#best tips to reduce weight

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: light size kink, mating press, big cocks, daddy/princess/sweetheart/mama etc...., fingering, teasing, hints mirror sex, man handling, light pain kink (with toji), light just the tip, squirting, riding suguru’s face, overstimulation, hints at creampie, incubus!sukuna, witch!reader (sukuna's only), monster fucking, double dick, fingering both holes, sukuna cums on you, sukuna's hand mouth and stomach mouth, dacryphilia, mocking, light pain kink (Sukuna’s only), double penetration (anal and cunt), sweet soft choso, reassuring and checking in if your ok, riding, choso has a dick piercing, size kink, daddy/beautiful/little witch, praise

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: can I come up with my own? “It's too big” anyone?

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You’re moaning loudly with your soaking wet cunt squelching from Satoru’s thick, long fingers. He is reducing you into a trembling mess. Your cunt is dripping despite only getting his tongue and fingers.

Satoru pushes his underwear down to kick it to the side. His long cock stands up, eager for attention. Your soaking wet cunt clenches, yearning for something bigger than you think she can handle.

You proclaim, "You're too big! It won't! Can it?" You’re unable to look away from Satoru's beautiful, veiny cock. His pale pink head slightly droops, too long to fully stand straight. How many inches could fit inside of you before you’re too full?

Satoru’s glossy lips pull into a cocky smirk, "It won't, can it?” He pulls his fingers out to spit in his pale. Satoru smears the mix of your slick and spit on his cock. Sliding his fist down his cock his pale pink cock head peaks out from the middle of his fist.

He croons, “I think your little sloppy cunt is perfect for my long cock.” Satoru’s thickness alone is perfect. Not too thick but still giving you that lip-biting pleasurable tingle when your needy cunt stretches to take him.

Swiping his head between your plush lips. “I want to see your beautiful pussy take every last inch.” Slipping his blindfold off, watching his pale pink head spread your hole apart. His groans as the soft ridged line of his head slips inside your pretty cunt.

You give a whimpering plea, “Saatorruuuunnn! Nnnn!” He pins your legs in a mating press, leaving your cunt vulnerable to his relentless teasing. Gliding his half your cock head out, your soft lips wrapping around him look so damn beautiful.

“I want more than just the!” Satoru roughly rocks his hips, gliding his cock in. “Nnnn!” Your eyes roll back whilst your thighs tremble. You’re so fucking full of Satoru, feeling the throbbing pulse in the veins of his cock as he pauses.

His breathy moans are erotic, “Fuck! Sweetheart!” That nickname is going to kill you if he moans it again. “Your pretty little cunt is perfect for my cock.” You’re getting off on the texture of his soft yet hard cock rubbing inside you. Enticing you to clench your cunt, smiling when he trembles.

Satoru leans forward to use some of his weight to pin you down. “You can take it princess.” You can’t run away whilst Satoru picks up speed with each thrust. Splaying your fingers on his abs, hardening between your palms with each thrust.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Your ass is in the air, with Toji’s thick rough fingers sinking into your hip’s squishy crease. There isn’t a possibility of running away from his merciless thrusts once he starts.

Even without his hand on your hip Toji is capable of effortlessly pinning your body to his bed. So he can fuck your small hole without mercy.

You need him to. Yet your nerves are getting the best of you. His veiny cock borders on monstrous in its thickness. It is equal to a Coke can. Toji is going to split your cunt in two. You’re tensing up, his intimidating size overwhelming you.

He croons, “Lil mama, relax.” Pulling his cock away, he glides three thick fingers into your cunt, stretching you apart. “I’ll carry you around after I break your pussy.” His hand drifts from your hip to your puffy clit.

Toji knows the perfect pressure and pace, making you lose your mind. The sweet pleasure is soothing your nerves, clouding your head.

You moan, “Daddddy! Nnn!” Your cunt is loudly squelching, overlapping your needy moans. “I want to! But you’re too big Daddy! It won’t fit!” Toji rubs your sensitive clit faster, your thighs trembling, cunt spasming around his fingers.

You whine when he glides his fingers out, lining his cock up with your soaking wet cunt. “I’m what now?” You can hear the excitement and pride in his deep, smooth voice.

Crying, “You’re too biiiiiiig! Nnn!” Toji rocks forward with a quick thrust. The pleasurable ache of your cunt stretching for Toji’s cock makes your toes curl. You want it, but your body can’t handle him, twisting your hips to run away

He croons, “Aw you think ya can run from me?” You don’t get far before Toji is yanking you back into place.

“I’m gonna make your little sloppy cunt take my fat cock till she’s dripping my cum.” When you reach back, Toji pins your hand above your head. Persistently playing with your clit, the pleasure overlaps the sweet pain. "Nnndaddy! So full!"

Toji leans forward, pressing his muscular chest to your back. You’re helplessly trapped beneath. The new angle helps him rub your g spot with every thrust. "Tell me how my big cock is making your beautiful cunt feel."

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Relentlessly pumping his pierced tongue into your overstimulated, sensitive, soaking-wet cunt. Trembling, squeezing Suguru’s head with your thighs. The difference between his hard barbell and his soft, warm tongue is too pleasurable.

You couldn’t decide if his barbell feels better inside or you on your clit.

Admiring the outline of Suguru’s hard cock. He looks so big, making your cunt ache with the need for more than just Suguru’s tongue. Pushing on the band, he grounds his feet to lift his hips. Slipping his underwear off, your eyes widen.

Lifting Suguru’s heavy cock up, you’re unable to wrap your hand around him. “Oh fuck!” His massive. Suguru’s long, thick beautiful, veiny cock makes your sensitive cunt drool more onto Suguru’s handsome face.

He groans into your cunt, clenching his tongue. Your sensitive cunt spasming, you’re so close to cumming again. The sweet release is so tauntingly close. “Daddy! You’re too!” You can’t get the words out, your brain stalling.

Thick clear cum squirts into Suguru’s mouth. Pumping his tongue faster, rutting his hip, gliding his cock in your fist. Jerking your hips away, Suguru’s thick muscular arm flexes as he squanders any attempts.

“Too big! Too much! Toonnnn! Daddy! Please! Daddypleasedaddypleaseeeeeee!” Licking your cunt clean before letting you pull away. Only to fall back onto his face, your legs too wobbly and heavy to hold you up.

Suguru lifts you off his face, effortlessly setting you to the side. You lay down, relaxing into his soft comforter, your body is heavy after cumming so hard. The lack of stimulation makes your sensitive clit occasionally twitch.

Suguru stands up at the edge of the bed, taking his underwear the rest of the way off. Grabbing your leg and yanking you to the edge of the bed. That moment of afterglow shatters in place of craving more.

Everything about Suguru is so big. From his towering height, thick beautifully sculpted arms, and muscular, thick thighs were perfect for riding. Groaning, “You’re too big! But fuck me daddy that’s how I want it. I want you so badly I can’t handle it any longer. But I’m..” Unable to admit your nerves, looking up at Suguru, seeking reassurance.

He kisses your forehead, purring. “Don’t worry sweetheart I’m only going to make you feel good.” He flips you over, lining himself up, slowly gliding his cock into your sloppy wet cunt. Purring, "That's it, you doing so well, you can handle it." Grabbing your neck loosely, squeezing your hip, lifting you off the bed.

Taking you to his body-length mirror. The beautiful sight of your smaller body pinned to Suguru’s muscular one with your plush lips parted around his thick cock greets you. “Watch and tell me whose is the gorgeous princess taking her daddy’s big cock?”

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“You’re lucky you're hot." The look of hunger in his eyes made it clear you'd invited a ravenous monster into your home. You want to be his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.

It's overwhelming the way Sukuna is fondling, biting, and stretching two of your tight, wet holes with his thick fingers. You're a toy in his large rough hands, laying beneath his massive muscular 8-foot tall stature.

He could easily rip you apart. The power imbalance turns you on as much as the sweet painful pleasure of his hands' mouth biting the soft squishy fat of your breasts. His warm tongues flicks your sensitive nipples. Pleasure and pain are becoming one and the same.

Thick tears trickle down the sides of your face. Sukuna’s smirk spreads, showing his sharp fangs. "You're being such a crybaby after having the audacity to summon me?" You can feel Sukuna's lust growing with your tears. His lust is heavy, intoxicating consuming, and hot, blurring the lines where your emotions lie.

Fucking three thick fingers into your squelching, quivering cunt. He remarks with a groan, "My little witch is an empath?” He has the excitement of someone opening a gift.

“Focus on my lust more, let it mix with your’s and drive you mad. I’ll fuck you till your body can’t keep up and you pass out." Closing his eyes, his jaw-dropping with a loud groan. Your sensitive cunt clenches from seeing his muscular body tremble over you through his large muscular body.

Looking down at you with more hunger than before. "You just keep tasting better." He's stroking your sensitive, puffy clit with his stomach’s tongue. "I can feel how close are as if I'm about to cum." It's getting harder to separate your lust from his. And you don't care to anymore.

The second you allow yourself to plunge into the deep end you're creaming. Squirting for the first time onto his thick fingers. "Feels-feels so gooood! Wanna keep cumming, gonna cum, wanna cum, gonnnnnn!” He groans fucking your spasming, squirting cunt through your peak.

Gliding his fingers out of your ass. Pushing down his pants, stroking one of his thick, tattooed veiny cocks. Urging thick white cum to shoot out onto your belly. "Lucky for you it takes a several times before my cocks go off. Heh I can’t believe you got me off just by cumming. You’re little cock sleeve body was meant for mine." Your eyes widen, your jaw dropping in disbelief. How are both supposed to fit?

Jerking your hips away in overstimulation as his tongue rubs your clit faster. He grabs your thighs firmly holding you in a mating press. "Did you think there would only be one?” He drags his fingers through his thick cum on your stomach.

No wonder he wanted to stretch you out with three fingers to loosen up both your holes. Yet it doesn't stop you from claiming, "You're too big, it's-" He stuffs his cum coated fingers into your mouth.

"Ok and?" He lines both cocks up with your holes, whilst tightening his grasp on your thighs to keep you from going anywhere. “Your slutty little holes are going to take me anyway, and I’m going to fuck them till you’re gapping.” Roughly rocking his hips forward, thrusting both cocks in. Both tips start with a soft round point making it easy for him to glide in.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth to hear your cries from the gradual stretch of his cocks. Getting thicker with each inch till it reaches the knot-like base. Your holes offer resistance too unable to take it just yet.

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

Choso pushes his boxers down, you bite your lip tensing up beneath him. His pale thick veiny thick pierced cock is beautiful but intimidating. You’ve wonder how the warm metal is going to feel inside you.

Choso looks you over, concern etching into his handsome face. A wrinkle forming between his thin brows. His voice is gentle and comforting. “Is this ok? Do we need to stop and cuddle?” But your nervous bubble up all the same.

Glancing to the side, biting your bottom lip. He gently cups your cheek, swiping his thumb, trying to soothe your jumble nerves. You look into his loving purple eyes, the warmth and admiration within them captivating.

Breathing in filling your lungs then breathing out, "Youlookedtoobiginthosepictures." You had amassed a collection of pictures and videos showcasing his beautiful veiny cocky. From cum shot, to jerking off, to pre-cum dripping from his cock you had it all. You’ve gotten off to Choso more times than you care to count.

Refusing to let your nerves stop you now when you so close to having your first time with Choso. "I want you to fuck me, I'm just worried it won't all fit. Or that it will hurt. You’re so big Cho.” His cheeks flush pink, his dark eyes widen, biting into his bottom lip.

Choso leans down, kissing forehead. “How about you ride me beautiful? I’ll only move if you ask.” The answer is easy to give.

“Please daddy.” For the first time nickname slips out effortlessly. His compassionate, caring and understanding nature. Choso gently kisses you groaning loudly. The sound makes your cunt clench around nothing.

Whining aching to have your sensitive cunt filled up. Whilst your nerves trickle into excitement over just how big your boyfriend is. His broad chest and shoulders, well defined abs. His thick, sculpted arms, and muscular thighs. A thick, long heavy being cocks like his is suiting for his stature.

Parting your lips for him to glide his tongue past. Slipping your fingers into his soft, dark hair. He grabs your hips, squeezing your squishy hip’s crease.

Pressing his warm, thick cock to your soft, soaking wet cunt. Rutting his hips, rubbing his warm cock head on your sensitive clit. Breaking away, looking down at you wondering,

Choso is incredibly sexy with his hair down and messy. “Are you sure you want this beautiful?” Reaching between grabbing his cock lining him up. His eyes widen the second his fat head touches your quivering hole.

“Nnn I do! Want you so badly daddy!” Choso glides just the tip in his abs clenching as he restraints himself from thrusting deeper into you. Shifting your hips from the pleasurable stretch of his cock head gliding inside. You can feel the soft ridges line of his cock head slipping inside you.

“Darling, you’re so wet and soft.” Picking you up by your hips, without moving you on his cock Choso carefully switches positions. Placing you on top his lap, straddling his thighs, loosening his grasp on your hips.

Rocking your hips, focusing on the feeling is his warm cock head stretching your cunt. “That it’s beautiful, take your time taking Daddy’s big cock. You going so good. You feel so good!” He clenches your hips, digging his heels into the bed.

Getting used to being so split open, just his cock head alone feels too good. Rocking your back back, splaying your fingers on hus “Daddy! I wanna be stuffed full of your beautiful, thick cock.” Taking a little more, groaning as his warm barbell glides into you. Choso trembles, jerking his hips up.

Rubbing your clit, making your sensitive cunt clench. “Sorry beautiful. How are you feelinggnnnn!” You bounce your hips, gliding him in and down. The beautiful look of pleasure on Choso’s handsome face getting you off.

Moaning, “I’m so full of your cock daddy! It feels too good. Please move, slowly.” Planting his feet, gently guiding you with his hips. Gliding half his cock into you, letting your cunt get used to being so full before giving you another inch. Watching your expression for any hint of pain.

Oreo’s m.list

[lxdymoon0357]

Hi i hope your doing great . Would you please do a yandere kael ( from for my derelict favorite ) and keneth esbande (from miss not so sidekick ) x runaway bride reader (sepeeately)? Like reader runs away at their wedding night but gets captured by them? Thank you❤

(Thank you so much for this request!! Warnings: bounds, gagging, kidnapping, beating, abuse, runaway bride, fem!reader, drugging, mentions of dub-con sex, yandere content)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

oh, don't run away, pretty bride!

Caelus of Vrandt

Uros silently brushed your hair, as you struggled against the many ropes, the binds digging in your skin as you cried against the cloth gag shoved in your mouth..It wasn't your finest moment, trying to run away—

"And would you look at that! Fits like a glove!~" the head maid hummed in delight, fitting you in your wedding dress, tightening the corset to the point of making it unbreathable.

But you put up a smile, nodding. "It is." you said, though tone a bit stiff, the maids ignored it as they all continued to work around and look for multiple jewelleries to fit it!

You hummed, as a few young maids started doing your hair and when all was set and done! The head maid winked, leaving you to collect yourself a few minutes, right before the ceremony started as you beamed at her.

Uros smiled, seeing he head maid walk out as he pat Caelus who had a rare smile on her lips. Diana and Helios itting a few feet away with smiles on their faces. Caelus took in a breath, panic but xcitement in his chest as the tune for your ntrance began and played..

Of-course, the tune continued is perfect symphony that was supposed to be this marriage, until—

"...Where is she..?" Uros whispered to the head maid who shook her head, Uros immediately took to find you, opening the door to find you—

..Nothing.

Oh shit.

You tried your best, picking up the dress and running as fast as you could outside, onto the streets. Ignoring the hushed whispers, or the weird looks, hoping your feet could carry you as far as possible..with the trouble of the wedding dress.

Your feet burnt and every one in a while, a pebble pierced the skin, but your legs carried you further because these pebbles could give you the freedom you'd never received again.

The soft jingling of jewellery, as you ran while trying to unclip the lacy, bejeweled veil to reduce some weight, pulling some hair strands in the process but removing it successfully as you shoved it behind a random shop where most wouldn't think to find..

"Just how many times?!" Caelus hissed in annoyance, rubbing his forehead.

While Uros continued to brush your hair, "Do you have any idea how you tarnished the name of Vrandt house?" Uros asked, in a tone serious enough to send chills down Caelus' back. But Uros was more concerned for you.

