed his hand once more, before turning back to Bucky who was leaning against your dresser with his arms crossed.

”Set up an emergency meeting,” You said, your voice sharp, “And make sure Valentina is going to be there. I want this handled now.” You added.

”On it,” Bucky replied, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “Do you want me to tell Yelena to bring her blowtorch?” You exhaled through your nose.

”Tell Yelena no weapons…With all the rage in me, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle it.” Bucky smirked, thumbing open his phone.

”Duly noted.” He muttered, “No backup required in the weapons department.” He added.

He was halfway to the door when it opened again, and this time Alexei strutted in like he was arriving at a red carpet event, waving his own copy of the same magazine above his head with pure delight on his face. He looked like he had just won the lottery.

”Death and Divinity!” He boomed, accent heavy and dramatic, “This is sexy, yes? Sounds like vampire opera.”

“Oh god,” You muttered, pressing your fingers into your tear ducts.

“Oh Jesus,” Bob added, sinking slightly lower into the bed, trying to shield his face away from the world.

Alexei, undeterred, flipped through the pages.

”Page four has nice photo. Very very romantic. You are holding his face like he is scared little mouse, and he is looking up at you like you are moon goddess. Very touching.” You groaned again and lobbed your pillow at him, only for him to catch it.

“Alexei,” Bucky growled, already herding him towards the door, “Out…And change that attitude, we need to be a solid front line for these two at the emergency meeting.”

————

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, you didn’t know what exactly you were expecting–but the moment your eyes landed on Valentina, standing smugly at the end of the conference table with a martini in one hand and a matching smirk on her mouth, something sharp and electric lit up in your chest.

She was in a sharp navy power suit, tailored within an inch of its life, not a single wrinkle was in sight. Her heels clicked softly as she turned to face all of you fully, a smile spreading across her lips, while she spread her arms open like she was about to congratulate you.

”There’s the stars of the hour!” She cooed, “The public loves you. Death and Divinity–absolutely genius. Not something I created unfortunately, but it’s still absolutely amazing.

Your steps echoed across the floor as you approached her. Bob stayed close behind you, quiet but tense–his fingers wrapped around one of your fingers while the other one picked at his sleeve. Mel was standing off to the side with her arms crossed, looking at the team you had brought, who were already looking over at her with judgemental gazes, like she had betrayed them.

But it was you Valentina was looking at, as your body slowly casted a shadow across her.

”YOu took a photo of me and the person I love, in a private moment, and sold it to the press without our consent. You’ve been eavesdropping, manipulating, and spying for weeks…And you think we came up here to thank you? For a fucking magazine cover of all things?” Valentina blinked slowly, taking a sip from her glass before putting it down on the table.

”A front cover,” She corrected, unbothered by the rage that was twitching behind your eyes, “On twenty-nine different newsstands worldwide! You’re welcome.”

“Welcome?” Your voice cracked slightly–heat rising beneath your skin, as Bob’s fingers squeezed your one, “You’re using our relationship like it’s a fucking PR stunt.”

“And it worked.” She stated simply. You stared at her, jaw locking. You were pretty sure the lights above the table dimmed for a fraction of a second–like your body was going to snap on her at any second. You stepped in closer to her, but her smile didn’t falter, if anything, it widened, like she was proud of you for showing up with your claws already bared.

”You better have a good fucking explanation,” You said, your voice low and venomous, “Because if I don’t like the next sentence out of your mouth Valentina, I swear on every grave I’ve ever raised–you’ll be joining them.” She let out a short, delighted laugh, and cocked her head slightly to the side.

”You are so dramatic,” She said, her tone leaning on the side of condescending, “It’s charming really.” Bob shifted behind you, and his hand tightened around your fingers, almost like he was grounding you, like he was draining you of what you were feeling, just a little bit.

”We didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Mel chimed in, taking a step forward, “It was a strategic decision–“ You didn’t even turn your head, you just held up your free hand, your palm curled and open.

A faint, eerie green glow pulsed from the center of it–low and steady like a heartbeat in the dark.

”I didn’t ask you,” You said, voice cold as ice, “I asked Val.” The glow made the room go still. Yelena, straightened up ever so slightly, exchanging glances with Alexei, and Walker. Ava gave Bucky a small nudge, almost like she was expecting him to step in, but he remained silent, locking eyes with Valentina like he was daring her to keep going.

Val let out a long exhale, then finally stepped closer to you.

”Do you honestly think the world wants The Winter Soldier as the face of the New Avengers?” She said, voice low, as if she were explaining something to a child who didn’t understand how the world worked, “A walking weapon with a kill count in the hundreds–possibly thousands–most of which are caught in grainy footage? He may be rebranded but you can’t slap a new label on a nuclear warhead and expect the public to forget what it is.” Your jaw clenched so tightly your teeth hurt.

