#or be completely bewildered by everything i post

[waitineedaname]

I've received a sudden influx of followers because of an entirely unrelated textpost from several years ago, which means all of you legally have to read my current interest in order to understand my blog. ooooh you wanna read scum villain's self-saving system so bad (Anna's archive link since the internet archive is down)

some quotes to further persuade you:

also read my fanfiction. hi.

[maneskinwh0re]

modern!sevika x housewife!reader // clueless couple

cw: fluff, loser butch sevy, age gap (if you squint), more fluff

i saw a post that said “holding back the urge to say ‘must’ve been ur other girlfriend’ to my bf” and it gave me the idea to write about saying it to our sev

i imagine modern!sevika is a loser lesbian but also a clueless millennial who thinks she knows everything and then proceeds to get extremely humbled. she’s adorable, your honor.

༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻

༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻

slow mornings are your favorite. the windows to your kitchen are swung open, allowing in thin beams of sunlight and fresh air, while the smell of brewed coffee swirls through the room.

standing at the stove, you make breakfast for you and your wife, flipping a second omelette for sevika because she has already finished the first, now nibbling on a banana slice while she waits.

she leans against the counter next to you, eyes squinting at her phone as she tries to scroll through her photos. she moves the device further away, then brings it closer, inches from her face, the brightness of the screen surely not helping her aging eyesight.

“can never figure out this damn thing,” she says with an agitated huff before you look at her stance and giggle. she’s hunched over in a grey tank top and black boxers, large veined hands cradling her cracked phone. her hair is pulled back into a stubby ponytail while small wisps of framed bangs fall against her cheekbones.

“you can’t figure it out because y’ can’t see, mama,” you chuckle as you take the thin glasses atop her head and set them nicely on the bridge of her nose. “that better?”

“oh,” the difference is night and day, you practically see her big eyes refocus with a dumbfounded blink. “yes, much better, hon’.”

and with that, she’s right back to pure eagerness as she tells a story of how she and ran beat the boys over a few poker games, elaborating on how she brought home lots of extra cash last night. while she scrolls to find a specific picture of her winning hand, she pauses for a moment to question her own memory and turns to you.

“wait- have i told y’ this already?”

“hm, no,” you reply, shaking your head as you toss the omelette onto a plate. “must’ve been your other wife.”

your side comment totally sweeps over your butch’s head at first. you give her a moment to nod and continue searching through her phone before she completes a double take — no. a quadruple take with a confused followed by a truly bewildered expression.

“what?” sevika’s head snaps to you for the fourth time, brows furrowed clearly in offense. (reference pic at the top :))

you only hum up at her with expectancy, playing the act of clueless defiance.

“what’d you just say?” she repeats with a ghost of a smile, setting her phone on the counter.

“i didn’t- what?” you dismiss, gripping the handle of the empty pan and moving past sevika to set it in the sink. although she doesn’t let you get away so easily. “nothin’! i don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

with a tight grip on your waist, she yanks you backwards, erupting a squeal from your throat followed by a fit of laughter as you fall against her. her breath tickles your skin as she peppers kisses up and down the side of your neck and shoulder.

“what the hell are y’ on about? my ‘other wife’? you’re insane.”

“oh, so now i’m insane to you? i imagine more insane than your side bride. got it,” you banter as you grip her forearm that holds you close. one of her hands then turns your face up towards her lips. “i guess you’ll just have to tell her that i-”

your words are cut off with a gentle kiss. sevika tastes a mix of morning breath and black coffee, her disheveled self looks and smells in desperate need of a warm shower. but when your wife pulls away with admiration in those big grey eyes, you wouldn’t give any of it up for the world.

not the good, not the bad. for better for worse, in sickness and in health. to love and to cherish.

“shush. i’m yours.”

༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻

ignore grammar/spelling mistakes 😜 dropping another random fluff bomb then locking back in to my bum ass math classes 🐑💣

also i’m absolutely LOVING all the asks that’s been sent to my inbox, TRUST i see them and will get to them all eventually!! again just super busy with school/family/friend drama recently, all is good tho and always feel free to send requests or just spam meee

stay safe out there divas 💜

-🐝

taglist: @cdbabymp3 @mirconreadzztuff22 @wizard-pdf @archangeldyke-all @nhaaauyen @inthebrainofalamb

[hellxs]

LILITH ASPECTS(deep dive)

i see somewhere that people who are lilith dominant have trauma when it comes to being accused of things

and it’s really true depending on what it’s aspecting it can show where things like this take place

mars-lilith in men or women can show accusation when it comes sex or doing things society deem as immoral like stealing from somebody

you could b doing literally nothing and someone will project that lilith on you and make you villain no matter how nice your being

you could be a virgin and someone would assume your a slut

these projections don’t come from nowhere though sometimes the mars lilith people are like this

some can do whatever they want and not care about consequences, stealing, having sex with others partners etc

this mostly happens because these things happened to them, since this happened to them they want to gain a sense of control by doing it back to other people

when they were younger they were most likely a wild child but the people around them thought it was too much so they had to get forced to suppress that side of them

repressing their sexuality, getting in trouble for exploring their sexuality or being open about it especially early on

these people can b drawn to taboo sexual experiences and taboo things, if someone tell them not to do something they’re most likely going to do it

because they don’t like people threatening their independence in any way(mostly with the hard aspects)

no matter how bad something may seem to society they don’t care they just care about what they want to do not what people want them to do they want don’t want to conform to others expectations

may either b too honest about their motivations that it comes off as too much or they keep everything inside( i see this mostly with mars opposite lilith)

mars opposite lilith tend to make the person scared to be lilith they can come off as reserved when it comes to mars things but internally they can be lilith

it can go the other way too that they identify more with lilith that people are scared by it

mars trine lilith tend to be the ones who don’t care and will express their desire and go after what they want without anything holding them back because they’re comfortable with lilith not fighting it

venus lilith aspects are very interesting especially for women

people with these can have people admire them and want them but never get approached like at all

when they do get approached or or people get a attracted to them it can be very creepy people

you could be a minor and older men or women can hit on you and even try to get with you

these people can criticized for literally anything when it comes to their appearance

they can be so magnetic and attractive to others that other put them down and humble them for literally existing

people who are attracted to you can hate you for how you make them feel it can make them feel out of control and that you have control over them

most of the time the people who are in your face hating are the ones wanting to be like you or want you

you attract love hate relationships

i see men with this aspect who wants a girl who is open sexually and very wild but then gets mad at them for being like that at the same times(with hard aspects)

they tend to want questionable people like other people can be very bewildered by the people you want

men from my experience tend to want girl who are hoes and everyone knows but they still feel drawn to them because they’re free and wild with the easy aspects they may be more ok with it but with the hard aspects they definitely hate their type