Your chek stung with bruises and a previous slap, as Caelus grabbed your shoulders, his hand and finger tips pushing in an awkward angle making it sting and your bones bend nearly.

"My love, how far did you think you'd run?" he hissed, his fingers digging deeper as you hissed, trying to struggle out in fear...Seeing that, Caelus tried to gently hold your cheek as you flinched back, making him stamer a bit,

"You know I was just mad, I'm sorry for hitting you.." he whispered, gently wiping your tears and stroking the stinging bruises which the head maid began to cover with concealer, "We're getting married love..I know you love me..I love you too!"

Kenneth Esbande

Standing at the altar, you put on your smile, nodding to whatever the priest said as Kenneth smiled down at you, you felt your chest suffocating you..the wedding bells a bit too haunting—

"Do you take Kenneth Esbande as your lawfully, faithful husband?"

"I-...I...I can't do this! NO!" you huffed, no idea what fueled the confidence as you threw the bouquet in the nearest guard's face and began running down the aisle, purposely pushing the empty seats, since this was only supposed to be a solitaire event.

Pushing another chair onto a guard, you began running down, letting your feet take you as far as they could and as fast as they could in the heels, even with Kenneth yelling your name—

Tripping a few times in your dress, you egan holding it up awkwardly, not minding the look for in fear of your life, you removed your tiara and threw it off somewhere, scoffing. yes blurring in fear and tears, ribs paining from the tight clothes and from the drink you had earlier to wash away the horror.

Running in random alleys— here and there— to lose the guards, and you did for a long while, running anywhere you could to get away throwing whatever you got in your hand to escape.

Sighing, you slowed for a bit when you were far enough in some alley.. stupid choice, but you nearly fell over and noticed your foot bleeding, but you didn't feel it from the adrenaline.

You were slightly panting as you removed your heels, your veil and unclip the drain from the heavy dress..which relived a lot of tension, hiding from Kenneth was no easy feat...

You wiped your eyes, teared up and your chest pressing down on your lungs..air forced out as you tried to hide your pants, as you leaned against the wall—

"Do you need help..?" a man's voice asked softly..You shook your head, eyes too blurred and hazed over, stomach paining..you couldn't tell if it was from alcohol or something happened...

Your knees buckled, sliding down, as you looked up to meet the man's eyes.. Feeling your limbs give you away..your eyes glazing over to blur the man's image, as mindlessly reachd out to him, "Oh don't worry..I'll keep you safe."

Taking a breath, you nearly screamed feeling your ribs crashing down, as the man roughly forced you down, your cheek pressing against the dirty ground—

"but some manners are due..No?"

Kenneth softly shushed you, "I know..I'm sorry, too rough?" he asked, though cold and emotionless as always..his voice held slight warmth as you cried into his chest.

Your wrists still bound, and mouth reddened with bruises as you nodded, sniffling softly..your mouth refused to speak with him now, body absolutely battered and paining from the events that took place before he forced you to get married.

"I know..Shh. I'll make it all better. Don't think of doing that again, got it? I did this for our own good..My darling wife!~"

[zae-heeyyy]

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[zazaiafe2]

The shift has nothing to do with your entire day(or the potential key of shifting)

Many people think that their entire day, general state, or constant mindset determine their ability to shift.

But observations and data show something much more subtle and interesting.

Shifting does not depend on your whole day, nor on all your emotions and thoughts over 24 hours.

What matters is a few critical seconds, a very short moment, a real cognitive window opening.

It is during this window that the shift occurs.

All mental, emotional, and spiritual preparation serves only to create the conditions for this window to open.

1)What we observe in people who shift effectively (even on command):

At the moment of the shift, it's like a sudden switch.

It’s not a long process

We don’t “work slowly to shift” over several minutes.

We shift all at once when this cognitive opening appears.

This window can foster these conditions of appearance.

That’s why people practice methods or preparations, but in truth the shift is instantaneous, there’s no waiting.

This window lasts a few seconds at most and can appear consciously or unconsciously.

What happens during this window:

- Natural micro dissociation: the person detaches from their usual identification with the body and the self of this reality.

- Decrease of critical internal dialogue: automatic thoughts and self-judgment slow down or briefly suspend.

- Feeling of neutrality or emotional emptiness: no need to be ultra positive or euphoric. Often, gentle emotional neutrality settles in.

- Blurring of proprioception: the body is perceived as fuzzy or distant; space and body weight feel reduced.

- Weakening of rigid cognitive control: the critical mind temporarily withdraws.

- Passive tipping sensation: the shift is not forced, it aligns and carries you. It’s not a “push” but a “let go.”

2) Emotional state : much more subtle than we think

This is where many popular beliefs about shifting are wrong:

- It’s not about being super positive that helps the most.

- It’s not about being emotionally empty that guarantees anything.

- It’s not about repeating robotic affirmations until exhaustion that will necessarily get you there.

What seems most favorable is a low-intensity emotion, whether positive or negative.

Emotions like:

- calm sadness

- gentleness

- light melancholy

- peaceful serenity

- floating neutrality

...are often more conducive to shifting than strong emotions like panic, anger, fear, or even extreme euphoria.

The key is not to erase negative emotions, but to be able to observe them without merging with them at the key moment.

It’s more about the relationship to the emotion than the emotion itself.

Emotional state of people who shift before shifting.

3) Anxiety : a very misunderstood factor

We must distinguish:

- Performance anxiety (“I absolutely want to succeed now”)

-> extremely unfavorable, as it triggers hypervigilance.

- Chronic or general anxiety(being anxious daily, perfectionist, or ruminative)

-> which does not necessarily prevent shifting if, at the key moment, the person can release cognitive vigilance.

That’s why profiles with dissociative tendencies, high cognitive plasticity, or an ability to briefly detach their ego from the situation may sometimes shift more easily, even with open eyes.

4) Why meditation is powerful in these cases

Meditation is not magical by itself, but it teaches to:

- observe thoughts and emotions without clinging to them,

- reduce internal dialogue and self-judgment.

- let tensions pass,

It prepares a more flexible mental ground, ready to seize the window when it opens.

For anyone with a very busy mind, I invite you to do 5-10 minutes of meditation, it can help.

The real work before shifting: opening the cognitive window.

Now that we’ve seen that shifting happens within a very short cognitive window, the question becomes:

How to best prepare this window?

How to facilitate its opening?

5) Affirmations and visualizations:

They work if placed at the right moment:

Before: they prepare the window. (So they are still useful mainly to make your subconscious accept the idea of shifting and make you feel safe).

During: within this cognitive neutrality window , simple gentle affirmations or visualizations are enough to orient your awarness anchor point toward your DR.

6) All preparation serves to loosen your control system

It’s not the endless repetition of affirmations rose itself that works, but the fact that they:

- reduce fear

- strengthen your inner comfort with the idea of shifting

- progressively reduce your hypervigilance

Each visualization, script, or intention helps familiarize your mind with the idea that it is normal and natural to shift.

The goal is not to create rigid belief, but to help you relax with the process. The more your nervous system accepts that it’s possible and safe , the more your cognitive vigilance will decrease.

I saw someone share that they listened to bird sounds. I think that for some people, nature sounds can help, but it depends. Maybe other things can be beneficial for others, others sounds.

You can also create playlist related to your DR and listen to it.

7) What you aim to achieve before the window(not necessarily during the day but just before if you don’t sleep):

- a state of global calm, not necessarily euphoria

- a relative emotional stability: even sadness can be fertile ground if not coupled with self-judgment

- a gentle trust: “I let go, I have nothing to force.”

8) Frequent obstacles to neutralize:

- Expectation of immediate result-> Let go of the idea of "when".

- Constant hyperanalysis -> Observe your thoughts without giving them too much weight.

- Emotional stakes -> Learn to let the obsessive urge to succeed right now pass. (It’s not a problem if you have this urge generally in life, but at this specific moment, try to set it aside.)

Concretely: how to open this window ?

Preparatory exercises that help a lot:

- Gentle progressive relaxatio practices: consciously relax each part of the body.

- Body scan before attempting: observe tensions, thought without judgement.

- Slow controlled breathing (but not forced, e.g.: guided breathing, Wim Hof, holotropic breathing, 4-4-4 breathing...).

- Thought observation techniques: "I notice, but I don’t merge with them."

Definition of holotropic breath work

I give you some videos that you can explore if you want.

9) The key moment approaches when:

- your mindbecomes a bit foggy, not empty but flexible.

- Thoughts pass by, but you no longer feel the need to cling to them.

- your body feels less "heavy" in space (proprioceptive interference).

- you feel a slight distance from yourself: light passive dissociation.

- Performance judgment decreases.

A simple image to remember:

Shifting is like jumping from a flexible branch when the wind is perfectly calm.

All your work prepares the branch’s flexibility and the wind’s fluidity.

When the perfect breeze comes... you shift naturally.

Some really helpful practical tools:

- Regular observation meditation (even 10 minutes per day).

- Calm sleep routines without sensory overload.

- Creative activities before sleep (writing, drawing, soft music).

- Light and fluid visualization (not rigid or obsessive).

- Limit emotional over-engagement during the attempt.

I think this guided meditation can be very helpful to some people

Many think they have to fight their emotions or suppress doubt.

No.

You can shift even with doubt, even with residual anxiety, as long as you’re not merged with this emotion at the key moment.

-> There you go.

What often blocks people is trying to control the process all the way through.

But shifting is an active letting-go, an intelligent release.

10) Common mistakes that close the window:

❌ Trying to necessarily feel a very positive emotion.

❌ Judging yourself for being anxious or not "perfectly ready".

❌ Confusing "I must control everything mentally" with "I must observe without attachment" .

❌ Using affirmations compulsively (robotic affirmations sometimes create tension instead of relaxation, even if they might work in some cases, don't worry.)

11) What to do during the critical moment

When the window opens (even for a few seconds):

✅ Stay in this floating state.

✅ Gently visualize your DR or mentally repeat a simple anchored affirmation.

✅ Let the shift happen without trying to force the transition.

It’s a gentle, passive sliding, where consciousness aligns elsewhere.

12) Why do some cognitive profiles shift more easily?

Because they can naturally:

- Slightly dissociate

- Temporary suspend their identification with the CR self

- Reduce cognitive critical load

- Let thoughts float without merging

But all this can be learned and the capacity to shift itself is natural it's just your rational mind that "block" everything. It’s not "you have it or you don’t" . These are modifiable neurocognitive skills, not mystical talents.

Remember this key point:

You don’t shift by being "perfect".

You shift when you manage to create this micro cognitive window,

it’s a phenomenon of natural alignment that happen all the time .

Happy shifting this post was so hard to make and so long to translate 😭took me hours and I'm not sure I expressed everything I wanted to.

[thecuriousbeauty]

You ask him to stop- Harry Styles x reader blurb

Synopsis: Harry takes care of you after you have a small panic attack while having sex with him.

Warnings: Slight anxiety.

Word count: 2.8K

After a long day at university, you drag yourself through the front door, your body aching with exhaustion. The weight of the day presses down on you, each step feeling like a monumental effort. Your mind is a blur, consumed by the overwhelming number of tests, projects, and assignments that are all piling up at once. Every time you think about the deadlines ahead, your stomach tightens, and a knot forms in your chest. You can't seem to escape the constant pressure to be on top of everything, and no matter how hard you try, it feels like you’re always a step behind. Doubts creep in, whispering if you're really capable of handling it all. You wonder if you’ll manage to stay afloat or if the weight of it all will eventually drag you under. The thought of not being good enough, of failing, hangs over you like a dark cloud.

As you walk into the living room, the soft hum of music fills the air. There’s Harry, standing by the stove with a big grin on his face, the scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. His hands move with practiced ease, flipping something in the pan, his eyes glinting with excitement. It’s the kind of vibe that feels like sunshine in the middle of a storm.

“Hey, love!” he calls out as soon as he sees you, his voice full of warmth and light. You can’t help but smile, the way his joy fills the space around him like a bright, infectious wave. It’s hard to not let it pull you in, especially when you know how hard he’s been working lately, and yet here he is, more upbeat than ever.

You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, tip toeing so you could rest your head on his back and you release a long sigh, taking in his familiar scent. “Hey, babe.”

“I’m making us dinner. It’s a new recipe, I think you’ll like it.” He dropped one of his hands to yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he continued to tend to the pan with the other hand. “Mhm? Smells good already.”, you hum, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and he tugs on your hand. “Come here, gimme a proper hug and kiss.”

“So demanding.”, you teased, and he chuckled.

He turns around when you let him go and wraps you up in a hug, “I finished the new song today,” he says, his smile only growing wider. “It’s done, and I think it’s one of my best yet. Can’t wait for you to hear it.”

You can feel your tension starting to melt away just from the way he’s lighting up about it. His energy, so effortlessly positive, starts to seep into you too, nudging out the stress you’ve been carrying all day. 

“I’m excited to hear it.”, you smile, and he cups your cheek with one hand, leaning down to envelop your lips in a soft kiss. You poke the dimples on his cheeks when he pulls away and smirk, “You’re gonna burn your hard work.”

He gasped dramatically, reducing the flame. “No, not gonna let that happen. How was your day, baby?”

You sighed again, running a hand through your hair. “I’d rather not start.”

“Oh no. We can have a vent session before bed if you want.”, Harry suggests, just like how a true, understanding boyfriend should say and you smile. “Nah, I’ve been whining to you every single day this week. Let’s just have a nice dinner and relax.” 

Harry is just standing there and cooking for you, looking effortlessly captivating.His features are striking, perfectly chiseled with a soft jawline and full lips. The way his curly hair falls over his forehead adds to the charm. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing the sculpted muscles of his forearms. Even when he’s focused on something like cooking, he exudes an undeniable magnetism. Harry doesn’t try to look good; he simply does, naturally.

You press a kiss to his jaw, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“I know some ways that can help you relax.”

“Does it involve you being naked?”, you asked, twirling one of his curls around your finger and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Us.”, he corrects, with a wink. “Now hurry on, this will be ready by the time you finish your shower.”

“I love you.”, you say, walking away. 

“Love you too, my love!”, he calls after you and you grin. You quickly get into the shower, not wanting to keep Harry waiting. 

The hot water hits your skin, and you close your eyes, letting the steam envelop you. The heat soothes your muscles, but your mind remains restless, swirling with thoughts of everything you’ve been stressing over all day. The tests, the assignments, the constant pressure to perform. You try to push them aside, but they cling to you, persistent, relentless.

For a moment, you feel yourself sinking under the weight again. But then, a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you think about Harry. The way his energy had been so contagious, the way he’d showered you with warmth and affection the moment you walked through the door. You’re lucky, you realize. Even in the midst of all the chaos, you have him. You have someone who lights up your world, someone who can make everything feel just a little bit easier, a little less heavy. It’s a thought that brings you some comfort, the reminder that no matter how overwhelming things may seem, you’re not alone.

As you dig into the meal Harry made, the comfort of his presence starts to settle in. The warm, flavorful food fills the quiet space between you, and Harry's eyes twinkle mischievously as he watches you take the first bite.

"Good, right?" he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I may not be a professional chef, but I can whip up a mean dinner when I want to."

You look up at him, smiling around a bite of pasta. “It’s amazing, actually. You should consider opening a restaurant or something.”

"Ha! I’d probably burn the whole place down on the first day," he chuckles. "Though I could get by on sheer charm, don’t you think?"

You laugh at the thought of him trying to charm customers while attempting to cook at the same time. "I can picture it now. 'Come for the food, stay for the distractions.'"

Harry dramatically places a hand on his chest, acting like he’s been wounded. "Distractions? I’ll have you know, my cooking is the main event."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, I’ll admit, the charm adds a little something extra to the meal."

“Exactly!” He grins, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “I’m a package deal, babe. Food and entertainment.” He pauses, his grin turning mischievous. “So, what do you think? Dinner with me, every night?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to that, if you can promise not to burn the kitchen down every time."

"Deal," Harry says with a wink, before he grabs his fork and leans back, pretending to get serious. “But you have to promise me one thing. If I ever open this restaurant, you’ll be my number one critic.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes. “I’ll give you a five-star review, as long as you don’t serve me anything too spicy. My stomach doesn’t agree with your 'adventure food' like it used to."

“Adventure food?!” he gasps in mock horror. "How dare you call my spice rack a 'dangerous zone.'”

“It is! The last time I tried your spicy chili, I thought my mouth was on fire,” you tease, laughing at the memory.

