#it like weakens the muscles

[professorjjong]

needed a reference letter from my psychiatrist back in the us and it’s so weird having like. a diagnosis. Iike no one straight up looked me in the eye and said “i diagnose you w/ major recurrent depression and social anxiety disorder” so just having it on a piece of paper like this is kinda wild

[halorvic]

"Do not let anyone convince you that you need to get sick to be healthy."

[wowbright]

Because I keep seeing people mention how it's important to get COVID vaccination because it lessens the severity of infections, a reminder: it also prevents infections. Not 100% of them. But vaccination makes you less likely to get infected, particularly with the strain you were vaccinated for. So, when you get the newest COVID vaccination, it's really good at preventing infection with the XBB.1.5 Omicron subvariant, and almost as good at preventing infection with closely related strains. It becomes less effective at prevention the more a strain differs from XBB.1.5, but can still reduce the rate of infection, and it's still good at lessening the severity of disease.

So, if you get vaccinated, you are less likely to get infected with COVID-19. That's prevention!

[pluralsword]

A Case for Trans Pride Flag Corsets~

if we had known we could greatly alleviate our dysphoria over having an organic body by wearing a chest-supporting corset that would complement our HRT by giving our torso a solid structured feel and also making our rounded on estrogens chest feel more and look more solid we would have done this years ago and it probably would have some a lot of anxiety and pain especially in various low points in our life related to gender stuff. a lot of our headmates are very happy. We in part are within the category of a trans gal who did and does want HRT and can appreciate the resulting body softness but would really rather be made of metals and/or be able to wear armor on a daily basis so-

Just putting this out there for any other inorganic or hardened matter therian and/or multiplicity people, creatures, and entities and especially to fellow mechanoidly inclined beings across the gender spectrum: if you're disappointed with the healthcare options at present for affirmation of selves and like us cannot currently afford EVA foam stuff and/or would have to deal with paint chipping that you wouldn't be able to just fix at or near home, and are frustrated you can't go through daily life in half plate, corsets are good relatively much more affordable way to go. the ribbed boning aspects hug the body really firmly and it does wonders for back support, I've never felt more ready from how I dress at any point in my life thus far before or after HRT to leap into action and stride through the needs and wants of life with gusto, and just also feel so happy (being on bicalutimide instead of spironolactone is also helping we personally no longer have to deal with side effects from hormone blockers). we would suggest to other folks who are also fat that getting ones with side lace along with the back lace will help to get it to fit around your body, having only back lace is more difficult. (and of course going by gender neutral letter sizing rather than gender divided numbers is a lot easier to navigate for shape, in this respect for trans people, gender expansive people in general, and a lot of people whose body types and proportions are not kept in mind by a lot of the clothing industry) also, if you are flatchested and like it that way or want to bind your chest, there are corsets for that! We will also say that if the options online or sold around you don't have what you need there are places that will custom-make corsets.

Lastly, we have not been able to find corsets in pride flag colors for anything other than the rainbow flag (and not a lot) , can't find a lesbian or sapphic flag one (somewhat ironic, don't you think), or bisexual or achillean or ase, or a trans or nonbinary flag one (we did find a pink corset with roses of blue and pink with white leaves but it does not have side lace so unlike our other corset we can't wear it with all the back lace in due to our size), so while it is something we've noted to eventually ask someone to make one- this is just an idea to put out there, there is a market for that kind of thing.

We think if more people in the 21st century knew that corsets can in fact be more comfortable than bras if you're willing to sacrifice back bending ability while wearing them (it's better to bend with your legs anyway, we're kind of fucked both ways on that front currently but the legs less so) then more people would be using them

-one other note if you ever get them dirty with anything elephant stone soap is very useful (never machine wash a corset, spot cleaning and airing it out after is enough)

[mishkakagehishka]

corks how tf do u walk so much. my dorm is at the top of the hill and most of my classes are like halfway down it and making that walk both up and down is killer. my ankles hurt. my hips hurt. it makes my chest hurt. help

For me it's a case of getting used to (i walked some 10min uphill today to get to my hairdresser's and it killed me bc. I took public transport all the time here and fell out of the habit of walking), but don't you have chronic pain or smth of the sort? I vaguely remember you mentioning smth like that :[ honestly my suggestion sucks, but i'd say: leave earlier than you "have to" so you can take breaks to avoid overexerting yourself.

My commute's most annoying part is the 15min walk from my stop to my college. And it took 20ish min at first bc i had to take it slow until i got used to it.

[hideandseaking]

got prescribed by the physical therapist to fully commit to jockification so now my muscles have to be as big as my meat

[6gumi]

“ inexperienced ” my ass !

⋆.˚ NSFW mdni . wc . 884 . multi-fandom men x f!reader 、AGED ! UP CHARACTERS ! 、 cunilingus 、maybe tit play ? ? am not suresies ! 、softies . . hehe 、messiest eaters eva . . x-x — 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 : “ eeeek ! here is ‘anotha filler thirstie ( sad face ) am so sorrie i haven’t been able tew get my drafts in ! eeeek hope dis makes up for it . . hehe ( ´ - ` ) ! ”

“i’m not that experienced, baby . . . so don’t expect much.”

. . . such a liar he was. you knew your boyfriend was a liar . . . but you never knew he was this much of a liar! your lashes fluttered, mouth hung open at the feel of his wet tongue along your cunt. he peeled your clothes away, baring your body to him completely. the sight of you, naked and glistening with sweat, left him utterly breathless. he needed to see you writhe beneath him, to hear the sweet music of your passion. your boyfriend’s breath hitched, the temptation was almost too much for him to bear. his calloused hands reached up to take one of your breasts in his grip, giving it a gentle squeeze. a soft moan escaped your throat, your soft flesh filling his grasp. his other hand traveled up your waist, moving around to cup your other breast. his fingers teased your nipple, rubbing in a circle before flicking it lightly.

you could feel his gaze on you . . . his eyes darkened as he whispered against your breast, "let’s get your pussy all nice and wet." leaning forward, his lips planted smooth kisses along your midriff . . . trailing even lower than before. his tongue snaked out, swirling around your clothed pussy. “h—hey . . .” you murmured, the tips of your fingers digging against his scalp. he hiked your skirt up against your waist, revealing your ass to him completely, the lace of your panties was the only barrier between his mouth and the sweet nectar he craved. he slid his hand beneath the waistband of your undergarments . . . sliding the fabric down to your knees. “make sure to use your pretty mouth and tell me when to stop . . kay?” shit, he could feel himself growing hard at just the thought of getting his hands on your luscious body. “because . . i think i’ll be too focused on how much you taste to even stop myself.”

your boyfriend settles to his knees, his cock straining against his pants. he licks his lips, teasing the soft flesh of your pussy before diving in. his tongue darts inside, circling your clit once. twice. he moans, his voice muffled by your cunt. he’s loving every second already, feeling your warmth enveloping his tongue. the larger male slid two fingers inside, his thumb pressing against your bud . . . setting a steady rhythm, working them with skill. he’s tasting nothing but his beloved’s delicious flavor, and he’s enjoying every second of it. “you . . . ah!—said you were inexperienced . .” he gazed up at you, those sweet eyes of yours were going to send him to the moon . . while his were sharp; and serious . . . as if daring you to deny him, to tell him no more, to push him away. but he knows you wouldn’t want him to stop, no . . not one bit. "i am.” “th-then why—mmh! you’re a liar, a big fat liar !”