they want that but when they get it they get conflicted

women with this can be seen as a bad bitch or be intimidating to men and other women because their confidence in their femininity

women with this tend to post revealing picture of themselves and have no shame and don’t care

or it can be the complete opposite and want to no skin showing whatsoever because of trauma

people with this can get accused of stealing others partner or wanting others partners

this can be the case some of the time they could get intrigued by things that are forbidden and they aren’t supposed to be desiring

men with this i see tend to have a fixation on taking other men’s girls or taking pride in it

they can b too independent where they don’t even need their partner no matter how much they love them

can tell themselves that they don’t need others love and that self love is the only thing that matters

partners and people attracted to them being jealous and wanting to tame them

people being attracted to you while they’re in a relationship

something i seen was a man with Venus trine lilith and his partner who’s a venus square lilith and when he met her she was already posting these revealing pictures of herself on insta and he still wanted her but when they got into a relationship she continued to do this and he eventually got a problem with it even though he was attracted to that at first

mercury-lilith aspects are very interesting these people don’t sugarcoat for anything at all they always tell the brutal truth

no matter how much it hurts other people

before those people even open their mouth they can be shut off because their words have so much power

people can twist their words and accuse them of saying things they never said

could’ve exiled or got in trouble for speaking their mind

trauma around speaking their mind, which can make them always speak their mind or wanting to always be silent and keep it to themselves

these people can be very smart because they look for everything not just things that are nice and pleasant

will look for truth no matter how much pain it causes them

shame around communication overthinking whether they should say something or to just let go and say what comes natural to them

the easy aspects tend to have no problem speaking their mind no matter the circumstances

the hard aspects have problems and conflict with that and need to learn they shouldn’t be ashamed of anything they say because their words are powerful and cause change

communication style can be intimidating because they’re always challenging others ideas

refusing to be silenced

mercury-lilith hard aspects tend to cuss a lot and not like that about themselves but they continue to do so

people not wanting to talk to you because of your communication style and you might realize why people are acting weird towards you but it’s because they can’t handle the energy and think it’s too much

sun-lilith

you could’ve expressed yourself and people told you that your annoying or too much

this caused you to stop expressing yourself

or to over express yourself that it’s too much for people

you could be yourself and people think your mean or that you don’t like them

always trying to rebel against things people are doing

you can be very unique because you refuse to be like the crowd

this can cause you ti be outcasted and isolated

you prefer that compress ti being something your not in fitting in

these people can be way too authentic for others they can have no shame which is good thing but when your fully authentic people are going to hate you or love you which is at at play here

hard aspects could have trouble with their natural sexual identity if they don’t accept that about themselves other people will project that onto them

people would project bad things onto you if your not acting as lilith when it’s in opposition

people can make you the villain no matter what you do

it can make you just be ok with being the villain because that’s all people wanted to make you so it’s no escaping

(don’t have much experience with the asc and moon aspects)

THANKS FOR READING

❤️🖤🤍

[just-jordie-things]

headcanon request: how would the jjk guys react if someone's trying to flirt with them but they're already in a relationship with their s/o?

YES i love some light jealousy teehee ___

GOJO SATORU

has no chill if someone's flirting with him. or worse, he thinks someone's flirting with him, but they're just taking his order, or letting him know his shoe is untied.

he's literally "I'M MARRIED"

(for the untied shoe one, he definitely trips when he runs off)

he's so annoying abt it fr. always throwing "i have a wife" (even long before you're married) around even when unnecessary

and ppl do flirt with him, he's gojo, but sometimes... he's just a lot.

even if someone looks at him too long, he's wrapping his arm around you and loudly announcing "in front of my wife? you're lucky i'm holding her back!"

and you're just standing there bewildered with the box of cereal you were about to toss into the cart and wondering who the hell he's talking to- and when the hell did he propose??

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

for the most part he doesn't really notice when someone's flirting with him. i think it would take some very obvious hints.

so say someone is really trying to get him to catch on, pulling all the stops- fluttering eyelashes, unnecessary touching, one too many comments about his eyes, and finally, slipping a piece of paper into his hand with their phone number.

megumi can accidentally be a little cold.

he scowls at the phone number before crumpling the paper and dropping it.

"i don't want that," he's completely expressionless when he speaks, and honestly, the flirt-er is lucky he said anything at all rather than straight up walking away. "i have a girlfriend"

and then he walks away.

and when he meets up with you again he's a little more affectionate than usual, holding you a little longer, pulling you closer when you settle on the couch or bed or wherever, kissing you a few extra times for good measure.

don't get him wrong, it's not out of guilt or anything. he just wants you to know that he thinks of you when you're apart, and that he appreciates and loves you to death. nothing could ever change that.

ITADORI YUUJI

i don't often add him to my brainrot posts but i SHOULD and i had the most brilliant thought for him specifically

if he's getting hit on, he'll shut it down casually enough, and just blatantly tell them they're not his type.

and then he'll just start listing everything about you. and lover boy is BABBLING ok, no one could shut him up

he's describing your hair your eyes your nose your hands your style- and once he gets thru the physical stuff, it gets random

he's talking about your hobbies, your weird interests or collections, how sometimes you're a bad driver but you try your best lmfao he gets on such a tangent i don't think he'd even realize his tactic for defusing the flirting is just confusing the other person to the point of no longer wanting to give him their number

and once he's done with his dreamy little speech, he just goes "like my partner!!" all excited and bubbly

he's always rushing off to meet up with you then, having got himself so eager to be around you some more

OKKOTSU YUUTA

he's polite, but firm. he can also be a little quick to say he's taken, but it's only because he wants to let people down easy!

he's very kind when urning down phone numbers or flirty advances, always giving a gentle smile and saying no thank you, or actually i have a girlfriend. and he never apologizes when he says the second one, but that doesn't mean he's cruel! he's just thoughtful and respectful of you!

yuuta's a total gentleman.

but. god forbid. if he gets one of those nasty ppl that pull the "your girlfriend doesn't have to know" bullshit. oh boy. he does not handle that well.

toxic!yuuta jumps out a little!!

for as polite as he can be, he can get nasty when provoked just right, and someone disrespecting you? his beloved?

first it's a lecture- how dare you suggest such a thing? do you often try to break up people's perfect love lives?

then it's standing up for your honor- do you know how wonderful and lovely my partner is? you couldn't even understand the lengths that their radiance extends to. this part usually gets a little messy. he can get carried away when talking about you.

and lastly, he gets personal. deeply. personal. if they're having a not-so-great hair day, or if their attempts at slipping him their number were particularly weak, he's pouncing on that. he sniffs out weakness like a goddamn Chivalrous Boyfriend Bloodhound and sinking his claws in. i think yuuta could be really mean if he wanted to.

but that's kinda hot tho

INUMAKI TOGE

definitely the funniest of all of them. bcuz if he's getting hit on, he kinda just... stands there.