”He was pardoned for all that. Cleared. Redeemed publically. Then he got elected…For y’know…Congress? Remember that? Oh and let’s not forget when Bob went all…Well y’know and he saved New York with all of us.” Yelena cut in, motioning to Bucky, coming to his defence. Val’s eyes glanced over to where Yelena stood, her expression turning unreadable for a moment–like she was weighing whether or not it was worth vocally sparring with her. But then she waved her hand dismissively.

”Doesn’t matter,” She said, as though the conversation was beginning to bore her, “The public only sees what you show them, and as much as you parade redemption papers and congressional ribbons around, it doesn’t erase people's memories. We had the opportunity to give you all a better image, one that isn’t cluttered, and we took it.” You tilted your head slightly, now pointing your open palm at her, which made Bob slowly pull you behind him so there was space between you and Val in an attempt to diffuse the anger pulsing through you.

“Cluttered?” You echoed from behind him, trying to look over his broad shoulder.

“Yes, cluttered,” She repeated, “Between Bucky’s guilt complex, Yelena’s PR liability, Alexei’s Cold War nostalgia tour, Walker's entire existence, and Ava who is always on the brink of leaving, it’s chaos…But now?” She gestured broadly towards the both of you, “Now the public sees something beautiful, something they can sink their teeth into.” Bob’s eyebrows furrowed.

”B-But we’re a team…It’s not just Y/N and I…We’re not at the forefront, it's all of us…” He explained quietly.

“Come on Robert…You think the world wants realism?’ She said with a dry laugh, “They want symbolism, they want a reason to believe in what we’re building here.” She motioned around her.

”Then…Why don’t you actually build something real then…Instead of putting our relationship on full display for the public.” Val’s eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth lifting like she was enjoying being challenged.

”You think you’re not already at the forefront?” She said, voice honeyed and sharp, “That’s adorable. You’re a god in a golden shell. You were born for the spotlight, all I’m doing is pointing it in the right direction.” Then the elevator dinged.

”Now get ready for your closeups.” She added, with a smile on her face.

[remxedmoon]

your friends don’t know what to do.

so!! i redrew every single enemy in the game. in the span of like 9 days (excluding the king i made him right after the last update). that’s abbbout 79* drawings total, with only 3 custom ones for once!! i’m so normal. as always, these are free to use with credit!! go nuts!! spritesheets are included <3

got some notes under the cut, along with As Many Enemies As I Could Fit without making this post obnoxiously long. and i failed. i had to swap between the app and browser several times and i still couldn’t fit every drawing. open this post at your own risk (silly).

okay so first of all. what’s with the asterisk. well. I Drew A Lot More Than 79 Assets Actually. they’re getting posted separately, because this post is ABSURDLY long. you can find most of them in the miscellaneous folder, but for a bit of clarity, i added the teleport map and a bunch of ui elements that reference sprites from the icon sheet. and also the game over and loop back animations but i haven’t finished the spritesheets for those because they’re a pain in the ass so they’re not in the drive yet

if you missed my complaining a few days ago, a few enemies might look a bit crunchy in the actual game? specifically, calamité and désespoir were drawn at the wrong size, because their images in the files do not match the spritesheets! i avoided the issue with most of the other enemies, those two just blindsided me. sorry about that!

^sadnesses having inconsistent designs was actually a running theme with these. détresse rock has an unused design in the files (which i managed to catch before having to redo it thankfully), anxiété has extra spikes that don’t appear on the spritesheet (sorry i was too lazy to fix that one), even the version of the friend rescue in the files doesn’t match any of the frames in the spritesheet. hfjfhfj. sorry about the quality issues.

tangentially related to that, massive thank you to @riggedbones for grabbing the individual frames for the animations for me!! they made my life so much easier. vs friends would’ve been so annoying…

speaking of the animations! hi can you tell i’m not an animator. these were my first time doing Anything animation related since, like, middle school. super sorry for the Jank in some of these! the friend rescue looked way better when i drew it 💔💔.

bourdon’s hands also might act a bit odd, my apologies. the sizing ingame is SUPER inconsistent (why is one of the hands SMALLER than the other????). once i’m able to actually test the mod, i’ll try to fix it wauaua.

the 3 custom sprites are for the triplets! i ended up making two versions for each, one that follows the ingame art, and one with my personal designs for them. i like my own designs for them, but they’re a lot easier to tell apart? so if you want to use the ones that fit the gimmick better, they’re also in the drive 👍

this update. was originally going to have way more custom art. i’ve actually got an act 6 siffrin enemy asset in my art program! but school started and i decided it’d be better to just get the normal stuff done. so the mod can actually come out in a reasonable timeframe. promise that’ll all come out Later! sorry about the wait 😓😓😓

also adding this because i almost forgot: no i don’t know if these are compatible with sasasaap. i don’t have the game still and it’s not my main priority atm, apologies!

okay! that was a lot! and there’s a ton of art down here! thank you for reading all this, i’ll be back with the game over animations and teleport map pretty soon! like. within the weekend. enjoy!!!