Harry laughs with you, his green eyes sparkling with affection. “Okay, okay, I’ll tone it down... for now. But you’re missing out on some real flavor.” He takes a bite of his food, winking at you between mouthfuls. “I’m just saying—if you want a life full of excitement, you’ve gotta embrace the heat."

You snort, nearly choking on your drink. "Well, I think I'm good with a little less heat tonight, thank you very much. My stress level is enough of a spice for one day."

Harry’s expression softens as he watches you, his voice quieter. “Yeah, I know the feeling. But hey, you’ve got me. Whatever stress you’re carrying, I’ve got your back. Always.”

You smile at him, your heart warming. “I know. That’s the best part of my day.”

Harry reaches across the table, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Good. Now, how about we focus on the important things, like making sure you finish that pasta before I have to eat it for you?” He grins playfully, and you laugh, feeling lighter than you have all day.

You help him clean up after dinner. Then, you both settle on the couch with the leftover chocolate cake. Your back rests against his chest and his thumb traces patterns over the skin just visible, not covered by your tank top.

As you talk about nothing, and enjoy the desert, a small bit falls out of your spoon and onto your collarbone. Your hand goes to remove it, but Harry beats you to it. He holds your hand and moves it away, green eyes meeting yours before he dips his head down and swipes his tongue across your skin, cleaning it. One of his hands holds your hip, and the other splays over your shoulder, right beside his mouth. 

You let out a small moan as his lips trace your skin, and then his teeth slightly grazes it, showering you with love bites. “You’re so pretty.”, he mumbles against your skin, pressing a kiss in between both your collarbones, and then continues leaving kisses downwards, towards your chest.

“Harry..”, you whisper, hands finding his hair and your neck craning back to give him more access. The hand on your shoulder shifts to slide underneath your shirt, cupping one of your boobs. You tug on his pants, wanting him to get inside of you already. You know Harry loves kissing every inch of your skin, and he is a man that takes foreplay seriously, but today, you just couldn’t wait. You wanted him to fuck you dumb so that you didn’t have to deal with all the university crap, at least for tonight.

Harry gets the hint, and he’s pushing inside of you soon, making you moan and clench around him. “Oh fuck..”

“You always feel so good.”, he grunts, dipping his head down to your shoulder, thrusting into you. “Fucking made for me.”

“Harder, Harry..please..”, your hands dig into his back, legs locking around his waist so he could penetrate deep inside you. 

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry thrusts faster and harder, and you close your eyes in bliss, your mind going blank.

But the bliss doesn’t last. 

You can feel it creeping up, slow at first, a quiet gnawing at the back of your mind. But then it rushes in, like a wave breaking too fast, too hard. It’s an overwhelming, suffocating weight, wrapping itself around your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. Your body tenses without your consent, and your pulse starts to thrum in your ears.The weight of what you haven’t done presses on you like hands on your shoulders, pushing you down. It's like being trapped in a room with no exit, the walls closing in, and all you want is to just escape.

“Baby? y/n, open your eyes for me, love.”, Harry’s voice sounds distant, and you feel one of his hands wrapping around your own as you blink back up at him, opening your eyes. He looks concerned, green eyes gazing over your face as he slows down with great difficulty, other hand coming to cup your cheek. 

“Are you okay?”

You can’t feel any pleasure anymore, you just feel horrible.

“S-Stop, please..”, you croak, and it freaks Harry out. He worries if he’s the reason for your discomfort. 

“Okay, okay, shh baby, I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”, he coos softly, giving your hand a squeeze and you sniffle, watching him as he pulls out of you and leans over you, brushing your hair back tenderly, eyes focusing on yours. “Did I go too hard? Did I hurt you?”, he whispers, hoping it wouldn’t be the reason.

You shake your head, biting your lip. “N-No..it’s me, I’m s-sorry.” It breaks his heart seeing your tears and he lays beside you, letting you curl to his bare chest and he runs his hand up and down your back, other hand smoothing your hair. “It’s okay, darling..it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The tears are mostly because you feel bad for making him stop. “Talk to me, baby, you’re scaring me…”, Harry presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you..”, you sniffle. 

“Hey, I don’t care about that, there’s nothing you need to make up for. Are you in pain?”

You shake your head. “Okay, good. Just tell me what happened, love, you became all quiet and just shut off..”

“I-I don’t know what happened..I got overwhelmed and-”, you try to explain, looking at him and he nods, urging you to continue as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I felt trapped..”

You were still a little on the edge, and Harry presses you closer to him. You’re so grateful for his presence. You feel so safe when he holds you so close like that. Nobody else can make you feel so protected.

“I-It was just too much. I don’t know how I’m gonna handle uni.. I wasn’t able to do anything but worry until I got home and you made it better..I-I didn’t think it would all come crashing back like that..”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier, baby?”, Harry asks and you shrug. “You were so happy..I didn’t want to ruin our night. And I thought I was feeling better.”

Harry sighs softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “You have to let me know if you’re feeling too stressed like that, darling. I’m not happy if you’re not. And when I’m right here, you don’t have to deal with anything alone, okay?”

You nod, nudging your head under his chin. “It’s okay to feel like that sometimes, love. Even when we’re doing something we love, there will be times when we question ourselves about our life. It’s gonna pass, babe, it’s only going to be hectic for a little bit longer and after that, you’re going to get your dream job!”

You smile softly, and he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna take little breaks and make sure you don’t get so overwhelmed again. You got this baby, look at how far you’ve got! I’m so proud of you, little you would be so proud of you.” 

That made your smile grow wider. “Just hang in there, babe, and if you feel like falling just hold on to me, I will be right next to you.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him. “I love you. You always know what to say to me.”

“I love you so much.”, he says back, and you stay quiet for a few minutes, just soaking in his warmth. “I’m sorry, love. I should have suggested a movie night and-”

“-No, I led you on. I thought sex would make it better, you know. And I really wanted you.”, you mumble and he smiles, kissing your nose. “And I always want you too. But tonight, we’re just gonna cuddle and get some rest. Here.”

He had reached for his shirt and bunched it up so he could slide it over your naked self. You raised your arms and let him put it on for you. 

“I ruined our night.”, you mumble sadly. He was so happy. 

“Hey, you didn’t ruin a thing, okay? I just want you to feel better.”

Harry also put on his pants and said he’d be right back. He returned with some water and chocolates, something that could instantly cheer you up.

As you lay cuddled up to him, you think about how sweet he is. The things making you anxious wouldn’t suddenly go away, no, but having his constant love and support would help you get through it all. You knew he’d be with you no matter what. 

“I love you.”, he says, as he notices you looking at him, brushing his thumb against your cheek. 

“I love you too, Harry.”, you smile and press a kiss to his lips. “Can I listen to your new song now?”

“Of course!”, a wide grin spread across his face, dimples popping as he gives you another kiss before reaching for his phone.

_______________________________________________

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[everrinsly]

a/n; thank you for all the sweet, kind comments! i really like this version of suna. i finally finished this i started in uni haha when i had terrible back pain

and also every time i visit the motherland (not often :(, i always have to smuggle back some salonpas (they are for pain relief, comes in spray or patches), also reminds me of when fukunaga says nice toss, salonpas

blurred lines, best friend vibes.

kiss it better... with salonpas with suna. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

post-game suna is exhausted... and needy for salonpas, your touch, and maybe a kiss?

more suna here!

more reads!

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

The front door clicks open just after midnight. 

It’s quiet, almost cautious, but so heavy with the weight that always comes home with Suna after a game.

You're curled on the couch, the TV droning quietly with the low hum of some late-night ad reel. 

The sports channel had been playing his game earlier—replays, commentary, all the fast cuts and booming excitement worthy of national coverage. But it’s long ended, now reduced to a loop of shampoo commercials and cheap car deals.

Still, you leave it on.

You just liked the noise, the flicker of the screen, the soft glow casting shadows across the apartment. It made the place feel less empty, the sense that the apartment wasn’t completely still, and maybe less like you were waiting (even though you were). 

So when you hear heavy footsteps and a duffle bag dropped with a dull thump, your pulse reacts before your mind does.

He doesn’t say anything. He never really does when he’s wrung out from the celebrations, where the adrenaline’s burned out and his body finally realizes how hard it worked. 

You wait, heart thrumming quietly. And sure enough, a few seconds later, Suna rounds the corner and pads slowly into the living room. 

He’s in his EJP jacket—half-unzipped, exposing the edge of his gold jersey and the wet sheen on his collarbone. His hair is damp and messy, curled slightly at the ends (he probably gave up halfway through drying it).

He smells faintly like locker room sweat, floor resin, that tired musk of post-game exhaustion; but underneath it all, he smells like him, something so distinctly familiar, safe, warm… like home. 

His eyes land on you, hazy and unreadable.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, voice barely above the hum of the TV.

“Mm.” He nods and slinks toward you, dropping onto the couch besides you. 

You flinch a little when his head tips to the side and lands on your lap, heavy and warm and wholly unbothered by personal space. One arm dangles off the couch beside your legs and the other is awkwardly around your waist, pressed between your back and the cushion. 

He exhales long and slow. “Dead,” he mutters into your thigh.

You smile, hand hesitantly moving to brush through his hair, gentle fingers combing out the sweat-dried strands. “Looked like a tough match.”

“My whole body feels like it got hit by a truck,” he grumbles against your skin, lips ghosting where your shorts ride up your thigh. “Everything hurts.”

You scratch his scalp in sympathy. “You did dive into the bench during the third set.”

“Saved the ball,” he deadpans.

“Nearly broke your shoulders.”

“But I looked hot doing it.”

You laugh softly. God, he’s so—you don’t let yourself finish the thought.

(But yeah, he did look hot. There were already fan edits online that you definitely didn’t save to your phone... definitely not). 

“You should’ve left that save for Komori. He was lunging for it behind you.”

“He wouldn’t have made it,” he replies, twisting his face to look up at you now, brows furrowed in focus that meant he’s still analyzing, still replaying everyone’s moves in his head. “We had a shitty formation during that play.”

You hum softly, not agreeing or disagreeing, just letting the silence sit between you for a second. Then, with a small sigh, you lift your free hand and smooth it over his forehead, pushing his bangs back. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” you say, voice laced with fondness. “It’s just a thought... from lil’ old me, who doesn’t play volleyball and mostly watches games through 4K.”

That earns you a half-smile, lazy and crooked. You continue to run your fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes for a second, like your touch is heavier than it is, grounding him.

There’s a beat of silence before you pick up the banter again. 

“You also didn’t even shower yet, stinky,” you tease. 

“You still let me use you as a pillow though.”

“You always use me as a pillow.”

He looks smug. “‘Cause you’re comfy.”

You roll your eyes, fingers drifting lower, brushing along the curve of his neck until they find the thin silver chain resting against his collarbone. You trace it lazily, just touching, feeling.

He groans softly. "Keep doing that."

You know his signs—when he’s too tired to joke, too sore to sit up, too worn out to hide how much his body aches.

So you say, soft and careful, “Want me to put some Salonpas on your back?”

Suna doesn’t answer right away. He just shifts, turning a bit to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, face angled toward your stomach. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting shadows. 

He breathes you in before he speaks. “Only if you kiss it better.”

Your fingers freeze in his hair. “Absolutely not.”

“Cold.”

Your heart is doing something strange, fluttery and traitorous and too loud for a moment like this.

But you cover it with a scoff and reach for the little drawer on the side table, where you keep all the ‘just-in-case’ things: band-aids, lint rollers, and of course, Salonpas—because of course you do; you’ve lived with him long enough to expect these nights. 

You’re halfway through peeling open the box when you hear him murmur, voice low and drowsy. “Not the patches.”

You pause. “Hmm?”

He shifts again, tilting his head just enough to glance up at you from his spot in your lap. His lips curl in that faint smirk that always makes your chest feel tight.

“Use the spray,” he says, voice light. “Feels better when you rub it in.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “You mean it feels better when I touch you.”

He doesn’t even pretend to deny it, only shrugs. “Don’t be weird about it.”

You let out a quiet, flustered huff, ducking back into the drawer and digging past the clutter for the familiar blue can. Your fingertips close around the cool metal, and you hold it up with a pointed look.

“Gross behavior,” you mutter.

“Not gross,” he mumbles into your thigh. “Just honest.”

You roll your eyes and pat his cheek, signaling for him to fully turn. When he shifts face down on your lap, you tug his jacket and jersey up by the hem. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, just lets you pull it halfway up his back until the cool air hits skin.

And then your breath catches.

His back is a mess of tension—taut lines and overworked muscles, a constellation of bruises blooming faintly across his ribs and shoulder blades, and deep, dull splotches where he must’ve collided, where he must’ve hit the ground hard.

It’s the kind of damage that doesn’t show on the scoreboard.

You swallow, pressing your lips together. You hadn’t realized he’d taken this many hits today.

You hesitate with the can in your hand, eyes scanning the bruised dip of his waist.

And for a second, you forget the banter, the teasing back-and-forth that always makes these nights feel easier. All you can feel is that soft, aching throb in your chest: the part of you that wants to press your hand to every mark and ask if it hurts, the part that always hurts with him, and for him, even when you try not to.

Then, before your brain can catch up with your mouth, something small but so honest slips out.

“…Just one,” you whisper. “One kiss.”

It’s barely louder than a breath. You’re not even sure he hears it.

But then his back rises and falls with a slow exhale, and the smirk in his voice is unmistakable.

“Thought you said absolutely not.”

You glare at the back of his head before softly pinching his ear. “Do you want the kiss or not?”

“I want ten.”

“You’re getting one.”

You lean down before you can change your mind, pressing a soft kiss just beside the worst bruise along his upper back. It’s barely anything, just the lightest warmth of your mouth against his skin, but it's enough for him to let out a sigh.

You shake the can, the rattle filling the space between you, and then spray a gentle stripe down the curve of his spine. He stiffens at the initial contact.

But when your hand meets his skin—gentle, deliberate with care, spreading the spray in soft, gliding circles—you feel it.

The way his breath holds. The way his muscles relax. The way his body eases.

He wants your hands on him even when he doesn’t hurt; he needs your touch more than he lets on.

“You always want to be spoiled,” you murmur, smoothing your palm over the tension at the small of his back. Your voice is quiet, but the affection in it sneaks through anyway, soft around the edges.

“Only by you,” he replies casually. His voice vibrates low against your thigh, slightly muffled, but the weight still lands sharp.

You freeze for a split second, not at what he said because he’s always saying things like that, but at how easily it slips out, how much it doesn’t sound like a joke.

Your hand lingers where it rests, fingers spread lightly over the dip of his spine. His skin is warm beneath your palm, the faint rise and fall of his breath slow, steady, too calm for the way your heart is tripping over itself.

You shouldn’t. You always say that. And then you do it anyway.

You lean forward and press one more kiss—just one—below his shoulder blade. It's slower this time, softer. Your lips drag a little against his skin, and you stay there, lingering for a beat too long.

His breath hitches, just slightly.

“Fuck yes, angel,” Suna mumbles, voice a little hoarse, like it caught in his throat.

You pull back, cheeks warm, and immediately reach for his hair again—fingers threading through the dark strands before giving a firm tug in retaliation, not too hard but just enough to make a point.

"I'm gonna rip you bald."

"...Kinky."

[mononijikayu]

marry you — ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?" Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!" Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), fluff, family, slice of life, family dynamic, light hearted, domestic, romance, banter, humour, physical touch, happy ending, hurt/comfort, depictions of family dynamic, depiction of anxiety, depiction of slice of life, boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji, i love you nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words

NOTE: the people have spoken and ryomen sukuna won my poll (again!!!)~ this is the final (maybe) installment of amnesia and a day in a life . reader and sukuna have been together for a while after this. they're much happier and healthy here. yuji loves his unckuna and auntie!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it. i had a ball writing this because i just, this was fun. seeing sukuna be silly. anyway i love you all!!! see you in the next one <3 also @midnight-138, this is for you, im sorry for my angsty writing <3

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── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THERE WAS NEVER A TIME IN HIS LIFE THAT ANYTHING WAS NOT MEASURED. Ryomen Sukuna had always lived by the belief that precision and decisiveness were the cornerstones of strength. His brother, Jin, was the opposite in that regard.

Jin was easygoing, someone who flowed through life with a relaxed confidence. That’s how he had ended up casually taking his wife Kaori’s name without a second thought after marriage, something that had never sat well with Sukuna. 