._.

CAUSE HE LITERALLY CANT SAY ANYTHING ???

sure, he could play it off like he doesn't understand what they're saying, or even type a little note in his phone saying he has a partner... but...

toge definitely prefers to stand there, completely blank faced, and stretch out the discomfort as long as possible.

sometimes people just scowl and walk away, finding it rude

one time tho someone actually started tearing up and completely ran away

(you came back just as it happened, an ice cream cone in each hand and a confused look on your face. but there's no way your sweet, mute boyfriend made a person cry, right?)

[mari-positas]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[chimera-dreams]

Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise. 

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

[f14fun]

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 2

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ prev | next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

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yourusername:

yourusername: WATCH LIVE ON TWITCH: i dominate my sub (max verstappen) as we play the sims 4 together - he's streaming too, ig 🙄🙄

(pls subscribe to my patreon and all of the cool cc looks that I put together)

view comments:

maxverstappen1: That is not the picture that we agreed on you to post, Y/N.

yourusername: deal with it max emillian 🙄

maxverstappen1: I look horrible, please delete it.

yourusername: max, i mean it in the best way possible, but you look so babygirl 😍😘🥺

maxverstappen1: This? Means me?

yourusername: SEE?!? the word fits u, totally 😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ???

user1: LMFAO MAX??!

user2: this is the most unlikely pairing/collab of the year, i'm bewildered

user3: ABSOLUTELY LIVING for this unhinged duo >>>

user4: the way they type is COMPLETELY THE OPPOSITE FROM EACH OTHER

user5: and we are totally living for it??

user6: they match each others freak in the phattest opposite directions its so funny everytime they interact

user7: this is the type of deluluship that i aspire to have one day

yourusername: DWAI! you will reach my level of mental illness and one day have to live in a mental insane aslyum like me! (my bedroom playing sims twenty-four seven)

user7: oh!- 😀 (trembling)

maxverstappen1: It's spelled as asylum*** @/yourusername.

yourusername: 😐😐😐 not funny

user8: ☠️☠️🫵🏾

user9: love to see a set of people constantly being able to humble each other, prime entertainment

user10: guys, the stream is so fucking funnny PLS WATCH IT RN.

user10: like my mom came in to tell me to eat dinner and she heard HOW FUNNY and UNHINGED it was and decided to join me 😭

yourusername: w mother fr ‼️‼️

yourusername: now max, this is a PRIME EXAMPLE of a MILF.

yourusername: watch and learn, okay!

maxverstappen1: I am still very confused...

yourusername: mom i'll learn from >>> mom i'd like to fuck

liked by maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: Ohhh, I see

user11: the BLATANT gaslighting has me IN TEARS. 💀💀

user11: like this is what she chooses to do the minute she gets noticed by a f1 driver HELPPPP

user12: this is MORE UNHINGED version of everything in the yt video i beg for u guys to join in on the stream i swear, NO REGRETS FRRR

user13: when she started teaching max the words to club classics by charli xcx mid stream 😭😭😭

user14: NOT A REAL EXPERIENCE. LMFAO.

yourusername: what can i say, i just need to educate this man in pop culture 😁

yourusername: i swear he is gen-z guys, just with a tinge of millenial in him (we are working on fixing that!!)

maxverstappen1: Yeah, I wanna dance to me, I wanna dance to A.G, I wanna dance with George @/georgerussel63

georgerussel63: ???

georgerussel63: Eww mate, I will not dance with you Max

georgerussel63: You can't dance well, so no thanks 🙃

yourusername: i already like you george

yourusername: you are very funny

georgerussel63: Why, thank you. May I ask who you are?

yourusername: only the funniest girl on earth ‼️🎀🌍🫨🌋

georgerussel63: I'll give that title to my girlfriend, thank you very much, but you can take a close second

yourusername: i'll take it 😁😁🤣

maxverstappen1: ☹️☹️

user15: it's okay max, you can be babygirl in the corner with me

user16: george russel once again rendering max bitchless, in front of a hot girl nontheless ☹️

yourusername: it's okay, max is my bitch 😈💦😼

user17: girl, i'm astonished everytime you open your mouth

liked by yourusername

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taglist: @hiireadstuff @sinofwriting @mehrmonga @the-untamed-soul @glai1023-blog @loloekie @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sheastri @llando4norris @gwginnyweasley @carmenita122

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part three will be out sometime within the next week, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[immortalmrwavell]

A Worthy Replacement - Part 2

(Original story posted January 27th 2023) This story has been significantly Updated!

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

The second part is back! Apologies for the large gap between reposting this one and the last. Gonna attempt to get part three up a little quicker but I hope you all enjoy this one in the meantime. Have had tons of fun updating this story so far and a like to think it’s a strong upgrade from the original. Thanks again for the support everyone!

