#then hands me the controller to finish things off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonstruckme · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! So I have the issue where I’m not able to turn my brain off I guess and I’m having to constantly be aware of everything happening around me and managing everyone because if I don’t do it no one will. It’s so tiring to never have a minute to not be a very aware of every little thing. That being said, could I request a Remus or poly!marauders where reader is able to not be in constant manage mode? I know that’s really weird and if it’s too much just ignore this. Thank you for everything you do on here ❤️

Not weird! Very relatable actually haha. Thank you for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 823 words

“I like my system,” James says as you kneel in front of his suitcase, folding shirts. “My pants go on that side, then shirts in one corner and the rest in the other.”

“I don’t think it counts as a system if you’re just piling stuff in, Jamie.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, doesn’t it bother you that they’re all wrinkled?” You frown, taking out a balled-up pair of trousers. It bothers you, and they’re not even your clothes.

“Not really, no. It’s a holiday, lovie, who am I trying to impress?”

“Um, me?” Sirius shoots a look across the bedroom. He’s busy stuffing things into his own suitcase on the other side of the bed.

“Oh, always,” James says gamely. “But you love me whether my shirts are wrinkled or not, don’t you?”

Sirius makes a wishy-washy noise that sees James tossing a pair of socks at his head. He dodges and they bounce to the floor.

“Did you remember your glasses cleaner?” you ask James, feeling about the pockets of his suitcase.

“All under control, angel. It’s in my backpack.”

“Perfect.” You finish neatly folding the last of his things and stand to kiss him. “Thanks.”

“Thank you. Though you didn’t have to fold my underwear, I could have managed that myself.”

“It was no problem.” You round the bed to where Sirius is packing, peering down at his suitcase.

He looks up with a raised brow. “Can I help you?”

“Are you packing your conditioner?”

Sirius’ other brow comes up to join the first. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with my hair smelling lovely?”

“No.” You smile, rolling your eyes when he pinches the back of your thigh playfully. “Just remember that it has to be under a hundred milliliters if you’re not checking your bag.”

“I’ve got it, doll. You worry about your milliliters, and I’ll worry about mine, m’kay?”

You hum. “And, um…”

“What?” Sirius’ tone is dry, but it’s all fondness in the tilt of his mouth as he looks up at you. “You gonna fold my underwear, too?”

“No, just, have you eaten? I don’t know if we’ll have time to eat at the airport.”

“I think Remus wants you, sweetness.”

“Hm?”

Sirius points with his chin, and you turn to find Remus watching you from the doorway to the bedroom. He looks a particular brand of appealing in his travel clothes. The trackies James got him for Christmas probably shouldn’t go so well with his overlarge jumper, but Remus being Remus, of course it works. He beckons you toward him.

“Oh, okay.” You glance back at Sirius one more time as you go. “Don’t forget to take your lighter out of your bag, security will take it away.”

“Love you too!”

“Hi,” you say to Remus, who wordlessly folds you into a hug as soon as you leave the bedroom. “Everything okay?”

He hums. “Everything’s great, yeah. Are you excited to go?”

You’re bemused but pleased by his hand running up and down your spine, his freshly shaven jaw pressed to your temple. “I am, yeah.”

“Mm. Relaxed?”

“I’m…yeah, sure.”

Remus chuckles softly. “You seem a bit strung up, lovely. Are you all packed?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Me too. Anything else you need to do before we go? Have you eaten?”

“I ate, yeah.” You glance back towards the bedroom, the movement almost involuntary. “I think I just need to make sure—”

“You’re all ready then?”

It’s not like Remus to cut you off, but when you turn back around his expression is all fond patience.

“I think so,” you say. “At least, my stuff is all done.”

“Perfect.” He kisses your head, then takes your hand, leading you away from your boyfriends. “Let’s relax for a bit while they finish up, then, yeah?”

You let Remus guide you to the couch. At first sitting, then curling up against his side, your head resting over the steady beat of his heart. His hand runs up and down your arm, and slowly the tension seeps out of you.

“Sorry,” you say after a while. “Was I being annoying?”

“No,” Remus reassures you. “Of course not. You’re only helping. You just don’t have to, you know?”

You cringe at yourself. At the clarity of hindsight. “Nobody asked for my help.”

“We’re adults,” he agrees. “We don’t need to be managed—or we shouldn’t. If Sirius packs too much conditioner, he can sort it out himself.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Remus tuts, kissing the top of your head. “Please don’t be sorry. We all just want you to be able to relax. Give yourself a break, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You snuggle closer to him, letting the last of the tension sap from your body. “That doesn’t sound so awful.”

“I’m glad.” The smile is audible in Remus’ voice. He rubs your arm again, encouraging you to relax further.

“But what if James doesn’t know—”

“Dove. He’ll figure it out.”

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loafysainz · 12 hours ago

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Hey I loved your stories with Lando and the twins being clingy:)

Do you think you could write something where Lando is streaming or getting filmed( like the 24 hour video with angry ginge) and the twins can’t leave him alone. Like they want to help with the workout and sit on his lap the whole time.

NEW STREAMER | LN 4

lando norris!dad x fem!reader!mom

warn: fluffffffffff

anw theyre not twins Noah is (5) & Leo (3), Thank you so much for the req! I hope you like it!!! 🤍

Lando was mid-game, headset on, fingers quick on the controller as he and Max Fewtrell played yet another round of whatever game they were obsessed with that week. His stream chat was buzzing, the viewers thoroughly entertained by the usual banter between the two.

“Bro, you literally threw—” Max was saying, but before he could finish, the door behind Lando suddenly burst open with dramatic force.

BANG.

In came a blur of curly-haired chaos: Noah (5) and Leo (3), charging straight at him like tiny human missiles. Their tiny footsteps pattered against the floor, and before Lando could even turn around, two little missiles launched themselves at him.

“DADDYYYYY!”

Lando barely had time to react before they tackled him. “Oi, oi, what’s this? what are you two doing? It’s way past your bedtime.” he laughed, quickly muting his mic as the two little ones climbed onto his lap like they owned the place.

Noah pouted. “Not sleepy.”

Leo, the youngest one, rubbed his little fists over his eyes, betraying the fact that he was absolutely sleepy but fighting it like a true warrior. “I miss Mommy.” His voice wobbled slightly, and his big brown eyes were already glassy with unshed tears.

And just like that, Lando felt his heart squeeze.

Lando instantly softened. He didn’t even hesitate before pausing the game and wrapping both kids in his arms. “Oh, come here,” he murmured, setting his controller aside to properly hold them. He knew Y/N was off having her well-deserved girls’ trip, but apparently, bedtime was a struggle without her.

“You miss Mommy, huh?” he murmured, pressing kisses onto their soft little heads.

Both boys nodded, Noah sniffing as he clung to his dad’s hoodie. “Yeah. When’s mommy coming back?”

Lando rubbed soothing circles on their backs. “She’s having her girl’s trip. She’ll be back in a few days.”

Leo sniffled dramatically. “That’s so looooong.”

“Oi, don’t be dramatic,” Lando teased gently. “You guys have me! Isn’t that enough?”

Noah wrinkled his nose. “Mmm…”

Max burst into laughter on the other end of the call. “Oh my God, your own kid just humbled you.”

Lando sighed. “Alright, you wanna help me with the game?”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. Leo, already making himself at home on Lando’s lap, rested his cheek against his dad’s chest. “Wanna help,” he mumbled sleepily.

Lando grinned and handed them his spare controller, even though it wasn’t actually connected. “Alright, but we keep it chill.”

The next few minutes were absolute chaos. Noah kept pointing at things on the screen, bombarding Lando with rapid-fire questions. “What’s that? Who’s that guy? Why did you do that? Can I do that?”

Lando answered every single one patiently while simultaneously trying not to get eliminated in-game. Meanwhile, Leo was just pressing random buttons on his fake controller, babbling nonsense as if he was actually playing. Occasionally, he’d giggle in pure delight, making Lando’s heart melt on the spot.

Max, amused, decided to include chat. “Alright, boys, say hi to chats.”

Noah, ever the confident one, waved. “Hello, Chats!”

Leo, though, hesitated before tilting his head. “Umm… who we talking to? What they look like? I can’t see them daddy” His little voice, still holding onto that babyish lisp, made the words even more adorable.

Lando, Max, and literally everyone in chat laughing out loud.

Lando actually had to take a deep breath from laughing. “They’re… um, they’re just watching through the screen, buddy. They’re just like you.”

Leo frowned, like he was trying very hard to understand. Then, after a long moment, he nodded. “Okay. Hi, people in the screen!”

The chat exploded

“THE BABIES ARE HERE EVERYONE STAY CALM”

“Leo is literally the cutest thing ever”

“Noah asking 500 questions per second LMAO”

“Y/N better watch out, Lando violated the children's screen time.”

“They miss their mama :(((((”

Lando, still grinning, let them push random buttons as the game continued. It was chaotic, to say the least—Noah kept trying to actually play, while Leo just mashed buttons with all the confidence of a pro-gamer. Lando didn’t even care that they were losing horrendously; seeing them smile made it worth it.

But soon enough, it was obvious that tiredness was creeping in. Leo’s blinks were getting slower, and Noah, while still trying to act tough, was yawning every few minutes.

Lando glanced at the time. “Alright. One last round, then it’s bedtime.”

Noah groaned. “But—”

“No buts!” Lando cut in, ruffling his hair.

As the game went on, Noah continued to give commentary like a tiny sports analyst, and Leo just… slowly melted against Lando, his chubby cheek squished adorably against his dad’s chest.

Lando stood carefully, cradling Leo in one arm while holding Noah’s hand with the other. “Alright, chat, I gotta go be a dad now. Thanks for hanging out, and I’ll see you all next time.”

Max smirked. “Gotta keep Dad Lando’s rep as the best bedtime storyteller, huh?”

Lando grinned. “Exactly.”

By the time it ended, Lando was ready to sign off. He gave the camera a fond smile. “Thanks for hanging out—Noah, say bye.”

“Bye, people!”

Lando turned to Leo, who was now fully slumped against him, half-asleep. “Leo, say bye.”

Leo, eyes barely open, mumbled, “Bye, screen people.”

As Lando wrapped up the stream, the chat was already buzzing with questions.

“Awwwww Leo knocked out”

“Noah be like ‘one more game’ energy”

“GOODNIGHT BABIES”

“Where’s y/n?”

Before turning off the stream, Lando replied “Y/N’s having a girls' trip, so I’m on dad duty. And these two little spiderman need to sleep before I get in trouble!”

“Alright, bedtime, you little spiderman.”

Noah yawned. “Can we call mommy first?”

Lando smiled. “Of course, mate. Let’s go tuck in and give her a call.”

And with that, he carried his sleeping toddler and led his other sleepy one down the hall, heart full, and already excited to tell Y/N all about their little adventure.

Lando and Noah was quietly talking with Y/N in their shared bed, Leo stirred at the sound of their voices. Still half-asleep, he shuffled closer, rubbing his eyes.

“Mommy,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “I talk to screen people.”

Lando chuckled softly, smoothing Leo’s curls. “Yeah, you did, buddy.”

Y/N’s voice came through the phone. “Did he really?”

Noah immediately jumped in. “Mommy, when are you coming home? I miss you.”

Leo pouted, now fully awake and climbing onto Lando’s chest. “Come home, mommy.”

Lando sighed dramatically, squeezing them both. “Yeah, when are you coming home? We’re suffering over here.”

Y/N just smiled on the screen, watching her boys pile up on Lando. “I’ll be home soon.”

Lando huffed, leaning his head back against the pillow. “Not soon enough.”

The boys continued to mumble sleepy protests, but eventually, exhaustion won over. One by one, they drifted off, little hands clutching Lando’s hoodie.

As he looked at Y/N on the screen, he sighed. “Seriously, though. I miss you.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “I know.”

Lando groaned playfully, nuzzling his cheek against Leo’s soft curls. “Hurry up and come back already.”

She just smiled again. “Sleep, Lando.”

He yawned, wrapping his arms around the boys. “Fine. But only ‘cause I’m exhausted.”

And with that, he fell asleep, his family safely tucked around him, waiting for Y/N to come home.