“mhm . . say whatever you want.“ he purrs, his voice filled with wanton desire and smugness. his wet muscle teased around your wet folds, tracing a path as he ate you out like a starved man . . the way he moved his tongue against you felt good, almost too good for someone who was “inexperienced”. blush covered your entire face . . indicating just how embarrassed you were. the way he licked and sucked at your cunt drove you crazy. your boyfriend gave you a soft hum, feeling your body react to the gentle touch, the muscles in your thighs clenching. “so sensitive," he whispered, his expression a mix of pride and amusement, a hand gently stroking the side of your face. "—yet such a good girl. you’re taking this quite well.” his lips curled up into a devious grin, the sight of his pretty girl being weakened by his ministrations was only fuelling his fire. he revelled in that power, enjoying the ability to make you quiver and squirm. "you still good, baby?" he asked, amused, his hands moving in tandem with his tongue. he hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. just seeing your legs tremble so much . . . he already knew he was doing a good job, he could even feel the wetness coating his face, and he lapped it up hungrily, craving more.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “my darling girl with such a sweet pretty pussy . .” his tone was firm but filled with a promise of more pleasure to come; he wanted you to experience every inch of ecstasy he could give you. your boyfriend’s fingers slipped between your wet folds, desperate to get another reaction from you . . the constant sounds of slurping and sucking filled your ears, it almost felt wrong to listen to how well he was licking you up “such a liar . . . . hng. you were experienced all along!” his grin faltered for a moment as he heard the desperation in your voice, chuckling at your fucked-out expression. “you’ve got it all wrong,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’m only learning . . . i’ll get better, ‘promise.”

— CHOSO KAMO 、MICHAEL KAISER 、 RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 、reo mikage 、ARGENTI 、kamisato ayato 、MIYA ATSUMU 、SUNA RINTARŌ 、sunday 、RAFAYEL 、YUKICHI FUKUZAWA 、chuuya nakahara 、TAKUMA INO 、wriothesley 、JING YUAN 、 CHIGIRI HYOMA .

© 6GUMI 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

[sh1-n0bu]

hehehehheheheee pretty birb bf

winged bf who pick you up into their arms, gently cradling you as if you were made of glass and the finest jewelry as they tell you to “hang on” before unfurling their wings and taking off into the sky

winged bf who show you the beauty of flying, holding you securely in his arms as you take in the way how the world below you looks so small and beautiful. who only has a gentle smile on their faces as you point out the big apartments and parks where you go to for a picnic date. who only has eyes on you as you admire the twinkling lights of the world under you

winged bf who wrap their wing around you whenever you shiver, even if it was one of those annoying sudden ghost bump things you get out of the blue. he’s still worried, let him worry for you in peace😠

winged bf who plucks a feather out of their wing, gently tucking the soft feather into your hair, or on your jacket — wherever you want. he wants you to carry a piece of him to remind you by even though you regularly steal his clothes

winged bf who allows you to be only person to touch his wings, to care for them, to brush them, to just… well, touch them to your heart’s content really. he doesn’t care if you put the tip of his long feather ends over your lips, mimicking a mustache, he doesn’t care if you want to use it as a blanket, he doesn’t care if you wanna use the ends like a cat toy in front of his face. he’ll indulge in your silly shenanigans

winged bf who sheds at least once a year, filling your shared home with the old feathers. who is either smug about it or is apologetic as he helps you broom the excessive fallen feathers. at this point you could probably make a plushie or some sort of art project from the amount of feathers that he shed. to which he objects, saying these are all old and weakened feathers, offering his wing for you to pluck feathers from if you really wanna make an art project

winged bf who hides the two of you under his wing when cuddling in bed, the added layer of his own extra limb making the scene feel more intimate than it is. as if the entire world is blocked out, just a meager existence passing by as you two enjoy this moment of comfort as his wing becomes a curtain to give you two privacy

winged bf who sometimes gets too sexually frustrated and pent up with your curious hands constantly touching the place where his wing is connected to his back, the skin and muscles there are sensitive, making him jump in his seat whenever you do it to tease him

winged bf who knows that it isn’t your fault. you probably don’t know, you don’t have a wing after all, so you don’t know what it means when someone touches your wing. who only calms your worries with a forehead kiss, usually handling his problems himself

winged bf who lets out a whine into his hand, muffling the embarrassing noise as your hand wraps tighter around his cock. he was way too sensitive than usual and it was all because of your wandering hand on his wings. he probably should have explained it all to you but right now, he found his words escaping him, mind melting into a muddled mess as he finds his hands clawing at your own in desperation

winged bf who mumbles out a weak protest of being “s-sensitive! aaah… f-feels too sen—♡︎ sensitive! y-your haaandd♡︎” as his legs start to shake, staring through teary eyes as you coax out yet another climax out of him. his tip an angry cherry red from the continued torture of your hand, his slit weeping precum over and over again despite having just came, getting hard in your hand embarrassingly fast

winged bf who gets tortured by your loving hands for who knows how many times. his eyes are getting blurry and breathing started to hurt. even more, his dick was stinging, twitching every time your tight fist comes up to the tip, letting go briefly as if to taunt him, touching the dripping slit with the tip of your finger and making him whine loudly before fucking his cock into your hand again and again. this was just pure torture, he wanted to escape and run away but you were whispering such nice words to his ears. calling him your good boy, your angel, how you loved being with your beloved like this… could he really ever refuse you?

winged bf who gets more and more twitchy in your gentle hold as your hand picks up speed, the filthy wet noise of his earlier cum being used as a lube filling the room alongside his loud moans. who begs for you to not to touch his wing as it flutters around, dropping a feather or two onto the floor due to moving around so much. who only lets out a pathetic whimper of a “cuz’ ahh haamgh—! [n-name], please! please don’t—♡︎ d-don’t touch them...? they’re sensitive too aanh haagh mfgh♥︎!!” when you ask him why

winged bf who felt like his skin was on fire. everything felt too much but felt too little at the same time, his cock painfully hard again in your hold the moment you ran the tip of your finger over the bane of it. his muscles were getting tense, a strange sense of feeling coiling around in his stomach as you kiss the place where his wing and back connects, shifting around frantically with a chirp or a preen falling from his swollen lips

winged bf who weakly paws at your hand around his dick, wanting to push it away but chasing right after it with his hips as the strange feeling in his stomach just continues to grow worse. it didn’t felt like his usual orgasm, the way he would just fall apart in your hands. it felt more intense and that scared him. who cries out through loud whines and bitten back sobs that “f-feels weird!! aanhh haah [n-name]—! it mnggh♡︎ feels weird! my c-cock feels unnck haah ahh amhh weird♥︎♥︎!!”