It wasn’t that Sukuna found it disrespectful; rather, he simply couldn't understand how someone could relinquish a piece of themselves so easily. To Sukuna, names held power, identity, and control. They were not to be changed on a whim.

And most of all, it was who he was. If his brother was going to let the name die, who would continue it? Yet maybe, that’s besides the point. Because it wasn’t the point.

The point was this — Ryomen Sukuna found himself in an unusual position, plagued by doubt. Unlike his brother, who easily adapted and made decisions without looking back, Sukuna was being dragged through an internal war, and this was uncharted territory for him.

He had always been sure—sure of his choices, sure of his actions, sure of his strength. Whether in battle or in the mundane aspects of life, he operated with an unshakable conviction. It had defined him for so long.

Except now, with the ring in his hand, everything felt different. 

For months, Sukuna had been reduced to a more fragile version of himself, struggling with emotions he thought he had long buried, emotions he used to scoff at as weakness.

But this—this wasn’t a trivial matter, not something he could merely slice through with a sharp blade or dismiss with his usual unyielding demeanor. This wasn’t about power or domination. It was about vulnerability, commitment, and the gravity of the choice he was about to make.

The ring wasn’t just a symbol; it was a testament to something far deeper. Sukuna had never hesitated before. But for the first time, he was wrestling with fear—the fear of being vulnerable, of giving a piece of himself away, just as his brother had done so easily. But was it really a weakness? Or had he, all this time, misunderstood the strength it took to let someone in?

He had bought it months ago. A shimmering band, simple yet unmistakably meaningful, one that carried the weight of everything he had come to feel for you. Every glance, every brush of your hand, every laugh—each moment had woven itself into the threads of his existence. And now, here he was, staring at this small, ridiculous piece of jewelry like it was the most dangerous object in the world.

He wanted to propose.

He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. He wanted to tell you, to kneel (a position he never imagined himself in) and offer you the promise of forever. The thought was absurd, wasn’t it? Him kneeling before someone?

Yet for you, the idea seemed... right. He didn’t just want you; he wanted to spend the rest of his days making you happy, something he had never imagined himself capable of until you.

And that’s what drove him mad.

He didn’t know how to do it. How was a man like him supposed to express something so fragile? Words weren’t his strong suit, and even if he could gather them, they always seemed to fall short when it came to you. How could he ever explain the storm of emotions, the way you’d carved a place for yourself in his blackened heart? The very thought of it made his fingers clenched into fists.

The timing, too—it was never right. Every time he thought he might do it, something held him back. What if he wasn’t enough? What if, despite everything, you said no? The ring burned in his pocket like a curse of its own, a reminder of everything he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Ryomen Sukuna who’s been in delinquent clubs, who’s been the most fearsome wrestler and now undefeated weightlifter — who has done anything, and yet never been frightened. Not at all. But proposing to you? That terrified him.

Sukuna wasn’t used to nerves, but ever since he bought that ring, they seemed to follow him everywhere. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sukuna was struggling. So, he decided he was going to get this over with—no more overthinking. How hard could it be, really? It was just a proposal. 

Attempt one: At dinner.

The scene was set. A quiet, candlelit dinner at your favorite restaurant. It was your birthday. No perfect day, right? It was everything that you could ever want. It was intimate, it was heartfelt and it was just completely perfect.

Ryomen Sukuna had been uncharacteristically calm the whole night, which should have tipped you off that something was up. Between bites of your meal, you saw him fiddling with something in his pocket. Your face scrunches at the sight of him. And then your boyfriend cleared his throat—a sound that, for someone as confident as him, felt almost foreign.

“So, baby….” he began, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked just a bit. “How would you feel about spending the rest of your life—”

Suddenly, the waiter appeared with a massive tray of dessert samples.

“Would you like to try our seasonal—”

Sukuna glared at the waiter, his red eye twitching as the moment slipped through his fingers. You tried to stifle your laugh as the waiter, completely oblivious, kept talking about tiramisu. Sukuna nearly cursed the man on the spot, but instead, he dropped the conversation. That’s just as one would say — strike one.

Attempt two: Movie night.

Alright, he thought, a more relaxed setting would be better. Just you, him, and some stupid romantic movie you insisted on watching. This was just as intimate as the first one, but maybe a little bit more animated. Still, it was just between you two.

He thinks you would love it like this. The ring was ready in his hoodie pocket, and halfway through the movie, as the cheesy proposal scene played out on the screen, he thought, This is it. This is the moment.

But just as he leaned closer to you, reaching for the ring, the actor on screen dropped to one knee in front of the actress, who acted stunned. Everyone around the actors gasped and started freaking out and clapping. You groaned, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it.

“Oh my god, if anyone ever proposed to me like that!” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry baby, but I ain’t that gal. I’d die of second-hand embarrassment.”

Your boyfriend Sukuna froze, hand halfway to his pocket, and quickly pretended he was just stretching. He slumped back on the couch, gritting his teeth.

Not like that, got it.

Attempt three: At the gym.

This was it. No more romantic crap—just you and him doing something you both enjoyed. He’d taken you to the gym, your regular workout routine in full swing. He figured the casual vibe would work, that maybe he could just slip the proposal into conversation like it was no big deal. Everything about this was perfect. Everything was going to go the way he wanted. Yup, that’s how it will go.

The problem? Sukuna wasn’t built for “casual.” 

He spotted you while you were doing squats, casually throwing out, “You know… we should, uh, work on something long-term together, baby.”

“Huh? A long term plan?” You huffed back at him, your brows furrowed.

“I mean….something concrete. Like….like, something for us, you know? A long time.”

You blinked up at him, catching your breath. “Like a couple’s fitness plan?”

“Or... you know... life. Forever. Together.”

You squinted at him. “Are you feeling okay, baby? You sound delirious.”

He muttered something about “too many reps” and practically sprinted to the other side of the gym, leaving you utterly confused. Everyone was just as confused. You looked at the store clerk, Uraume but they just shrugged at you. You guess it was just one of those days.

Attempt four: The kitchen.

Ryomen Sukuna had woken up that morning and decided today’s the day. He was done failing, and he wasn’t going to overthink it anymore. He could do this. He knows he can. It wasn’t rocket science. People proposed all the time, and somehow they survived. And it happens, it ends up happening. Everything after that always ends up in a wedding. Yeah, he can do this. 

You were making breakfast, humming to yourself, when Sukuna casually strolled into the kitchen, the ring in his pocket yet again. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. You were the only person who could make something as mundane as cracking eggs look beautiful. 

You looked up to him and smiled, greeting him sweetly. God, you were so beautiful. You looked like you were made from heaven. A genuine angel, as you asked him if he wanted coffee. He mumbled back and cleared his throat. You moved over to the other counter and started the coffee machine.

“Hey, babe.” he began, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was an odd edge to his voice. “How do you feel about... I don’t know... spending the rest of your life with me?”

Without looking up, you shrugged. “Sounds good. Can you pass me the salt?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—what?”

You finally glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “I said, yeah, sounds good. Now the salt, please?”

Sukuna stood there, frozen. Was that a yes? Did you even know he was proposing?

You stared at him, still waiting for the salt shaker. When he didn’t move, you walked over and grabbed it yourself. “Thanks, big guy.” you said with a playful smile, clearly unaware that Sukuna had just (sort of) proposed.  “Now, do you want some avocado on your toast today or nah?”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. It was hard for him to be angry with you either. You were too cute. Another failure.

Attempt five: The supermarket.

The ring still in his pocket, Ryomen Sukuna was now truly desperate. At this point, he was just winging it. You were both running errands, and as you reached for a carton of eggs in the store, he thought, Screw it. There were no romantic backdrops, no candles, no cheesy movie scenes—just the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. Your day to day. Nothing too much. This was now or never.

“Listen, baby.” he said, his tone more urgent than usual. “What if we just—”

At that moment, a kid ran by with a cart, ramming it right into Sukuna’s leg. A light groan came out of Sukuna as the kid’s eyes grew wide. Sukuna’s eyes turned dark as he glared at the kid. The kid swallowed the bile down his throat. As he was about to move, you called Sukuna. The kid let out a yelp and started pushing his cart. 

The child screamed, “Sorry, mister!” and ran off, leaving your boyfriend in a state of pandemonium.

You, still holding the eggs, glanced at him for a moment and burst out laughing.

He sighed, slumping against the shelf. “I’m never going to get this right, am I?”

You smiled, stepping closer and poking his chest. “Get what right, baby?”

Sukuna glanced at the ring still burning in his pocket and grumbled, “Nothing. Just... forget it.”

You didn’t push him, but your knowing smile told him you weren’t entirely clueless. Maybe you had been waiting all along. Maybe, despite all his ridiculous failed attempts, you already knew what was coming. 

Maybe, the next time he tried, you’d say yes before he even finished his sentence.

And maybe, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

HIS MOTHER USED TO SAY THAT OLDER BROTHERS KNEW BEST. But in all his life, Ryomen Sukuna liked to pride himself never needing to end up asking his elder brother for advice. Or any help at all, if he was being honest. The scarlet eyed man never liked having his brother do things for him. He doesn’t like owing anyone anything. 

Because Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for asking anyone for advice—especially not about matters of the heart. 

But after months of failed attempts, Sukuna could only find himself sitting in his brother Jin’s living room, slouched on the couch with his hands pressed against his face. He had to give in and concede to what his mother said. His brother knew best. And he should ask him. The ring still weighed heavy in his pocket, mocking him at every turn. His mother’s nagging words came to him, almost as though she would still be pinching his ear. Maybe if you asked your brother, you wouldn’t be suffering like this!

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, bro.” Sukuna muttered, his voice low, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been trying for months, bro. Months. Every time I think I’ve got it right, something goes wrong. I’ve got the ring. I’ve got the words. But I don’t know... it’s like nothing’s perfect enough. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Jin, ever calm and collected compared to his fiery younger brother, chuckled from across the room. He sat in his armchair, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking up from the book he had been reading. “You’re overthinking it, Kuna.”

“Overthinking?” Sukuna scoffed, sitting up and glaring at his brother. “I can’t just walk up and throw the ring at the love of my life, you know? They deserve something... more from me. I want it to be perfect.”

Jin set his book down and leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning up in a nostalgic smile. “You know, I went through something similar when I proposed to Kaori.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “You? Really? You seem so... calm about all of this.”

Jin laughed, shaking his head. “Calm? Hardly. I was a wreck. I had all these elaborate plans I worked really hard on. I thought I’d propose on a sunset beach or during some elegant dinner. But none of it worked out the way I thought.”

Sukuna frowned, curious despite himself. “So what did you do?”

Jin scratched the back of his head, clearly amused by the memory. “We were on a road trip—just a spontaneous one. I think that’s when we decided to go north. We got lost. The car broke down multiple times in the middle of nowhere, and it started pouring rain. Hard. We were soaked, stuck under a leaky gas station awning, of all places. There was nothing romantic about all of it. And yet…..well, it was what it was.”

Sukuna stared at him, baffled. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was, little brother.” Jin agreed, grinning. “But Kaori laughed through the whole thing. She thought it was hilarious. And that’s when I realized—there wasn’t going to be a perfect moment. So, I just asked her. Right there, soaking wet, covered in mud and all the dirt in the world. I didn’t even have the ring on me because I’d left it in the car. But I asked anyway.”

“And she said yes?” Sukuna asked, still trying to wrap his mind around how his brother had managed to pull that off.

Jin nodded with a wide smile. “Without hesitation. Because, little brother, it didn’t matter where we were or how it looked. What mattered was that I was asking her to spend her life with me. She didn’t care about the setting or the way I asked. She just cared about me. And wanting to continue loving me. So, she just said yes. Damn the world or what was good. She just…wanted me.”

Sukuna exhaled, leaning back again and letting that sink in. “I just... I don’t know if I can be that casual about it. I want the love of my life to love it. I want it to be... memorable.”

Jin leaned forward, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Kuna. It just has to be you. And about your love together. If sis in law does love you, it’ll be great no matter what. It will just happen. Trust me.”

Sukuna sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. “I hope you’re right. I just—” 

Before he could finish, the door to the room burst open, and Yuji bounced in, grinning from ear to ear. He was still dressed in his football uniform. “Uncle Sukuna! I heard you’re going to propose! Let me help!”

Sukuna groaned. The kid had such good ears, damn him. “Oi, brat! This is... it’s not something I need help with.’specially not from you! It’s—”

“Oh, come on! I’ve got great ideas, unc! We can do fireworks, or... or maybe we can surprise auntie with, like, a whole flash mob at the mall!” Yuji’s excitement was contagious, but Sukuna could feel a headache forming at the thought of any of those ideas. “I think auntie will love it, you know?”

“No flash mobs, Yuji.”

Yuji pouted for a moment, but then his face brightened again. “Okay, okay, what about a treasure hunt? Like, you leave little clues everywhere, and the final clue leads to you with the ring! I mean, auntie would love that! Auntie’s always been someone who likes puzzles!”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jin, who was barely hiding his laughter behind his hand. His brother was enjoying this little misery of his. His nephew’s barely thirteen and yet he’s got the idealistic mind. Too much like his brother, Sukuna thinks. But then again, his mother’s the same sort of human being. 

“Hey brat, I don’t think your auntie appreciates getting dragged across the city just to find me with a ring at the end.” Sukuna said, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. “Auntie would get tired really fast then ask where’s the nearest soda shop.”

Yuji shrugged. “Well, whatever you do, it’ll be awesome. You’re awesome! Auntie will totally say yes.” He gave Sukuna a thumbs up, his usual boundless optimism shining through. “I mean, auntie’s been with you too long, so it's just bound to settle like that.”

“Wait, what do you mean settle—”

“Hey, hey! I didn’t mean anything mean about it.” Yuji pouted at his uncle defensively. “You know that much, unc! I love seeing you and auntie together.”

Sukuna shook his head at his nephew, though a small, begrudging smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, brat.”

Jin, watching the exchange, nodded in agreement. “See, Kuna? It doesn’t matter how you do it. It’ll be great, because it’s coming from you.”

Sukuna sighed, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket one more time. “I guess... I’ll just have to stop thinking so much and go for it.”

Yuji’s grin stretched even wider. “That’s the spirit now, unc! And if you change your mind about the flash mob, I’m totally in.”

Sukuna chuckled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuji, still bouncing with excitement, suddenly lit up with an idea. "Oh! I know! Why don’t you come and coach my football team for a day? You can do it there!" 

Sukuna blinked, utterly baffled by the suggestion. "Coach... football? What are you talking about, brat?"

Yuji was practically vibrating with energy now. "It’s perfect! You can come to practice, and we’ll, I don’t know, pretend something happened—like, I could pretend I twisted my ankle or something—and then, boom! You step in, gather everyone around, and propose! Auntie will be there all excited to be there and cheer us and you on."

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?"

Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!"

Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

But before he could properly dismiss the idea, Jin let out a hearty laugh from his chair. “Why not, little brother? It’s certainly different. Do you have any better ideas?” 

Sukuna shot him a look, but Jin just grinned. He could see his brother’s frustration boiling over, but there was also something else—maybe Sukuna was finally realizing that no moment was ever going to feel perfect. Not in the way he imagined.

“Come on, come on.” Jin said, still chuckling. “I mean, think about it. It’s so out of character for you that it might actually work. A little spontaneity never hurts anyone.”

Sukuna rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “You really think I should just... go to a football practice and pop the question in front of a bunch of sweaty teenagers?”

Yuji jumped in again, totally on board with his own wild idea. “Yeah! And I’ll totally sell it—I’ll limp off the field, everyone will be worried, and then you step up like a hero. I can already picture it!” He waved his arms dramatically, trying to sell the scene. "It’ll be epic."

Jin crossed his arms, his grin still plastered on his face. "It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s definitely memorable. And isn’t that what you wanted?"

Sukuna sighed, the absurdity of it all weighing on him. Coaching Yuji’s football team, of all things, to propose? He couldn’t believe this was even a conversation. Yet, as ridiculous as it sounded, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it might actually work.

Not because it was perfect—but because it was so wildly unexpected that it would leave you speechless. Maybe, after all these failed attempts, that was what he needed.

Still, he grumbled, "If this goes wrong, I’m cursing both of you."

Yuji laughed, slinging an arm over Sukuna’s shoulder, clearly unfazed by the threat. "It’s going to be great, Unc Sukuna! Trust me!"

Jin, still leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "So, is that a yes? You’re actually going to do this, little brother? No more backing out?”