END

#f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #lando x you #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff

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thebrothel · 1 day ago

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🍆

take it

Night walks Joel x f!reader, 2.3k by the man himself

18+ drugs and smut. Ty @beefrobeefcal and ty for the old asks etc that got his wheels turning @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @xdaddysprincessxx @noxturnalnymph

Joel is being an idiot. It's not like him to keep his distance, but he's obsessed with you, so you don't have to worry about there being someone else. And you def don't have to move on and get a hot Australian surf instructor (even if he's kinda cool, even if it could mean Joel ravishes you in public in a grand romantic gesture while the surfer watches).

The longer you go without Joel's touch, the more you think about his cock. Your body begs for it. Every time you sleep, you have wild wet dreams about him, but it's not enough. You need the real thing.

One night, you're taking a walk by yourself, and your legs slow down when you get to Joel's house. It feels like something else is moving your legs for you, like in that Wallace and Gromit movie, The Wrong Trousers. Except, instead of an evil penguin in control, it's the ghost of Joel's cock inside you. The ghost of his big hands on your ass, pulling you closer.

Like a zombie for his cock, you trudge across his yard and don't even knock on his open door, which is propped open to get fresh air while he works out. You walk right in. Joel is lifting extremely heavy weights in short gym shorts. He's bench pressing, and the bulge in his shorts could not be more enticing.

He has earbuds in and he doesn't hear you come in right away.The top half of the bench is at a slight incline, and if his eyes were open he'd see you, but you're free to ogle as long as you want undetected.

In his jade green shorts, you can see the shape of cock and balls. He continues lifting, grunting with each lift, especially the last one. When he's finished his set, he lies there on the bench catching his breath.

You approach from behind and creep closer to the bench. When re-racks the weight, you zip tie his hands to it. His reaction is delayed. He looks at his hands before looking around and seeing you – You've walked around front to face him.

As looks at you, the alarm on his face turns into relief, then horny affection. He's happy to see you.

He nods slowly, “Alright.” He raises his eyebrows at you then checks you out.

"God damn, pumpkin.”

“Where the hell have you been?” you ask.

Like a dog trying to scratch an itch, he tilts his head to rub his ear against his shoulder in effort to remove an earbud.

You take the earbuds out for him.

”thanks,” he mumbles

You stand straddling the bench and place your hands on the bar near his hands, waiting for him to explain.

The metal bench press bar is at the perfect location for this situation at all times, even if it's not ideal for racking the weight. It only makes him buffer to arrange his gym equipment this way. His upper body is inclined enough to have a good look at you, and the bar is between you but you could duck under it without trouble.

“Well?” you ask.

“What?” he stupidly responds. “Couldn’t hear ya…”

“Where the hell have you been?” you repeat.

There’s a flash of something complicated behind his eyes as if there's more to the situation. Then he puts on that smug, overconfident look and chuckles to himself. “Couldn't even go a whole week, could ya?"

“Asshole,” you respond. “You did this on purpose, got me addicted… now I can’t help myself.”

He nods down toward his lap. “You gonna sit down or what?”

You slowly lower yourself until your crotch meets his warm bulge, making him grunt and you gasp.

“There ya go,” he murmurs. You glare at him then abruptly but reluctantly lift yourself off him.

“Relax, baby.” He tilts his head to display a joint behind his ear. You take it and put it in your mouth. It’s damp and salty from his sweaty hair.

“YOU relax,” you mumble, then light the joint.

His eyes dazzle with affection and he looks at your mouth holding his joint. You pinch it out and put it behind your own ear while the smoke cools in your mouth.

Then you grab his jaw, then bring your face close, and the side of your nose rests against his as you open your mouth and release the smoke. He begins to draw in the smoke, then you gently lower yourself onto his hard-on again and he inhales too quickly, then turns his head and chokes. “Fuck,” he coughs.

You stand up and step back.

You pull up your tank top over your beautiful tits and circle your nipples with your fingers.

“Mmm,” he hums. “C’mere.”

You shake your head no.

He smiles with half his mouth. “Okay,” he concedes.

You keep an eye on his crotch and watch his arousal grow as he watches you strip. When you take off the tank top, you come hover over the bench again and rest your tits on the metal bar and tease your nipples over the metal until they’re painfully erect.

Joel lifts his hips and the erection in his shorts brushes you. You move away and scold him, “Naughty boy.”

He groans.

You run your hands over yourself and slowly move your hips, watching his eyes scan your body, trying to will your sweatpants off.

“Oh, you were made for this, baby,” he purrs as you give him a slow dance, only letting yourself lightly brush against him. “You’re in the wrong damn business,” he says, then adds “whatever the hell you’re in school for.”

You continue to tease him, groping yourself and your tits, then you slide your hand down the front of his pants and he says, “oh yeah…..can’t teach this at community college.”

You rub yourself, watching his chest heave. You pull your hand out of your pants and spread your fingers apart to show him how wet you are.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and his nose twitches. You bring your fingers to his nose then pull them away and he manages a resentful smirk.

“What do you say?” you ask.

"Bring'em here."

“What do you say, Joel?”

“Be a good girl and gimme a taste.”

You shake your head no.

“Please,” he adds with a roll of his eyes.

You offer him a lick and he sucks your fingers into his mouth as far as they’ll go. Licks them clean.

His teeth rake your fingers as you withdraw them from his mouth.

“That’s my bad girl,” he murmurs. “Gunnin’ for a spankin’, ain’t ya?” he cocks his eyebrows. “C’mon, cut these things off,” he pulls at his hands.

“A spanking?” you ask, and stand up again. “Is that what I need?”

You hook your thumbs into your sweat pants and slowly tug them down, one side at a time.

You turn around so your ass is facing him. You move your hips seductively, and when you pull the pants down under your ass, he moans, “Fuck,” and you look back at him with a raise of your eyebrows.

“Oh, you’re a bad, bad girl,” he says. ”Damn right you need a spanking.”

You slap your own ass right on cue.

“God damn,” he responds.

You take off the pants altogether and stay with your ass facing him again.

You begin to touch yourself again, one hand on your breast, looking over your shoulder.

“C’mere, baby,” he begs.

You slide your fingers all the way down your slippery slit, bending forward and tilting your hips -- popping out your pussy as you spread your lips for him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, sweating. “Hell yeah.”

You plunge a finger into yourself.

“Come and get it, baby,” he urges. “Get what ya came for.”

You withdraw your hand and twist half around to grope your breast as you look him up and down and assess the damage. Oh, he’s wrecked. His hips move, the tent in his shorts begging to escape, straining the seams of his short athletic shorts. His breath is heavy.

You bite your lip.

“You need a lot more than a spanking,” he says, and his eyes darken.

“What do I need?” you ask innocently as you fully face him again. You slowly step over his lap, and with the lightest touch, you use three fingers to nudge his cock through his pants, first from one side, then the other.

Inspecting his erection.

“Mm,” you hum as if considering whether you want it. Then you slide your hand down and cup his balls.

“Fffuuuuuck,” he groans. He breathes vocally as though finishing another set of weights.

You lightly run your hand over the stretched fabric of the shorts, up his aching shaft again. A spot of precum seeping through almost makes you drool. You wet your lips.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “s’all yours, pumpkin.”

You look up at his face for half a second.

“All yours, every inch,” he promises with a nod.

You back up and squat down to put your face at cock level. Through his shorts, you lick the spot of precum, making him moan. You suck him through the fabric and his lips lift.

“Fuck, pumpkin.”

You look up at him with a devilish smile in your eyes.

“I know ya want these hands in your hair while ya do that,” he taunts, displaying his hands as best he can.

You waiver for a moment, then strengthen your resolve. You lick through the fabric along his balls, and your nose nudges his stiff cock. He curses and grunts and each sound makes you gush and twitch.

He watches your face carefully as you appear to give into your desires.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “take what ya came for.”

Your eyes glaze over and your fingers curl under the soaked sweatband of his shorts.

“Yeah,” he quietly encourages.

You pull the waistband down under his cock and he grunts as it springs free.

“Good girl,” he pants just above a whisper. “‘S’all yours,” he repeats, keeping you in the zone, making sure the spell doesn't break.

Straddling him, with both your hands on the bar, you glide your wet pussy along his stiff cock. It's excruciating for both of you, with your loins aching to be joined again.

“Take it,” he whispers.

You reach down to notch him perfectly in your dripping hole.

“Attagirl,” he whispers. "Take it."

You sink down on him with a whimper, and your skin erupts in goosebumps.

His low moan is enough to make you twitch around his length, and he takes a deep ragged breath trying not to cum.

You ride him slow, one hand on your tit, moaning as you roll your hips and fuck yourself on the best dick you've ever had.

“God I love this cock “ you gush. “Gooodddd, I love it.”

“Yeah, take it, baby,” he says. “FUCK you're hot…”

Having him inside you like this – big and hard and perfectly hugged by your insides – it's like breathing after being starved for oxygen.

“Feel so good, baby,” he pants.

“Fuck,” you whine.

Nothing feels better. How can you ever go without it again?

You ride him at a perfect rhythm, salivating to kiss him but more concerned about milking his cock.

“Yeah, that's right,” he encourages as you fuck him. “Take this cock.”

“oh, god,” you moan. “You know what I'm here for?”

“hell yeah, baby,” he says. "You know it's yours."

“Not just your cock,” you say breathily.

“No?” He asks with barely any interest. Feels too good inside you to care.

“I wanna drain your balls,” you tell him.

He groans in response, and his cock twitches.

“Wanna make you my baby daddy,” you say.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He's sweating. Veins bulge in his temple and neck. “always knew that's what ya wanted.”

You slow down even more. “Wanna be so full of your cum,” you pant. “Just fill me up, again and again.”

“Oh, God, yeah,” he pants.

“Fill me up, daddy,” you softly command. "Fill me up."

He groans and begins to blow his load. His hot seed pumps into you so powerfully that it gives you a long hard orgasm far better than you've had in your wet dreams of him.

“Yeah,” he moans weakly. “Drain’em.... drain’em pumpkin.”

With his cock fully seated inside, you grind against him as you both finish coming.

"God damn."

Your skin is hot, and you're in a daze. His cheeks are pink and his pupils are blown out.

“C’mere,” he whispers.

You duck under the bar to hug him, resting your tits and stomach against his sweaty, muscular chest and core. He's still ziptied to the bar, so he can't hug you back. But he kisses your head.

You rest there and feel his breathing as his cock softens in your cunt.

“Ain't empty yet,” he says. “Cut these off, baby.”

You look up at him.

“fuck ya so hard you'll see god,” he promises.

“I’m counting on it," you answer.

You'll need a knife from the kitchen to cut those. You let his cock out and carefully get off him from the side, ducking under his arm.

“Are you hungry?” You ask as you walk over to his kitchenette.

“What?”

“I'm starving.”

You grab his wallet off the counter, then take a Domino’s magnet off the fridge. “What kinda pizza do you want?” you ask.

He looks at his wrists, still ziptied. “Pumpkin-”

“Meat lovers,” You conclude.

He watches you order, and thinks - A hot chick like you draining his balls and feeding him pizza?

He'll remind you who's in charge later. Meanwhile, life could be worse.

--------

Love you, beefro!!! 🖤

#joel miller smut #brothel sleepover 💕#crack but hot?#night walks!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x reader #by night walks

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girlyhornywriter · 2 days ago

Text

You're still worried you're going to regret this?

Come on, pig. It's a little late for that, isn't it? You know there's no going back to how things used to be. Not now, after what you've done to yourself. Don't give me that look, you know this wasn't all my idea.

You just wouldn't stop begging to know about my fantasies... I didn't have any choice but to sate your curiosity and tell you that I liked bigger girls. Girls that jiggle when they walk and get out of breath when they walk up the stairs. You know, fat girls. You were so slim, and I didn't expect that you'd want to satisfy my kinks like that, but you said that you'd maybe gain a little weight for me, just so I could squeeze your belly while we made out. Nothing crazy, just an extra meal here and there. You'd keep it under control.

It's not my fault that your fat ass lost all self-control.

You were just having too much fun, weren't you? You loved feeling my hands caressing your soft, sensitive curves. The way I always slipped a hand under your top to give your gut a squeeze whenever I pulled you in for a kiss must have done more to your poor, horny brain than I could have ever imagined...

Well, of course I noticed what was happening, but did you expect me to say anything? You have no idea how much I loved watching you go back for seconds and thirds every time we went to a buffet. I couldn't get enough of hearing your sheepish voice asking if we had any ice-cream left in the freezer immediately after finishing an extra-large dinner. And maybe I didn't help your waistline by offering to drive you everywhere... But at your size back then, you'd have gotten so worn out and exhausted by having to walk more than a couple of blocks.