winged bf who throws his head back into your shoulder, hands covering his beet red face as a scream tears through his lips, muscles tightening, body going taut in your arms when you gently bit into the base of his wing, your other hand keeping his wing in place so it wouldn’t flutter and knock you away as he fucking squirts into his stomach, painting his muscles and your hand white. who lets out soft chirps and noises, legs twitching and hands struggle to decide whether to hold onto you or to muffle his embarrassing noises

winged bf who only lets out weak noises and chirps when you try to communicate with him, asking him if he was doing alright and if your angel was with you right now after that overstimulating experience. who immediately hides within his wings the moment a sliver of sobriety hits him, too humiliated to even look you in the face because what was that? and why did he felt… so good?

winged bf who gives you a weak glare that you know isn’t exactly serious, pouting at you and complaining about how you messed up his mind and stuff. who lean into your touch as you push his hair away from him, getting to see the still reddened face and the few tear stains on his cheeks. who grumbles about how you have too much power over him when you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss to his pouting lips. who chase after you with a demand for a proper kiss this time

⇨ sephiroth, genesis, angeal, hawks, xiao, venti, angel devil, vash, knives, sunday, simeon, raphael + anyone you can think of!

[temporarytemporal]

cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

[satoriberry]

That’s called muscular system & adaptation yes

m - manipulative

u

s

c

u

l

a

r

explain this then.

[midnightspasms]

"Won't you sing for me?"

Sukuna sees when you sing to Uraume, and it fills him with a burning need to have you.

He watches you sit at his companion's feet, your head on their lap, and their hand twisted in your hair as you sing, so beautiful, so melodic.

Who are you? Some servant girl he has never once noticed. Some mere mortal he has never bothered with before.

How can this sound flow from mortal lips?

He watches, transfixed as you sing, standing just behind the doors that lead to the balcony from his room, feeling like a thief in his own home. His four eyes are trained on you, on the top of your head, as you keep singing.

You just keep singing!

'Is this sorcery?' He thinks as he turns back, away from the scene of your serenade.

That night, he calls you to his room for the very first time.

There is a stiffness in Uraume's stride as they enter the servant chambers to call you. Your chest beats hard as you make your way down the dark walls, goosebumps erupting all over your flesh as you're face to face with the mahogany doors of his rooms.

When you open, the king of Curses is sat languidly on the plush chair in the middle of his room, his thick legs spread wide with pride. His chest is bare, and it gleams, planes of muscle exposed to your eyes, his thighs barely covered by the white fabric of his kimono.

He is silent as he urges you forward, staring as you stand right before him.

He stretches out his hand to you then, his pupils dilated, but his eyes soft as he beckons you. "Closer," with a voice deep and smooth like warm honey.

He curls his fingers forward briefly as he calls you to him. And as though possessed by the heat of his gaze, you find yourself walking forward without hesitation.

When Sukuna sits you on his lap, your body feels as though it's been engulfed in flames. His lower pair of arms are on your thighs, monstrously large palms caressing the skin of your legs. The upper left arm supports his head, elbow on the arm of the chair, the upper right just resting against the other arm of his chair.

His touch is as hot as his gaze, and the proximity has your throat tightening and your stomach twisting.

He reaches under your clothing, and embarrassingly, your legs spread wider for his hand almost automatically. When his finger comes to touch the slick of your heat, your mouth falls open in a light moan.

His idle arm comes up to thumb at your bottom lip softly. Then the one that was just between your legs comes up too, rubbing your wetness on your mouth.

"Sing," Sukuna says to you with that honeyed voice, that tone that makes you desperate for his approval.

And you sing for him.

You sing until his hand is back between your legs.

You sing as he trails his fingers along your weeping slit.

You sing as he thumbs at your burning clit, pressing the rough pad of his thumb against the aching bud.

You sing as he plunges his fingers deep into your cunt.

You sing as he finger fucks you on his thighs, your legs parted, one foot planted on the armrest of his own chair as he thrusts and thrusts his thick fingers into you repeatedly.

You sing as your body succumbs to him, as your song becomes incoherent, desperate moans falling from your mouth as you coat his fingers in your cum.

You sing as he fucks you in that chair.

You sing as he fucks you in his bed.

You sing as he fucks you on the balcony where he first saw you, crying out as you're stretched wide on two large cocks, crying into the night as he fills you over and over and over.

And you still sing, as he takes you back into his bed, two arms possessive holding your weakened body to him.

You sing as you fall asleep in Sukuna's arms.

[brunchable]

UNDER HIS COMMAND [R 18+]

Steve Rogers × Agent!FReader

Words: 6.2K Warming: Age Gap (reader in early 20s), unprotected piv sex, domineering acts. oral (both receiving), dirty talk, praising. Summary: You drove Steve to his utmost limit, but what is it going to take to get him to calm down? A/N: I rewatched the old Marvel movies and have been feeling feral towards coughCAPT'Ncough. Bon appetitties?

The mission had gone sideways in a way that left Steve Rogers simmering with frustration. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, a foreign sensation that made his chest tight and his thoughts cloudy. You had gone against his direct orders, putting yourself in danger—again—and it had pushed Steve to his breaking point.

As you stood in your private cabin, both your voices echoing off the walls, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You had no right to do that, Y/N!” Steve’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharper and louder than you’d ever heard it.

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you fought back with all your frustration. "I made that call because it was the right thing to do! I was not going to allow those people to die just because you were excessively consumed with following the agenda!

Steve’s fists clenched at his sides, his muscles taut with barely restrained anger. “This isn’t about saving lives—it’s about you ignoring direct orders! You put yourself in danger, and you compromised the entire mission! You can’t just act on impulse and expect everything to work out!”

As he felt feelings he wasn't accustomed to expressing, his normally composed demeanor began to crumble under the strain of mounting aggravation. It frightened him that he could feel his grip weakening. He had never been so furious with you before; the level of intensity was nearly too much to bear.

You stepped closer, refusing to back down. “I thought about it! I knew exactly what I was doing, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat! You’re the one who doesn’t get it! You’re so obsessed with being in control that you can’t stand it when someone else makes a decision!”

“This isn’t about control, Y/N! This is about you thinking you know better than everyone else! You think you’re invincible, but you’re not! One day, your recklessness is going to get you in serious trouble and then what? How are we supposed to deal with that?” Steve’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as the anger threatened to spill over. 

Your eyes narrowed, your voice rising in anger matching his. “You’re the one who’s supposed to trust me! But you don’t! You can’t stand it when things don’t go according to your plan, so you lash out at me like I’m some kind of liability!”

Steve took a step closer, the space between you charged with tension. “I trust you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and watch you throw yourself into danger without a second thought! You didn’t see how close you came, Y/N. You didn’t see what I saw!”

“What you saw?” you shot back, your voice shaking with emotion. “You’re always trying to shield me from things, Steve, but you can’t keep doing that! I’m not a child! I’m your partner, and that means you have to let me make my own choices, even if they scare you!”

As Steve struggled to control the flood of emotions that were about to overflow, his breaths came in short, quick bursts and his palms quivered. 

“You think I’m trying to control you? I’m trying to keep you alive! I’m trying to make sure that you come back, every single time! But you… you don’t think about what that does to me.”