[anxiouscherubs]

sunday morning

𖤓 summary: the one where you wake up too soon from a wet dream and your boyfriend is there to help you... relieve the tension. 𖤓 warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, established relationship, some degradation, bdsm dynamics, yeo is a bit of a mean dom!! you've been warned!!, use of the color system, some choking, fingering, spanking, lovebites, oral sex (f receiving), edging, unprotected sex (don't do that), yes there's aftercare im not a monster 𖤓 dom!yeosang x fem!sub!reader 𖤓 author's note: i know i said i would post this by the end of march but wedding planning and school and work are consuming my life!!!!! finished this with a literal ear infection bc i NEEDED to put it out into the universe lol. this was originally inspired by the fact that yeosang uses the replica lazy sunday morning fragrance and quickly spiraled into depravity. yeosang wrecks me every day of my life and i KNOW he gets nasty. he's too quiet to be anything other than a dom, sorry! this is also my first time writing a relationship with bdsm dynamics so please feel free to leave (constructive and kind) feedback! 𖤓 word count: 5.9k 𖤓 read it on ao3 here

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“Sangie, please” you moan into your boyfriend’s neck, his cock plunging in and out of you at a relentless pace. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” he teases, his fingers finding your clit, circling the sensitive bud to match the pace of his thrusts. 

”I’m so close, baby, fuck,” your hands tangle in his dark hair as you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. He licks a firm stripe from your collarbone to right below your ear, never slowing his hips. 

“Come on then, baby, fall apart around my cock,” he growls into your ear. 

The pleasure settles in your core, hot and heavy, building and building as your bodies move in sync. He hits that soft spot inside of you, and you cry out, his name falling off your lips over and over like a mantra. 

“Yeo, oh my god,” you whimper, “fuck, I’m gonna —“ 

A loud crash startles you from your sleep, pulling you from your delicious dream. The soft morning light creeps through the blinds of your shared bedroom, casting gentle stripes across your duvet. The city outside is still quiet as you try to shake the heat from your system, Yeosang’s cold empty side of the bed helping bring you back to reality. You let out a slow breath, stretching your tired muscles, trying to jumpstart your body, ignoring the wetness that had begun to pool in your sleep shorts thanks to your subconscious. You roll over to face your nightstand, squinting at the clock — 9:15 AM. Yeosang always wakes up earlier than you, and sleeping this late is out of the question, unless he’s on his deathbed with a cold. 

You untangle from the sheets, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to stretch, letting your feet rest on the sun-warmed wooden floor. The morning light shines bright through your window, the warmth melting into your skin. You hear rustling in the kitchen, and realize the sound that startled you awake must have something to do with your boyfriend making you both breakfast, like he does every Sunday. 

Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw a fuzzy cardigan over the tank top you slept in, to match your shorts. Yeosang always gifts you sets of loungewear, because he knows how happy it makes you to laze around the house in something cute. You make your way down the hallway, the warm smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafting around you the closer you get to the kitchen. You round the corner to see your boyfriend bent over the sink, washing dishes from last night’s dinner. A fresh pan of cinnamon rolls sits on the counter next to him. Your favorite.

“Good morning, Sangie,” you softly say from the doorway, so as not to startle him. He peaks over his shoulder at you briefly before turning the water off, a breathtaking smile consuming his features. His gray sweatpants hug his slender hips, and the tight black tank top he’s sporting gives you an unobstructed view of his broad shoulders and strong arms. God, he looks good.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he coos, his deep voice still raspy from sleep. He quickly dries his hands on a dish towel before discarding it on the counter and making his way over to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a warm hug, his familiar scent enveloping you. His fingers rub absentminded circles on your skin as he holds you, his hot touch reminding you what you were dreaming about before you were jolted from your sleep. You feel your cheeks warm, thinking about how, in your mind, he was inside of you moments ago. 

“Did I wake you? I tried to wash everything quietly, but the pan we used last night slipped and I banged it on the counter,” he kisses your forehead, the lingering warmth of his breath working you up even more. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you pull back to kiss his nose, trying to shake the heat from your body. “I needed to get up anyway. I missed you.” You wonder if he can tell how hot and bothered you are. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and when you’re needy, he picks up on it right away. 

“Yeah? Were you dreaming about me?” He squeezes your hips before releasing you, picking the dish towel up and walking back to the sink to hang it up.