Not any more, though. Now you can't even make it to the end of the street.

Oh, you think I'm exaggerating? Babe, you haven't hauled your fat, lazy ass off of that couch in days. If it wasn't for the fact that I keep throwing away all your empty bags of snacks once you've poured them down your greedy throat, I'm pretty sure you'd be buried in them by now. Come on, just try to stand up.

...

Gosh, you really tried there, didn't you? There's no way you'd be panting and sweating like this if you hadn't been putting effort into that. I knew you'd become a fat mess, but I didn't realise it was this bad... You're all blubber and lard now, aren't you? Whatever muscle you had is so lost under layer upon layer of soft, jiggling flab that there's no way you're going to work off all these calories of adipose you've eaten onto your figure.

Well yeah, maybe a diet would work, but I'm not going to let you go on one, piglet.

Why? Because I've got you right where I've always wanted you, princess. You're too fat to move and too well-trained as a mindless, gluttonous cow to undo the damage you've done. I might not have made you gain all this weight, but I'm not about to see it melt away either. I love the way it feels too much, the way you jiggle with every movement, the way it pins you to the couch and only grows softer and heavier every time I feed you.

If I were you, piglet, I'd get used to this. Learn to enjoy it, because I certainly will... Maybe if you're a good girl for me, I'll find you some clothes that actually fit over your immense bulk. Though anything I find isn't going to fit you for very long - You're so big and obese, piggy, but you've still got a long way to go...

#fat piggy #feedee encouragement #fat #feedee piggy #feedee girl #feeding kink #feedee belly #fat pig #fat belly #gaining weight

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possesseddesires · 23 hours ago

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The great shift: nerd to himbo

𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧: This story contains explicit content and themes of body swapping, with a sensual and erotic approach. If this type of content is not to your liking or you are not old enough, we recommend that you do not continue.

All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them, and they are used for illustrative purposes only.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁: 𝗻𝗲��𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗼 (English version)

My name is Howard, I study computer science at Harvard.

I had always excelled in mathematics, logical reasoning and understanding computers, I had a couple of scholarships thanks to my ingenuity, which ensured that as soon as I finished my degree, I would have a secure future. Maybe in a big company like Apple or Google, or who knows, maybe with a business of my own.

However, like any stereotypical nerd, my mental qualities meant that my physique was not the best. Thin, small, without a hint of hair or muscle. Maybe I wasn't ugly, but I wasn't “remarkable” either.

It was a Monday like any other. Boring, full of classes and other pending: programming, equations, going to class.

It was “Systems Management” class, taught by Professor Austin, an old man in his 60s, whose subject was more boring and tedious than anything else in the world; I was having such a hard time not closing my eyes, struggling to pay attention.

But the professor's voice seemed to make me sleepier and sleepier. And just as I was about to fall asleep, lost with my eyes closed.

A kind of thunderous crack, as much as an atomic bomb, was heard all around.

I opened my eyes in fright, only to find that I was no longer in a classroom. The atmosphere felt different, the sun was hitting my face hard, it even smelled different... Now I was in a street, very different from what I was used to, it looked..... rustic?

For a moment it was all confusion, until disaster struck. Several people started shouting, some in different languages that I had no idea what they were. People running, everything was chaos. It was at that moment that I noticed my hand, it was no longer pale and thin like I was used to it being.

Now it was brown and huge.

I felt scared, I began to touch the rest of my body, noticing that now I had a different complexion: bigger, stronger and muscular.

I was wearing a gray compression t-shirt that fit me tightly, showing off my new great pecs, a pair of sweatpants and tennis shoes. I felt wet, as if I had just finished working out, I started to smell myself, noticing a strong scent of sweat.

— Ugh... ¿Qué mierda? – I muttered. Only to realize that for some reason. I was able to speak in another language, that was... Spanish?

Everything was spinning, not because of the heat, not because of the scare, everything was still under chaos but... it was strange. I felt like I was becoming... dumb. All my old computer and math knowledge seemed to evaporate into thin air to be replaced by other things like bodybuilding and masonry.

— Uhh...

I still remembered who I was, my past life and the details of it, but accessing my “skills” like my original language and abilities, I had such a hard time. Like I knew they were there but I couldn't access it.

Instead, new knowledge began to seep in.

Now my name was Hector, I was 24 years old and living in Mexico. Apparently he had dropped out of school and so he became a bricklayer, he didn't have a career either because he was not very intelligent. However, what little brains he had he made up for with strength.

His huge muscles, with big arms and fat pecs, I could even feel his crotch, big and with heavy balls.

— Tal vez pueda acostumbrarme – I murmured, feeling my new big chest.

The world had a hard time getting used to something that scientists called “The Great Change”, at least 80% of the entire population changed bodies, some with people in the same city or country, and others worldwide. Another 10%, suffered from something that was called “coupling”, it was the disappearance of old skills and abilities that ended up being replaced by the knowledge of the new body.

I was part of that last percentage.

At first I felt lost and annoyed by my new body. I may have been muscular but now I was in a body without the job opportunities I had, without brains and without a lot of money.

It took me at least a week to get used to it until my brain had an idea.

This body was sexy, muscular and anyone would want it. I myself was beginning to love the smell, how stinky my armpits looked at the slightest exertion, how big my legs looked.... And my pecs. There was nothing I loved more than my new big fat tits.

I started working as a stripper in a nightclub. I loved the feeling of the tight trunks, the people trying to touch me and of course, all the money involved. I probably made more in one night than I would have made in a month as an IT guy.

And I enjoyed every little detail of this new life. I loved my muscles, my scent... Sometimes I could smell it for hours, lick my biceps, smell my armpits... Even my feet. Gosh, they were huge! I loved licking them, smelling them, it didn't bother me at all if others were attracted to them, or my whole body. The only problem was that I was getting addicted to masturbation. But hey, can you judge me?

Imagine having this body just for you, with his scent, and god... the taste of his cum, it just drove me crazy. Rather, from my semen, my scent, and my body.

Sometimes the old Hector used to write me, he ended up in my body, so he was just a scrawny nerd miles away who ended up obsessed with his old body, every now and then I send him some picture, or video if he's lucky. But this is mine, and will only ever be mine.

Now it was Hector. And there was no turning back. Maybe becoming a dumb himbo hadn't been so bad.

¿Quieres oler mi axila, wey?

———

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm not an English speaker, so I used a translator to bring it to your language (apologies if the wording is a bit weird). If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in inbox.

See you in the next story… Who knows what body you'll occupy this time?

———

#the great shift #bodyswapping #malebodyswap #nerd to hunk #body swap

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lunarsworld · 2 days ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚ you’re my kryptonite

warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected p in v, kissing, heavy dirty talk, pet names, exhibitionism (kinda), fingering, lmk if i missed any pairing: smallville!clark x f!reader smut under the cut!!!

you had been waiting for this day since you started high school. it was your senior prom and everything was just like you planned it. as you finished the last curl in your hair, you heard a car beep outside. you stuck your head out the window to see your best friend walking up to your door. you quickly tightened your dress, threw on your heels, and ran down the stairs.

sure enough, there he was conversing with your parents. “i’m so happy your taking her to prom,” your dad groaned. “all these nasty boys can’t keep their hands off her. i trust ya though, after all your her best friend…” he began to trail off into a babble. you started to grab your bag and other things, but you felt lingering eyes on you. you turned your head to find clarks eyes trailing all over your body, eye contact immediately broken after he realized you noticed. you walked over to him and ran out with him. “wait, don’t we have to take pictures or something?” he yelled, but you didn’t care. this night was your dream and you didn’t need your parents unfiltered thoughts to ruin your night. you both got in the truck and clark immediately started driving.

once you both entered, it was like all eyes were on you. your dress did wonders on you. everybody always found you attractive, clark knew, but having that much attention on you was breaking him down. “bet all these guys wish they asked you before me, huh?” he said with a silent twang of jealousy. clark didn’t notice though that all you were looking at was him. you both wandered onto the dance floor for a couple hours, later deciding you needed a break and sat down at your assigned table.

you began to zone out and fumble with your hair. clark saw this and instantly put a reassuring hand on your thigh to snap you out of it. but when you did, his hand still stayed there. slowly inching up and up, making a weird feeling rise in your stomach that you knew all too well. you looked up only for your both your eyes to connect. you tried to get words out, but you couldn’t. to be fair, you never could when somebody made you feel this way. but clark? oh god you were fucked. he leaned in closer to your ear and whispered, “i wish you knew the things you did to me angel.” you stuttered a breath as his hand reached closer and closer to the heat forming, his hands giving you an opposite reaction. “clark.. we- we can’t do this here. not now,” you hissed. clark never tried to feel you up like this, always taking another direction to things, making you feel like you were the one imagining the feeling between you two. after processing what you said, clark raised an eyebrow to you. “there’s a bathroom ya know?”

listening to your pussy gut, you slowly creeped inside with him. he locked the door behind him and wasted no time running his hands all over your body. clark always kept his urges to himself, scared if he went too far he would hurt you. but he truly couldn’t control himself tonight, he didn’t know what got into him. he even made sure you never wore any red kryptonite so he wouldn’t take things too far. maybe it was the way the dress fit all your curves perfectly, or the way your lips puckered, or how your legs crossed everytime he made a sly comment. whatever it was, he didn’t care. you were his kryptonite.

he grabbed your hips and hoisted you onto the counter and connected his lips with yours. you opened your mouth and gave him access to all of you. he tastes like cinnamon, not what you were expecting but honestly better. clark kent was something you could get drunk on (and later cockdrunk on). he moved his hand under your dress and lightly ran his thumb over your clit. after earning soft moans from you he asked, “is this ok, angel. need to hear you say you want this.”

“yesyesyes just please stop teasing me.” you whined. he immediately shoved his two fingers in your pussy, moving at a perfect pace and hitting all the right spots. “fuck clark, s’ good,” you moaned into his ear, growing louder by the second. “shhh- baby someone might hear us. need you to be quiet if y’wanna come, ok?” he mutters, looking in your eyes. you nod in agreement and he quickens his pace. you can feel yourself getting close and as soon as your about to reach your climax, he pulls his fingers out. you whine at the loss of contact but the tension builds right back up when you watch him lick your fingers. “sorry hun, but you can’t come yet until it’s on my cock,” he said under his breath. when he undid his belt and unzipped his pants, your jaw dropped. by the sheer size of his cock, you knew he would split you apart. “are you sure it’s gonna fit?” you ask, practically drooling when you see the precum dripping from his tip. “i’ll make it fit angel, don’t worry.” he purred as he aligned his tip with your dripping entrance. he rubbed it against your clit first, teasing you even more and when you whined, he fully bottomed himself into you.

you moaned loudly and he quickly shushed you. all of a sudden, you both heard knocking on the door. in response, clark began to go even faster. your whimpers began spilling out of you making it harder to keep them in as you clutched on the sink for support. “baby you gotta be quiet,” he mutters. “or do you want everybody to know i’m filling you up with my cock?” you had no idea clark could be so mean, but with the way his cock was bullied into you you realized you didn’t know anything about him until now. “fuck- angel, you have no idea how long i’ve thought about fucking you. you’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans. your walls clench around him and he knows your getting close so he quickens his pace even faster, his tip slamming into your cervix with extreme force. he sticks his fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans and uses his other hand to rub your clit. “yea, come all on my cock. this how you imagined prom? getting stuffed in the bathroom with me?” he teases as you come undone around him. he pulls out and as much as he wants to finish inside you, he can’t bring himself to. not when he knows the night you both have ahead of you. “c’mon princess i’ll get you cleaned up and then we can head home. y’tired?” he asks while turning away to grab some towels to wipe your slick off your inner thighs. “clark,” you mutter. he turns his head to you, waiting for your answer. he slowly walks back over and cups your face in his hand. “what about the person outside?” you complained. you didn’t want the whole school knowing your best friend just fucked you in the bathroom. “he says anything, i’ll beat him up. not my fault your pussy’s sweet n i can’t get enough of it.” he murmured while pressing kisses all along your face. “now c’mon let’s go back to the loft.

i wanna hear you screaming my name by the end of tonight.”