“And what about what it does to me? Every time you go off on some mission, every time you put yourself in danger without thinking about the consequences, do you know what that does to me? Do you?”

Steve’s face twisted with frustration, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “I do know. I know because I feel it too, every time you do something reckless, every time you make a decision that could get you. . .” He couldn’t  say the word, “And it terrifies me, Y/N. It terrifies me because one day, I might not be there to save you.”

Even though he looks angry, worry is visible in his eyes. You tightened your jaw because you were at a loss for words to respond to him.

Steve pivoted and stomped out of the room before you had a chance to reply. He had to escape for a moment to collect himself before he spoke a word he would regret. Heading directly for the woodpile, he stepped outside, his breath coming in quick, angry bursts.

By the time you caught up with him, Steve was already there, his jacket discarded on the ground. He grabbed the axe with a force that sent a jolt of pain through his arm, but he welcomed it. He needed to feel something physical, something tangible to anchor him in the midst of the storm raging inside him.

Without hesitation, he began chopping. The axe came down with a powerful swing, the wood splitting cleanly in half. But it wasn’t enough. The anger was still there, burning hot and fierce in his chest, so he swung again. And again. And again.

These pent-up emotions had been growing for weeks, if not months, and it was evident in every swing. The fear that he would lose you, the frustration that you didn’t seem to understand how much he cared, how much it hurt to see you risking your life time and time again. He was feeling helpless and that his only option was to keep chopping, to redirect his wrath onto something that wouldn't harm you or ruin everything both had built together.

Steve reached for yet another thick log, this one feeling rock-solid and unmoveable. None of that mattered. His muscles tensed as he lifted the axe above his head, and he lowered it with such power that the wood splintered. Although he felt the hit all over, it failed to provide him with the relief he had hoped for. He was being torn apart by the rage that remained dormant, just below the surface.

“So this is it? You’re just going to chop wood until the problem disappears?” Amidst the steady clack of the axe on wood, your irritated, sharp voice sliced through the air.

Steve didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The overwhelming wave of feelings he couldn't articulate washed over him, leaving him unable to speak. He swung the axe again, harder this time, as if he could somehow chop away everything he felt.

But then, a switch went off in his brain. That axe wasn't cutting it. He needed more—he needed to break something with his own hands, to feel the physical release of the anger that was consuming him.

He snatched up yet another log, this one heavier and thicker than the rest. His hands, still trembling with fury, gripped the log tightly. His muscles bulged as he poured all his anger, all his frustration, into his grip.

“Steve, talk to me! You can’t just—”

But before you could finish, Steve let out a low, guttural roar and pulled at the log with all his might. The wood resisted at first, but Steve was relentless. His biceps strained, his veins standing out against his skin, and with a deafening crack, the log gave way. He tore it in half with his bare hands, the wood splintering under the sheer force of his strength.

The pieces fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the sound almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You stood there, frozen, your breath caught in your throat as you watched Steve’s display of raw power. It was terrifying—seeing him so close to the edge, so consumed by anger—but it was also something else, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You were genuinely scared by his actions just now. The shock that he could lose control, that he could be so driven by his feelings, was a stark reminder of how much he cared, how deeply he felt. But alongside that shock was a rush of something primal, something that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush.

You shouldn’t have found it attractive—this display of strength—but you did. Seeing Steve like this, so powerful, so intense—he never bragged about his power, and it stirred something inside you that you couldn’t deny. Your body reacts before your mind could catch up, a rush of heat flooding your senses.

Steve turned to face you, his chest still heaving, his eyes blazing. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?” His voice was rough, almost broken. “That I’m okay with you going off on your own and putting yourself so close to death? Because I’m not!”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the chaos in his eyes. It made your heart ache. To him it didn’t matter if you were one of the best agents out there because he knew how life is so fragile, he knew because he's been around for ages—you forget that sometimes his cellular age is not twenty-seven.

For now, both of you stood there, the tension thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like an iron vice.

You took a shaky breath, the sound of it almost deafening in the quiet that had fallen between you. You knew you should say something, anything, to defuse the situation. But your throat felt tight, and the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to reconcile the man you love with the fury that had just been unleashed.

Steve’s chest heaved with each breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. He didn't know how to come down from the brink he'd been driven to, didn’t know how to deal with the mix of relief and frustration that you were standing in front of him, unharmed but defiant. 

His mind raced with the images of what could have happened, what might have happened if he hadn’t been there to pull you out of the fire. The thought was enough to make his vision blur with a fresh wave of anger and fear.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” Steve finally managed to say, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Do you understand that? I can’t. I don’t know what I’d do if something happens to you.” 

Your breath hitched, your heart hurt at the openness in his voice, and the urgent plea cut through your barriers. You knew how much he cared—how deeply he felt everything—but hearing it, seeing it in the way his hands shook, in the way his eyes were filled with unshed tears, made it impossible to stay mad.

Driven by a surge of emotion you couldn't contain, you briskly walked towards him. Steve kept his gaze glued onto you, anticipating your next move. In an instant, you closed the distance between you, your body moving on instinct alone. 

You leaped up, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss that was searing, desperate, and filled with every ounce of the fire that had fueled the argument.

His kiss was intoxicating. You pressed yourself against him, your body molding to his as you deepened the kiss, your mouth moving against his lips with a fervor.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin, and it only made you want him more, made you kiss him harder, as if you could imprint yourself on him, claim him in a way that left no room for doubt.

Steve's grip on you was bruising as his hands found your hips, pulling you even closer, his own body responding to the intensity of the moment. He angled his head, deepening the kiss further, your tongues clashing in a dance that was as much about dominance as it was about the overwhelming need to feel connected.

You let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating between you, spurring you both on. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you couldn't get enough. You shifted against him, your hips pressing into his, feeling the undeniable evidence of his desire for you, and it sent a jolt of heat through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn't because you wanted to, but because you both had to breathe. Your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling, both of them trembling from the force of what had just happened. 

Your breathing was ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Steve's eyes, blue like the ocean but filled with fire. The air between you crackled with an electric tension, the heat of your shared desire still burning hot.

“I’m still mad at you. Chopping wood was not enough,” Steve whispered his voice rough, “I hope you're prepared for that.”

“Try me.” You replied breathily against his lips. 

Steve didn't need any more encouragement.

When he reached the back-door, he didn’t hesitate. With a powerful kick, he busted it open, the door slamming against the wall with a force that echoed through the room and shook walls.

Steve's hands gripped you firmly as he turned, pinning you against the nearest wall, his body pressing onto yours, the solid weight of him making you gasp. His mouth found yours again, and the kiss, filled with intensity that left you both dizzy, desperate for more.

You could feel the way his body responded to your every touch, every kiss. Your hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscle, needing to hold on, to anchor yourself against the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Steve's grip on you tightened, his hands sliding from your hips to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver. The sensation sent a wave of heat rushing through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

“Y/N…” Steve's voice was low, a rough whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. You could feel the restrained tension in him, the way his body was coiled like a spring, ready to snap. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Shit. He swore. Now you know you're in deep trouble—and it excites you. You tightened your legs around his waist, leaning into him as you captured his lips once more, this time with even more intensity, more urgency.