“No,” you blush, sensing he already knows the answer. He chuckles darkly, leaning back on the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“If those pretty little moans I heard coming from our bedroom are any indication, I’m gonna have to call you a liar, baby,” he smirks at you as your soft smile falls from your face. “Wanna try to answer truthfully this time?” The tone of his voice has shifted from the sweet, doting boyfriend he was moments ago, the version of him you only see in the bedroom starting to crack through the surface.

“Y-Yeo, I—“ you stumble over your words. Of course you gave yourself away, how embarrassing. Your face feels like it’s on fire. 

“What was I doing, hm?” Yeosang prowls toward you slowly, a strand of his dark hair floating down onto his forehead. “Tasting you? Fingering you? Fucking you?” He stops in his tracks, waiting for your answer. 

The words coming out of his mouth have your mind reeling, a pit of pleasure settling in your belly. You let your cardigan fall from your shoulder, suddenly aware of how his hungry eyes are raking over your body. 

“Fucking me,” you barely recognize the sound of your voice, breathless and desperate, “you were fucking me,” 

“Mmm,” his deep voice sounds like honey, “and how was it, hm? Did I let you come?” He creeps closer to you, only a few steps away. 

“I-I woke up, before I could,” you start, trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“Oh, jagiya,” he finally closes the distance between the two of you, slowly wrapping one arm around your body, his hand snaking down to cup your ass. “You must be so pent up, my love.” His other hand comes up to your neck, brushing your hair away to ghost his lips over your bare shoulder. He trails featherlight kisses up your shoulder, to your neck, settling right by your ear. “Do you want me to help you with that?” His deep voice whispering over your sensitive skin… he knows what that does to you. 

You’re nodding before your voice catches up. “Yes, Sangie, please,” you whisper, bracing yourself on Yeosang’s shoulders as he nips at your neck. He nods at your pleading, willing as always to take care of you.  

“Should I bring you to bed, or take you here first?” He bites down on your shoulder, growling into your skin. 

You whimper at the sensation, “now, Yeo please, I need you to touch me now,” your hands float up to his hair, lacing through his dark locks. 

“Mm,” he tuts, “what if I want to do both?” He pulls away from you to look into your eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. He brings a hand to your chin, thumbing your bottom lip. You open your mouth for him instinctively, and he hooks his thumb on your bottom teeth, tilting your head up at him. “Why don’t I make you come once here, and then I’ll take you to bed and fuck you back to sleep.” 

You nod as you close your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around it, drawing a deep groan up his throat. 

He moves quickly, popping his thumb out of your mouth to plant his hands on your hips. The room around you spins, and suddenly your back is pressed up against him. He wraps an arm around your stomach and brings his other hand to your throat, caging you in his grip. You feel his hardness pressing into your ass as he rolls his hips into you. You whimper, leaning into him, chasing every little touch he’s willing to give you. 

“What does my baby want?” He whispers in your ear, tightening his hand on your throat and sliding his other down to ghost his fingers under the band of your shorts, “should I bend you over the counter and have you come around my fingers? Or should I put you on the counter and fuck you with my tongue?” He squeezes the sides of your neck gently, just enough to make your head spin. 

“F-fingers,” you choke out, rolling your ass over him. 

He shoves you forward, into the counter, the hard marble digging into your hips as he moves his hand from your stomach to the middle of your back to push your torso over the countertop. You brace yourself, planting your hands on either side of your head, and he releases your throat to grip your hair, tipping your head to the side and squishing your cheek into the cold surface. 

“Don’t tell me you’re so fucking cock hungry that you forgot your manners,” he scolds you, ripping your sleep shorts down with one hand and smacking your ass with a loud crack. 

“Ah-! Fuck,” you cry out, the pain warming you from the inside out, a rush of arousal flooding your center. “Please, I want your fingers Sangie, please,”

”Good fucking girl,” he coos, “and no panties, huh?” He pulls his hands from you and takes a step back, leaving you bent over the counter with an angry red handprint blooming on your naked ass. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this, fucking hell,” he runs a hand through his hair as he admires you. 

You know he’s teasing you by not touching you right away, so you take it upon yourself to kick your shorts to the side and prop one shaking leg up on the counter, presenting yourself to him. 

“Mmm, you’re practically dripping, jagi,” he zeroes in on your center, “you must’ve been really close in that little dream of yours, hm?” 

Before you can formulate a snarky reply, he’s behind you, plunging two fingers deep inside of you, using his free hand to grip your hip and hold you in place. You stammer out a curse at the sensation, your mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as he stretches you out. He immediately finds that tender spot inside of you, pressing the pads of his fingers against it over and over and over. 

“Yeo, oh my god,” you whimper, that familiar pit of warmth settling in your stomach. 

“Already squeezing around my fingers like you’re gonna come? I’ve barely touched you,” he teases you, his mean, dominant facade slipping into place. 

“F-feels so good Sangie, can’t help it, mmhn,” you’re practically drooling on the counter as he pistons his fingers in and out, reaching deep inside of you. 