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 3 Here! Read The Epilogue Here!

~~~

“I-I’m… I’m Chris fucking Bumstead!!” He announced, almost not believing his own words as they spilled out in a new unfamiliar voice. The man staring back at him in the mirror was none other than the bodybuilding celebrity himself. It shouldn’t have been possible and yet somehow… it was. His rational mind scrambled for some kind of reasonable explanation but there simply wasn’t one. It was all far too real to be a dream. From the scents swirling around in the air to the way his hulking form moved in such an unfamiliar way sent his brain into a tailspin trying to comprehend it all. There was no way it could all be a work of fiction from his sleeping mind despite how impossible it seemed. Just to be sure Martin did the typical thing of pinching one of his thick arms. Nope. Still here. All that did was make him realise just how real his massive biceps were.

With the mirror still ahead of him, Martin couldn’t think of anything else to do other than inspect himself. Starting with his face. He took a few heavy steps towards the mirror to get a better look at the new adorably handsome features he now adorned. The very first thing he felt drawn too was his new beard. It was much thicker and fuller than any beard he’d been able to grow in the past. It framed his gorgeous new mug perfectly while enhancing the squareness of his jawline for an added masculinity Martin could’ve only dreamt of until now. He couldn’t help stroking his fingers through it with admiration a few times with a bewildered chuckled.

It didn’t take long however for his fingers to roam past his beard to touch the rest of his face. The sensation was hard to comprehend as he wandered the shapes and contours of his facial features. Over your life you get so accustomed to the face that you were born with that it’s difficult to imagine how someone else’s face would feel. Even the most subtle differences from the way his nose arched to the depth his eyes were mind boggling to Martin as it all defied the expectations he’d come to know. It completely threw off his sense of touch in a way that was both nauseating and exhilarating at the same time. Even the tiniest differences in his facial structure were noticeable. But through it all he couldn’t help but be distracted by those expressive new brows of his paired with those piercing teal eyes looking back at him. Eyes that usually looked so driven and motivated but right now on Martin seemed lost, confused but also intrigued with underlying lust that was fast growing.

“I can’t believe it… I… I really am him!” Martin muttered to himself, growing more and more giddy as he heard Chris’ natural Canadian accent flowing from his mouth. It was true though. By some miracle he’d become the very man that’d been the focus of countless jerk off sessions for him. Lord only knows how many loads Martin had lost over the years thinking about Chris Bumstead. And now he owned that very same face and body that millions of people would undoubtedly drop to their knees for a chance to worship. He used to dream of being one of those people bowing at Chris’ feet. Now all Martin could think about was how those massive feet belonged to him along with everything else he fantasised about running his hands and tongue over.

Speaking of, Martin couldn’t ignore the rest of his body any longer. How the hell could he? Just moments ago he’d been your average lean dude just looking to get a tad bigger at the gym. Now he was one of the few men in the world having been awarded the Mr Olympia classic physique title! Multiple times at that! He had to take a few steps back until he was almost pressed against the cubicle wall just to get a full view whole body in the mirror.

“Holy fuck… I’m massive.” As he said that last word ‘massive’ he couldn’t help but notice the new lisp he’d inherited from Chris. It was one of the many things that made that titan of a man so damn cute at the same time. Just another thing he’d have to get used to it seemed, not that he minded.

With that the very first thing he did was grab both pecs and an instant feeling of wonder rippled through body and mind as he gave them a hefty squeeze. They were so thick and full with muscle that even his new meatier hands couldn’t contain them. That didn’t stop him from trying though as he groped them both with a giddy smile on his face. To go from a relatively flat chest to having two melon sized slabs of meaty muscle jutted out in front of him was mind blowing in a way that already had his dick tingling. He still couldn’t believe just how tight the tank top fit him now either. It’d been hanging off him moments ago but now it showed off all his assets perfectly. His chest stretched out the front while his godly arms were on full display. But he needed to get a better look at what was underneath.

With one smooth motion Martin pulled the tank top up and over his head before tossing it on the bench. “Whoa…” he muttered, finally getting a proper look at the full upper body he now owned. Sure he’d seen it online before but actually seeing it in person as his own reflection was something else entirely. “I’ve got fuckin abs now as well!” He stated proudly with disbelief and a nervous smile while running a hand along them. Tracing every ridge and contour that was now etched into his skin. They were a perfect balance between tight and thick in a way that sent shivers down his spine just touching them and knowing they somehow belonged to him now.

Despite how incredible his abs were Martin couldn’t help but be drawn back to his monstrous chest. They somehow looked even more inviting that they weren’t being hidden under his tank top. Finally on full display as they rose and fell hypnotically in time with his breathing. Each pec capped off with a stiff pointed nipple that only grew more rigid in the cool air. He hefted them again and couldn’t help noting the subtly soreness in his chest, likely from Chris’ workout. Yet for some reason Martin found it oddly satisfying. Like knowing he’d achieved something. He gave them another squeeze before letting his fingers rest around the aforementioned nipples. After that it wasn’t long before Martin found himself having to stifle a deep moan while pinching those sensitive little fuckers as they sent shocks of electrifying arousal through his entire body. There was no doubt they felt better than his old nipples. He almost didn’t want to stop pinching them. They were like a lightning rod straight to his cock as a noticeable tent began forming in his shorts.

“Mmmmhh… ughhhhnn… f-fuuuckuugh…” Martin grumbled to himself as his cock began to pulse violently. He was unable to stop one hand from wandering down towards his crotch while the other remained stimulating his nipples and kneading his pecs. He ran his hand over the outline of his dick and immediately his eyes widened with shock. He pulled his hand away as he stared down at his bulge. He knew it'd changed during that whole transformation from before, he’d felt it, but actually feeling it was difficult to fathom. For some reason his brain had still been expecting the same average cock he’d always had but the outline he’d just felt was anything but average. It was girthy. Fat. It was… more eager than ever. Just looking down at the bulge was making his mouth go dry.

One half of Martin’s mind was screaming at him to just tug his shorts down and set that beast free. And he wanted to give in to that urge so damn badly! But the other side of his brain was scared. If that was even the right word. Apprehensive? Nervous to see the monster now hanging between his huge thighs. Regardless he decided to build up to it. To check out the rest of his new assets before getting to the big one.

So after giving himself a moment to compose, Martin returned his attention to the mirror before lifting up his arms and flexing them. Watching gleefully as his biceps peaked with carefully crafted strength and muscle. He could already feel himself getting drunk on the power his arms exuded as he imagined just how much weight he could life now. But as he lifted them higher, Martin began to notice something that made his eyes light up. His scent. He hadn’t noticed it as much at first as his new nose was of course more attuned to it. But with his armpits raised up, it was finally starting to hit him. That sweaty masculine scent he’d been getting high on before wasn’t just coming from the stolen clothes anymore. That gorgeous aroma… it was coming from him! That powerful musk belonged to him! It seeped from his sweaty armpits! His sweaty crotch and ass! It was all his!