#lunarsworld #clark kent x y/n #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #smallville clark kent

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thetomorrowshow · 1 day ago

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febuwhump 17 - power instability

EMPIRES SUPERPOWERS AU IS BACK

title: vision, visage, gentile, genteel

fandom: empires smp

this is the first chapter of the esh au sequel. it's back babey

It began, as many things do, with a bang.

Nobody knew what it meant. There were people outside, getting ready to head to work, who jumped and cursed and spun around. The noise was considered by some, likely, a firework, or a gunshot, or perhaps some new super on the scene. Perhaps a car malfunctioning, or a tire popping. Whatever it was, it was none of most people's concern, and after a moment of fright, those unsuspecting souls continued on with their days and forgot that it had even happened.

When looked back on, there was no way to know that it was the beginning of the end.

The end of Major, Primary Protector of Empires City.

Or, not the end, exactly.

But with Xornoth dead, and most other villains minor enough to be more of a nuisance than anything (and some, like Mythics, often more friendly with the heroes than with the villains), the city had settled into complacency. The defeat of Xornoth by three very powerful heroes, Major, the Mad King, and the Ocean Queen—and the disappearance of another dangerous super, Solidarity—had led many to believe that the city was going to be safe for quite some time going forward. After all, those three heroes (and the other heroes of the city, such as the Wizard Gem and Pearl) had no plans to leave, and any challengers of their authority were quickly dispatched.

And the end started with a bang.

Or, more precisely, the end started in a small house on a quiet street on the East Side of Empires City, early in the morning, as the once-feared Solidarity whistled a little tune while scrambling eggs, and the Primary Protector of the city stretched his muscles and smiled fondly at his partner.

"Eggs are done!" Jimmy, once known as Solidarity, declares as he clicks off the stove.

Scott, also known as Major, Primary Protector of Empires City, finishes the final stretch of his routine before groaning his way to his feet and padding into the kitchen.

"I'm getting too old for this," grumbles Scott, who isn't even thirty, as he pulls a couple of plates out of the cabinet. "Why'd I choose to be a superhero? I could've been an architect, Jimmy. Instead of getting ready to save the world, I could be designing buildings to replace the ones that Mythics destroys."

"Yeah, right," Jimmy scoffs, scooping some eggs onto the plates. "Gays can't do math, there's no way you would've been able to design buildings."

"I literally passed my senior trig class with a C, thank you very much, and Cs get degrees."

Jimmy laughs, handing Scott the plates. Scott sets them down on the counter beside the toaster, into which he slots four pieces of toast.

It's domestic and warm in the kitchen—the stove has just been clicked off, still radiating a gentle heat, which is nice when there's ice in the air and snow on the ground.

Not that Scott minds either of those things. Despite his complaints, he's eager to patrol today. He always feels more energetic when surrounded by the make of his power. And maybe he feels a bit more . . . in control, he supposes. Bigger. More powerful. Almost like he can command the skies—a thought best left for his dreams, far beyond the reach of his power as it is.

It’s a lovely day. Crisp and cold, warm and homey, and Scott can’t fight a smile as he moves toward the table and clicks on the overhead light.

"Nope—" Jimmy cries out behind him, and Scott turns just in time to see the oven window shatter, pieces of tinted glass scattering across the kitchen tiles.

"Sorry, sorry, burned my finger on the stove," Jimmy explains, holding said finger in his other hand. "Took me by surprise, sorry."

"Hand under cold water," Scott instructs, pointing to the sink. As Jimmy hurries over, he continues, "and what's another oven window? Don't cut yourself on the glass, honey, let me get you your shoes—"

Scott heads back into the living room, kicking his yoga mat aside, to find Jimmy's velcro tennis shoes sticking out from under the couch. They have a tray for shoes by the front door, but Jimmy, for some reason, just leaves his shoes strewn about the living room carpet.

"Think the landlord is going to get concerned? This is, like, the fifth oven door we need replaced," Jimmy calls from the kitchen. Scott laughs.

"Well, if you'd stop burning yourself, we wouldn't need five oven doors, would we?"

"At least one of those times I cut my finger, so I'm not sure that the burning is the problem," Jimmy jokes back. "And remember when we had to replace the whole oven because you froze it and it broke? That's arguably worse."

"We really should have been kicked out by now," Scott comments as he reenters the kitchen, shoes in hand.

"Good thing you're rich."

"Good thing you're a gold digger."

The toast pops at the exact same time as Jimmy turns off the sink. Scott hands him his shoes, then steps around him to wash his hands before getting the toast.

"Have you got work today?" Scott asks. Jimmy shakes his head.

"Nah, it's still not doing well," he says. "Jerry has us working fewer hours, trying to make ends meet. He's hoping for a bit of a boom in business with this weather."

"I guess we'll see," Scott says. He sets the plates down on the table with the butter, one right in front of where Jimmy is sitting in his chair, strapping on his shoes, and the other in front of the chair beside it. He sits there, scraping a bit of butter across his toast before tossing back his antidepressants with a bit of water.

Jimmy does the same when he's done with his shoes, then spreads jam onto his toast before loading it up with eggs and shoving it into his mouth. Scott makes a pointed expression of disgust before resolutely ignoring the sin before him.

He's got an hour before his patrol shift properly begins, so that's probably enough time to sweep up the kitchen or wash the dishes. Not that either of those activities take him an hour to complete, but who can blame him for wanting to head out early? He's just itching to get out in the cold, in what is literally his element. It's the first snow of the season, and he's expected to stay inside?

Jimmy, as always, notices. He lays his free hand on Scott's knee (his touch always so gentle) and gives him a smile somehow made cuter by the crumbs on his lips. "You can head out early, if you want. I can—"

BANG!

The whole house rattles. Jimmy's hand tightens on Scott's knee, and for a second Scott feels a hum of power thrum through the air—more intense in his partner than in anyone else that he's ever known—before there's a high-pitched whining and all the lights in the house shut down, the refrigerator's hum whirring to a stop.

They sit there, for a moment, in silence, Jimmy's hand still on Scott's knee, the aftershocks of his power still pulsing from him.

Scott forgets, sometimes, that Jimmy has such magnitudes of power, that he isn't just shattered oven doors and broken dishes. That without even lifting a finger, Jimmy could collapse a building or take the life right out of a person's body.

Then he'll get a wake-up call like this, a reminder that Scott isn't the only (or even the most) dangerous person in the house.

Scott glances over to the microwave to check—never mind, the microwave is dead, no green numbers lit up to tell the time.

The time isn't really important, though.

What on earth could've caused that sound?

Scott's first thought is a gunshot, and he knows Jimmy's is too, by the apprehensive shine of fear in his eyes that Scott can see even through the darkness of their house. A gunshot that loud would have to have come from nearby, of course. . . .

Quickly, quietly, Scott steals to his feet and creeps to the front window in the living room, peering out carefully without disturbing the blinds.

Nothing. No signs of trouble, no screams, no bodies in the street. Just various neighbors poking their heads out their doors, looking around and calling greetings to each other.

Through the window (Scott had cracked it open while stretching to let in the frosty breeze), Scott hears one of them faintly call.

"Did you lot lose power, too?"

Scott grimaces. Jimmy's not going to like that. Sure, Scott can keep their fridge and freezer going until the power gets back on, and Jimmy can bundle up until then, but everyone else is without electricity while their freezers melt and there's nothing they can do about it. As far as he can tell, none of the houses along the street have power—and if the whole street is down, that means the neighborhood is too.

Unfortunately, it is Jimmy's fault, and he's going to want to do what he can to fix it.

Which, as far as Scott can tell, is nothing. So maybe he can just not tell him about it. Maybe he won't notice that the entire grid is out.

"All clear," Scott calls back to the dining room. "Any idea what that was?"

Silence from the dining room. After a moment, Jimmy calls, voice shaking,

"Sorry. Um, no."

Scott frowns. "Jimmy? You okay?"

Another moment of silence, followed by a shuddering sigh. "Yeah," Jimmy says unconvincingly. "I'm good."

Scott pulls the window shut, blinds clanking against the glass, then returns to the dining table.

Jimmy's still sitting where he left him, hands clenched around his trouser legs. He's staring resolutely at a spot on the table, eyes just the slightest bit wet.

"Jimmy? Baby?" Scott tries, sitting down beside him and taking his hand. Jimmy looks over at him, face pale, eyes resolute.

"I'm good," Jimmy says again, squeezing his hand. "Thank you."

He's not good, that's easy to see. But he's okay, and some days, that's all Scott can ask for.

It's been over two years since Xornoth was killed, and Jimmy will never be entirely better. He'll likely always need his hip brace or cane, he'll always need his medication, he'll always have trauma responses. But Scott isn't ever going to judge him for any of it.

That's who Jimmy is. And Scott loves him for it.

And as he sits there, holding Jimmy's left hand, he finds his mind wandering to where it so often does as he gazes at the fourth finger on Jimmy's hand.

Scott doesn't even have a ring yet, so he pushes the thought out of his mind with a little reluctance. First he has to discuss the idea of marriage with Jimmy, then he has to follow up with Lizzie, and then he has to subtly get Jimmy's ring size. . . .

Well. Baby steps, and all that.

They finish eating like that, Jimmy leaning just slightly into Scott's shoulder. Right as they finish, the refrigerator starts humming and the lights flick back on, suddenly enough that Scott has to blink a couple of times to clear the floating clouds of color in front of his vision. The various clocks in the kitchen appliances flash a bright 12:00.

"Power's back," Scott says, less as an actual observation and more as just something to say, and gets up to carry their dishes to the sink, skirting around the glass on the floor. "Okay for me to head out?"

"Yeah, I've got Norman. Don't worry about me," Jimmy says, standing as well. He retrieves the broom from where it leans in the corner of the kitchen. "Speaking of Norman, I'd better get this glass cleaned up before he runs his little feet through it. Have a good day at work!"

"I'll save the world as usual," says Scott. He kisses Jimmy on his way by (Jimmy hums contentedly, all signs of his prior distress gone but for a wrinkle between his eyebrows), grabs his backpack at the door, and heads out into the frigid air of the first snow of the season.

Where the loud noise originated from is not far from where Scott exits his home, just two streets away. Not that he even thinks to go over there, instead heading for the main section of the city, assuming it would be at the hub of most activity. That's where most unidentified sounds originate from, after all.

And as Scott's day continues, he forgets about the sound, just as most others do.

Two streets away from Major's house, popular villain Mythics flees, eyes wild and breath gasping, a swirling portal crackling behind him.

It's possibly the best day of the year so far, weather-wise. The snow is actively falling, the streets are sparkling with ice, and Scott has never felt better.

Well, he's probably felt better. It snows every winter, after all.

But it feels so good after summer to finally return to what he is. This is the stuff Scott's made of, this is what gives him life.

It's glorious.

Scott lets out a little whoop as he slides part-way up the side of a building, the ice that already frosts its windows spreading spontaneously to the walls to give him the slipperiness he needs.

The people love it, too. Lizzie takes particular delight in sending him video compilations of his greatest tricks and most impressive fights, and the comments are always full of adoration for his skills and admiration of his power and creations.

So maybe, as he skates down a frozen sidewalk of his own creation (which he unfreezes behind him, because he knows not everyone has the skill to navigate such a path and would probably prefer a normal sidewalk), he adds a couple of flourishes to his act.

There's a group of kids at recess by Empires North Elementary School, and Scott stops to start a snowball fight before continuing on, frosting the windows of every classroom with beautiful little fractals.

He signs his name in frost as intricately as possible on the hood of someone's car, gives them a cheery wave when they run out of the store to take a picture.

He makes tiny snowmen to line the bus stop with just a couple of waves of his hand, then can't stop laughing when a little girl at the stop with her father cheers for 'Elsa'.

Maybe all of the villains of the city took one look out their windows and decided no, thank you, because there’s zero disturbances all morning. Scott doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think he could ever get bored in weather like this.

By the time it hits lunchtime, Scott's cheeks are red from the wind and hurt from smiling. He slides into a small deli and picks out a sandwich and a drink, the latter of which freezes over in his hands quite nicely.

"Major!" the deliman (and owner of the deli, if his nametag is true) exclaims, adding lettuce to his sandwich. "Keeping us all safe?"

"As best I can," Scott smiles. "How are you doing, Felix?"

Felix, the owner, chuckles, going a bit red in the face. "Never better, Major. You can have this free, all right?"

Scott chuckles as well, setting the drink on the counter and digging out his wallet. "I want to pay, don't even worry about it."