He pulls his fingers from your center, bringing his hand down hard on your ass again. You cry out against the marble, tears blurring your vision as his fingers find your swollen clit. Your knee almost buckles underneath you as he expertly swirls around it, so familiar with your body, but he holds you up with a firm hand on your hip. 

“You wanna come, baby? Hm?” He quickens his pace, dipping his fingers inside of you to gather more of your arousal. 

“Yes, please,” you whimper. 

“Then come.” He almost sounds bored as he applies just the right amount of pressure to make you crumble in his hold, holding you steady as your body shakes. 

“T-thank you,” you cry out, your climax washing over you, wiping out all your strength. 

“So good for me,” Yeosang whispers, holding you in place, letting your body go limp over the countertop. He rubs both thumbs into the small of your back, letting you come down for a few quiet beats before bringing you back to the moment. 

“Color?” He quietly asks, the tone of his voice softening for a moment as he turns his attention to your hips, softly massaging your joints. 

“Green, very much green,” you sigh between breaths.

“Then come on, pretty girl,” he growls from behind you, pulling his hands from your body and taking a few slow steps backwards, “you want me to fuck you, don’t you?” 

You push yourself up on the counter, slowly lowering your trembling leg to the floor. 

“Yes, please Yeo,” you turn to face him, leaning back on the sturdy surface behind you, your brain still fuzzy and your hearing a bit muffled. His fingers are glistening with your arousal, the outline of his cock pressing against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. Your core pulses at the sight. 

“Then let’s go,” he beckons you, taking a few more steps backwards toward your shared bedroom, fire simmering behind his eyes.

You follow his lead, your unsteady legs carrying you a few steps before your boyfriend raises a hand up to stop you. 

“Nuh-uh,” he scolds you, shaking his head. 

You tilt your head at him in question, the teasing lilt in his voice making you dizzy as you realize what you’re in for. So he’s in this kind of mood. 

“Crawl.” 

Dropping to your knees without a second thought, a gasp leaves your lips as you hit the floor, the deep growl in his command making your body react instantly. 

“Good girl.“ His cock twitches in his sweatpants. “Now, you can follow me.” He smirks at you as you lower your hands to the floor, and you feel thankful that the warm sun flooding through your kitchen windows has heated the floorboards. 

You keep your eyes locked on his while you follow him on all fours, making sure to exaggerate the sway of your hips and the arch of your back as you crawl.

“Well, don’t you look so pretty on your hands and knees for me, hm? Obedient little slut.” 

Heat spreads across your cheeks at the emphasis on his last word, knowing he’s only saying it because he knows how much you love it.

He walks backwards the whole way to your shared bedroom, power radiating from him in the way he carries himself, his dark eyes trained on you as you crawl for him. His mouth hangs open as he watches you, and you can tell he’s testing his own self control. You follow him over the threshold, watching him as the backs of his knees hit the mattress, dropping down onto the edge of your bed. He spreads his legs wide, leaning back as he tilts his head to the side while he contemplates his next move. 

“Come,” he pats the mattress between his thighs, and you crawl forward to the edge of the bed, kneeling between his legs, looking up at him through your lashes. He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your head back. 

“As much as I’d love to have you falling apart around my cock in the next few minutes, I haven’t gotten a taste of you yet.” 

“O-oh,” his words warm your center, the way he’s looking down at you only making you feel more desperate for his touch. 

“Normally I’d make you earn it, but after listening to your slutty fucking moans all morning I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he wraps his hand around your throat again, squeezing firmly before guiding you up to your feet, standing along with you. He flicks at the shoulder of your cardigan with his free hand. “Off,” he demands. You shimmy out of it instantly, letting it drop to the floor and pool around your feet. 

“Give me your color,” he whispers, his grip on your throat loosening.

“Still very green, my love,” you smirk at him as he nods, squeezing tighter again. 

“So pretty with my hand around your neck,”  he praises you, your head spinning as you work to inhale. “I can’t, fuck,” he lets his resolve crack, crashing his lips into yours.

He kisses you hard, fingers carding through your hair as he parts your lips with his tongue. “I’ll take my time with you later,” he mumbles against your mouth, swiping his tongue over yours. You kiss each other like you’ve been apart for weeks; desperate pawing, panting, whining. 

“Lay down,” he orders you, groaning at the string of saliva connecting your mouths as he pulls away from you. He holds your waist as he spins the both of you around, putting you at the foot of the bed before pushing you onto the mattress. You catch yourself on your elbows, scooting back as he crawls on top of you, sloppily kissing you the whole way, moving together until you’re settled in the pillows against the headboard. 

He kisses you from your lips, up to the hinge of your jaw, down the column of your neck. You lay back against the pillows, so familiar with the way he loves to map your body with his mouth. He spreads your legs with his knees, splaying you open wide for him, your bare cunt clenching around nothing at the sudden exposure. 