Just as Martin was about to start digging his nose into his armpits in another sniffing frenzy, he heard the sounds of noisy gym bro’s storming in after finishing their own workouts. Of course part of him wanted to stay locked in here so he could explore his new body for all its worth here and now… but he figured all the background noise would inevitably ruin the experience. And so, as much as he wanted to rip off his shorts and get a look at the full package he was working with right now, he did his best to restrain himself while slipping his tank top back on.

Martin took one last look in the mirror to quickly admire his bulky legs that he hadn’t gotten a chance to worship yet before walking out of the cubicle a few minutes later. He carried his old smaller clothes under his arm, not sure what to do with them as they sure as hell wouldn’t fit him now. It was then that he remembered Chris’ gym bag. It’d been sitting next to the bench where he’d found Chris’ clothes. Perfect!

He darted around the corner towards the aisle he’d taken the bodybuilder’s clothes from and sure enough the gym bag was still sitting exactly where it’d been left. Without a second thought, Martin grabbed the bag and unzipped it to find a large set of clean regular clothes that Chris had probably been planning on changing into. That reminded him. If he had Chris’ body now… then what had happened to the real Chris Bumstead? Had he somehow vanished just for Martin to take his place? Had Chris shrunk down and transformed into Martin’s old self? Or was he completely fine and just having a shower completely unaware that he now had a twin?

If the last case were true then he didn’t wanna stick around for long. Who knows what kind of chaos would ensue if Chris came out to find his doppelgänger out here! Just in case though, he left the extra clothes and towel in the locker that Chris had seemingly left open before stuffing his own old clothes into the gym bag instead and making his way out of the gym’s locker room with haste. Rushing past all the people that gazed in his direction with awe as they recognised his famous physique.

———

Stepping out of the gym, Martin took his first deep breath of fresh air with his new lungs. He did so with a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Only question now was where to go next? It’s not like he could go to Chris’ place. For a start he didn’t even know where it was and secondly he knew the real Chris had a wife. He can’t imagine it’d take her long to figure out that something was up. After all, Martin might’ve had Chris’ body but he still didn’t know anything about his life past what he’d seen online. Right now he didn’t want the hassle of trying to fake it. That in mind the only real option was for him to head back to his apartment for now and try to keep on the down low until he was able to figure out what his next move was here.

With the gym bag slung over his massive shoulder, Martin began to march his way back home. As he did he couldn’t help but notice the difference in his stride. Naturally his larger frame made his whole stance wider which in turn gave him a bit more swagger when he walked. There was a certain confidence to the way he moved as well. Confidence that hadn’t been there before. Like he was just so sure of himself now on a subconscious level. Part of it was likely due to muscle memory but still.

It wasn’t until he was about half way home however that he started to notice a fast growing hunger in belly. At first he tried ignoring it but that soon became impossible when his stomach started growling at him. Sure he had some food at home he could shovel down to satiate his hunger but not much of it was suited to the diet this body was used to. He knew well enough that Chris treated his body like a temple for the most part. Of course he’d have some cheat meals here and there or a sweet snack once in a while but overall a top tier bodybuilder like Chris always kept on top of his eating. Making sure he was feeding his body all the right things to keep his muscles huge and strong. Of course Martin could just ignore that and eat whatever he wanted but… if he’d been gifted a body as godly as this he should at least try to take care of it as best he can right?

Thankfully there was a pretty decent shop on the way home for the huge man to stop for some healthier options than what he had stored in his cupboards. He wasn’t exactly sure what to get so he ended up using one of Chris’ own YouTube videos about what he eats in the day to get a good idea of what to look for. Before long Martin had managed to fill his basket with plenty of healthy ingredients and that would help to make a filling meal worthy of this new bulky body of his.

———

Home at last. Martin grabbed the door handle and let himself inside, bagged groceries in hand. He closed the door before turning around only to jump out of his skin in shock! Inside his apartment on the other side of his living room was a stranger that he most certainly didn’t recognise. The stranger didn’t seem the least bit surprised however as he remained sat on the couch staring at Martin with a smirk.

“W-who the hell are you!?” Martin shouted, the panic and confusion clearly visible in his tone of voice. Despite that, he sounded a hell of a lot more intimidating now as he shouted those words from this goliath of a body. And yet the stranger didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated. Amused perhaps but nothing more.

The man didn’t reply right away, instead opting to get up from his couch and take a few slow steps closer. His shoes clicked against the floor with every pace in a way that made the larger man’s heart race. He was well put together with immaculate hair and a suit that hugged his frame. Though as the stranger noticed Martin backing up a little, he chuckled and put his hands in the air as if to signal that he was harmless.

“Hey, hey. No reason to be afraid, my huge hunky friend.” He said in an almost flirtatious voice as he scanned Martin’s gargantuan form. “Look. You can just call me Wavell. I’m the one responsible for the gift bestowed upon you. Martin.” Wavell claimed, surprising Martin at the use of his real name despite looking nothing like his former self now. “Unless you’d rather me call you Chris? That is who you are now after all. Chris Bumstead. You said it yourself if I remember correctly…” Wavell added while scratching his bearded chin lazily.

“You know that I’m… wait what do you mean you’re responsible!?” Martin questioned, still unsure of the whole situation. So many queries spun around his head that Martin struggled to even process what was happening right now as he slowly paced the bag of groceries down on the ground.

Wavell rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, you know exactly what I mean. I made you into the man that you are. I’m the one that gave you the body of a multiple time Mr Olympia winner.” He laughed a little as he took a few steps closer, watching as the gears in Martin’s head turned. “And personally I think it really suits you.” Wavell’s eyes wandered Martin’s physique again, tracing over the muscle his tight gym clothes exposed.

“Wait but… this happened when I took his clothes and… his underwear started glowing…” Martin tried his best to recall exactly what happened despite it being a bit of a blur during his transformation. He just remembers… growing. So much growing.

“Yeah and who do you think enchanted that pair of underwear?” Wavell cocked an eyebrow, watching in amusement as Martin’s face turned to that of shock and disbelief. After that he went onto explain himself a little better as he did with most people he revealed himself to. Wavell explained his status as a powerful magic being that more or less possesses the abilities to bend reality to his will. Naturally it was a lot to take in for poor Martin. The now bodybuilder had to take a seat on the couch as he absorbed everything the so-called warlock was telling him. If it hadn’t been for the huge body he currently possessed, he would’ve thought Wavell was crazy. “But yeah I suppose that’s me in a nutshell. All powerful warlock… yada yada.” He concluded, shrugging his shoulders.

Martin lent back in his seat, trying not to get distracted by how much of the couch his massive body was taking up now, as he digested everything Mr Wavell told him. “Wow… I don’t even know what to say.” He muttered. In such a short amount of time he’d gone from having just a normal, yet somewhat pervy, day to now finding himself believing in actual magic! “Well… why me? What’s so special about me that you decided to give me a body that looks exactly like Chris freaking Bumstead!?” He said while gesturing down at his perfect physique, trying not to get turned on at the sight of all the muscle he now owned.