Sukuna slumped back on the couch, rubbing his temples. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... yeah. Fine. Let’s try it your way, Yuji."

Yuji fist-pumped the air, grinning ear to ear. "Yes! This is going to be amazing. I can’t wait to see their faces when you finally propose!"

Sukuna let out a deep sigh, glancing at Jin one last time. His older brother gave him an encouraging nod. What does he have left to lose? If anything, if it works — maybe you’ll laugh it off. And he…he likes seeing you smile anyway. What does he have left to lose?

“You’re overthinking it again, little brother.” Jin reminded him. “Just do it, hm? It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna could only hope his brother was right.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THE NEXT DAY, YOU DIDN’T FEEL LIKE GOING TO WORK. So, you had decided to stay lazily at home with Sukuna and just enjoy his day off together. Well, it worked out better considering that Sukuna informed your office you’ll be out for a while anyway. You happily hummed as you started making your cup of matcha milk for yourself. So far everything was well. In fact, the day had been going pretty normally. 

But then you could only blink at him when Sukuna, of all people, approached you in the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter. He looked... slightly awkward, which was unusual for him. His scarlet eyes darted away for a moment before landing back on you.

“Hey, baby….” he said, almost too casually. “You wanna come to Yuji’s football game tomorrow?”

You blinked in surprise. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the type to invite you to these things. Usually, Yuji was the one who asked, and then Sukuna would begrudgingly tag along, acting like he was too cool to care. But now, he was asking you directly?

“You’re asking me to go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “And also….you wanna go?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Is that... a problem or something?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to hide your smile. “No, not at all. I’d love to go. It’s just... surprising coming from you. Usually, you wait until Yuji begs you to show up.”

Sukuna shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing just a bit. “Yeah, well... I’m gonna be more involved this time.”

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward. “What do you mean? Like, are you finally going to cheer from the sidelines instead of pretending not to care?”

He looked away again, mumbling under his breath, “I’m coaching the team.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Wait, what?”

Sukuna shot you a look, already regretting this conversation. “You heard me. I’m gonna be their coach... for the game. Just a trial…..It’s just…. Maybe a one time thing.”

The shock only lasted a second before you burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The image of Sukuna, towering and intimidating, trying to coach a bunch of high school kids was just too much. It was all too much for you to think about your boyfriend. He crossed his arms on his chest like a little kid.

“Stop laughing.” he grumbled, clearly annoyed but also embarrassed.

You waved a hand, trying to catch your breath. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’m just... I’m just imagining you barking orders at those poor kids like you do with your clients at the gym.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you, crossing his arms. “That’s not how I coach at the gym.”

“Oh really?” you teased, still giggling. “You’re not going to stand on the sidelines, yelling ‘Run faster, you idiot!’ and ‘Stop slacking off, sweat it off!’ like you do with your trainees?”

“Of course not, babe.” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips now. “Those brats won’t know what hit them.”

Your laughter continued, but now it was filled with genuine amusement. “I can’t wait to see this. You, coaching a bunch of teenagers, pretending to know anything about football. Oh, this will be gold, baby. I’m in!”

Sukuna groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not helping, you know.”

“I’m sorry baby.” you said, still grinning as you put a thumb up. “I just can’t picture it without laughing. But hey, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He grumbled under his breath again, but you could see the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’d better not laugh when you see me out there.”

“No promises here, baby.” you teased, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But I’ll be there, front and center, cheering you on.”

Ryomen Sukuna rolled his eyes, but the blush creeping up his neck told you everything you needed to know. Despite his gruff demeanor, he was secretly pleased. And maybe—just maybe—this ridiculous plan wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You know Yuji loves some good orange juice, so you brought cold packs of that in the cooler too. You supposed you could say that you were more excited than most. You had the full gear from their team and everything. It was something you requested from Sukuna and he got it for you before yesterday, when he got his own uniform. 

YOU DIDN’T SLEEP A WINK. But you couldn’t help it. You were too excited. The practices wee nice but each time you had to leave earlier for work. But this time, you got to have a full day just being there. These past few days, Sukuna's been in a gloom but he reassured you that its nothing. You wanted to press, but you knew your boyfriend too well to pry.

You were just one excited soul to be here. It was the tournament league now. And Yuji's team made it through the finals. You brought packs of snacks for you and Sukuna, some for the kids too in case their moms didn’t have anything on them. Some cold drinks too.

And now, you found yourself standing by the field, watching as Sukuna walked out with the team. The sun was brilliantly bright, and there was a decent crowd, mostly parents and students, filling the bleachers.

But your beaming eyes were glued to the unlikely sight before you: Ryomen Sukuna, your intimidating, tough-as-nails partner, now wearing a whistle around his neck and a deeply annoyed expression as he dealt with a bunch of teenage boys.

You could see precious Itadori Yuji bouncing around excitedly, clearly thrilled that Sukuna had agreed to coach. The rest of the team, however, seemed slightly nervous under Sukuna’s intense gaze.

Yuji’s two close friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, didn’t seem to care and were just playing with the balls and gloves, tossing to each other. But their nonchalant behavior was a stark contrast from everyone else. Some of them glanced back at you, probably wondering why this mountain of a man was suddenly in charge. But you don’t blame any of them. Your boyfriend did look imposing. 

Sukuna blew the whistle sharply, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing again. He barked out orders like a drill sergeant, his deep voice carrying across the field. “You—stop dragging your feet! Move it! You think this is a joke? Pick up the pace!”

You couldn’t help but lean against the fence, shaking your head with a smile. Well, you were right. It was exactly as you had imagined—Sukuna treating this football practice like a high-intensity training session at the gym. The kids were all scrambling around, trying their best not to get on his bad side.

After a particularly harsh instruction, you caught his scarlet eye from across the field. He gave you a look, clearly daring you to laugh, and you had to press your lips together to keep from cracking up. When you got it together, you started clapping and cheering for him. And for a moment, you could see a scarlet tint flush on your boyfriend’s cheek. That had made you smile.

During a water break, Yuji came jogging over, grinning from ear to ear. “How’s Unc Sukuna doing, Auntie? He’s totally killing it, right?”

You smiled and raised an eyebrow. “He’s certainly... in charge. The team looks a little terrified, though. Well, except Nobara and Megumi.”

Yuji chuckled, not even a little bit phased. “Yeah, but they’ll respect him. He’s making them work harder than our regular coach.”

You glanced back at Sukuna, who was currently standing with his arms crossed, scowling as one of the players asked him a question. He looked like he belonged in a weightlifting competition, not on a football field. Your boyfriend could have done so many things, you knew. But he said he got bored of it all, since people keep telling him what to do. But either way, your boyfriend would have ended up looking like this. This hunk of muscular muscle. 

“Well, as long as no one cries, I think it’ll be a success, Yuji!” you teased.

Yuji laughed and then leaned in closer. “So, do you think they suspect anything yet?”

You raised an eyebrow. You were confused. “About what?”

He gave you a mischievous look, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. “You know... Uncle Sukuna’s plan. The proposal.”

You blinked, your smile fading as confusion washed over you. Wait, hold on. Was Yuji talking about Sukuna’s proposal to expand the gym? He’d been telling you about that for months now, outlining every detail, every plan. Surely Sukuna hadn’t forgotten.

“Wait. That’s today?” you asked, half-expecting to hear more about Sukuna's latest gym renovation idea. 

But something in Yuji’s expression didn’t quite fit the usual conversation. His grin widened, almost teasing. You suddenly had the sinking feeling you might not be on the same page at all. But just as you were going to go and talk to him about it, the whistle blew again, and the game began. Yuji saluted you and ran off to the field once again.

You tried to keep your eyes on the match, the sounds of cheers and the smack of fists hitting against gloves filling the air, but your mind was elsewhere. Sukuna’s plan. It kept creeping into your thoughts, pulling your focus away from the fight.

He had been working tirelessly on the gym expansion for months, meticulously coordinating every detail. The proposal with the contractor was a major step, one he had been looking forward to with a mix of excitement and that quiet intensity he always had when he wanted something done perfectly.

But now, you couldn’t shake the worry creeping up your spine. If Yuji’s casual comment about the proposal meant what you thought it did, then something had gone wrong. Sukuna must have missed the meeting with the contractor. Your boyfriend never missed important business meetings, especially not one like this, which was practically the culmination of weeks of hard work and planning. 

You bit your lip, your gaze flickering back to the field, but all you could think about was Sukuna. His sense of control, of always being on top of things—what could have possibly distracted him? And why hadn’t he told you? Maybe you could’ve reminded him or helped him juggle things better. 

Your stomach tightened with unease. Sukuna wasn’t the type to slip up like this, not unless something bigger was weighing on him. You’d seen the way he had been acting recently—distracted, quieter than usual, though he would shrug it off if you ever asked. Was this just about the proposal, or was there something else, something deeper he hadn’t shared yet?

As the game continued, it became even more intense, but not nearly as intense as the look Sukuna had on his face as he barked orders from the sidelines. You could see him glancing your way every now and then, his jaw set, his eyes determined. This was insane, even for a league of teenagers in middle school. But you suppose that’s what happens when you put your boyfriend to coach on the field.

As the game drew to a close, with Yuji’s team pulling off a narrow victory, you noticed Sukuna’s posture shift. He was still his usual composed self, but there was something nervous about the way he kept adjusting the whistle around his neck. He takes a moment for a breath. 

When the final whistle blew and the players began congratulating each other, Ryomen Sukuna called out to them. “Alright, listen up! Get over here. I’ve got something to say.”

The entire team gathered around him, and you stood at the edge of the field, your heart pounding as you watched the scene unfold. You could see Yuji trying (and failing) to hide his excitement as he joined the group. Everything about was making you feel like you were going to lose it.

Sukuna cleared his throat, looking oddly serious. “There’s someone here today who’s... important to me.”

The players exchanged confused glances, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realized he was talking about you.

Sukuna continued, his voice a little gruffer than usual. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I’ve been trying really hard to make this happen. I really have been. And I just…I’ve been thinking, to hell with it. We might as well go through with it. Even if it's going to be too much and lame.” He shot a pointed look at Yuji, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Your heart was racing now, and you could feel the eyes of the team turning toward you. Sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box from his pockets. He opened it and you could clearly see it. There was something small and shiny inside of it. 

“This…..” he said, holding up the ring for everyone to see. “ This is what I’ve been working up the nerve to do for months.”

The entire field went dead silent. The team, the parents in the stands—everyone was watching.

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes finally met yours, and in that moment, all the tough, intimidating layers seemed to peel away. He stepped toward you in the bleachers, his beautiful face softening as he held the ring in his hand.

“I’m not good at speeches. Or, apparently, proposals.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but smile through the nerves. “But I know one thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The world seemed to blur around you as Sukuna knelt down, holding out the ring. “So, what do you say?”

Your heart swelled as you took in the sight of him—this fierce, stubborn man who had somehow, in his own awkward way, found the perfect moment. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes as you whispered the only answer you could give.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, with Yuji practically jumping up and down as the team whooped and clapped. Sukuna stood, slipping the ring onto your finger, and pulled you into a tight embrace, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “Told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

You laughed softly, wiping away a tear. “It was more than perfect.”

Ryomen Sukuna grinned, leaning down to kiss you as the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Everything about the past? That didn’t matter at all now. Because all this, this is what mattered. After all that you both went through, after all that happens — everything was well. Because he was going to marry you. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

epilogue

As Sukuna pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours, the cheers and whistles from the crowd surrounded you both. Yuji, of course, was the loudest, pumping his fists in the air and hyping up the team, who were now clapping and laughing at the unexpected turn of events.

“Unc Sukuna’s engaged!” Yuji shouted, jumping onto the field. “Best day ever!”

You pulled back slightly from the kiss, your face flushed and your heart still racing, meeting Sukuna’s gaze. His scarlet eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of a whirlwind of noise and celebration. He took your hand, where the ring sat on your finger and placed a small kiss upon it. You grew even more flustered.

Sukuna sighed, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

You chuckled, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Believe it. You just proposed in front of an entire football team.”

He groaned slightly, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope. But I love that you did it.”

His arms tightened around you for a moment before he pulled back, glancing at the team who were still buzzing with excitement. He gave them a half-hearted glare. “Alright, enough gawking. Get off the field. We still have a game to win.”

The boys quickly scattered, though you could see the smirks and murmurs they exchanged as they left. Megumi and Nobara were snickering at how soft their coach Sukuna was looking at you. Your nephew Yuji, of course, was the last one standing there, grinning like an idiot.

“So, Unc Sukuna,” Yuji said, nudging his uncle’s arm. “How’d it feel to propose in front of an audience? Pretty cool, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a deadpan look. “Brat, don’t think I’ve forgotten this was your idea.”

Yuji only grinned wider, completely unfazed. “But it worked! Look at that ring! And look at auntie’s face!” He pointed to you, beaming. “You guys are the cutest engaged couple ever!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yuji, stop embarrassing your uncle.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’ve been spending too much time around Gojo, I swear to god.” he muttered under his breath, glancing at Yuji with mock annoyance. “I better tell your dad to never let you back in Fushiguro’s house.”

Yuji just shrugged. “Hey, I’m just a romantic at heart. I love seeing love win!”

Before Sukuna could retaliate, his elder brother Jin appeared from the sidelines, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder. “See? I told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna let out a long sigh, shooting Jin a look. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you were right.”

Jin raised an amused brow. “Guess?”

“Fine, fine.” Sukuna grumbled, a reluctant smirk forming. “You were right.”

Jin grinned. “That’s more like it. And for what it’s worth, little brother, you pulled it off pretty damn well. Look at that, you’re getting married. I’m so proud of you, hm?”

Sukuna grunted, still not entirely comfortable with the praise, but you could see the tension slowly leave his body. He wasn’t one to bask in sentimental moments, but for this one, he was letting himself enjoy it. 

“Thanks….big brother.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go back to the bleachers. Kaori’s gonna get lonely.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s meet down here so we can have dinner together.”

Jin grinned. “Oh, you’re paying tonight?”

“Oh, don’t think too far like that, big brother.”

Yuji, still full of energy, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright! Since you two are officially engaged, I think it’s time we celebrate!”

You glanced at Sukuna, who rolled his eyes but didn’t object. “Sure, why not?” he said with a shrug. “But I’m picking the place. No weird restaurants.”

Yuji pouted. “But there’s this ramen shop Gojo–sensei recommended—”

“No.” Sukuna said flatly, his tone brooking no argument.

You smiled, leaning into Sukuna’s side. “Wherever you want to go, we’ll go.”

Sukuna looked down at you, a rare warmth softening the usual intensity of his gaze. His voice, normally edged with authority, held a surprising tenderness. “I’ll think of something. Now go on. Go finish the game.”

You turned toward Yuji, who was standing there, clearly wanting to argue. “But unc—” he started, but Sukuna cut him off before he could finish.

“I said go!” Sukuna’s voice, firm but not unkind, sent Yuji running back to the field, his frustration bubbling over as he shouted, “It’s not fair!”

You watched Yuji dash off, his protests lost in the sound of his feet pounding the grass, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. He had always been full of energy, bouncing between enthusiasm and impatience, and Sukuna loved to tease him for it—though Yuji never seemed to take it lightly.

Turning back to your fiancé, you shot him a playful pout. “Must you tease him so much? He did help you propose, you know?”

Sukuna exhaled, a faint sigh escaping him as his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Eh, He can handle a little teasing.”

You tilted your head, studying Sukuna’s face. Even though his words were casual, there was a deeper affection in them, one that wasn’t always so visible. Yuji, in his own way, had been a part of your lives, and you knew Sukuna cared for him more than he’d ever let on. But Sukuna’s way of showing love was always layered with a bit of roughness, teasing, and challenges—he never made things too easy, even for those closest to him.

“He’s just a kid,” you murmured, leaning into him, your pout softening as you placed your hands on his chest. “He looks up to you, you know.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Yeah, well, he should know by now I’m not gonna go easy on him.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile broke through your pout. “Maybe try cutting him some slack next time. You can’t torment him every time he tries to help.”

“Torment?” Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Come on, he loves it.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward the field, where Yuji was back in action, still muttering something under his breath. “Besides, if I didn’t push him, who would?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, giving his chest a playful shove. “Alright, alright. But don’t be too hard on him. He really did come through for us.”

Sukuna’s expression softened again, and he gave you a knowing look. “I know. I’ll make it up to him.”