"No, no, nothing for you!"

"Come on, Felix, I'm—"

BANG!

Scott follows his first instinct—protection. Within milliseconds, there's an ice wall surrounding Felix, and another one shoots up in front of the large deli windows and door. It's instant, and Scott's never moved so fast in his life but the ice is there and time itself seems to freeze.

Everything is still for a timeless moment, snowflakes slowly swirling around Scott's masked face.

And somehow, he's the ice that lines the streets and the pipes below that travel all the way through the city and the icicles hanging from every roof and the frost paving windshields, and Scott knows that something has gone very wrong.

He's never felt this powerful in his life—nor this overwhelmed. There's so much stimulus, so many far away nerves jangling and he can't focus on the snowflake in front of him when he can see every fractal of it—

"Major!"

With a herculean effort, Scott manages to pull himself back into his body from where the tendrils of his mind have reached all the way across the city. He blinks, looks around.

The entire deli is frozen over.

Two customers are frantically trying to scrape some ice off the shelves, another is kicking at ice on the door, and Felix—

Scott can't even see Felix, a thick wall of ice surrounding him.

Scott panics. He can’t help it—his breathing quickens, his mind races, he starts feeling distantly dizzy at the idea that he might've hurt people, he might've broken something—and he notices, as his frozen fingers shake, that the frost is growing with every moment, slowly spreading to the floor and up the walls.

He hasn't been this out of control since—since he was a teenager, since before he was trained, even, since before he was a hero—

He can fix this. He knows how to fix it. Scott shuts the panic and fear out of his head as best he can and thinks back to his early days of training, back to when Aeor had taught him how to properly channel his emotions for incidents like this.

He hasn't had to consciously control himself in years.

He's never felt like this before.

He takes a slow, deep breath, letting the frenetic energy travel from his brain and heart and out through his finger tips, where frost grows into icicles. Then, with all the control and might that he can muster, Scott pulls, reeling it all back with a steady grip.

Slower than he would've liked, the ice and frost recede, all pulled back into thin air bit by bit. Scott breathes with it, in and out, until the ice walls crack and slide apart and the frost is entirely gone.

He breathes, and with it, his mind begins to settle. He’s all right. Everything’s all right.

Each of the other customers thanks Scott, casting glances both confused and a little fearful in his direction. Felix, luckily, is fine, if a little shocked. Scott subtly slides more than triple the worth of the sandwich into his hand, apologizes for the disruption, and heads out, slightly soggy lunch under his arm.

And again, he can't find the source of such a loud sound—because he remembers, suddenly, that the reason he'd headed out from his house so early this morning wasn't to see the snow, but to find the source of that first sound.

There's almost nobody out on the street, no gun or powered individual or blown transformer that could've caused it. In fact, the only other people outside are people who have stepped out of offices and shops to look around.

Scott gives them a cheery wave when they turn to him, one woman shouting a question in Spanish. "Nothing to worry about," he calls, assuming she'd asked about the sound. "Have a good one!"

"Hey, Major!" a young man waves. "How's your day been?"

"It’s been great!" Scott smiles his best winning smile. "Gotta go—heard about something on the other side of town!"

He didn't hear about anything, and he usually feels pretty good about talking to citizens, but he does feel kind of awkward standing in front of a place he just froze, like a guilty child fleeing the scene of a mess. And he doesn't even have a dog to blame it on.

What had even happened back there?

Scott had—he'd been scared. He'd thrown up normal protections, in case someone was trying to shoot up the deli and had somehow missed the bright blue superhero standing there, and then—

Then he'd felt so much.

Scott's not entirely sure what happened—one moment he'd been fine, totally in control of himself and his actions, and the next he was frost crunching under a pedestrian's foot and an icicle dripping from a gutter and the tiniest snowflake blown about by the wind.

It was nothing like he'd ever felt before.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

It was—oh, look, there's Joel!

"King!"

Scott spots Joel from across the intersection that he's currently sliding through, and pulls up a ridge of ice to give himself a sharp turn. He slides up to where Joel is leaning against the walk sign pole, waiting to cross the road.

Joel nods to him, eyes looking somewhat preoccupied behind his mask. "Hey, Major. When's your shift end?"

Scott shrugs, pulling his sandwich from where it's tucked under his arm. He ought to eat it sooner rather than later. "Dunno. I was hoping to stay out all day, if possible."

Joel raises a brow. "In the doghouse?"

"Of course not, the weather's just nice."

Joel chuckles. "Yeah, I'd guess so. You and Jimmy never fight, do you?"

"Well, do you and Lizzie?" asks Scott.

"Nope," Joel says proudly. "That's why we got married. We never fight."

Which is a lie, of course. Just last week, when he and Jimmy went over to Lizzie and Joel's apartment for dinner, Lizzie had thrown rolls at Joel all evening and Joel had implied some rather unkind things about her pet rabbit.

Scott doesn't bother calling him out on the lie. Joel's right about one thing—he and Jimmy almost never fight, and when they do, they resolve it quickly and schedule a couple's therapy appointment to make sure there are no lingering issues.

They're perfect for each other.

And once again, Scott's mind turns to the rather pleasant idea of a gold band around Jimmy's finger.

"You two really ought to tie the knot soon," Joel says casually, and Scott can't help but sputter.

"I—were you reading my mind?" he accuses.

"No?" Joel says, voice turning from confused to gleeful in that one syllable. "I—ooooh! You're thinking about it, that means it's practically official! So—are you thinking something big, whole city invited, those nice ice sculpture things like in movies—"

"Sorry, Major? Mad King? Can we get a picture?"

Joel shuts up—thankfully, otherwise Scott would've frozen his tongue in his mouth—and gestures for the two women to stand between him and Scott.

Scott smiles into the phone, and can't help but notice that there's frost on his own cheeks.

That's . . . that's a little odd. He isn't usually radiating cold, not unless he's angry. Maybe it's the high spirits he's in from the weather. That explains it, doesn't it?

Still, when the women leave, Scott scrubs at his face, hoping to warm his cheeks up enough that none of his frigidity can find a home there.

"Yeah, noticed you looked a little chillier than normal," Joel comments. "All good?"

Well, he did sort of lose control during some strange out of body experience earlier. But that's kind of embarrassing, and it was a one-off, so Scott doesn't mention it. He doesn't need Joel to tease him about it, nor tell every hero who'll listen.

He just nods, shrugs, and takes a bite of his sandwich.

Jimmy's alone in the house when it happens again, curled up on the couch with his blanket over his shoulders and his LinkedIn profile pulled up on his phone.

He doesn't really know what happens.

All he knows is that there's a loud noise and he doesn’t do well with loud noises, but luckily he manages to keep a hold on his powers this time.

Or, he thinks he does.

Because in the same moment as the BANG, Jimmy feels so much.

And it feels good.

#febuwhump2025 #febuwhumpday17 #empires smp #esh au #empires superpowers au #flower husbands #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #smallishbeans #esmp #mas writes #YEAH BABEY LETS GOOOOOO #welcome BACK to esh au #i just realized that like. i've had this written for a while now #and while it isn't fully edited it is fully written #and then i was like ayo why am i just sitting on this?#anywayyyyys how's it going for yalllll #lmk what you think #love you guys

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bitchinbarzal · 2 days ago

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Everything You Hate, I Love | B Faber

summary: You’ve always been your own worst critic, but Brock has never seen you the way you see yourself.

You never understood what Brock saw in you.

It wasn’t a matter of doubting his love—you knew he cared. It was the way he looked at you, like you were made of something special, something rare. Like you weren’t a mess of insecurities, overthinking, and self-doubt.

“You’re staring,” you mumbled, not looking up from where you sat on the couch, curled up in one of Brock’s oversized hoodies. He had gotten home from practice not long ago, showering quickly before settling next to you, eyes soft and focused.

“Can’t help it,” Brock said simply.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yes, you can.”

“Nope.”

There was something about the way he said it—firm but warm, like he was challenging you to argue. You sighed, curling further into yourself. “You’re weird.”

Brock hummed. “You always say that when I compliment you.”

“Because you’re lying,” you muttered.

Brock’s brows furrowed, and he shifted, turning his body toward you completely. “Lying?”

You waved a dismissive hand, still avoiding his gaze. “Not lying, but exaggerating. Making things sound better than they are.”

He was silent for a long moment. You almost thought he would drop it, let you brush it off like you always did.

Not this time.

“Okay,” Brock said, voice even. “Tell me one thing about yourself you don’t like.”

You frowned. “What?”

“One thing,” he repeated, voice steady. “Something you hate about yourself.”

The request caught you off guard. You chewed on your lip, shaking your head. “That’s a long list.”

Brock didn’t flinch. “I’ve got time.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. You weren’t sure why this felt different—why Brock’s unwavering patience, his quiet insistence, made it harder to deflect.

After a pause, you exhaled. “Fine,” you said, voice softer than you intended. “I hate my overthinking.”

Brock nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Why?”

You gave him a look. “You’re asking me why? Because it’s annoying, Brock. I second-guess everything. I replay conversations in my head for hours, wondering if I said something dumb. I make up worst-case scenarios that don’t even exist. I stress over things I can’t control.”

Brock listened intently, letting you get it all out. When you finished, he didn’t argue, didn’t rush to comfort you. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. “You know what I love about that?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The way you care.” Brock reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “You overthink because you care. About the people in your life, about doing the right thing, about making sure no one ever feels unheard or unimportant. You notice details no one else does. You remember things about people that make them feel special.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Brock squeezed your hand. “I know it’s exhausting sometimes. But I love that part of you because it means you love deeply. And I’d rather have that than someone who doesn’t care at all.”

You swallowed. “Brock…”

“Tell me another one,” he said gently.

Your lips pressed together, heart pounding. You almost didn’t want to say it, but you knew he wouldn’t judge you. “I hate my body.”

Brock’s expression softened, but he didn’t look sad. He didn’t pity you. “Why?”

You shrugged, suddenly feeling small. “Because it’s not—” You hesitated. “It’s not perfect. I don’t like how I look in certain clothes. Some days, I just—” You exhaled sharply. “I don’t know.”

Brock shifted closer, his hand warm against yours. “Do you know what I see?”

You shook your head.

“I see the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love. I see the way your nose scrunches when you laugh at something really funny. I see the way you hold onto me in your sleep, like I’m your anchor.” His voice was steady, certain. “I see all the little things you don’t even notice—how you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re focused, the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking.”

Your chest ached.

Brock’s fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly. “I love your body because it’s yours. Because it’s you.” He paused. “And I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was looking at you through rose-colored glasses. But for once, you didn’t.

Because Brock wasn’t saying these things to make you feel better. He wasn’t just trying to comfort you.

He meant it.

Every word.

You inhaled shakily. “Brock.”

He smiled gently. “That’s my name.”

You huffed out a small laugh, blinking away the burn in your eyes. “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make it impossible to argue with you.”

Brock grinned. “That’s because I’m right.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt lighter. Warmer. Brock watched you for a moment before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he really did love everything you couldn’t.

#nhl imagine #brock faber imagine #brock faber x reader

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catierambles · 2 days ago

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Once in a Blue Moon Ch. 1

“Sy!” The panic and fear in Mike’s voice had him jumping up from the chair and running out of the cabin, seeing the younger man racing towards him, a woman in his arms. Blood coated his hands, splattered across his bare chest, a pair of grey sweatpants low on his hips, and his feet bare. The woman was unmoving in his arms, her eyes closed and he could see blood on her pale skin.

“Mikey!” Sy yelled, running towards him, “What the fuck happened!”

“I was out for a run--and she was just there--and I--oh god, I think I killed her!” Mike said, his voice breaking.

“Walter!” Sy called out and the other man ran from the cabin, going to them and taking in the scene.

“Give her to me, Mike.” Walter said but his grip on her tightened, “Michael, I need to look her over, you have to give her to me.”

“Mikey.” Sy said, reaching out and holding his shoulder and Mike nodded, gently passing her off to Walter who brought her back into the cabin. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“I was shifted and I was running, and you know how shit gets intense on a full moon.” He said and Sy nodded, “I smelled food and I went towards it and she was just there and I couldn’t stop myself, I tried to stop myself but I just…”

“Deep breaths, kid, don’t need you hittin’ the deck.” Sy said and Mike nodded, taking in deep shaky breaths to try to calm himself.