He kisses down to your chest as his hands run up your thighs, bypassing your aching core to run up your stomach, one hand dipping beneath your tank top to palm your breast. You gasp at the sensation of his calloused hand kneading your supple flesh, a whine escaping as he runs a thumb over your nipple. He pulls your tank top up with his free hand, exposing your breasts to the cool air. 

“Sangie,” you thread your fingers through his hair as he kisses down the valley between your breasts, tightening your grip when he catches one of your nipples between his teeth. “Fuck,” you whisper, looking down at him as he flicks his tongue over it. His eyes meet yours briefly before they roll back as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. 

“Baby,” you whine, the feeling of his mouth on you making your head spin. “I need you,” 

“Mhm,” his mouth pops off of you briefly before his teeth graze over the top of one of your breasts, the sensation dissolving into pleasurable pain as he bites down. 

“Ah!” You yelp as his teeth scrape over your skin, panting as he soothes the bite with his tongue, sucking with the intention to leave a mark. 

“You forgot your manners again, pretty girl,” he bites you again, on your stomach this time, and you glance down to see the first mark blooming with shades of red and purple as he paints another. 

“Fuck, I—“ your voice catches in your throat at the third bite, lower on your stomach, inching closer to where you need him. ”Please Yeo, I need it,” 

“Need what, hm? Use your words,” the next bite is harder than the last, and it has you squirming, desperately pushing your hips into him as his teeth dig into the inside of your thigh. 

“Your mouth, please, please,” you rock your hips against nothing, your boyfriend keeping his distance to encourage more of your delicious whining. 

“You sound so pretty when you beg, my little whore,” he spreads your legs wide, fingers splayed across the insides of your thighs. He watches your cunt clench at the word, smirking to himself before spitting directly on your heat. 

“Oh,” you feel his warm saliva slide from your clit to your entrance, the sensation making you squirm underneath him. “Sangie, please,” 

“Mhm,” he finally settles between your legs, threading his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth. 

He licks the blooming purple bite on your thigh, trailing wet kisses up, closer and closer, pressing one last kiss before finally spreading you open with his tongue. Your back arches instantly, leaning into his mouth. He licks you from your entrance up to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. 

“Fuck,” you whine, gripping his hair, holding him against you. He laps at you, flicking the firm point of his tongue over your swollen clit over and over. 

“Mmm,” he growls against you, the vibrations drawing a whimper up your throat. He eats you like a man starved, as he always does, digging his fingers into your hips and caging you in against his mouth. 

“So good, Sangie, ah–” you yelp as his teeth scrape against your clit, a low chuckle vibrating through you at your reaction. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth, one hand loosening its grip on your hip to weave around to your throbbing entrance. 

You feel two fingers inching up the inside of your thigh, the light touch prickling goosebumps across your skin. The moment you look down at him, he pops his mouth off of you, briefly sucking his fingers into his mouth, your arousal shining on his chin. His dark eyes don’t leave yours as he guides his fingers to your center, teasingly running them through your wetness before plunging them deep inside you. 

“Ah!” You cry out at the sudden sensation, deep arousal coursing through your body as you watch your boyfriend rut against the mattress in time with the thrust of his fingers. He finds that tender spot inside of you easily, hitting it with each pump.

“So tight, are you sure you’ll be able to take me? Hm?” He scissors his fingers inside of you, the sound of how wet you are making his cock twitch in his sweatpants. “Gonna stretch you open so I can stuff you fucking full,” you whine at his words, his dirty mouth driving you mad. “My pretty little cocksleeve, made for me,” 

“I can take you,” you nod, watching him add a third finger, the stretch stinging at first but quickly dissolving into pleasure. “I can, I can,” you repeat, “m-made for you Sangie, I was–” your words evaporate into thin air as he sucks your clit into his mouth again, rolling his tongue over and over. 

You feel your orgasm quickly approaching, warmth rushing to your center. You roll your hips on his mouth, holding him against you, hoping he’ll let you get there. He must sense you trying to take control, slowing his fingers slightly. Feeling your orgasm fading away, you whine, struggling to push your hips harder onto his fingers. He chuckles against you before pulling away completely. 

“Fuck!” You cry out in frustration, “what the fuck,” 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he scolds you, pushing up onto his knees between your legs, a dark patch spreading on his sweatpants where the head of his leaking cock presses against the fabric. “Trying to come without my permission, and you think you can speak to me like that?” You feel your cheeks reddening as you realize what you did, your eyes widening at the hard set of his jaw. He’s pissed. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, tilting his head to one side until his neck cracks. 

“Flip over.” 

You’re frozen, propped up on your elbows staring at him, mouth hanging open. “W-what? I–” 

“Did I stutter? Flip the fuck over. Ass up. Now.” 