As you both watch Jin go back to the bleachers with Kaori, you feel your fiance's arms wrap around you. Your hands intertwined and on top of his hand, was your own. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger, your heart swelling with happiness. 

Ryomen Sukuna had surprised you—more than you ever thought he would. And while it hadn’t been a grand, romantic gesture in a traditional sense, it had been perfect in the most Sukuna way possible. Unconventional, slightly chaotic, but undeniably heartfelt.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[csuitebitches]

The Charisma Myth: things that I liked

Three quick tips to gain an instant charisma boost in conversation:

Lower the intonation of your voice at the end of your sentences. Reduce how quickly and how often you nod.

Pause for two full seconds before you speak.

The very next time you’re in a conversation, try to regularly check whether your mind is fully engaged or whether it is wandering elsewhere (including preparing your next sentence).

Expensive clothing leads us to assume wealth, friendly body language leads us to assume good intentions, a confident posture leads us to assume the person has something to be confident about. In essence, people will tend to accept whatever you project.

when you can project both power and warmth together, you really maximize your personal charisma potential.

charismatic behaviors must originate in your mind. Knowing how to skillfully handle mental discomfort is even more important than knowing how to handle physical discomfort. Anxiety is a serious drawback to charisma. First, it impacts our internal state: quite obviously, it’s hard to be fully present while you’re feeling anxious. Anxiety can also lower our confidence. Anxiety, low presence, and low confidence can show up directly in our body language, as well as reduce our ability to emanate warmth.

 The single most effective technique I’ve found to alleviate the discomfort of uncertainty is the responsibility transfer. Pick an entity—God, Fate, the Universe, whatever may best suit your beliefs—that you could imagine as benevolent. Imagine lifting the weight of everything you’re concerned about—this meeting, this interaction, this day—off your shoulders and placing it on the shoulders of whichever entity you’ve chosen. They’re in charge now. Visually lift everything off your shoulders and feel the difference as you are now no longer responsible for the outcome of any of these things. Everything is taken care of. You can sit back, relax, and enjoy whatever good you can find along the way.

Golfer Jack Nicklaus said that he never hit a shot, even during practice, without visualizing it first. For decades, professional athletes have considered visualization an essential tool, often spending hours visualizing their victory, telling their mind just what they want their body to achieve.

“There is good evidence that imagining oneself performing an activity activates parts of the brain that are used in actually performing the activity,” Professor Stephen Kosslyn, director of Stanford’s Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences, wrote me. Visualization can even physically alter the brain structure: repeated experiments have shown that simply imagining yourself playing the piano with sufficient repetition leads to a detectable and measurable change in the motor cortex of the brain.

Silvia recently confided that visualization is one of the secrets to her success. Before key meetings, she’ll imagine “the smiles on their faces because they liked me and they are confident about the value I’m bringing them. I’ll imagine as much detail as I can, even seeing the wrinkles around their eyes as they’re smiling.” She visualizes the whole interaction, all the way through to the firm handshakes that close the meeting, sealing the deal.

A twenty-second hug is enough to send oxytocin coursing through your veins, and that you can achieve the same effect just by imagining the hug. So the next time you’re feeling anxious, you might want to imagine being wrapped up in a great big hug from someone you care about.

Self-confidence is our belief in our ability to do or to learn how to do something.

Self-esteem is how much we approve of or value ourselves. It’s often a comparison-based evaluation (whether measured against other people or against our own internal standards for approval).

Self-compassion is how much warmth we can have for ourselves, especially when we’re going through a difficult experience.

It’s quite possible for people to have high self-confidence but low self-esteem and very low self-compassion.

Types of charisma:

Focus: Focus charisma requires, of course, the ability to focus and be truly present. Good listening skills are nonnegotiable, as is a certain degree of patience. To develop focus charisma, cultivate your ability to be present.

Visionary charisma makes others feel inspired; it makes us believe. It can be remarkably effective even though it won’t necessarily make people like you. We assess visionary charisma primarily through demeanor, which includes body language and behavior. Due to the fact that people tend to accept whatever you project, if you seem inspired, they will assume you have something to be inspired about.

kindness charisma comes entirely from body language—specifically your face, and even more specifically your eyes. Kindness charisma is primarily based on warmth. It connects with people’s hearts, and makes them feel welcomed, cherished, embraced, and, most of all, completely accepted.

Authority charisma is primarily based on a perception of power: the belief that this person has the power to affect our world. We evaluate someone’s authority charisma through four indicators: body language, appearance, title, and the reactions of others. you’ll need to learn how to “take up space” with your posture, reduce nonverbal reassurances (such as excessive nodding), and avoid fidgeting. You may need to speak less, to speak more slowly, to know how and when to pause your sentences, or how to modulate your intonation. Look expensive. 

Avoid holding a drink in your right hand, especially if it’s a cold drink, as the condensation will make your hand feel cold and clammy. Before shaking someone’s hand, whether you are a man or a woman, rise if you’re seated. And keep your hands out of your pockets: visible hands make you look more open and honest. Make sure to use plenty of eye contact, and smile warmly but briefly: too much smiling could make you appear overeager. Keep your head straight, without tilting it in any way, and face the person.

Ask people open ended questions, focus on questions that will likely elicit positive emotions. With your questions, you have the power to lead the conversation in the direction you want. In fact, even when you’re speaking, the one word that should pop up most often in your conversation is not I but you. Instead of saying “I read a great article on that subject in the New York Times,” try “You might enjoy the recent New York Times article on the subject.” Or simply insert “You know...” before any sentence to make them instantly perk up and pay attention.

Another way to exit a conversation with grace is to offer something of value:

Information: an article, book, or Web site you think might be of use to them A connection: someone they ought to meet whom you know and can introduce them to

Visibility: an organization you belong to, where you could invite them to speak

Recognition: an award you think they should be nominated for

When someone has spoken, see if you can let your facial expression react first, showing that you’re absorbing what they’ve just said and giving their brilliant statement the consideration it deserves. Only then, after about two seconds, do you answer. The sequence goes like this:

They finish their sentence

Your face absorbs

Your face reacts

Then, and only then, you answer

The next time you’re given a compliment, the following steps will help you skillfully handle the moment:

1. Stop.

2. Absorb the compliment.

3. Let that second of absorption show on your face. Show the person that they’ve had an impact.

4. Thank them. Saying “Thank you very much” is enough, but you can take it a step further by thanking them for their thoughtfulness or telling them that they’ve made your day.

It’s not just metaphors that can paint the wrong picture. Some common phrases can have the same effect. When you tell someone, “No problem,” “Don’t worry,” or “Don’t hesitate to call,” for example, there’s a chance their brain will remember “problem,” “worry,” or “hesitate” instead of your desire to support them. To counter this negative effect, use phrases like “We’ll take care of it” or “Please feel free to call anytime.”

You can deliver value to others in multiple ways:

Entertainment: Make your e-mail or meeting enjoyable.

Information: Give interesting or informative content that they can use. 

Good feelings: Find ways to make them feel important or good about themselves. 

The longer you speak, the higher the price you’re making them pay, so the higher the value ought to be. 

If your goal is to communicate power, set the pitch, tone, volume, and tempo of your voice in the following ways:

Pitch and tone: The lower, more resonant, and more baritone your voice, the more impact it will have.

Volume: One of the first things an actor learns to do on stage is to project his voice, which means gaining the ability to modulate its volume and aim it in such a targeted way that specific portions of the audience can hear it, even from afar. One classic exercise to hone your projection skills is to imagine that your words are arrows. As you speak, aim them at different groups of listeners.

Tempo: A slow, measured tempo with frequent pauses conveys confidence.

To emanate vocal warmth, you need to do only one thing: smile, or even just imagine smiling.

Charismatic people are known to be more “contagious”; they have a strong ability to transmit their emotions to others.

The most effective and credible compliments are those that are both personal and specific. For instance, instead of “Great job,” you could say, “You did a great job,” or, better yet, “The way you kept your calm when that client became obnoxious was impressive.”

Here’s one specific—and surprisingly effective—recommendation for phone charisma, courtesy of author Leil Lowndes: Do not answer the phone in a warm or friendly manner. Instead, answer crisply and professionally. Then, only after you hear who is calling, let warmth or even enthusiasm pour forth in your voice. This simple technique is an easy and effective way to make people feel special. I recommend it to all my business clients whose companies have a strong customer service component. The gains in customer satisfaction are impressive.

Charisma takes practice. Steve Jobs, who appeared so masterful on stage, was known to rehearse important presentations relentlessly.

Retain at least a certain measure of equanimity. Most charismatic leaders are known for their ability to remain (or appear) calm even in the midst of turbulent circumstances.

[celestial-sphere-press]

what kind/style of endbands do you usually do? they look so good 👀

hi!! sorry for taking a while to answer, I wanted to make sure I could give you my best answer.

I usually do what's called a "double core" endband. I use double core endbands over the "bead on front" method because bead on front style is not great for uneven distributions of color, irregular patterns, or using more than three colors. Functionally it works by having your extra threads wrapped up inside the thread that is showing, forming the smaller secondary core. Ultimately you are doing figure 8s around the main core & then your secondary core of thread. This keeps things pretty neat & tidy. The tutorial I first used was this one by DAS Bookbinding, though I don't think his endband tutorials are his best ones. Another binder I've spoken with endbands about a lot is maleeka, who recently did an endband tutorial herself.

maybe I should do one... but it takes a lot for me to get enough motivation to make videos. I'll take this opportunity to write up some tips I've shared when people ask instead:

1. Endband core material is the MOST IMPORTANT component. You need a core that is stiff but flexible - it should NOT be floppy because it wiggles everywhere under the tension of the thread, but still needs to flex with the opening & closing of the book. You want something that doesn't compress, to reduce tension shifts in thread creating a lumpy endband. Have a smooth core is less critical but helps to avoid snagging threads & allows you some leeway on sliding threads around for adjustments. My personal choice is smooth leather jewelers cord (link is just an example, I get mine from a local craft store).

2. Thread size. All your threads need to be the same size; it will be visible if you are using two different sizes, and mess with your front core. Additionally, I know lots of people will use larger twists of multiple strands of embroidery thread, which can work, but is more likely to compress & alter its size in unexpected ways. A single strand is preferable. If you want something thicker you can find some thread weights that are heavier twists intended to be used in a single strand, not pulled apart. I prefer smaller sizes because it works better for the gradient designs I like.

3. Silk thread is your friend (if you can spend the money on it). It reduces fuzz (no fuzz like you get with cotton/DMC embroidery thread), it's usually easier to manage, has a more compact twist, and a higher shine. I use Japanese silk hand sewing thread in size #9 (9号). There's multiple brands (Tire, Daruma, KNK/kanagawa, etc). Here's a wholesale listing (minimum 20,000¥ for international). A non-Japanese brand is Guterman silk (German brand). Both the Japanese & German threads come in a heavier weight (Japanese is #16, Guterman is buttonhole).

4. Thread tension is the most important part of the actual technique. You need to ensure the threads currently wrapped in the secondary core keep tension when you are working the thread around them.

5. Working on a curve. This is only really relevant if you're doing an endband on a rounded book, but the circumference of the curve means there's more real estate on the outside vs inside of the curve. Sometimes this can cause bunching on the secondary core. My own solution to this is that sometimes I wrap the primary core but drop a wrap here or there around the secondary core (only between two wraps of the same color I'm dropping). I uh... don't know of anyone currently recommending this besides myself so I can't point to any pro endorsement for this method, it's just what works for me. Forgive my terrible writing:

6. Pattern management. I... don't really plan much how my patterns sit on the spine, which is not very helpful. HOWEVER you can do some pattern management on the fly, if you really want your pattern to end at a certain place. Thread can be packed more or less densely on the core, resulting in some pattern compression; you could also strategically drop wraps in less noticeable locations. An unintended example: I was replicating the pattern on this endband (left) when I realize I wasn't packing the thread as densely as I had the first time around (right), which resulted in the overall pattern taking up more space. You can do this on purpose, if you need to.

this was way more than you asked but it gave me a chance to put all this in one spot. Best of luck in vanquishing the dreaded EndWyrms.

[muffinsin]

I heard you and now I must rewuest!!!!

Since Cassandra is one of my faves, i have tk request gp! Reader x Cassandra that gets more and more feral as her pregnancy progresses, but she only seems to have a liking in only the reader, hissing at anyone else.

-💜 anon

The preggo Cassie nation is building! ;P🙌🙌

Let’s get into it! ;)

Masterlists

Like this, you’re certain you could get lost in her.

She’s pressed up against the bed below you, entirely bare for you, her stunning eyes set on you. Golden, wide, eager. Her lazy eye, adorable. Her lips are pulled into a scowl as she snarls, impatient as ever, but you’re not about to give her what she wants just yet.

Her stomach is round already, your little one growing inside of her. And yes, while originally your pretty Cassandra was less than thrilled to be the one carrying out your child, she’s become somewhat used to the additional weight by now.

Below, her pussy glistens for you already. Above, her breasts and nipples seem to lure you closer, perky and large, even larger than before the pregnancy. You feel your mouth water at the sight of them.

Reaching down, her snarl turns into a breathless gasp when you cup, then squeeze her breasts. While they weren’t overly sensitive before the pregnancy, now the sweet thing is moaning and gasping at even the lightest brush against them.

You love it.

As you continue to toy with her, rolling her sensitive nipple between your fingertips with practiced ease, you feel your body responding to it all.

Your nipples are hard, and your stomach feels tight. Between your legs, your cock, hanging low and heavy before, now stands tall and hard, twitching as though with the desire to bury itself inside the brunette’s pussy.

The thought makes you groan.

Pregnant pussy really is the best…

Alas, just because she’s carrying out your child and pregnancy came with some new, surprising challenges, that doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily go easy on her, or allow her to snarl and whine to get her way.

You coo as you lean down, laughing when the mere brush of your wet, thick tip against her slit makes her tremble and has her hips buck up weakly, unused to the weight of her stomach as she does so.

You lean down, cooing as she snarls again. You notice, the pregnancy has made her even more feral than she was before. Alas, you don’t at all mind putting her in her place with just the same animalistic, feral attitude.

She gasps below you when your head dips down and your tongue licks up her neck, your hand rubbing gently across her stomach. She’s about to snarl, yet the action stops her.

Cassandra is all too well aware of how stupidly submissive she looks, bare and on her back, her throat licked and pussy drooling against your tip, her large breasts moving as she breathes, her stomach round to carry your child.

She blushes, though is not quite eager to slip into her role just yet.

“Beg for it, Mommy”, you coo, the petname a cruel tease, and one that has her gasp and snarl again, once again reminded that, just for this moment right now, she’s been reduced from the strong, fierce huntress, to the cute submissive bearing your child and- by the end of this, surely- your seed as well.

She growls at you, impatient as ever, unwilling to beg for it, as ever.

Ah, but she will have to, and she knows it.

Even during your pregnancy, she likes to keep things exciting. She doesn’t want your sex life to become tame, suddenly, just because she’s pregnant. If anything, it has her more feral and riled up than ever before.

She whimpers- actually whimpers, and she hates and loves it- when you stroke your tongue against her throat, your lips coming down to latch onto her sensitive skin.

Just as she automatically begins to claw at your shoulders, her nails sharp as blades, she feels you drag her wrists from you, holding them in a relatively tight grasp as you guide them above her head. Knowing that, especially with the amount of blood and vitamins she takes during her pregnancy, she’s much stronger than you could ever be, she allows it. She too likes the illusion of being somewhat helpless, sometimes.

As such, she finds herself bare beneath you, her hands held above her head, shivers decorating her beautiful body as you lick at her throat. Still, she only lets out impatient whines and snarls, her flies buzzing angrily at the fact your tip is only sliding lazily against her slit, instead of entering her with a single push of your hips.

Alas, you stay almost perfectly still, your fingers massaging her trapped wrists, your tongue swirling at her neck enough to make her see stars already.

Her legs tighten around you, her heels dig into your back as though to urge you to move forward already. She’s shivering from every little touch of her overly sensitive throat and moans softly whenever you accidentally brush up against her hard nipples.

When you bite down on her at last, she squeals, her flies buzzing loudly, her wrists momentarily jerking up against your hands. You catch them still and pin them against the bed again, chuckling lowly against the now wet spot at her throat. The sensation has her see stars.

“M-Move alrea-a-ah…already..!”, she tries to snarl, but her words are soft and breathy, laced with her sweet moans and gasps whenever your tip brushes up against the hood of her clit.