Steve responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours in a kiss that was possessive. His hands roamed over your back, his touch firm, grounding you as you lost yourself in the taste of him. His touch ignited a trail of fire everywhere.

He pushes the hem of your shirt above your head and pulls off your black tee shirt, tossing it aside like it was nothing, exposing your bare breast, then his mouth devours you. He suckles and licks urgently, opening his mouth wider to envelop nearly your whole breast. It’s as if he wants to taste every inch of your skin all at once.

You moaned and arched your back, which thrusts your breast against his face, causing your fleshy mound to squeeze against him and bulge out at the sides. 

His hand, rugged and calloused from years of relentless work, moved with purposeful intent to the other. He gripped your breast firmly and began to knead, applying a rough pressure on your flesh.

You squeeze his shoulders, grasping at the starched cotton of his shirt. It feels manly under your palms. Your mouth drops open when the shape of his hard cock lines up perfectly against you, applying a delicious pressure you desperately need. 

“Oh my—Steve. . .”

Any self-preservation you've been holding on to evaporates at the feel of his hot length, and your hips tilt into him on their own. 

You groan simultaneously at the much-needed friction. His scent, his rough groans, the tight hold of his large hands, the stab of his hot tongue—everything about Steve is strong, hard, domineering, and so deliciously male. 

His mouth leaves your breast whispering into your ear, “Are you going to disobey me again?”

“I can't promise you that I won't.” You try to pull back and drop your legs, but he grips your thighs, holding them open, and presses his bulging cock onto you.

He loved the way you looked, the way you reacted, and he loved everything about you. You were the most precious thing in the world to him. So beautiful, so sweet, so giving and too damn good for him, but he was a selfish bastard and wouldn’t let you go.

Ever.

His breath fans over your neck, and he whispers dangerously. “That so?”

You didn’t notice how you both ended up in the bedroom until he shoved you toward the bed, because you found yourself falling onto it, the descent feeling agonizingly slow.

Your head turned sideways just as it was about to collide with the mattress, but you were too shocked to react, too numb to fight back against what was unfolding.

Steve moved with a swift, commanding presence, leaping onto the bed and straddling your torso with an authority that pinned you down. His shirt was already on the floor when you met his eyes—dark, angry. A side of him you're seeing for the first time in the bedroom.

His muscles are swollen from chopping all that wood and splitting one in half with his hands. His abs were a testament to the discipline and strength he had cultivated over the years. The six-pack was not just defined but chiseled, each muscle distinct and firm beneath the taut skin. 

He pushed your thigh open with his knee, his palm grazing from your stomach, between the valleys of your breasts, stopping at where your collar bone meets the base of your neck. 

All of your focus is on its path, and you quiver when his thumb now brushes the bottom curve of your breast. 

“This is mine.” He twists your nipple, sending shards of electricity tumbling through you, and you buck against him, lust completely taking over all your senses. 

“Yes,” You gasp and roll your hips, willing to say anything he wants to get him to continue touching you, searching for the right position to hit your clit with the head of his cock, desperate for more.

His chuckles tickle the sensitive shell of your ear, and a shiver runs through you as the sharp ridges of his teeth gently close on the soft earlobe. “Such a good girl all of a sudden?”

He drags his hand down your body, exploring it like he’s mapping every inch of you by touch alone. He forces your jeans off, almost ripping it in the process.

His thumb grazes your clit through your underwear, and a pained cry escapes your lips. He craves knowing the sounds you'll make as he drives his cock hard inside you. He'd make you beg for more until you scream out his name as he sear himself into your soul.

“Do you know what good girls get, Y/N?” He slides under the thin fabric and circles the spot you need him the most. “Good girls get to come.” 

“Please,” you beg. Every molecule of your being is focused on his fingers. The weight of the air around you compresses until it’s hard to suck in your next breath. Tension radiates as you wait for what happens next. His touch is the only thing that matters.

He shifts you so he can reach lower, sliding wet fingers through your slit, then circling your entrance. You whimper his name as he sinks two fingers inside you. 

“Look at you, soaked for me. Ready. This pussy knows she’s mine.” His voice is a dark rumble as he pumps his fingers in and out in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“I need more,” you grind out through your teeth.

“Take it. Fuck my fingers,” he orders you against your ear and loosens his hold to allow you to take control. 

You wrap your arm around his neck, leveraging yourself, and grip his hair as you work yourself on his fingers. 

Steve’s breath comes out in hot pants against your jaw, and he bites down on the edge at the same time his palm massages your clit. You forget to breathe as you rock against him, your head buzzing with the lack of oxygen.

“Oh yes, right there.” You gasped.

“That’s my pretty little pussy, fucking herself so well.” He adds another finger, and your world goes blank. All that’s left are his commands. “Come for me.”

Tingles shoot up your spine as your entire body pulls tight, and then your orgasm crashes over you in shuddering waves. “Steve.”

He pumps every last ounce of your release, his hands glistening. “That’s it. Say my name.” 

“Steve,” You say, barely a whisper.

He withdraws his finger then and lifts his hand to your face, pressing his finger against your lips. It’s the same finger that was just inside you. 

“Suck it,” he orders, and you obediently open your mouth, sucking the finger in. You can taste yourself, your own desire, and it makes you even more turned on. 

When he’s satisfied that the fingers are clean, he removes it from your mouth, grasping your chin with his hand instead, forcing you to meet his gaze, “I'm going to ask you again, are you going to disobey me?” 

You stare up at him, mesmerized by the dark blue striations in his irises. Your body is throbbing with need, desperately craving his possession. You want him to take you, to fill the aching emptiness within.

A smile of defiance crept on your lips as you cocked your head forward, “My answer remains that same.” 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.” he warns, voice low, and a tremble runs through you. 

Your instincts are on high alert, but you don’t try to pull away. You swallow hard. “What game?” 

“The one where you act like all has been put aside. That you don’t already know who you pissed off. Or do you need a reminder?” He shifts his grip and circles your neck with his fingers, resting them on your collarbone as a warning. 

Heat pours into your core, and your clit throbs. A low moan escapes you, and his smile turns dark. He pushes closer, bent so his breath fans against your mouth. 

“I’m going to spin you around and fuck your pretty pussy against this bed, I think it’s fair I take out my frustrations on you. I will make you beg so hard, because baby, I can do this all fucking day.” He said with grit. 

Your ears ring, and all your thoughts vanish with his words. You push yourself up, closing the distance between your mouths. He groans deep and takes over the kiss, running his tongue against yours until you're consumed by him. Your head feels light from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t pull away, letting him do whatever he wants to you.

There’s a power that surges inside you, giving in to his control. No matter his threats, you know if you told him to stop, he would. 

He’s not gentle when he flips you on your stomach. His hands fisted at your hips and you heard a snap as he tore your panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred your desire to a fever pitch. 

You hear him unzip his jeans, and in your attempt to look, he presses your head hard into the mattress. Then, you feel him pulling while he collects all of your hair and wraps it around his hand with the intention of using it as a rein. 