“Let’s just say I like to have a bit of fun with the men on earth.” The warlock wriggled his eyebrows slightly. “Truth be told, I’ve been a fan of Chris for quite some time. The work he put in to carve such a beautiful body is truly inspiring. The peak of what a man can achieve, some might say. That said I started to think that maybe he needed a new… gayer replacement. And you just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Wavell explained with a smug expression. “I even enchanted his clothes in such a way that only those who I deemed worthy would’ve been able to acknowledge the clothes. So I've got no doubt that you’re a worthy replacement.”

After soaking that in, Martin noticed something the warlock had said. “Wait? You kept saying ‘replacement’.” The cogs in his brain turned. “If I’m replacing the real Chris then… What happened to him? The real him. Where is he?” Martin asked steadily, trying to hide his growing concern.

Wavell hummed with amusement. “Oh don’t worry about him. Besides, you’re the real Chris now.” The warlock grinned devilishly. “Just think of it like… he was warming up the body for you. Getting it ready for you to take over. And now you’re its rightful owner.”

Martin was almost lost for words. “S-seriously? So you’re saying that I get to live the life of Chris Bumstead from now on? Like… forever??” The idea was both exciting as all hell and a bit scary at the same time.

“Exactly! And before you say it, yes I know you don’t have the mind and memories of the original Chris just yet. Don’t worry. With enough persuasion the original will give them up to you no doubt. I’m sure the two of you will get acquainted soon enough.”

“Wait what?? What do you mean? Where is he??”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Wavell sneered not unkindly. “Anyway the main reason I came here was to see if there was anything in the meantime I could do to help you get settled in? Besides the memories of course.”

Martin thought for a second. Off the top of his head there wasn’t a whole lot he could think of that wouldn’t be taken care of if or when he received Chris’ memories. There was pretty much only one thing that came to mind. “Could you make me single so I’m not engaged to Chris’ fiancé? Obviously I don’t really know her. Plus I’m gay sooooo…” It was something that’d crossed his mind earlier with how he didn’t really wanna have to deal with all that awkwardness.

“Honey. I have the best gaydar known to mankind. I know you’re gay.” His voice was low smooth as he gave Martin a wink. After that he simply closed his eyes as Martin looked on in awe while a purple aura glowed around the mysterious man. Then without warning a pulse of magic energy surged out of him and spread out across the planet. And with that, it was complete. “All done. Now everyone who knows Chris will think you’re single and your former fiancé is in a happy relationship with another man. I also took the liberty of erasing your former identity and transferring ownership of everything you owned as Martin to your new self as Chris. For example this apartment is now owned by Chris Bumstead alongside your new house.” Wavell explained nonchalantly as if it were no big deal.

“Well now that’s all taken care of I suppose I should be on my way.” Wavell jumped up from his seat yet again before outstretching a hand to the new bodybuilder who was still sitting on the couch processing everything that had just happened. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” He reassured.

Martin, though with slight hesitation, reached out and shook Wavell’s hand. “Thank you… for all of this. This amazing body and life. How can I repay you??” Being the kind hearted person he was, Martin almost felt bad accepting such an insanely generous gift. Out of the billions of people on the planet, Wavell chose him. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

“No need! The best thing you can do is enjoy that body to the fullest for me. That’s all the repayment I need.” Wavell winked and before Martin could get another word in, the warlock flicked his wrist and in a second he vanished into thin air as if he were never there to begin with…

———

Martins’ head was spinning. After everything that had gone down today, who the hell could blame him! He’d met Cbum at the gym, stole his clothes and then actually TRANSFORMED INTO HIM. Only later to find out that magic is actually real and that a reality bending wizard dude essentially gave him the life of a bodybuilding celebrity free of charge. No strings attached as far as he could tell. Sooner or later he just decided to take a deep breath and instead of worrying about the who’s, what’s and how’s to instead just enjoy what he’d been gifted.

That in mind, it wasn’t long before he soon found himself standing in front of the mirror mounted on the wardrobe in his bedroom. Just like at the gym, the mirror struggled to capture his entire reflection with how much taller and wider he was. It made everything in his apartment seem as though it’d shrunk. He was still trying to adjust. Despite that it didn’t take long for him to throw off the tank top once again to reveal his insane upper body.

He tossed both arms up into a meaty double bicep flex. It was one thing getting to see that muscle swell in the mirror but to actually feel it as well sent shivers all the way down to his cock. He’d been trying to keep that python under control ever since the gym but he’d pretty much been semi erect from the moment he finished transforming. Getting to drool over his own shirtless reflection again certainly wasn't helping his case as he brought his arms up higher to admire his thick lats and triceps. That’s when it hit him again. The delicious scent. Just like that Martin immediately remembered where he’d left off at the gym.

He wasted no time in stuffing his nose into one of his smelly armpits and inhaling the rich scent. It smelt fresh and strong, having come straight from the source, as he huffed away into bliss. “Fuck I *snifffff* actually have *sniffff* his scent! *sniffff*” Martin claimed, not having the strength to pull away from his armpits for even a second. That exact same manly aroma that he’d smelt on Chris when he walked past at the gym. The same aroma that drenched the clothes he’d stolen. The very same scent that the current classic Mr Olympia carried with him after a long hard workout. Now it belonged to Martin! It was his scent now and he fucking loved it! It wasn’t until he’d gotten a good long whiff of both pits did Martin finally pull away for a breath of fresh air. The sweat had coated his face and beard, leaving behind an echo of the aroma to continue permeating his nostrils. He could definitely get used to this.

He made sure to take a moment to worship his massive chest a little more, massaging those thick pecs as if to confirm once again that they were in fact real. He flexed them a little and watched as the muscle went from relaxed and pliable to hard as steel in an instant. He licked his lips absentmindedly at the sight, flexing his chest a few more times while grabbing dense muscle.

After all that though, Martin thought it was about time he stopped putting it off and finally got down to the real juicy stuff. His gaze drifted downwards to the tight shorts that clung to his mammoth thighs while the bulge of his fat and excited new cock had once again caused a tent to rise in the front. Between the pit smelling and the pec worshipping, the hefty bulge he was already carrying had become an intimidating outline once again that strained against his crotch. God he just wanted to see it sooo badly. He was craving it now. The sight of Chris Bunstead’s huge cock. His cock. But first he couldn’t help looking past the shorts and down towards his feet, still clad in those smelly size 13 sneakers…

With a smirk the hunk sat himself down in the bed, hearing it creak under his new weight, before gripping one of the large sneakers and steadily sliding it off his foot. He cast his mind back to how they’d been many sizes too big for him when he’d first stumbled across them in the locker room. When he first plunged his feet inside, they’d been dwarfed by shoes. But now that couldn’t have been further from the truth as he unleashed one of his socked feet at last. His mouth began to water as Martin got a full view of just how huge his feet were. He wriggled his toes inside the sweat stained socks with stars in his eyes, knowing they were easily smelly enough to stink up those sneakers even more after a good workout just like the original Chris could.