“I attacked her, oh god, I tore into her.” Mike said and Sy sighed, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “I snapped out of it tasting blood and I shifted back and she was laying there so still and I just picked her up and came back here.”

“You did good doin’ that. We’ll be able to take care of’er here.” Sy said.

“What if she’s dead, Sy?! What if I killed her?!” Mike said, his voice bordering on hysteric as he stared down at his blood-covered shaking hands. “August and Geralt are going to kill me, oh god.”

“Look at me, Mikey.” Sy said, reaching out to hold his shoulders again, “Mike, look at me.” He did and Sy made sure to keep eye contact with him. “We’ll get it figured out, okay? It’s going to be okay. Walt’s lookin’er over right now, we’ll do what we can for her. The only thing you can do right now is go inside and get cleaned up, okay?”

“Yeah,” He said nodding, “Yeah, okay.” Mike walked away from him, heading back into the cabin and Sy stood outside for a few more moments, breathing in the night air before looking up at the heavy moon in the sky.

“Motherfucker.” He said and headed back into the cabin as well. Walter was walking down the stairs to the second floor when he returned and gave Sy a grim look, moving his head to the kitchen and Sy followed him there.

“It’s bad, Sy.” Walter said, “Really bad.”

“Is she…”

“She’s alive, but barely.” Walter said and Sy sighed. “She’s lost a lot of blood and suffered a lot of trauma. If she makes it through the night it’ll be a damn miracle.”

“He was shifted when he attacked’er.” Sy said and Walter nodded.

“If she makes it through the night, the infection will set in and take care of the wounds, but she’ll…”

“Be like us.” Sy finished and Walter nodded. “Fuck, Mikey.”

“How is he?” Walter asked.

“Freaked out. Panickin’. He’s never lost control like that before.” Sy said, “I’ll call Walker and Rivian and tell’em to cut their trip short, we have a situation here. They should know what happened however it ends up, especially if she pulls through. Where’d you put her?”

“In my room.” Walter said and he nodded. “I’ll clean her up the best I can, but we need to get her into different clothes, hers are shredded and soaked in blood. It won’t help if or when she wakes up.”

“Take a flannel and a pair of shorts from my room, get her into those.” Sy said and Walter nodded. “Let’s just try to make her as comfortable as possible, no matter how it turns out. When Mike gets done cleanin’ up, he should take one of us to where he found’er, see if she has anythin’ that’ll tell us who she is and where she’s from.”

“Poor thing, probably just out camping and this happens.” Walter said, shaking his head.

“Nothing we can do about it now, ‘cept deal with the fallout.” Sy said and Mike walked into the kitchen heavily, his hair still wet from his shower, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“Is she…” Mike started.

“She’s alive, kid.” Sy said and Mike gave a heavy sigh. “For now, at least. Walt says it’s bad and she’ll be lucky if she lasts the night.”

“And if she does last the night?” Mike asked hesitantly.

“Then we’ll have something else entirely to worry about, won’t we?” Walter said, “But we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. One thing at a time. In the meantime, you’re going to take me to where it happened. Sy has a call he needs to make and we need to get her things.”

“Yeah,” Mike said with a nod, “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Come on.” Walter said and steered him out of the kitchen with a hand at his back as Sy dug out his cell phone, bringing up a contact and putting it to his ear as it rang.

“August, somethin’s happened.” He said as it picked up. “Gonna need you and Geralt to get back here as soon as possible. All hands on deck kinda situation.”

#henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #august walker #hellraiser mike #geralt of rivia #once in a blue moon

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beef-brisket · 1 day ago

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As soon as Adam was freshly showered, he made all the necessary changes and got dressed in a fresh uniform.

Was he really doing this? Having dinner with the Devil-? His literal greatest enemy? The only person- other thing his whore ex wife- to actually HATE Adam?

It would be a great revenge. He tricked him and Eve in the garden, so now, it's Adam's turn.

Sting him along for five days, then fuck off back to Heaven. He won't have to see or hear from the little bastard for five or so years.

And seeing as Sera fired him from being the commander, he won't have to be in the meetings. Man, everything was really looking up.

Once he put his helmet on, Adam checked himself out in the mirror. He... does look slightly feminine, which is fucking bullshit, he's the first man not... Lilith.

Most of the changes he made were internal, so has he always been this curvy or is it the uniform?

Oh well, he has a job to do. He can worry about hitting the gym another day.

Snapping his fingers, Lucifer summoned a bottle of red wine and placed it on the table. Everything was nearly ready. He was just waiting for dinner to finish cooking and for the main attraction to arrive.

Lucifer sighed and fixed his hair. It's been a good few years since he's done anything like this. But, it couldn't be too hard, he got her to agree to meet him, didn't he? She's basically in the plams of his hands!

He just has to... not fuck it up, somehow.

The king jumped when he heard a knock at his door.

Lucifer: This is it! Don't fuck it up- don't fuck it up-. Heeey- oh, I don't your name... that's... beyond rude of me. Come in!

Great start.

Opening.the door wider for the exorcist, Lucifer tried not to focus on her ass as she walked in- good god, he was head height with it.

Closing the door, he watched as she looked around his penthouse.

Lucifer: Uh- feel free to walk around. The bathroom and bedroom is down that way-.

"Why would I need to know where the bedroom is?"

Lucifer blushed: Oh- j-just in case... you... uh- get tired!

As Lucifer was about to turn, he saw the exorcists' hands move, making him focus on what she was signing.

"Ada."

Lucifer: Oh! Yes... what's an ada?

Adam wanted to smack this fool. How did he woo Lilith??

"That's my name. You sold you didn't know it."

Lucifer blinked a couple of times until it clicked: Oh! Ada! Beautiful~. Sorry, I didn't ask for it- whe. We first spoke... it's... been a while. Please, have a seat, dinners almost ready!

Rolling his eyes, Adam took a seat and looked around the room again. Of course this fucker had to have a penthouse here. Why couldn't he just go back to the hotel or to his own damn mansion?

As Lucifer dished up their plates, he felt his heart buzz. She's going to have to take off her helmet to eat. Surely, they wouldn't make all the armies helmets weird like Adam's.

The king smirked, and he wondered how Adam would feel, knowing he was seducing one of his "girls." But in a split second, his mind went back to that conversation with Ada out in the hallway.

Those rumours about Lilith. And what she did... but how would Heaven know? The only way they'd have any idea of what happened in the garden would have been from Adam himself. So, how could he trust these rumours?

He shouldn't even be thinking about his wife- ex wife like that. She's the mother of his daughter, and she's still the Queen of Hell.

She wouldn't hurt Adam. No, Adam hurt her. That's what she said. And he's proved time and time again that he has a thirst for bloodshed.

How couldn't he have hurt her? He's controlling- he's manipulative, and he's tried over and over to paint Lilith as something of a monster.

Lucifer wanted to break something. Adam's up there spreading rumours that Lilith... forced him to have sex with her, but Lilith told him something different. That it was the other way round.

Lucifer glared: Sick bastard, better stay in Heaven if he knows what's good for him... n-no. No, never mind that now. You have a date!

Adam raised his eyebrow as he heard Lucifer mumbling to himself. He wanted to laugh at how obviously insane Hells had driven the angel since his fall, but something about his words felt... threatening.

Turning around, Lucifer held two plates in his hands, with a bright smile on his face. He tried to ignore how uncomfortable Ada looked.

Walking over, Lucifer put the plate down in front of her. She hasn't even said anything, and he's beaming with pride.

Lucifer: Bon appetite!

Adam looked down at the meal. Shit, what if it was poisoned? Surely not...

"Looks good, thanks"

Lucifer: Oh, why thank YOU. I put a lot of pride into this meal- but that shouldn't be a surprise. Sin of pride. King oh hell- you know my titles, I'm sure~.

Jesus Christ.

"I've heard a few."

Lucifer: Oh~? And your favourite~?

"Archfiend is a good one. But I personally like The Liar."

Adam almost laughed at the look on Lucifer's face.

Lucifer: A-Archfiend- that's uh... quite the title. I haven't heard that one before.

"It's a good one, right?"

Lucifer chuckled awkwardly: It's uh... something... I actually prefer "light bringer" myself.

Adam stared down Lucifer. "Of course you do."

Lucifer: Uh- y-yeah. What about you? You're quite deadly out there on the uh... "battlefield". Have you earned any titles?

Adam had to think for a moment, he hasn't used or heard his titles in a long time, but obviously, none made him as "proud" as his first man title. Even though it's always meant nothing.

"I have a few. 'Judgement', 'the destroyer', 'skull piercer', 'blood crier', 'Golden Axe of Heaven'"

Adam stared at Lucifer's face, he looked uncomfortable. And confused, like he's heard those names before.

The first man wanted to laugh at how pathetic he looked. Adam even threw in his golden axe title. If that doesn't get him, then Adam might as well kiss any intelligent conversation goodbye.

But, he decided to rub salt in the wound. "But my favourite is 'fiend killer'. Pretty accurate, don't you think?"

Adam the Exorcist

@beef-brisket

Lute looked up wide eyed as her commander was giving his speech and there was a little sinner coming up behind him.

Lute: SIR BEHIND YOU!?

Adam stopped and turned, he gasped and grabbed Nifty by the neck and threw her at the hotel crew and Lucifer, glaring at the lot of them.

Adam: THIS ISN'T FUCKING OVER!!

Lucifer: I think it is bud, you should go home.

Adam glared more, he was leaving because he wanted to not because this little fucker told him to. He waved his hand giving them the signal that extermination day was officially over.

Adam: Exorcists fall back!

Lute: But ..... Sir -

Adam: NOW Lute!!

She nodded and glared at the King and princess of Hell along with her friends. They all flew back to heaven and Adam flipped Lucifer off before he was fully back in.

Adam groaned when the portal closed, they had never had it go that wrong that fast. This wasn't going to end well.

Adam: Retire!?

Sera sighed she knew Adam wouldn't take this well.

Sera: Yes Adam, it's time you step down as the commander of the exterminators.

Adam: Is this about what happened!? Because it won't happen again.

Sera: You're right, it won't.

Adam sighed: But Abel? My boy is too soft to do that job.

Sera: There's no one else to do it. You nearly died down there we....... We can't lose you.

On one hand he understands where she's coming from, but he was meant to do this! The only reason things went bad was because Lucifer showed up.

Lute just HAD to kill the princess's pet.

Adam: I don't want him to die.

Sera: He won't. We will be doing a more regimented training routine. You deserve a rest Adam.

Adam: ..... Yes Sera.

She smiled and held out her arms, Adam hugged her. She was only doing this because she loves him, he knows that. Doesn't make it suck any less.

Adam went back to his room to lay down, he didn't realize how tired he was until he did.

There had to be a way that he could still be an exterminator.

Some how.