You let out a whimper when Steve tugged harder. You don’t hesitate to move when his foot meets yours and spreads your legs further apart. He grunts in approval and runs his fingers up your slit, before his erection brushed between your legs as he moved and you whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given you earlier had only deepened your craving rather than appeased it. 

Then he shifts his hips a little and uses his hand to guide his shaft toward your opening. You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he begins to push inside. You're extremely wet, but you still feel uncomfortably stretched as he slides in all the way. Steve doesn’t give you time to adjust before withdrawing and slamming in again, his thrust doling out punishment and pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hisses when you squeeze around him, and a sharp slap lands on your ass. “You’re so tight.”

You bite your lower lip, trying to cope with the burning, too-full feeling. You clutch at the bed sheets, needing something to hold on to as the familiar tension starts to gather low in your belly. The head of his cock brushes against that sensitive spot somewhere inside you. You gasp as he pulls your hair harshly making you arch to take him deeper, needing more of that intense sensation, wanting to bring you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Steve, yes,” you cried, finding your face pressed into the mattress again and you could hardly breathe. All you can feel is him: the back-and-forth movement of his thick cock inside your body, the heat emanating from his skin. 

In this position, he goes deep, even deeper than usual, and you can’t help the pained gasps that escape your throat as the head of his cock bumps against your cervix with each thrust of his hips. Yet the discomfort doesn’t seem to prevent the pressure growing inside you again, and you feel climax coming again, your inner muscles clenching helplessly around his shaft.

“Oh no you don't,” He groans harshly, sensing that you're about to come. Then he pulls out. Leaving a void of emptiness that aches. The womanly fluids that leak down your thighs now felt cold, before you could protest, Steve flips you again and your eyes finally get to lay upon his magnificence, his erection at your eye level.

But all he does is look at you, a mocking half-smile playing on his beautiful lips. “You think I’m going to come inside you, Y/N?” he asks softly. “Is that what you’re expecting me to do?”

You blink, startled by the question. Of course you expect him to do that. You did something that upsetted him. Apparently reading the answer on your face, he smiles wider. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not exactly in a generous mood.” 

“Sit up and suck it,” he murmurs, looking down at you.

Aroused by the command, you fluttered your tongue across the underside and shivered with delight when he rewarded you with a hot burst of pre-cum. Fisting the root of him with one hand, you hollow your cheeks and draw rhythmically.

You cup his balls in your other hand and squeeze them lightly. He groans, his eyes closing and his hand fisting your hair, and you continue, moving your mouth up and down on his cock, swallowing him deeper every time.

Your head bobbed as you pleasured him, jacking him with one hand while you sucked and stroked the crest with your mouth. Heavy veins coursed the length of his cock, and you slid the flat of your tongue along them, tilting your head to find and caress each one. 

He swelled, growing thicker and longer.

“Baby, you suck me so good.” He held your head still and took over. Thrusting his hips. Fucking your mouth. Stripped to a level of base need where only the race to orgasm mattered.

You gripped his straining thighs in both hands, frantically working your lips and tongue, desperate for his climax. His balls were heavy and big, an audacious display of his powerful virility. You cupped them, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten and draw up.

“Ah, Y/N.” His voice was a guttural rasp. His grip tightened in your hair. “You’re making me come.” 

The first spurt of semen was so thick, you struggled to swallow. Mindless in his pleasure, Steve was thrusting against the back of your throat, his cock throbbing with every wrenching pulse into your mouth. You eyes watered and your lungs burned, but still you pumped your fists, milking him. His entire body shuddered as you took everything he had. The sounds he made and the muttered, breathless praise were the most gratifying you'd ever heard. 

You licked him clean, keeping eye contact the entire time, marveling at how he didn’t fully soften even after an explosive orgasm. He was still capable of fucking you senseless and more than willing to, you knew. He wasn't kidding when he says he can do it all fucking day.

× × × ×

“OH, God.” Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, your back arching as Steve pinned your hips to the bed and his lips circled your clit and his cheeks hollowed. Sucking rhythmically, he massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of his tongue.

Your skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, your vision blurring as your core tightened viciously in preparation for orgasm. Your pulse was thrumming and racing. You've comed twice already, as much from the sight of his blonde head between your legs as from his wickedly gifted mouth. 

“I’m ready.” You pushed your fingers into his hair, feeling the dampness at the roots. His restraint was costing him. You're overstimulated and he's taking the time to make sure you are soft and wet before filling you too full with his long, thick cock.

“I’ll decide when you’re ready.”

“I need you inside me, please. I won’t disobey your orders again.” You pleaded, bucking your hips towards his face.

“You ache without my cock inside you. You’ll say anything to have me there.” Steve crawled toward you like a sleek panther on the prowl.

“Yes.”

He hovered over you, his big body casting a shadow over yours. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth and lightly traced the seam of your lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“You crave it. You feel empty without it.” 

“Yes, damn you.” You gripped his lean hips, arching upward to try to feel his body against your. You never felt closer to him than when you were making love, and you needed that closeness now, needed to feel like you were okay.

He settled between your legs, his erection lying hard and hot between the lips of your pussy. 

“I need you,” you breathed, rubbing your wet cleft shamelessly along the heated length of his cock.

“Not yet.” He moved, rolling his hips to find you with the broad head of his penis. He pushed gently against you, parting you, spreading you open as he slipped just the tip inside. You writhed against the tight fit, your body begging. 

“Fuck me. God … just fuck me!” 

Steve reached down with one hand and grabbed your hip, stemming your frenzied attempts to push up and take more of him.

You fought his hold. Your nails dug into the tight curves of his ass and you tugged him against you. If you didn’t get him in you, you thought you'd lose your mind. 

“Give it to me!”

Steve slid his hand into your hair, fisting it to hold you where he wanted you. “Look at me.” 

“Steven!” 

“Look at me.”

You stilled at the command in his voice. You stared up at him, your frustration melting as you watched a slow, gradual transformation sweep over his handsome face.

With his eyes still on yours, he reached beside him to claim your wrists. One at a time, he lifted your arms over your head, restraining you. Pinned to the mattress by his grip, his weight, and his unflagging erection.

Steve slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, his face taut with lust and his eyes glittering. You hold his gaze, fascinated by the fierce need you see there.

He began to thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of your cunt with the thickly veined length of his big cock. Claiming you. Possessing you.

You can hear his harsh breathing, and you know that he’s exerting a lot of control over himself, that he probably wants to fuck you harder but is trying not to ‘damage you beyond repair.’ Nevertheless, his movements cause your insides to twist and churn, causing you to cry out with every stroke.

“I love you.” your voice is barely audible, each word feeling like it’s being wrenched out of your very soul.

You can see his pupils dilating while grinding breathlessly, “Tell me again.” 

“I love you.” which came out like a small, helpless sound.

“I love you too.”

Struggling with the grinding urge to rock into the ferocious thrusts of his big cock. He shoved his other hand beneath your hip, cupping your rear and lifting you into his thrusts so that his cock head stroked over and over the spot that ached for him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at you, yanking your hips up to meet his punishing strokes. 