You coo at her, as though teasing her for her demand. She ought to know, she isn’t going to get it this easily, and certainly not through demands.

“You want it…~”, she coos back, her voice low and sultry.

And by the Gods, you know, she’s right.

You want it, bad, feel tense already as you try to hold back from taking her already. Even seeing her like this, carrying out your child, only makes you want to take her and pump her full of more and more seed. Momentarily, you can’t help but wonder how Cassandra would react to carrying out more than one child…

Her words and tone alone have your hips buck up automatically, a moan ripped from you and her when your tip almost dips inside before it slides from her slippery slit and drags back up to her clit instead.

She smirks below you and fuck...the view alone has your cock twitch and ache painfully. Precum drools from you and your nipples harden even more. She knows fully well what she's capable of doing to you.

What she always does to you.

Evidently, given how now she sports a round stomach, carrying out your child, and, hopefully, more to come. If you can convince her, that is. You wouldn't be surprised if she made you cum in her mouth or other places, for that matter, from now on...

Secretly, you hope this isn't the case.

Your head spins for a moment before you compose yourself again, licking at her neck once again. Your resolve is crumbling. Every second seems to tempt you more and more into simply pushing inside her wet, soaked, tight pussy already. Ugh...you really want to push inside, to feel her around you. She feels so good already, but lately, even more so.

Alas, you know hers is crumbling, too.

She shivers adorably beneath you, her legs tightening around you as you lick from her neck all the way up her jaw, your teeth teasing her sensitive flesh. She's close to giving in, her body so overly sensitive, her pussy aching to be full of you already.

And for but a moment longer she wants to keep fighting, wants to keep up her play of dominance, her little game of power play.

Then, a kick from within her stomach that has her wince and whimper, ultimately reminding her of her position. Still, being the pregnant one in the relationship, tends to make her feel rather submissive. To know she is the one to have been pumped full, she is the one to carry out your child, the one to birth it eventually.

The one you will be pleading to carry out more of them, perhaps.

As such, she whimpers, moaning a little louder as she tilts her head for you, as though to show off her sensitive neck now.

Your eyes widen at the sight, the open display of submission from your rather bratty partner.

Perhaps, if you had an ounce of control left in you, you would make her beg verbally as well.

Now, however, this is more than enough to send you over the edge, too.

You push inside of her immediately, albeit a little slower than usually, a little gentler, well aware your future child is growing within the woman below you.

As she finally feels you slide inside of her, she moans breathily, her back arching for the bed just slightly as her legs tighten around your body.

Briefly, she tugs against your hands, as though overcome with the urge to touch you, but you hold firm. As such, she merely moans and gasps again, resting her wrists back against the sheets and taking what you give her- not her strong suit, certainly, but with the way you slowly roll your hips into her, it feels like you’re slowly fucking every little thought from her.

Golden eyes flutter shut and you groan when, at last, you manage to push yourself fully inside.

Her walls grip at you already, squeezing and throbbing around your hard cock as though to lure you in further and milk you dry.

A familiar scenario, certainly.

You nuzzle her throat gently, humming and moaning lowly as you drag your tongue across her sensitive skin yet again.

Then, when a knock at the door demands your attention, both of you turn your heads. But while you’re about to politely send whoever is at the other side, likely a maid tasked to tidy Cassandra’s chambers or prepare this and that, off, she takes a different approach.

It’s suddenly your turn to gasp when she snarls loudly, her flies buzzing loudly, her eyes wide. She’s pulling you to her, flush against her. She's snarling so loud you hear the maid at the other side of the door flinch, as though rethinking her decision to enter.

You're locked in place, can only feel your cock throb within her, feel her walls pulse around you.

It's heavenly.

She keeps on snarling, her teeth bared, her chest heaving a little, her flies buzzing in irritation.

Then, when you sense the woman is about to leave, you finally continue thrusting already.

You groan lowly as your hips snap back and forth, your full balls slapping flush against her ass cheeks. Immediately, her feral attitude changes to a submissive one yet again, her golden eyes fluttering shut, her beautiful lips parting. Her head tilts back, her smooth, strong neck exposed once again. Alas, it is not your target, now.

You lean down, your lips flickering across her sensitive nipples instead.

Now, more sensitive than ever, she shivers as you lick across one, then shrieks when you bite down lightly on the other.

With you continuing on, thrusting fast, yet not as deep as you normally would, unsure how deep you ought to go, and your hands on her breasts, she's feeling herself be pushed closer and closer to her orgasm. She's twitching and moaning adorably in no time, her strong legs wrapped around you still.

Still, her pussy squeezes you tight, a breathy moan slipping past her lips. You smirk, well aware of what even the littlest amount of pain does to her.

She's so adorable for you, like this, so alive.

You watch with wide eyes as she comes around you, her hands grabbing at the sheets- surely to avoid accidentally ripping you to shreds. Her chest rises and falls fast, her breaths short, her moans loud. She's shivering for you, her nipples rock hard beneath your fingertips.

Almost, you think you can't handle it, that the pleasure is almost too much. That she's too warm, too tight. That she's too perfect for you.

And still, just when you're sure you can't make it, you pull out, moaning and shivering as thick cum splatters against her wet pussy, her thighs, even a little on her stomach, which you gently remove with your thumb.

Through lidded eyes, you see her stare hungrily at you, still.

[redvexillum]

@whatswrongwithblue Thank you for the request! I tried my best to showcase really long "fuckening" LOL. I would like to dedicate this story to @safination for writing two Adam x Reader stories for me - I'm just super touched, oh my god, thank you!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, tentacle s♡x, double penetrati♡n, marathon s♡x, oral s♡x, finger♡ng, an♡l, suspension, squirt♡ng, cunniling♡s, established relationship, soft alastor, alastor being a lil shit, rough s♡x, b♡ndage, ♡verstimulation

An invisible weight tugged down your eyelids, and your shoulders drooped as if bound by chains trying to drag you down. Your eyes burned, your lips felt dry, and your head began to spin. Even in Hell, exhaustion was inescapable. You glanced over at Alastor, who hummed softly as he cleared away the cup of Zestea with a snap of his fingers. 

You adjusted the soft, fuzzy towel wrapped around you, sitting on the bed with damp hair draped over your shoulders. Fresh from a warm bath Alastor had prepared, you’d hoped it would relax your body, but all you felt was the maddening sensation of a mind wide awake while your body remained fatigued. 

“Ugh, I can’t do it,” you whined, pressing your forehead against your knee and tapping it in frustration. “I’ve been trying to sleep for days, Alastor.” As you lifted your head, you caught his eyebrow arching at your childish display. 

The longer you went without sleep, the whinier you became, feeling reduced to a petulant child. You knew it wasn’t fair, but the frustration of your body resisting your mind’s wishes was beyond torment. 

“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice velvety smooth. 

“Ugh!” You cut him off by flopping back onto the bed, starfishing as the towel wrapped around you started to loosen. “This suuuucks!” you groaned, lightly kicking your heels against the bed in an attempt to release your growing frustration. 

“Darl-” 

“I don’t understand! I tried everything.” You rolled onto your stomach and shut your eyes tightly. “I was such a terrible insomniac back when I was alive, and now I have to deal with this for the rest of eternity?” 

“Dar-” 

“What kind of crappy hellhole is this? This seems petty, even for the big guy upstairs, don’t you think?” you continued, oblivious to your surroundings. 

“Darling!” Alastor finally raised his voice, and at that moment, tentacles erupted from the bed, grasping your limbs. 

Your arms and legs twisted at awkward angles as your body hovered over the bed. The towel slipped free, landing quietly on the bed and baring your form before Alastor. 

"Thirteen times," Alastor murmured, his voice dripping with unrestrained amusement, his crimson eyes glinting as they pinned you in place. His hands tucked neatly behind his back, he seemed perfectly composed, though the smirk curling at the edges of his mouth betrayed a darker intent. 

Confused, you blinked up at him—only to yelp as the cool, silken press of his shadow tendrils began to glide over your bare skin, teasingly slow. One snaked its way between the cleft of your ass, trailing with lazy patience, the tip wriggling just at your entrance, coaxing a sharp intake of breath from you as pleasure rippled up your spine. Every nerve felt alive, electric, your skin flushing under his unwavering gaze. 

"Thirteen times you’ve been acting like a spoiled child today, darling," Alastor’s voice was smooth, chiding, though his eyes were lit with something wicked, ravenous. 

Another shadowy tendril traced up your neck, its soft, almost squishy texture making your skin prickle. Then, with one swift movement, it pressed into your mouth, muffling any protest you might’ve made as it filled you. Another tendril wrapped its gentle, pulsing form around your heated skin as it circled down around your breasts, caressing and teasing. 

“Mhm…” You tried to respond, your voice muffled, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through you as the tendrils toyed with you. When the tendril in your mouth finally pulled back to let you gasp for air, another tendril plunged deep into your slick core, sliding in with one smooth, tantalizing stroke, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a moan as the feeling of fullness set every inch of you aflame, your body helplessly arching into his touch. 

“Thirteen times, I’ll help you,” Alastor drawled, his voice low and edged with dark delight. His eyes narrowed to glittering crescents as his grin grew, sharp and almost feral. "Relax," he whispered, his tone smooth as honey as the tendrils inside you began to move, slow and steady, drawing out every inch of pleasure. Each movement left you wanting, needing, as he drew out every moment, teasing you with that maddening slowness. 

Your body began to melt under his control, a soft moan spilling from you as your muscles, once taut with frustration, relaxed into his grip. “Does it feel good, darling?” Alastor’s voice dropped to a husky murmur, another shadow tendril swirling around one of your nipples, tightening into a small, deliciously snug loop that squeezed and teased. 

“Ah!” Your eyes fell shut, hips rocking as your chest arched forward, giving him everything to see, to touch. “Y-yes,” you gasped, your words coming out in soft, breathless sounds, the tendril inside you quickening, its movements slick, rhythmic, filling the air with soft, lewd sounds as it thrust deeper, harder. "Oh, Alastor, it’s… hah… oh," you panted, your voice breaking into needy little cries as he guided you to the edge, the tendrils driving you further and further until pleasure crashed over you in waves. 

Your stomach muscles quivered as your whole body tightened, a cry escaping as your walls clenched around the tendril inside, shuddering through every inch of you. 

"One," Alastor murmured, his grin never wavering, his gaze searing into you with that dark promise. 

In the hazy bliss of release, realization dawned, sending another thrill of anticipation through you—he intended to count each of your climaxes, to draw out every peak, never stopping until he reached thirteen. 

As you struggled to catch your breath, the tendrils began their slow, relentless dance once again. They curled against your still-sensitive walls, pressing and stretching you as warmth and pleasure bloomed anew. 

"F-fuck," you exhaled, as the shadow tendril that once entered your mouth slipped between your parted lips once more, moving slowly in and out, coaxing yet another trembling moan from deep within. 

Once more, that searing pleasure began to build, crashing into the remnants of your last release. It was a mere matter of minutes before another wave surged through you, and this time, the heat seemed endless, a delicious agony of pleasure that took over completely. 

With each wave, your mind grew hazier, lost in the raw, pulsing need that Alastor seemed to stoke with every touch. The world became a blur of pleasure, each second stretching, lingering. At one point, you found your head thrown back, legs stretched out and quivering, your body suspended just above the floor. Alastor’s mouth was buried between your thighs, his deep hums reverberating through you as his tongue explored every sensitive inch of your core, slow and pleasing, dragging out every moment. 

Drool escaped from the corner of your parted lips, trailing down your cheek as shadowy tendrils wrapped around you, coaxing your mouth open wider, sliding between your lips and wiggling against your tongue. Every inch of your body burned under his gaze, his presence radiating a heady power that made your pulse quicken.

“Mhm,” Alastor hummed in satisfaction, the dark glint in his eyes making your heart race. In the haze, you heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle loosening, followed by the sharp whisper of his zipper. His hot tongue continued to lap at you, his lips wrapping around your folds as he sucked your clit, firm and lingering, the touch like fire against your swollen, oversensitive skin. 

“MMPH,” you gasped, the sound muffled by the tendril holding your mouth open, but the helpless, desperate sound escaped all the same. Your eyes widened as his fingers began circling your tight entrance of your ass, the slick warmth of his touch teasing, coaxing as he eased one finger inside, withdrawing, then pressing deeper with each slow stroke. 

His tongue thrust deeper, finding every hidden spot, his finger pressing against that thin sensitive wall between your two entrances. The dual sensation was too much, the pressure building and consuming you, your walls clenching helplessly around his tongue as another wave crashed through you, leaving you breathless, your abdomen tightening with the force of release. 

Every lick, every draw of his lips against your clit left you trembling, lost in the sweet torture he inflicted with such calm, focused precision. Each stroke was perfectly timed, drawing out each moment, extending your pleasure as though he revelled in the sounds you made, the way your body arched and jolted beneath him. 

In the fog of pleasure, you heard him murmur, “Seven.” 

When you came to your senses again, you found yourself bent over, your body limp and pliant, the tendrils holding you aloft in midair as though you were a doll, utterly at his mercy. A bead of drool stretched from your parted lips, joined by tears of pleasure as your mouth let out soft, pleading moans. The two tendrils were thrusting into you now, each movement synchronized, the slick, wet sounds filling the air as they moved with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Your gaze drifted up, finding Alastor seated at the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around his own hardened length. He stroked himself as he watched you, a look of dark satisfaction glinting in his crimson eyes. 

It was only when one tendril hit that perfect spot within you, pressing firmly against your G-spot while the other filled your other tight entrance completely, that you finally broke, a scream tearing from you as the overstimulation shattered something deep within. The tendril at your lips pulled away, only to be replaced by something hotter, thicker, its weight heavy on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses as Alastor’s cock pressed between your lips, sliding deep. 

A warm rush of arousal trickled down your thighs as your voice was muffled by his length, the taste and heft of him only heightening the fiery pleasure rippling through your body. Endless waves crashed over you, each movement of the tendril against your G-spot triggering new jolts of ecstasy that seemed boundless, unending, leaving you helpless to the pleasure he so expertly, mercilessly gave. 

Alastor groaned above you, his breath warm and rough as he slowly pushed his thick, heated cock in and out of your mouth, holding you steady, savouring every inch of movement. His pace was unhurried, each slow thrust teasing, almost torturous, as his gaze locked onto yours, intense and devouring. Your arousal dripped down your thighs, tracing warm, wet trails along your skin, each drop pooling and slipping from the tips of your toes. 

“Twelve, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, edged with delight. “Let’s make the last one count.” 

The world around you swirled as he lowered you back onto the bed, your body sinking into its soft warmth. Breath ragged, eyes misted, you lay sprawled out, hips trembling from the relentless pleasure that still pulsed through you. Your skin felt hot, nerves buzzing, and each lingering touch of his fingers traced over your sensitized flesh like fire. 

Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, every inch of your body both sated and aching. Alastor moved above you, the rough fabric of his suit brushing against your sensitive skin, heightening every touch. His face hovered just inches from yours, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips as he let the length of his cock trail along your soaked folds, the friction sending sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. 

“This one’s mostly for me,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading as he gently brushed damp strands of hair from your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin. 

Your body arched in response, anticipation building as his thick cock finally pressed against you, the heat of him molten as he slowly entered, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath hitched, a hoarse, needy sound escaping as he filled you, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, his belt buckle pressing sharply against your heated skin, a rough contrast that only heightened the feeling of fullness. 

Every muscle in your body clenched as waves of pleasure rippled outward, your nerves raw and hypersensitive, ready for another release that you could feel building within. Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as a helpless whimper slipped out, each slight twitch in response to his touch making you tremble. 

With one hand, he held the top of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he grinned, dark eyes gleaming. Alastor drew back slowly, then snapped his hips forward, and your back arched as your breasts bounced, his rough pace jolting your body with each thrust, his grip on your head keeping you steady as his cock found every sensitive spot within. 

“Al—” you gasped, voice breaking, your eyes rolling back, lids heavy with exhaustion and pleasure, each blink longer as your mind swam in the intensity. 

He drew back and drove forward again, hips pressing hard against you, each impact a sinful contrast against the throbbing heat of your body. The sensation was overwhelming, each strike pressing into your sensitive clit, bringing you higher. His grunts mingled with your soft moans, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed was all you could hear, each movement pushing you to the edge, again and again. 