Well there was only one thing to do. In a scene reminiscent of when he’d first locked himself in the cubicle, Martin brought the sneaker up towards his face. He could already smell it. That same overpowering smell that’d short circuited his brain before, only now it smelt familiar to his new nose. That didn’t make it any less intoxicating though. He thought about savouring the moment but lost all control as soon as that sneaker drew close to his face. It wasn’t long before he was stuffing his nose into the sneaker like an animal yet again. The pungent musk perforating his nostrils and sending him into a huffing frenzy. Only this time he couldn’t help getting even hornier than before knowing that this intoxicating smell was all his! It came from his sneakers! His massive feet! Just the thought of that was making him leak precum.

Martin was so lost in the pleasure of it all that he failed to notice the soul of a certain someone beginning to stir. It began with low groans reverberating in Martin’s mind which at first he paid little attention to. He was too lost in his own euphoria to notice. That is until those groans started to form words instead.

“Ughh… What happened? Where am I?” A voice echoed around Martin. Hearing it caused Martin to suddenly halt his horny crusade yet again. “Why is it so dark? Fuck… I feel so… strange?” The voice continued, as Martin looked around to find the source. “I can’t move… ughhh what’s that smell??? And that salty taste?” The words were like thoughts bouncing around in Martin’s mind only they weren’t his own thoughts. They were foreign, almost as if someone were speaking to him via telepathy.

Confused, Martin asked the voice who or what it was. The voice seemed startled to hear him. Martin asked what the hell the voice was doing inside his head but the voice was just as clueless as he was about it all. Apparently the last thing it remembered was being in a changing room at the gym before meeting a strange man. And that’s when Martin’s eyes widened. He was slowly starting to connect the dots as the voice continued on. Especially once the voice told Martin its name. Chris. There was no mistaking it. Somehow he was speaking to the real Chris Bumstead!

“My body… I can’t even describe it. I feel so thin and… hollow? But also like I’m being filled out at the same time??” Chris struggled to explain the beyond alien sensations he was feeling. “It’s like I’m being stretched around something? Like I’m being forced to hug something that’s musky and pressing against me???” He continued, trying to stay as calm as possible but it was clear there was genuine fear in his voice. “W-what the hell is happening?!?”

Martin found himself glancing around the room. It was a natural instinct but of course he didn’t see anything despite Chris claiming they were in the same room. Apparently Chris could hear Martin’s voice out loud as well as his thoughts which meant he had to be nearby right? With a sigh the bulky man got up from the bed to try and figure this conundrum out. Only he was about to discover that the answer was far simpler than he realised.

The moment Martin stood up, Chris grunted before claiming that the thing he was being stretched around was moving. Finding the timing of it rather odd, Martin asked Chris to say something whenever he felt movement. Martin waited a moment before taking a big step and sure enough Chris alerted him. Martin tested it a few more times and every time he seemed to move his body Chris would tell him that whatever he was attached to was shifting.

All the pieces were there. So many insanely impossible pieces and yet Martin’s brain began to slowly put them together.

He’d transformed into Chris Bumstead. The original Chris had seemingly disappeared despite Martin being able to hear him right now. With that alone one would assume that perhaps Chris’ soul was sharing the body with Martin as a helpless passenger. But then why could Chris see anything? And why did he feel hollow and stretched around something? And then it clicked.

The clothes. They were the catalyst of this all. Wavell had said they were enchanted and when the transformation began it was Chris’ underwear specifically that’d glowed beforehand…

“What do you mean you transformed into me? And you took my clothes?!?” Chris questioned suddenly, having heard some of Martin’s thoughts.

“O-oh I uhmm…” Martin didn’t know how to respond, growing flustered. Instead of denying it however, he simply stepped up to the mirror yet again. With a deep breath, Martin slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts before pushing them down to his ankles. What ensued was chaos.

Suddenly it was no longer dark for Chris. He, just like Martin, was now looking right ahead at the mirror. Only there was one glaring issue. Despite seeing his own body in the reflection, he wasn’t at all in control of it. In fact he wasn’t even looking out of his own eyes! Rather his line of sight was level with his own body’s crotch instead which was disorienting as all hell. It was only then that Chris realised what he’d overheard Martin theorising in his head moments ago must’ve been true.

Somehow he’d been transformed into his own fucking underwear while some other dude sauntered around with his body!!!

As one would expect Chris began to freak the fuck out. At first praying that this was all a dream, saying that it was completely impossible. These aimless pleas were mixed with anger towards Martin as Chris accused him of being a body snatching creep. Of course Martin felt pretty bad. After all Chris was technically right. Even if it wasn’t intentional, he did steal the body Chris had worked his entire life to carve into perfection. Judging by what Mr Wavell had said however, he didn't think that crazy wizard would be willing to undo any of this. Instead, the best thing Martin could do was comfort Chris as best he could and try to convince him that it was a genuine accident.

“Accident my ass! You stole my clothes and wore them like a pervert!” Chris accused and admittedly he wasn’t wrong.

“Look I know. I’m sorry alright! Yeah I took them but I had no idea this would happen! It was this Mr Wavell dude that did all this! I swear!” Martin pleaded. “I promise I’d reverse this if I knew how!” He added, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he believed himself with that one.

Chris was stuck on that name though. He’d heard it echo in through Martin’s mind briefly but hearing it outloud struck a chord. “Wavell? Why does that name sound so familiar?…” He wondered, stilling trying to ignore the powerful scent surrounding his fabric body that was now evidently the smell of his former sweaty balls.

Martin kicked off the shorts hanging around his ankles before sitting back down on the bed. He decided it was best to be honest and just lay everything out on the table. He started by admitting he’d been a huge fan of Chris for a long time and that he was one of Martin’s top crushes. Going on to explain how he hadn’t believed his eyes when he saw Chris at the gym earlier that day. He began to turn a deep shade of red which looked adorable on his stolen face as he admitted to stealing Chris’ clothes after finding them alone on a bench in the locker room. After that Martin tried his best to recall the bizarre transformation he underwent after putting the clothes on. Noting again how the underwear Chris now seemed to be inhabiting had glowed brightly during said transformation. Not to mention Wavell showing up at his apartment not long since.

Hearing all that was just enough to trigger some of Chris’ final memories from before waking up here. Just before he passed out there was a guy he talked to who also called himself Mr Wavell. A rather dapper man who’d used some kind of spell to bind him in place before doing some crazy magic shit. Martin was actually telling the truth.

“Oh fuck.” They both said in unison.

After taking some time to collect themselves, the pair had a long discussion on what the hell to do next. Through which it was clear Chris was trying his absolute best to keep his composure but Martin saw straight through it. They were connected now and he could feel just how panicked Chris truly was. After all he’d been reduced from a living statue a male glory to a sentient pair of underwear. Any ordinary person would’ve already lost their minds by now. But despite the underlying hysteria he was feeling, Chris managed to keep himself calm enough for them to decide on what to do in the short term. Ultimately they concluded it would be best for Martin to just live Chris’ life as normally as possible until they find a way to fix this. Thankfully Martin was able to stop himself from thinking too loudly about how the more time he spent in this body, the less he wanted to go back. As if he ever wanted to go back to begin with.

Just then another loud rumble from Martin’s stomach filled the room. Fuck he was really hungry. But he was still so damn horny as well! Knowing this, Chris told him to ignore his urges and get some damn food. Yet Martin looked down at the other sneaker he was still wearing and he just couldn’t help himself.