“Yes, yes! Come inside me.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Steve hit the end of you with every deep thrust, battering into you. You could feel him growing harder and thicker. You watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for you. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax. 

“Y/N, I'm coming!” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted you with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his cock jerking as it pumped thick spurts of scorching semen into you.

You climaxed in a rush that had you sobbing his name, your bodies convulsing as the sensation enhanced and magnified by the way he’d controlled your body. 

Steve laid on top of you, waiting for his cock to get soft before he pulled out. Your body remains convulsing under him.

“You’re a machine,” you told him, trying to catch your breath. “Or a god.”

Steve let out a low, breathless chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as he held you close. He laid beside you, his chest was still heaving from the intensity of what you had just done, but there was a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. Steve shifted slightly, so he could meet your eyes, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice rough and warm from exertion. “But as much as I like the sound of being a god,” he continued, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I think I’d rather just be the man who’s lucky enough to have you in his arms.”

“Just don’t pull a stunt like that on me again and I’ll be fine,” he responded, his tone a mix of lingering concern and affection. But there was still an edge to his voice.

“But it’s against my nature to ignore—” you started, trying to explain yourself, but Steve cut you off, his gaze intense.

“Do I have to impregnate you? For you to think more carefully?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rough, teasing tone that sent a shiver down your spine. The words were provocative, laced with a mix of frustration and possessiveness that made your breath catch.

Your eyes widened slightly at his bold statement, your heart skipping a beat as the meaning of his words sank in. There was a challenge in his eyes, but also a deep-seated need—a desire to protect you, to keep you safe in a way that was so intensely Steve.

“Is that what it’s going to take?” he continued, his tone softening just a bit, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered. “Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re careful out there. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your mind racing with his words and the seriousness behind them. He wasn’t just teasing; there was a part of him that meant every word. It was possessive, yes, but it was also born from a place of deep love and fear of losing you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Steve’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Good,” he murmured against your mouth, his tone still laced with that protective tone. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight, not if I can help it.”

[azrielsrealmate]

never just a best friend

azriel x reader

summary: your best friends offers a massage after a stressing day, only that his hands end up slipping to dangerous places.

warnings: smut

word count: 2k

Your feet ached, your head throbbed, and your skin itched in places you couldn’t reach to scratch. And your back—God, your back hurt.

You just needed a break. A break longer than the eight hours of sleep you rarely had time to get.

Azriel’s gaze from where he sat at the edge of your bed made the back of your neck burn. So you hurried to pull your shirt over your head, and the feeling disappeared, knowing he’d look anywhere but at you while you changed. You almost sighed in relief, almost rubbed the space between your brows. But instead, you unclasped your bra and slipped into a shirt several sizes larger than what you usually wore.

You hadn’t deliberately chosen Azriel’s shirt to breathe in the comforting scent of cedar and mist instead of the tobacco and beer your idiot ex had left lingering everywhere. You really hadn’t. But it was a relief you hadn’t known you needed.

“What happened?”

A simple question, but spoken in that voice, deep yet so soft, like silk brushing against clean skin, it almost made you sob.

What happened wasn’t the question; the question was why you felt so easily overwhelmed. You turned to look at him, and the caramel color of his eyes softened as he read how overstimulated you felt. He stood up, and even from the distance between you, you could clearly see how tall he was.

He crossed the space in mere seconds, and his scarred palm found your cheek, cradling it tenderly. Your eyes closed involuntarily. The warmth of his hand melted your mind, sending the hot liquid of it out of your body in the form of a sigh.

“What happened?” he repeated again.

You sighed.

“Adrik.” You said the name of your ex, not needing to open your eyes to know that Azriel’s features had hardened.

You spent so much time watching him that you’d almost memorized his micro-expressions.

“I ran into him at the café next door, and…” your best friend’s thumb stroked your cheek, encouraging you to continue. “Well, obviously, it didn’t end well.”

“What did he do?” Azriel asked, his voice rough. So different from how he’d asked what happened earlier. You could hear the sharp undertone clearly.

You’d been through this before.

You shook your head and moved his hand away from your cheek, your thumb tracing a small caress on his skin before letting go. You took off your pants, because you slept with little clothes, and you sighed heavily, walking toward your side of the bed.

“He just stuck to me like the worm he is.” You didn’t even want to imagine what would happen to the poor drunk Adrik if you let go of the weakening reins on Azriel. The muscles under your skin tingled pleasantly just thinking about it. Adrik had treated you so poorly, and it would be so easy to let Azriel handle him…

But, no. No. You weren’t doing this.

You sat on the bed, feeling your body tense slightly under his gaze. He studied you as if he wanted to squeeze out that feeling he knew existed in you, the one you worked so hard to push down, to extract and stretch it so he could examine it.

“What do you mean by…” his brows furrowed, finally processing your words.

You didn’t let him finish.

“Damn it, Azriel, he left after two minutes. Please, just lie down, I’ve had the worst day ever,” you pleaded, feeling a cramp run down your back. “And to top it all off, my back hurts,” you complained.

You heard Azriel exhale. It took him a fraction of a second to speak.

“I can see the tension in your muscles from here,” he said.

You rolled your shoulders, as if that would bring relief.

“It’s not that bad.”

He didn’t pay you the slightest attention.

“Where did you leave the oil from last time?” The last time he’d worked a wonderful massage on your back, you could swear it could have made you finish faster than Adrik ever had.

The silence in the room grew thicker as Azriel waited for your response. You knew he wouldn’t move until you told him. Not because he was pressuring you, but because he wanted to take care of you. As he always did.

“It’s in the nightstand, top drawer,” you replied, trying to sound casual, even though you knew exactly what it meant once he put his hands on you.

Azriel walked over to the nightstand, pulled out the small bottle of oil, and held it in his hand for a moment, assessing your state. His eyes met yours, and something in his gaze made your breath quicken slightly. It wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a massage, but this time, there was a tension between you that you couldn’t ignore, not when it made anticipation itch in your skin.

“Take off your shirt,” he instructed, his voice soft but firm. Your heart skipped a beat, and you hesitated for a moment, but seeing the calm in his eyes, you made up your mind. Slowly, you removed your shirt, revealing your body covered only by a tiny black thong.

Azriel swallowed, his eyes darkening slightly as they roamed over your figure. You felt a warmth spread across your skin under his intense gaze, but you remained still, waiting for his next move.

He approached, leaned in, and his large, warm hands grabbed your hips, quickly dragging you until you were sitting where he could rest his hands on your shoulders first, beginning with a light pressure. His touch was firm but gentle, and he began working on your tense muscles, gliding down your back with expertise. The oil, warm against your skin, made it easier for his hands to move as he focused on relaxing you.

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt a knot dissolve under his fingers. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear.

“Let go of all that tension,” he murmured, his voice rough with concentration as his hands traveled down your back to the curve of your waist, his thumbs pressing gently at the base of your spine.