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fruitless-vain · 1 year ago

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Jack very excited about elden ring dlc

Jack very sad that it is not instantaneous dopamine upon purchase (preorder)

I inform Jack that bloodborne released DLC 10 years ago we’ve never played

Jack excited for “new” dlc dopamine

Jack realizes she has to relive the brutality of bloodborne before accessing dlc

Jack hands me the controller

Instantaneous dopamine for Jack

#she doesn’t play games #she button mashes as far as she can go #and has fun until button mashing doesn’t work #then hands me the controller to finish things off #I will say she almost beat gascoine once #v proud moment #she just likes watching for the most part #but every now and then she likes to push buttons #also bloodborne dlc is on sale for 15$ right now #if you’ve wanted an excuse to get it for 10 years lmfao

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grinchwrapsupreme · 2 years ago

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there's something about characters for whom emotions cannot be contained, where the feelings are all so surface level whether they want them to be or not, who can't help but be loudly angry or happy or sad, who love so so deeply and have no hope of concealing it

#leslie durrell #roman roy #tristan farnon #congrats to callum woodhouse for getting 2 characters on this list #you'll have to forgive me i just finished #the durrells #and leslie sitting there looking miserable while everybody else was trying to be cheerful #before he leaned over and hugged his brother because he'll miss him so much #really got to me #and his face when lugaretzia kissed his forehead 😭#he's The Worst but he's also so important to me unfortunately #they were all so supportive of him in the finale and they've all come around to letting him be in charge of things #remember when larry destroyed his clipboard because he was so sick of him being in charge #and now here he is handing off control of the play to him #because above all leslie needs to be in control #babe there are so many things wrong with you let me kiss your forehead like lugaretzia #anyways this post is only partly about him ignore all these tags

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sforzesco · 2 years ago

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i just - your two ao3 bookmarks are in supernatural and metal gear? impeccable, flawless taste, no notes, but aye, the horrors -

SHDHGSDHDKJ Y EAH I started watching spn back in 2008 or 2009, I actually have a million more bookmarks on my browser because I was reading spn fic on. livejournal.

speaking of metal gear, borrowing this ask as an opportunity to connect some dots because my god do I think about metal gear constantly

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, Trauma, and History in Metal Gear Solid V, Amy M. Green

Rome, Blood, & Power, Gareth C Sampson

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, Trauma, and History in Metal Gear Solid V, Amy M. Green

The Deaths of the Republic, Brian Walters

its like. the recurring violence of it all!! the last generations of the roman republic, snake eater/peace walker/phantom pain, none of you ever stood a fucking chance! the rot of military imperialism already doomed you!!!! you are trying to fix a decaying corpse, but the putrid flesh from the limbs is sloughing off in your hands!!! assigning a higher ideal, a fantasy, to the economy of war/imperialism/political violence won't change what it is!! do you think love can bloom on a battlefield? yeah, but it sure as hell won't save any of you! it will make you cannibalize each other**

**love wins for dave and otacon tho

#ask tag #long post #there's a cannibalism fic where post hell dean eats sam that really did a lot for me when i was reading ancient greek lit #love a family horror show in any setting or genre!#actually the exact thing that makes me chomp on bb/kaz gives me brainrot about sulla-crassus #anyway i getting off topic. if anyone thinks my additional reading notes are bad (long) now. they could be so much worse #i cut out all the stuff that isn't strictly related to the topic at hand so RIP to the MGS quotes and to Alan Wake and Control......#(somewhere. in a folder. i have a 3/4 of the way finished dead romans Control AU)#anyway thank you anon for giving me an opening to finally do a MGS-Late Roman Republic connect the dots post #do y'all ever think about kaz going by benedict in mgs1. because i think about it a lot #CHRIST i am getting off topic. i think about metal gear a lot

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torubeth · 11 months ago

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things you do that makes him go crazy (mature content! 18+)

just finished a spicy book and idk what came over me, suddenly wrote this w a high ass adrenaline. and yes it’s not proofread :p

gojo satoru maintaining eye contact with him while making out drives this man to the brink of salvation. he goes insane because of it. your arms locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as you press your lips to his. ‘if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re asking for more knowing i wouldn’t deny it sweet girl’

geto suguru ride! his! abs! he loves to watch you fall apart just by riding his abs. the sounds and sighs that leave your lips, your eyes hazy and filled with adoration just for him, your fingers aching to hold onto something, preferably his hands. ‘just like that angel girl- just like that. move those hips for me yeah?’

nanami kento *sensitive neck alert!* don’t say i didn’t warn you. the second he walks in through the main door, you’re ready to pounce on the man. your hands immediately tug at his tie, pulling him close enough to place heated kisses against his neck which has him melting and moaning. ‘fuck baby, been needing this all day..’

toji fushiguro acting like a brat pisses him off yet has his dick reaching for the sky. we all know the man loves to be in control and that’s the finishing line. but you decide to go and act all high and mighty? he wasn’t having it, although he must admit, it was cute. ‘okay princess fun times done, now start behaving and bend over f’me’ his hands reach down to give your ass a little squeeze.

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kamitv · 6 months ago

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▷ Second Time?

Synopsis . Part One. When you get paired with the campus asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin. Nor did you expect to be the one to change that. / Pairing . virgin!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, nipple play (m!receiving), pussy slapping, non-curse college au, dirty talk, pet names, degrading, continued porn w plot, teasing, taunting, filth, creampie, Sukuna’s kinda soft here and there, etc. / wc . 4.4k

A/N: to those that requested a part two for virgin!sukuna <3 [MDNI]

“No? Oh c’monnn, they’re just piercings,” You whine as your legs remain sprawled out over Sukuna’s muscular thighs.

Your panty-clad cunt was throbbing over his saliva-slicked semi-hard cock, due to your recent actions, and yet here Sukuna was still trying his very best to figure out a way out of this situation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go further with you— he was just nervous.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud though. Admit you’ve made him nervous? Oh please, in what universe?

Sure, you made him cum prematurely but that’s not his fault. No one told you to have such a slutty ass mouth.

Back to the present though, as you gaze down at him with those stupidly pretty eyes of yours, batting your lashes pleadingly whilst you await for the man to change his answer. It was simply unfair of him to have nipple piercings and not show you. It’s the least he could do after the head you just gave him, right?

“No, it’s not the ‘least I can do’,” Sukuna huffs. It’s then that you realize you’d spoken your thoughts aloud but, in a way, you’re actually glad you did so, “You’re not seeing shit, now get off of me.”

The pout that presents itself on your face is practically immediate, “C’mon ‘Kuna, I won’t touch them. I jus’ wanna see,” You coo softly, tilting your head to the side as if to convince him, “Please?”

One simple word and his tip was wet with precum yet again. Sukuna swears he hates you. He hates the way you're looking at him right now, the way you're seated so perfectly on top of him, and the way he forgets how the hell he even got into this position with you in the first place.

Didn't he come over here to finish a project? Not have sex with you.

And yet, he can't find it in himself to say no to you again. That damn word you said, it did something to him. Sukuna's not sure what or why but his mouth is moving on its own, almost instinctively, "You wanna see them?" He sighs.

You're nodding, slipping your hands down to the hem of his shirt, "Yeah. Promise I won't touch."

"Tch. I..." Sukuna grits his teeth and you can see a pretty vein decorating his skin along his sharp jawline as he glances away for a moment, "I want you to beg me again."

Although you're a bit taken back by his request, you're quick to lean forward a bit and bite your lower lip, "Please?"

He ignores the word leaving you lips, his cock springing to life once more despite his attempt at leaving you unanswered. Given his body's reaction to you, all you can do is smirk before you're leaning down slightly and pressing your lips to his jaw.

"Pretty please, Sukuna?" You purr, warm breath hitting his now overly tense skin, "I promise I'll be good. Won't lay a finger on you unless you want me to."

His head slumps back against the couch and he inhales sharply at your soft touch sliding under his shirt, steadily working it up as the black fabric bundles up against your hands.

Then you're at his neck, sucking on his skin, rolling your tongue over him, shifting your hips forward against his cock and he simply groans. "F-Fucking, fine." Sukuna huffs, annoyed out of his ever-loving mind at whatever control it is you seem to have over him.

He hates you. He swears he hates you. Everything about the way your hands quickly tug his shirt up over his head, tossing the fabric elsewhere as you set your greedy eyes on his chest, the way your eyes widen at how flushed his skin is, and the sight of your tongue swiping over your lips as soon as you set your sight on his nipples.

Such pretty contrasting metal decorated his very pretty swollen nipples. So flushed with shades of pink and red, itching to be touched— just one flick and you knew he'd let out the most heavenly sound. The problem was convincing him to let you touch his nipples.

They were so damn tempting though, you swore you were drooling at the sight. God, you just wanted to reach out and-

"No," Sukuna rasps out. Your eyes snap up to his face and your pussy throbs at his expression.

He's beyond embarrassed. His eyes almost look glossed over with how desperate he was for you to stop looking at him. And yet he was so pouty and grumpy too, plump lips pulled into the cutest little frown at how hungry you were looking at him, his breathing unsteady all over again, and his cock felt twitching wildly beneath you.

You smirk, "'No'... what?"

"No, you cannot touch them," He's slow to clarify that, having seen right through those greedy eyes of yours, "You wanted to see and you've seen so-"

"I can make you feel good though," You purr, leaning in close to him all over again. "Jus' let me-"

"No," Sukuna mutters sternly. Then his hands are meeting your hips and his grip alone makes you flinch.

His touch is filled with intent as he slides his hands back to your ass and gives you a nice and firm squeeze, tugging you against him and making you gasp at the way his dick twitches right against your cunt. Your hands go to his shoulders to stop yourself from being pulled flush against him and he gazes dead up into your eyes.

How does one look so needy and yet commanding at the same time? It was like Sukuna told you thousands of words through his gaze alone. Maybe it was his very apparent physical need for you, or maybe it was just how attractive he is when aroused but fuck his look had your body hot all over.

Sukuna lets out a small breath of air before he drops his raspy tone even lower to a whisper, "Fuck me," He utters, feeling the reaction your cunt has to his words and cracking a cocky little smirk, "Fuck me, and you can touch me as much as you wish to."

You gulp thickly. Did you forget how to speak for a moment because all you do is open your mouth and it was like no words were even coming to your brain. His gaze was to intense and starved, large hands playing with the fat of your ass while he lifts his hips up slightly.

Then you gasp again, his thick tip was pressing right against your needy hole through the few layers of clothing that remained and you felt drunk off of your own arousal. Nodding and whispering in return, "O-Okay," Your hands slide around his neck and you lean in until your lips are meeting his again.

And if you were drunk off of your arousal then he was fucking high off of his own— feeling faded out of his mind with the way he leisurely moves to undress your lower half as he kisses you like he's done so a thousand times before, sliding his tongue into your mouth, swallowing up your moans, sucking on your lower lip, and undressing you all in one go.

Hell, for a second you forget the man is a damn virgin.

And as if to combat with that— you feel like a damn virgin once you start sinking your slippery walls around Sukuna’s thick cock. Gasping against his lips and feeling his fingertips curl into the skin of your waist, his jaw-dropping and lips quivering against yours as he lets out the most guttural groan he’s ever uttered, and both of your eyes fluttering at the connection of his body to yours.

Sukuna’s deeply shaded red eyes are hazy on yours as you sink down on him. His mind is turning to mush and he swears he’s about to pass the fuck out. It could’ve been the way your face looked as your cunt greedily sucked in his cock, or how tight your walls clamped down on him but, either way, Sukuna felt hot all over. Dizzy with lust and faded off of everything that’s you.

Every inch of you, the feel of your squeezing wet pussy enclosing around his aching cock, that breathy squeak of his name leaving your lips, and then your fingers grazing his chest-

Sukuna’s brows twist up and his entire body flinches instinctively. Hips bucking up slightly, large hands urging you further down, and shaky sound escaping his wet blushing lips— he’d officially lost it.

He looked so damn pretty doing so as well, not that you’d ever tell him that (you’ve embarrassed him enough for the time being). Those damn eyes of his were all glossed over, his bottom lip was shaking as a sexy-pitched gasp escaped his throat, and his hands held onto you for dear life whilst he bottomed out.

His fat cockhead kissing your cervix with little to no movement had you panting heavily while you kept your eyes low on his. “‘Kuna,” You feel his cock twitch desperately inside you and you toy with one of his sensitive nipples in between your index and thumb, “Y-You’re so-“

“Shut up,” He groans, and then he’s kissing you— desperately, hungrily-, starved. He knew another word from you would have your cunt stuffed full of his cum within seconds.

And as much as he wanted that, as much as he knew that’d be the end result of all this, he did not want to make yet another fool of himself. Though, the way your fingertips constantly flick over his pierced nipples makes him fucking whine into your mouth, a heavy grunt following after the sound as if to cover it up.

The hands your waist urge your body up, dragging your slicked walls up along his cock before allowing gravity to slam you back down. God the way you moan his name makes his knees feel weak. You were making him, as a whole, feel so utterly weak.

It wasn’t long before you were picking up a steady pace on top of him, your breaths shared with his and his eyes not once leaving yours. Sukuna was such a silent commander, that gaze of his told you everything, testing-, no, daring you to look away from him. He didn’t even know what it was about eye contact but he craved it so desperately.

Your gaze made his cock so stupidly hard, so much so that he just wanted to flip you over on this stupid couch of yours and-

And then he was. Sukuna doesn’t even register he’s repositioned with you until you let out the prettiest little whimper and your eyes roll back as he, almost experimentally, thrusts his heavy cock deep past your plush pussy lips.

What brings him back into the moment is that sound of you and the way you’re choking out his name, “S’kuna, f-fuck,” You almost hate that he’s taken control because you’ve lost your teasing of his chest, “Why’d you-, ngh-,” You’re cut off completely when he drags his hips back so torturously slow before rolling his hips down into you.