You scramble to roll onto your stomach, pushing up onto your hands and knees. “I didn’t mean to, Yeo, I’m s-sorry,” your cunt is throbbing in anticipation as you spread your thighs wide, dropping onto your elbows just how you know he wants you. 

“I’m sure you didn’t, greedy girl,” you hear shuffling behind you, feeling him getting closer to you, but not yet touching you. “How many, hm? Five?” You feel fingers ghosting across the middle of your back, trailing slowly down your spine. “Ten?” You shiver, knowing you can take ten but desperately wanting him inside of you sooner than that. 

“You’re lucky my cock is fucking aching right now or I’d do fifteen,” he growls, “how about five, hm?” His hand glides over the swell of your ass, and you have to stop yourself from leaning into his touch.

“Five,” you confirm, settling into the pillows beneath you.

“Five it is.” His hand disappears and your breath hitches in your throat. “Count.” A crack rings through the room as he spanks you hard, the warmth of the sting rushing straight to your core. 

“One,” you cry out, breath heaving. 

“Good.” Another spank, a little harder than the last. 

“Two,” your pussy clenches at the burn, and you can already feel the skin of your ass turning red. 

He doesn’t warn you before spanking you a third time, but he lets his hand linger to soothe your angry skin for a moment. 

“Three,” 

Another. 

“Four,” your voice cracks, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Color?” Your boyfriend asks from behind you, a hint of worry in his voice. 

“Green, I can do it, one more,” your words rush out, wanting to let him know you’re okay. 

“One more,” he confirms, bringing his hand down one last time, keeping it there to massage your sore skin. 

“Five,” you sob into the pillow, finally leaning into his touch, letting him guide your hips down to the mattress. 

“You did so well, pretty,” he leans over you, kissing you behind your ear as he brushes your hair to the side. “My good girl,” 

“Please, baby, I want you,” each hard smack on your ass only made you more and more desperate for your boyfriend. You know he wants to take care of you, check in, make sure you’re okay, but you need him badly. You roll over onto your back, and he hovers over you, only softness and concern in his eyes now. You open your legs, pulling him between them, his hardness resting against your core through his sweatpants.

“I’m okay, please Sangie,” you reach for him, cupping his cheek in your palm, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck, tugging him closer. 

“Jagi,” he whispers, “are you sure?” He kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger a moment before pulling back to look at you.

“Mhm,” you nod, your hand trailing down to the hem of his tank top. He lets you pull it up slightly before helping you take it off completely. His skin glows under the sunlight streaming through your windows, casting gentle shadows to emphasize each one of his muscles. You pull your own top off over your head too, fully bare for him. You roll your hips against his clothed cock, drawing a groan up his throat.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he drinks you in, admiring your soft form. All dominance has faded from his mannerisms, loving and sheer want taking over. 

“Kiss me,” you reach for him, and he meets you halfway to press his lips to yours. His need for you takes over, and he licks into your mouth as he rushes to pull his sweatpants and boxer briefs down. His length bumps against your heat, Yeosang hissing at the feeling, rocking against you as he kicks his pants off completely. 

He breaks the kiss to kneel between your legs, fisting his angry, leaking cock. He pumps himself twice as he adjusts his positioning, running the tip of his cock through your arousal. “Ready?” He asks, nudging at your aching entrance. 

You nod, reaching for him. He leans over you, letting out a shuddering breath as he pushes into you, filling you in one swift thrust. You moan at the feeling, the sound swallowed by his mouth against yours. He pulls out to the tip as he glides his tongue over your bottom lip, then slams into you.

“Shit,” you mumble against his lips, licking into his mouth. He meets your kisses hungrily, tangling his tongue with yours as he moves his hips, slowly at first, then pumping into you with a slow and steady rhythm. 

You wrap your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back as he picks up the pace, hitting deeper with each thrust, but not quite deep enough. 

“Harder, Yeo,” you break the kiss to ask, “need you deeper,” 

He chuckles darkly, knowing just how to get the angle you need. He straightens, staying inside of you as he lifts your hips with ease, keeping you suspended in a solid grip as he guides your hips to meet his thrusts, instantly hitting your g-spot. 

“Fuck, yes,” you cry out, letting him masterfully handle your body, bumping against that sensitive spot over and over. 

“So pretty taking my cock,” he praises you, fucking into you impossibly hard, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. “I love you so fucking much, my good girl,” 

“I love you,” you pant, getting closer and closer to the edge as he fucks into you, but you want to take care of him first. “W-wanna ride you, Sangie,” he slows down at your proposal. 

“You sure?” He knows your body must be spent, but you’re determined. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you whine, “please?”

“I can’t say no to those eyes,” he grins.