A low moan escaped you, and you closed your eyes, allowing the pleasure of the massage to envelop you completely. Azriel continued, his hands moving confidently, exploring every inch of your lower back, dangerously close to the edge of your thong. His touch was addictive, and though you tried to stay calm, you felt your body reacting to every caress, every calculated pressure.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look,” Azriel whispered, his voice vibrating against your skin as his hands paused for a moment, just above the line of your thong. The heat in his voice made you shiver.

Opening your eyes, you turned your head slightly to look at him, finding his face close to yours, his eyes locked on yours. The tension in the room became almost palpable, and in that instant, you knew you had crossed a line.

Azriel lowered his hands, sliding them down your hips to the edge of your thong, slowly—too slowly.

He stopped in the curve of your hips, squeezed the flesh, in his hands, feeling and appreciating them. And slowly, he guided one hand toward your abdomen, the other toward your ribs.

You whimpered slightly, needily, your breath heavy.

“Be patient,” he murmured against your ear, your eyes fluttering closed. You felt the warmth of his hand move up to cup one of your breasts, relishing its size. Your brows arched. “Az…” you sighed.

His other hand slid down to slip under the fabric of your black thong, finding there a wetness that made him hum in satisfaction.

“So wet, all this for me?” You moaned again, struggling to keep your eyes open.

His scarred fingers explored your wetness, tracing a line from your entrance to your clitoris, spreading all your arousal. He drew a circle on your clit, torturously slow, tentative, you might have said if your brain weren’t mush.

Your back arched again. “Azriel,” you moaned his name, and he, in turn, growled in your ear.

“Do you like that?” he asked, and you realized he wanted an answer when he stopped his fingers.

“Yes, yes!” you pleaded, almost desperately.

Azriel let out a low sound, almost a growl, upon hearing your response, satisfied with the power he had over you in that moment. His hand remained still, his fingers barely brushing your clit, enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to give you the relief you so desperately craved. The tension in the room was palpable, each passing second seemed to stretch time, amplifying the desire that wrapped around you.

“If you enjoy it so much,” he murmured against your neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine, “then you’re going to wait a little longer.”

The sweet agony of anticipation spread through your body as Azriel maintained that light, frustrating touch that made every fiber of your being burn with desire. You tried to move, seeking more of him, more of that contact that promised so much, but his hands became firm, holding you in place.

“Don’t move,” he ordered gently, and there was an authority in his voice that made you obey without hesitation. There was something about the way Azriel controlled you, how he handled your body with such precision, that made you feel vulnerable and at the same time completely safe. You felt the heat of his body against your back, his hardness pressed against you as his scarred fingers moved again, this time applying more pressure on your clit. The pleasure that blossomed from that simple touch was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but moan, arching your back to get closer to him.

"Good girl," Azriel whispered, his tone laden with satisfaction as he increased the rhythm of his caresses. You felt his other hand slide up your abdomen, moving up to caress your breasts, squeezing them with a possessiveness that made your breath catch in your throat. His lips pressed against your neck, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his fingers continued to play with your wetness.

“I want you to come for me,” he growled against your ear, his voice a comman. And with that, his movements became more intense, more urgent. The sweet torture he’d imposed on you faded into a wave of pleasure so overwhelming that it left you trembling, your moans turning into cries of pleasure as you approached the edge. His fingertips skilfully working on your clit.

Azriel’s fingers worked with expert precision, pushing you closer and closer to the precipice of an orgasm, until you finally exploded in a wave of pure pleasure, your body trembling as you were suddenly blind and deaf from pleasure. You let out a long, satisfied moan as Azriel’s name escaped your lips in a sigh, your whole being consumed by the heat of that moment.

And even as the pleasure began to fade, Azriel didn’t stop. His hands continued to explore your body, his lips still pressed against your neck, leaving wet kisses that sent delicious shivers through your spine. The sensation of his touch, so skilled and confident, combined with the residual pleasure of your orgasm, left you breathless, utterly spent in his arms.

When you finally came down from that blissful high, you turned to look at him, finding a possessive gleam in his eyes, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Well, you had never considered him just your best friend.

"I hope your back doesn’t hurt anymore.”

[casually-eat-my-soul]

We really need to talk about the fact the stiles was prepared to drown to keep Derek alive.

He was treading water for two hours with Derek weight on him and only when his muscles started to give up did he try and hang onto the diving board. If Scott didn’t get there in time both stiles and Derek would have drown.

Also they couldn’t have been completely silent the entire time. Do you think as they both felt stiles weaken that they’d have to come to grips with the idea of dying. Do you think how Derek was paralyzed in the arms of a human (he doesn’t trust humans) and spent the entire time thinking “well this is the moment he’s going to let me go and I drown”; and how shocked he must of been when stiles refused to let him go. I know that stiles was definitely thinking about his dad. I wonder when the moment was that they realized they might die in that pool. The final moments before they both went under when stiles is trying so hard to keep them both alive. The way that stiles talks about drowning after this incident.

I really feel like we don’t talk about this enough.

[anantaru]

imagine: dating alhaitham and waiting for the right time to have sex for the first time :))) (ps. ur my favorite writer <3 xx)

cw. his cock is big in this fic (and in general), passionate and hot and sexy and yum yum bark, fem! reader

alhaitham and you wanted to wait for the right time before you took the next step in your relationship, when the both of you would truly be ready to have sex for the first time— and when he touches you within the fullness of the night, his personality shows two different types.

one being reflective and patient, inspecting the way your body reacts to him while on the other hand, he was shapeless, needy and almost, feral.

he wets his lips in concentration, his weight lingering against your stomach as you couldn't stop your body from shivering out of anticipation that shot through your muscles and pores before looking at the lust in his eyes, the hunger in his expression.

the softness of your skin blossoms beneath his hand as his ears were weakened by the sound of your angelic tunes and whimpers, his finger tips set out with a plan to caress and stroke every nook and cranny of your skin.

"are you alright? d-does that feel good?" he asks and kisses along your cheek, his solid erection sliding through your wetness as you nod eagerly.

answering him with a tranquil whisper, his cock pounds in and out of your warmth as his strong hands instantly grip at your wrists to draw them above your head, pinning them there.

"it— it's so good—" and after your moans, your body warns you with goosebumps rising on your skin in combination with your back arching, your head floating as you gasp out his name again, each time getting louder, needing him close, your teeth digging into his shoulder as gently as you could.

inside this inferno, you struggled, desperate to touch alhaitham too, you almost feel bad that he was the one doing all the work when in reality, the scribe wanted nothing more but to make you feel good tonight, stroke and lick and touch you like you deserve.

your breathing was ragged at how he continuously changed between being overly sweet and caressing to rough and ruthless. the first new taste of his hips smacking forward and beginning to roughly pound you made your blood sing, your heart thumping in your chest.

alhaitham swallows a sound that certainly could not be a whimper, it was more— you simply were too much for him, feeling too tight when he bulges you apart on every single thrust of his cock, your pussy squeezing him like you're going to end up suffocate him dearly.

you stifle a shudder that no doubt promised an imminent climax as you prepared to take it for him, cum with him at the same time, aching by the solid bulk burning in and out your hole, inch by inch until you're moaning into each others lips.

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