The relentless rhythm sent you deeper into bliss, every thrust pressing you into the mattress, each slick sound growing louder as he moved faster, harder. His cock rubbed against your inner walls, hitting all your sensitive spots, while the front of his pelvis struck your swollen clit with every thrust, sending a sharp, electrifying pleasure through you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, pleasure breaking over you in a blinding rush, your body writhing as the release washed through you. Darkness tinged the edges of your vision, and you cried out, guttural and raw, as another flood of arousal spilled from you, leaving you trembling, body spent in the aftermath of pure ecstasy. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, let alone move your body. A dull heaviness clung to you, making every part of you feel like lead. Vaguely, you felt a twitch in your leg, a reminder of the overwhelming sensation that had consumed you earlier, leaving you utterly exposed. Your body lay wide open, but at that moment, you felt a delicious thrill rather than shame, too intoxicated by the aftershocks of pleasure to care. Gradually, the world around you faded into a blissful oblivion, and you drifted into unconsciousness. 

When you finally woke up, the first sensation was the softness of the sheets against your skin. You blinked blearily, realizing you were curled up in your pyjamas, holding on to your pillow. Every muscle ached, a pleasant reminder of the night’s indulgence, but your mind felt clearer now. As you looked around, confusion settled in; you were alone in the vast expanse of Alastor’s bed, surrounded by the lingering scent of him.

Holding the pillow tightly to your chest, a cold wash of loneliness hit you, heavy and suffocating. How could he have fucked you into unconsciousness and just left? The least he could do was stay, to wrap his arms around you and share the warmth after such an intense experience. A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of frustration and yearning. Perhaps he had cuddled you while you were lost in sleep, but the emptiness in the bed felt cold, and you craved his presence. 

Contemplating, you tried to settle back down, hoping to find solace in sleep again, but the silence of the room felt stifling. With a huff of irritation, you realized you were back at square one—restless and alone. Sitting up, you pulled the pillow against your chest, desperate for a sense of comfort. 

A sudden spark of determination flickered within you, and you decided to check the Radio Tower. It was his usual point of interest, and you hoped he might still be there. Climbing the stairs, excitement bubbled in your chest. Peering through the door window, you caught sight of Alastor’s back, his smooth voice floating through the air like music, wrapping around you and bringing an involuntary smile to your lips. 

Perhaps you could wait for him to finish his business, and then the two of you could go for a stroll. Settling onto the weathered couch, you tucked your knees in and hugged the pillow tighter. Resting your head back, you closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice. 

“One might say they were quite bone dry by the time they left Cannibal Town, hahaha,” Alastor laughed, his transatlantic accent rolling over you like a warm caress. 

You couldn’t help but snort at his silly word play, the sound bubbling up despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned into his words, letting them wash over you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. As he continued to speak, you felt yourself begin to relax, the tension in your body melting away. 

But before you knew it, his voice began to fade, the room darkening around you, pulling you into its depths. The warmth of the couch enveloped you, and soon, your consciousness slowly slipped away once more, leaving behind a lingering ache for his presence. 

Alastor let out a soft sigh, brushing off invisible dust from his arm as he stepped outside, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He felt a swell of happiness, not only because he had pleased his darling, but also because he had managed to broadcast his show right on time. Yet, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they caught sight of you curled up on the couch, fast asleep. 

A flicker of concern crossed his face, his brows knitting together as he wondered why you were sleeping in such an uncomfortable spot instead of the cozy bed he had prepared for you. He opened his mouth, ready to chastise you for choosing the couch over the warmth of your own bedding, but as he got closer, his breath hitched. The soft, gentle expression on your face silenced him. 

Alastor paused, his hand hovering just above your shoulder, a mix of irritation and affection coursing through him. Should he really wake you? But before he could make up his mind, a smirk tugged at his lips, and with a snap of his fingers, a plush blanket materialized, draping softly over your body. He couldn’t help but soften the jagged edge of his smile when he heard the lovely sigh that escaped your lips as you instinctively snuggled deeper into the pillow, blissfully unaware of his presence. 

He stood there, captivated, his eyes locked onto your serene face. A warmth spread through his chest as he observed you, unblinking and utterly entranced. The urge to simply leave and let you rest was his first thought, but instead, his fingers betrayed him. They reached out, tracing the strands of your hair, lifting a lock gently before placing a tender kiss upon it. His heart swelled as he watched you, his typically sharp demeanour softening in the glow of your innocence. 

But then, as if splashed with icy water, reality struck. He quickly dropped your hair as if it had burned him, a flicker of panic dancing in his eyes. He darted a furtive glance around, ensuring no one had witnessed this moment of vulnerability. Alastor, the ever-composed radio demon, was suddenly aware of how uncharacteristic his actions had been. 

The sensible thing would be to let you sleep, especially after the struggles you had faced throughout the week. Yet, against his better judgment, he summoned a chair next to you, settling down with a resigned huff. 

As he waited, a swirl of emotions churned inside him—anticipation, affection, and a strange sense of longing. He found himself drawn to the idea of spending the rest of eternity by your side, watching you awaken to a world painted in shades of endless amusement, delight, and his presence. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[sinkovia]

Coffee shop

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

After months of deployment, Simon was finally discharged, and the decision to settle down took root within him. Years of moving between apartments during deployments led him to the conclusion that it was time to have a place to call his own, a familiar haven to return to. He opted for a one-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood of a small town—a space he could truly call home.

What appealed to him the most about this place was the convenience of having many things within walking distance, reducing the need for constant driving.

One of his newfound discoveries was a small cafe just five minutes away from his house. After finishing his workout in the afternoon, he grabbed one of the many books he had ordered and walked down. As he entered, the cozy atmosphere embraced him, and there were only a few patrons inside, eliciting a small sigh of relief from him.

It felt like the perfect place to unwind and delve into his books, a quaint spot where he could enjoy the simplicity of life after the rigors of military service.

When you saw him walk in, you took in his appearance and greeted him with a welcoming smile. Standing tall, he was a behemoth of a man, and you instinctively assumed he would order a straightforward black coffee. However, as he approached the counter and confidently stated his order for black tea in a strong Manchester accent, you nearly froze.

"Is something wrong?" His deep voice resonated, and you softly smiled, "Not at all, sir. I'm sorry. Would you like any sugar or milk?"

He grabbed his wallet and placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter, "Plain is fine."

Walking away, he took a seat near the front of the cafe, affording him a clear view of everyone entering and a pleasant sight through the nearby window. Your brows furrowed at the ten-dollar bill.

Where on God's green earth did he ever pay ten dollars for a cup of tea?

After making his cup, you retrieved his change of six dollars and approached his table. He seemed deeply engrossed in his book, you almost felt bad for interrupting him.

"Here's your tea, and the tea is only four dollars. This is your change." He glanced at the money on the table before looking up at you. His gaze lingered, taking in your features; you looked only a few years younger than him.

You were pretty too.

Shifting your weight from one leg to the other, you felt his eyes wandering. "Keep the change, love." His use of the endearment caught you off guard. People around here never spoke that way, but then again, based on his accent, you knew he wasn't from the area.

"Oh no, that's too much. Please, keep it." He picked up the cup, bringing it to his lips. After taking a sip, his eyes slightly widened. It was the best cup of tea he had had in years.

"Consider it a tip then. You know how to make a good cup," he said, and you smiled, feeling proud that this giant man appreciated the way you made tea.

"Thank you. That's very sweet of you to say." He hummed in response, and you took it as a sign to let him go back to his book and read in peace. You gathered the cash on the table and tucked it into your apron as you walked away.

After taking off your apron in the back, you made yourself a cup of tea before settling down in the corner of the cafe with a book. Simon glanced up at you, noticing an older man standing in your place at the register.

Were you on break?

His eyes returned to the pages of his book, and he continued reading until he heard you get up after about thirty minutes, standing back at the register with the book still in your hand. The only customers to come in were an older couple who chose to sit in the back, away from Simon.

A small timer on his watch beeped quietly, and he turned it off. Having spent around an hour and a half at the cafe, he thought it was a good time to head back home. Your eyes went to him when you heard the quiet beeping, observing as he tore a small piece of the napkin and used it as a bookmark. You smiled to yourself, recalling how you used to do the same before you started doodling on strips of paper to use as bookmarks.

As he got up from his seat, you smiled and called out to him, "Have a nice day."

He responded with a gruff "you too" before walking out and heading back home. Simon appreciated the quiet and emptiness of the cafe and decided he would definitely be returning tomorrow.

[coaping]

Glow Up Guide - “Wait, you’re y/n?!” pt. 3

Welcome to the third part of the glow up guide! This part will focus on inner health. If you don’t have good inner health, it will show on the outside. That’s why we need to take care of our inside just as much as we would our outside!!

Tips start here:

Keep a balanced diet

Try not to lean into too much of one food category! Make sure you are eating appropriate amounts of your fruits, veggies, grains, proteins, and dairies!

Take vitamins (if needed)

You can take an everyday multivitamin, or if you have a specific deficiency (for example, iron deficiency) you should make sure you’re taking something for that! You can also take magnesium, but make sure you don’t take it everyday because it can headaches and nausea, and even worse, kidney failure! The best time to take magnesium is when you’re in bad mood or before bed if you have insomnia.

Oil pulling

I have been doing oil pulling for around two years now, and me and my dentist have both noticed an improvement in gum and teeth health, along with overall whiter teeth! While there are specific products made specifically for oil pulling, you can just use regular old coconut oil like I have been doing. It works just as well!

Drink enough water!

The recommended water intake per day for women is 92 ounces (or 11.5 cups). It’s especially important to get enough water in the summer or when you are being extra active! One of the easiest ways to make sure you’re getting enough water is by using an app (I use Waterllama!) or by buying one of those water bottles that encourage you to drink enough water! Drinking enough water not only can help clear skin but also helps with digestion and weight loss!

Health drinks

ok, so I just went over how important it is to drink enough water, but if you’re willing to go the extra mile, there are a couple other drinks you can drink as well!

Green tea - helps reduce inflammation, has lots of antioxidants, helps improve skin health

Kombucha - Great for gut health and immune support

Lemon water - Detoxifying, good for skin and weight loss

Matcha - Good for brain function, can help boost focus

Chia seed water - Aids in weight loss, digestion and skin health

Thank you for reading! Please make sure to take care of yourself!!

[himetarts]

Hi! First off, I just wanted to say I really, really love ARV. Sterling has become my favorite person to romance and a hyper fixation at this point. He is just so babygirl that it just makes me scream at all of his dialogue. If it wasn't for the fact my farmer is 5'0, she would carry Sterling bridal style, over her shoulder, on her hip like a toddler lmao But onto my actual question, I found out that Sterling has a butterfly and hummingbird tattoo. I think I read that the butterfly tattoo is from when he started to recover from his substance abuse as like a symbol that he's changing his life like a caterpillar to a butterfly sort of thing. But I haven't been able to find if the hummingbird tattoo has a meaning. Or maybe it's just so explanatory that it doesn't need to be explained lol (So sorry if this has already been asked!)

It's because he's a WHORE. and he jumps from flower to FLOWER.

(I am pulled away exit stage left)

Sterling was never much of a kid who read, but he was an older brother (cousin, really, but he leaves the role of being a pedant to Henry) and that meant having to walk Gloria the few country miles from the farm to the library so she could.

She was one of those kids who derived pleasure from inane things such as *school* and *education* and had larger dreams than the stretch of horizon bathed by the orange glow of dawn at Cooper Farms. Sometimes she'd squint her eyes at the line where the sun went to hide behind the mountains, and Sterling could swear she could somehow see through stone and dirt all the way out to the city.

"Did you know the hummingbird is the smallest migrant bird?"

Sterling didn't know that. Sterling didn't know a lot other useless things either, like how many kilometers in a mile or how much resistance a chair could handle before it would tip over backwards. In a few minutes, Gunther would remind him once more to keep his feet off the table and the legs of the old, repurposed school chairs on the floor, but for now, he yet had a few minutes of freedom.

"Did you know you are the tiniest Cooper? Just a few years and it'll be official. Smaller than my aunt Mary, there ought to be a prize for that."

It wasn't even approaching one of Sterling Cooper's best retort, so the spine of the book to his stomach that stole his breath away was entirely warranted.

"Can you even feign being a little impressed?" "Birds travel together, Gloria." The chair snapped forward as he leaned in, fingers outstretched to pinch her nose in between two fingers. He was starting to sound like his uncle, unable to ramble about anything more than the importance of family sticking together when there'd never been even an ounce of warmth between the kitchen walls of their dining room. "They can do anything when they stick together."

Empty platitudes had only earned him that book spine slamming into fingers.

"Hummingbirds do not." Years later, Sterling would catch a midnight screening of Harry Potter on national TV and he'd hear Gloria's voice again in the echoes of Hermione Granger. It would drive him down the bottom of another six-pack of beer until Emma Watson's was reduced to nothing more than pleasant gibberish, far from the echoes of ghosts. "They travel alone, up to 500 miles at once. Even in spite of their size."

...

"Don't they get lonely?"

"It's just in their nature, Ster."

She was doing it again. That thing she did when she watched the horizon, arms folded over what would become her favorite book in years to come. That thing where she somehow understood the weight of the world, years before her older brothers would ever come to.

"It sounds scary."

The look she'd given him, all quick wit, raised brows and disbelief, had shamed him into silence.

"If the tiniest bird can travel all alone to fulfill its biological destiny, what do we have to be possibly scared of?"

"Little hummingbird." Sterling had snorted, trying to chase away the loss that would not come to fruition for years to come yet. "My uncle's going to beat you if he hears you talking like that again."

A small shrug. The weight of the world, of family, legacy, and expectation shaken off her shoulders.

"I think we could all be hummingbirds."

[gymqueensusa]

6 Pack Abs

Best Exercises for 6-Pack Abs for Women

Getting well-defined abs requires a combination of strength training, core exercises, and a healthy diet. Below are the best exercises to help women sculpt a strong and toned midsection:

1. Plank (Forearm or Full)

Targets: Core, abs, shoulders, and lower back

How to do it:

Get into a forearm or full plank position.

Keep your body in a straight line from head to heels.

Engage your core and hold for 30–60 seconds.

Tip: Avoid sagging your hips or raising them too high.

2. Bicycle Crunches

Targets: Upper and lower abs, obliques

How to do it:

Lie on your back with hands behind your head.

Lift your legs and bring your right elbow to your left knee.

Switch sides in a pedaling motion.

Perform 3 sets of 15 reps per side.

Tip: Move slowly for better muscle engagement.

3. Reverse Crunches

Targets: Lower abs

How to do it:

Lie on your back with knees bent and feet lifted.

Use your core to lift your hips off the floor.

Slowly lower back down.

Perform 3 sets of 12–15 reps.

Tip: Avoid using momentum; engage your abs instead.

4. Russian Twists

Targets: Obliques and core

How to do it:

Sit with your knees bent and feet slightly off the ground.

Hold a weight or medicine ball.

Twist your torso to the right, then left.

Perform 3 sets of 20 twists (10 per side).

Tip: Keep your back straight and core engaged.

5. Leg Raises

Targets: Lower abs

How to do it:

Lie on your back with legs straight.

Slowly lift your legs up until they’re perpendicular to the floor.

Lower them back down without touching the ground.

Perform 3 sets of 12–15 reps.

Tip: Keep your lower back pressed into the floor.

6. Mountain Climbers

Targets: Full core, cardio boost

How to do it:

Get into a plank position.

Bring one knee toward your chest, then switch.

Perform for 30–45 seconds.

Tip: Keep your core tight and move at a steady pace.

7. Hanging Leg Raises (Advanced)

Targets: Lower abs and hip flexors

How to do it:

Hang from a pull-up bar.

Raise your legs to a 90-degree angle.

Lower them back down slowly.

Perform 3 sets of 10 reps.

Tip: Avoid swinging; use core strength to lift your legs.

Additional Tips for 6-Pack Abs:

✔ Maintain a Healthy Diet – Reduce sugar, eat lean protein, and consume healthy fats. ✔ Stay Hydrated – Drink enough water to help with fat loss and digestion. ✔ Incorporate Cardio – Running, cycling, and HIIT workouts help burn excess fat. ✔ Be Consistent – Train your abs 3–4 times a week for the best results.

Try these exercises regularly, and with proper nutrition and consistency, you’ll be on your way to achieving toned, sculpted abs! 💪✨