He pulls out of you to roll you on top of him, easily maneuvering your body until you’re straddling him, his head nestled in the pillows. He lays back, eyes twinkling as he waits for you to take over. 

You reach for his cock, wrapping your fingers around it, his eyes rolling back as you slowly pump him. “Mm,” he moans at the feeling, resting his hands on your thighs as you adjust to line him up with your entrance. His fingers dig into your thighs as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping as your clit grazes his skin once he’s fully seated inside of you. 

“Fuck, jagiya,” he runs his hands up your thighs and around your hips to hold you still for a moment. “Be gentle with me, I don’t want this to be over too soon,” he chuckles. 

“We have all day, baby,” you lift your hips slightly despite his firm grip on you, but he doesn’t stop you. You drop back down, drawing another beautiful moan from his lips. His grip loosens as he gives in to you, and you start bouncing your hips, his cock reaching deep inside you. You plant your hands in the middle of his chest as you find your rhythm. 

He watches you with lidded eyes, his jaw hanging open as you take what you need. He reaches a hand up to palm your breast, your head falling back as he thumbs your nipple. It doesn’t take long for your climax to start building, his thumb on your nipple and your clit rocking against him bringing you right back to the precipice. 

You know he’s close too, his breathing turning shallow and his grip tightening on your hips. 

“Come here,” he wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down to kiss him. 

The new angle gives him space to plant his feet on the mattress and roll his hips up into you, matching your rhythm. 

“Need to fill you up,” he pants, 

“Yes, please,” you squeeze around him, feeling him twitch inside of you. Warmth spreads throughout your body as you inch closer and closer to release, each rock of your clit against him pushing you there. 

“Come with me,” he commands you, your body tensing in his grasp as it washes over you. He fucks up into you twice more before he stills, spilling hot inside of you, groaning into your mouth. He lowers his hips slowly, guiding yours with him, staying inside of you, letting you collapse against his chest. 

You both struggle to catch your breath, holding each other close while you come down. He strokes your hair, and you let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, listening to the slowing beat of his heart.

“Wanna get more comfortable?” He asks, and you laugh, suddenly aware of how sore your hips are feeling, and the stinging lingering on your ass from your earlier punishments.

“Mhm,” you let him lift you off of him, guiding your pliant form onto your bed. He rolls you onto your belly, settling behind you to massage your hips. He rubs gentle circles into your skin, the soreness and tension in your tired muscles melting away under his skilled hands. 

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he softly says as he hops up to wiggle back into his sweatpants, “I want to get something to clean you up, I’ll just be a minute.” He kisses your forehead before padding out of the room. You stretch your tired limbs, listening to the rustling and sounds of running water from down the hallway. 

A moment later, Yeosang comes back into the room, his arms full of various things for you. He plugs in your heating pad, letting it warm up as he wipes his release from your inner thighs with a warm towel. You watch him as he bustles around the room, setting water and Tylenol on your nightstand and fluffing up your pillow for you. He grabs you a clean pair of underwear and one of your big sleep shirts, gently helping you dress, peppering you with kisses all the while. 

You snuggle up facing his side of the bed, letting him cover you with a blanket and lay your heating pad over your lower back. He finally slides under the blanket with you, and you lay your head on his chest, throwing one leg over him, effectively caging him in. He chuckles at your clinginess. 

“How’re you feeling?” He whispers, peppering kisses along your hairline. 

“Perfect,” you nuzzle into him, and he rests his chin on top of your head. 

“That wasn’t too much?” 

“Of course not,” you assure him. “If it was, I would’ve told you to stop.” 

He nods, accepting your response, wrapping an arm around your waist. You lay together in comfortable silence for a moment. You feel yourself starting to drift off, until his voice cuts through.

“Baby?” Yeosang says, a note of hesitance in his tone. 

“Hm?” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers, squeezing your waist. 

“Of course,” you respond, rubbing a finger over a freckle on his chest. 

“I dropped that pan on purpose.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he confesses to you. 

“Kang Yeosang!” You scold him through your laughter, lightly smacking his chest. You prop yourself up to look at him, and he sheepishly smiles back at you.

“Sorry!” He apologizes half-heartedly, “I didn’t want you having all the fun without me.” 

“Well next time,” you inch closer to him, “why don’t you wake me up with your mouth instead,” you brush your lips over his as his arm tightens around your waist. 

”You don’t have to ask me twice,” he kicks the blanket off of you to roll you onto your back, crawling on top of you, swallowing your giddy giggles as he kisses you. He spreads your legs with his knees, dropping gentle kisses down your jawline. You quickly pull your heating pad out from under you and toss it on the floor. 

“Quick,” he whispers, “pretend to be asleep.” You close your eyes as he slides down your body, settling between your legs once again, and you realize you’ll definitely be in bed for the rest of the day. 

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hope u enjoyed (: xo