Shaking his head thoughtlessly, “Shut up,” Sukuna huffs again as he presses his bulky weight down against you, folding you into the meanest mating press and making you let out a filthy mewl at the sheer stretch of his girthy cock. “Please,” He sounds almost breathless, that plea of his hardly even audible, “Jus’ be quiet f’me.”

Your jaw hangs open and you’re simply gaping up at the man with stupid, cockdrunk eyes. Something about feeling and watching him learn how to please you was probably more pleasurable than the sex itself. Which is saying an awfully lot because even though he didn't know what the hell he was doing, whatever he was doing, he was doing it right.

All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer, moaning his name softly every time his tip nudges into that mushy spot inside you. Sukuna lets out a low hum when he feels your nails claw at his back suddenly.

Then the cocky bastard has the nerve to fucking smile at you. Almost as if he enjoyed the pain of your nails scratching at his back hard enough to leave marks…

Because, of course, then he’s fucking you faster, harder, deeper. So determined to learn what you like, to learn your body inside and out (literally), and to have you mark up his back more than the dark ink that decorates his skin currently.

“Y’feel so fuckin’…” He can hardly even speak as he just grows addicted to pushing his cock in and out and in and out. That sloppy sound of your cunt squelching and wetting up his cock over and over again-, fuck he couldn’t get enough of it. “S-So fuckin’ good,” Sukuna’s voice almost softens as he shifts his lips to your ear, “Oh fuck, wanna…” His words trail off, a deep shade of blush coating his cheeks.

You can’t help but grow that never-ending urge to tease him, moving your lips to his ear, “Wanna what?” There was a slight shake in your voice but that didn’t save him from his cock throbbing at the sound of your voice alone.

“Hahh… wanna-, agh, wanna make you cum,” Sukuna admits begrudgingly. He sounded so ridiculously embarrassed saying that out loud but he was far too pussydrunk to care right now.

Thrusts growing heavier as if he were searching for a specific spot inside you, his eyes softening as he shifts to hover his face over yours once more, and his groans making your stomach churn with butterflies. Hell, you almost do exactly that of what he’s requested based on the sound of desperation in his tone alone.

Sukuna’s usually such a big, mean, sometimes stoic man, and yet here he was, silently requesting your assistance.

He is only a virgin after all.

“Not anymore,” He gruffs, catching you by surprise as you render the fact that those words left your lips. “C’mon, tell me what to do.”

Again, Sukuna swears on his life he hates you. He hates the way you’ve made him so weak, the way your cunt is so deliciously warm inside, the way you moan his name-

Fuck, he hates you.

“‘Kuna,” You whisper as you slide one of your hands from around his neck to slip to his hand and guide him, “My clit. You gotta-“

Your breath is caught in your throat all over again. You were trying to guide him just like he wanted you to but Sukuna was far too quick of a learner, swatting his thick thumb around in search before his ears twitch at the way your voice gets stuck in your throat.

“Here?” He has the nerve to whisper gently, “Rub here, right? Y’like that?” Sukuna asks as he matches his thrusts with the flick of his thumb, drinking in the way your back arches up off of the couch and your eyes roll back.

You’re nodding, “Yes yes-, r-right there ‘Kuna, fuck…”

His eyes rake over your face all over again and then he’s doing that thing where he speaks without thinking, “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

Of course, those softly uttered words pull you out of your cockdrunken stupor for only a moment, “H-Huh?” You breathe out as your eyes meet his.

“I hate you,” Sukuna lies straight through his teeth, “Hate how pretty you look beneath me,” He’s babbling at this point, picking up his pace and trying to angle his cock into somewhere specific, “How fuckin’-, god you’re squeezin’ me s’tight, hahh… h-how you sound moaning my name, taking my cock.” With that last sentence comes a particularly harsh thrust.

Your nails scrape at his back again and he moans in pleasure. Gloss covers your eyes as he finally finds that spot that has you seeing stars, “Sukuna,” You moan sweetly, feeling him hit that very spot over and over and over again.

“Again,” He huffs, leaning down even closer and pressing more of his weight onto you, “Moan my name again, woman.”

“Sukuna,” You’re moaning without the need for his instruction. To hell if the man is a virgin, he knows how to use his cock.

What he doesn’t realize is how big he is in comparison to anyone else you’ve been with. Stretching you open with every thrust, fucking you ridiculously full of all his thick inches, knocking his dripping tip right against your sweet spot, making your legs tingle in numbness, and rolling skillful circles around your clit as if he’d practiced doing so before.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Sukuna rasps out, his eyes locked dead onto yours as usual.

He was so focused on you, so eager to make you cum. Obviously, he’d never felt anything like this before so he never wants it to end. And perhaps that’s the only reason why he hasn’t emptied himself into you yet.

Every time you’re felt leaving another bright red mark on his back, he lets out a low hiss before flashing a smirk down at you, thrusts growing harder. Then there’s the way you just gape up at him, jaw dangling as you’re so clearly lost in pleasure, and pussy swallowing him in whole each time he fucks himself back into you.

And your little gasps of, “Feels s-so good Kuna, don’t stop.” Have him reeling back on purpose, pretending to mistakenly slip his cock out of you for a moment only to slap his fat cockhead against your needy hole and then push all of himself right back in.

With a smug expression on his face, “Don’t tell me what t’do,” He responds.

“I jus’ did,” You argue back all in one breath.

God, he- , “I hate you,” The words are leaving his lips yet again but he can’t stop driving his dick inside you. You’re so fucking warm, so welcoming for him, so honeyed and sweet inside. Hell, for a second he wonders what you’d taste like on his tongue— despite never even going down on someone before.

“Yeah,” You flash a fucked-out little smile up at him and your walls grip onto him tighter, making his brows twist up, “But you love fuckin’ me.” Your little whisper makes him shudder.

He nearly cums at that, releasing a strangled groan before he just nods almost obediently, “Uhuh.” Sukuna mumbles, his hate for you growing with every passing second.

There you are under him, still teasing him despite the expression of pleasure plastered across your face, “Yeah?”

“M-Mhm,” He grumbles in response.

He can’t help but just agree with you. Of course he adores fucking you. If anything, he doesn’t think he’d prefer it be anyone else. After watching your cute ass all composed every week in class, listening to the way you lecture him for not paying attention as if you actually care about him, watching you grow surprised today at the way he can get things done when he puts in an effort-

Shit, of course he wanted to see you like this— splayed out like a pretty little slut for him, gasping his name, looking him in the eye, and allowing him to fuck you. God, his mind is spinning. He can’t think at all.

So lost in his head, you’re left spasming below him because he’s still thumbing at your clit and his cock is as unforgiving as ever, “Sukuna,” His name rolls off of your tongue beautifully and he’s left in awe above you.

Tilting his head, “What?” Sukuna breathes as he’s pulled from his daze and back to the present.

“Make me cum,” You order so suddenly.

As that third word leaves those lips of yours, Sukuna smirks knowingly and he leans up a little just to angle himself better inside you. He glances down at your cunt, biting his lip at the sight of his cock bulging inside you, watching himself push in and out for a second before his smirk turns into a lazy little smile.

“Already did’,” He scoffs, flicking his eyes back up to you.

Your brows twist up, “Wha-“

“Are you that dumb when cock is inside ya’?” He utters meanly and earns an immediate squeeze of your gummy walls around his veiny shaft, “You came a few minutes ago, brat.”

“I…” Your expression becomes dumbfounded and in an instant, you’re the one left embarrassed.

Which he finds all too cute, “Felt good tho’.” He comments smugly, looking back down to where you’re connected and tilting his head at the sight.

Fuck, he was so sexy above you. Even on his chest, bright red scratches decorated his skin. When did you do that? His nipples were still as flushed as his face and you wanted so badly to reach out and flick your fingers against them again.

Pouting, “Sukuna-“

“Do it again f’me,” The man cuts off.

You can’t even get a response out before he’s leaning down again, “I-“

This time you’re cut off by him pressing your legs together and against your chest, loving the pretty sight of you folded and bent to his will like this. All he can do is stare down and watch himself fuck you, seeing your swollen lips take in his fat length so fucking beautifully. It’s like you were made for him or something.

Your cunt only molds around his cock, sucking him in whenever he pulls out like you never wanted him to leave you. He could feel every throb of your pussy when he spoke to you, every squeeze of your warmth when he reached deeper than before, and fuck was he enamored by every second of it.

“Please,” He says breathlessly all of a sudden, itching to watch you cum on his cock this time around.

His begging is followed by him moving his hand back down to your pussy, his thumb sliding back in search of your clit. Rubbing those maddening little circles once he finds it, Sukuna focuses most of his attention on your body. Every little jump you make when he swats his thumb to the left, every pitch in your moan when he thrusts inside you at a certain pace— Sukuna soon smiles once he’s got you all figured out.

“Oh fuck,” You whimper, tossing your head back against the couch as your eyes loll to the back of your hand.

With that knowing smile on his face, the couch creaks with his rough thrusts inside you, “Stop makin’ me beg you for shit,” Sukuna grunts before gifting your throbbing pussy with a little smack, “Jus’ give it t’me.”

“Sukuna-, ah,” You’re choking at the sensation and your cunt narrows even more around him.

His toned pelvis smacks against you over and over, heavy balls hitting your ass with each shove of his fat cock inside your warmth, “Fuck,” The man heaves as he feels himself steadily growing addicted.

Why the hell didn’t he have sex with someone sooner?

“M’gonna cum,” You soon whine out to the man.

To which he clashes into you faster, feining for it, “Please, f-fuckin’ need it,” Sukuna groans before pressing down against you again.

His thrusts grow uneven and jagged, eyes rolling back when he feels you finally cumming around his cock for a second time. You were squeezing him so tight. All he could do was moan at how perfect you were.

“Shiit,” He huffs, his cock twitching wildly inside you before his mind goes completely blank, “I love you-“

Your brows immediately twist up, “Wha-“

And then he’s painting your walls white. Grunting, groaning, moaning-, hell, you name it and the sound was leaving his lips as he fucks his orgasm into you.

Then he’s babbling mindless little praises of, “Love this fuckin’ pussy,” Lost in filling you with his cum and listening to you whimper from overstimulation.

Gifting you with praise after praise about how beautiful you are under him like this, how much he adores his name rolling off your tongue. He can’t even fathom how much cum is spilling into you, velvety thick ropes painting your walls a creamy white to the point where it spills out of you and coats his hefty base with a filthy ring of white.

All while he continued to praise you, going as far as thank you in quiet little whispers. God, he was out of his mind. He wasn’t thinking in the slightest, his mouth was just saying shit.

So much so that he’s barely lucid as his high comes down, doesn’t process a thing he said to you moments ago, and just lays there for a while with his cock resting inside you. All he can do is pant heavily as he rests his body on top of you, not yet pulling out and leaving his softened cock inside you.

You’re completely still beneath him for a while, trying to catch your breath as your legs feel temporarily numb. You couldn’t get those three words he spoke to you out of your head.

His tone was so damn soft and vulnerable, just replaying it in your head made you smile. Before he notices your expression though, you wipe the smirk off of your face and coo his name softly, “Sukuna…?”

“Don’t.” Is all he has to say to you. He was well aware of what he’d said to you.

He didn’t mean it, of course. He was simply… lost in the moment.

“Aww,” You purr, an obvious breathlessness to your tone, “You said you loved me cause I took your virginit-“

Sukuna lets out a mean groan before moving your legs apart so he can meet your eyes again, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You flash a pout to mock him, “Why? ‘Cause I didn’t say it back?”

His face is all different shades of blush but he still looks as mean and grumpy as ever, “No…”

“You sure?” You tease further.

All he can do is roll his eyes at you, “Fuck you.”

And, naturally, you only continue, “I think you did that already…”

Sukuna sighs, “Just.. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“As long as you promise we’ll do this more often.”

“I-, hah,” He smirks, “What are you, some kinda cockhungry slut?”

“No…” Your eyes drag themselves elsewhere for a moment, “But for you, maybe.”

“Mh.” Sukuna hums deeply, an unavoidable smile spreading across his face, “I think I like that.”

“I think you love it-“

“M’gonna ‘love’ fucking the snarky responses outta’ your mouth in a second if you keep it up,” He says flawlessly.

All you can do is swallow down whatever it is you were going to respond to that with.

To which he smiles, “Uhuh, that’s what I thought.”

Edit after leaks: sorry not sorry to spoil: rip unckuna & fuck gege, bring back gojo NOW. I’m not playin 😂

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