“Martin. Don’t you fucking dare. I heard that thought.” Chris warned but ultimately he couldn’t do a thing as he watched Martin pull off the other sneaker and press it to his nose. Witnessing this, Chris was utterly repulsed to see his own body getting turned on by the smell of his own sweaty sneakers. He couldn’t believe such a dirty perv had gotten his hands on his former body. And even worse, Chris was forced to take notice of the feeling of his own dick getting larger and stiffer by the second, stretching the front of his tight fabric body as it struggled to contain that monster.

Despite Chris’ protests, Martin continued sniffing the pungent shoe feverishly. God it was easily one of the best scents in whole fucking world! He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of it. And weirdly enough, though he did still feel a bit bad about it, hearing Chris protes to it all only made Martin hornier. Especially when he started complaining about being able to taste his own precum as Martin’s new throbbing cock began to leak even more.

Martin had even begun caressing his dick through (Chris) his underwear, already loving the size of it and wanting to pull it out any second despite Chris telling him not to. But before he could get too excited his stomach growled once again, this time even louder. Martin threw his head back with a sigh before tossing the sneaker to the floor. “Fine, I'll stop. But only because this giant body feels like it’ll starve if I don’t eat something soon.” He grumbled, still pawing his bulge as he got up and stomped out of the bedroom with heavy footsteps.

———

The sizzling sound of delicious meat frying against a hot pan filled the tiny apartment. Crackling and popping as the chicken Martin had decided to have as part of his dinner cooked away. He stood in nothing but that same pair of sweaty white socks from the gym and the tight underwear that Chris was trapped inside. Martin’s huge, impressive muscles were on full display as he opened the lid to another pot on the stove to check on the rice he was also cooking. All the while he tried his best not to get too distracted by the beautiful sight that was his own body everytime he looked down.

Begrudgingly Chris had agreed to help Martin with his food, suggesting something easy and simple that would be hard to mess up. After all, nobody knew this huge bulky body better than him. He gave Martin instructions on how much to eat and what things to add as he watched on from his crotch height view. He was a bit short tempered with the questions Martin would ask him throughout preparation but in fairness Chris had to deal with the constant taste of his own cock and balls the whole time.

Once everything was cooked and Martin was dishing up a big meal for himself, he couldn’t help but catch the sweaty stench wafting from his pits again. He just couldn’t escape that wonderful smell, not that he’d ever want to. However, as much as he adored his natural new scent, Martin decided he should probably jump in the shower after dinner. A thought that Chris seemed to be in agreement with. There’s only so far you can take a good thing after all.

Soon after Martin found himself sitting at the table, which he now dwarfed with his size, as he stared down at the huge chicken and rice meal. Despite how hungry he felt, Martin honestly didn’t think he’d be able to get it all down. After all he’d never eaten this big of a meal as filling as chicken and rice but then again he’d never had a body this big either. Regardless it didn’t stop him from digging into the meal and savouring every last bite. As Martin shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, Chris couldn’t help but be a little annoyed with how much this random gay dude was enjoying his former body. Happily munching away while flexing randomly as if he owned it all. But ultimately there was nothing he could do other than sit and cradle his own manhood while this imposter satiated his hulking body’s hunger.

Despite his doubts Martin was actually able to finish all his food before letting out an enormous belch that verbarated through his entire body. “Ahhhhhh… that was some good shit.” Martin sighed happily while rubbing his muscled stomach. “You’ll have to teach me how to cook more stuff like that so I can keep this body fed.” He laughed while giving one of his biceps another cocky flex.

“Well it’s my body that you’ll mess up if I don’t so I don’t have much of a choice…” Chris pouted, metaphorically of course, as Martin got up from the table and did a huge stretch. After which the new hunk’s hand drifted south to give his already semi-hard cock another rub. “Hey! Hands off my dick!” Chris snapped as he felt his fabric body being pawed yet again while the hefty dick underneath pulsed giddily.

“Alright, alright sorry.” Martin apologised, taking his hand away begrudgingly.

———

Having eaten and given his dinner some time to settle, Martin at last made his way to the bathroom where he looked over at the shower gleefully. He pulled off his smelly socks only to give them each a deep satisfying sniff before tossing them to the side. After that his mind began thinking about all the things he was finally gonna do to this body as the water ran over him and…

“Don’t even think about it.” Chris berated, having heard the other man’s very horny and very gay thoughts just now. “Get in, wash my body, and get out.”

Martin rolled his eyes with an annoyed grumble. “Look Chris. I respect you. Really. You’re one of the most amazing celebrities on the planet in my opinion. It sucks that you’re stuck the way you are but right now this body isn’t yours.” Martin glided a hand down his hulking torso, rubbing his pecs and abs, his eyes gluing to the sight of his enormous thighs below. “It’s mine*” He claimed boldly. “So, with all due respect, I think I’ll do whatever the hell I want my body, okay?” He stood his ground firmly. “Now you’re gonna sit out here like a good pair of dirty underwear while I get to know my new assets a bit more intimately under a nice relaxing shower.” He stated with a smirk on his handsome face.

As one would imagine this was met by furious protests from Chris who shouted all kinds of empty threats. This didn’t stop Martin from pushing the sentient pair of underwear down to his ankles with a smirk though.

Instantly Martin was enthralled at the sight of his new cock. Finally unleashed from its fabric prison in all its thick veiny glory. No longer straining desperately for release as it stood at full attention between his legs, looking just as massive as the rest of his body. Martin’s mouth went dry in an instant as he stared down at it. Huge and throbbing as it pulsed hypnotically like it was beckoning to him. All while a heavy set of balls hung underneath, supplying his massive body with endless amounts of testosterone. His old cock and balls seemed tiny in comparison to these. At that moment all he could think about was how it would feel to drain the hefty nuts of Mr Olympia and shoot his premium bodybuilder seed everywhere with this perfect cock. It was so thick. So tempting. So… wait.

It’d taken Martin a while to realise due to the control his new dick had over him but the voice in his head had suddenly vanished. As of the moment he took off the underwear, he could no longer hear Chris. Confused, he picked the underwear back up. As soon as he did, Chris’ voice began echoing through his mind again only it was muffled now. It seemed as though he could only hear clearly what Chris was thinking and saying while he was actually wearing the haunted underwear. Well at least that meant he wouldn’t have an annoying voice in his head 24/7 and that this next part could be all private.

At long last he was able to see himself fully naked and needless to say he wasn’t disappointed. Not that he ever had any doubt. The bathroom mirror didn’t do him nearly enough justice but it wasn’t much of a bother when Martin could just look down and see that godly physique in a first person perspective. If anything that was even more of a turn on. He adored his new reflection of course, that much was obvious, but it was hard to even describe the level of euphoria Martin felt when looking down at himself to see these gigantic arms and pecs all his own. He was groping himself again as he stepped towards the shower. The sensation of his much longer and fatter cock bouncing between his legs with every step making him feel manlier than he ever had before.

Martin found himself almost hitting his head on the top of the shower curtain before ducking a little to get under the shower. He had no doubt he was gonna numb his head on a few more things before he fully adjusted to his new height. Moments later there was a small creak as he twisted the shower knob and with it came a downpour of steaming water that rained onto him. Immediately he felt every tense muscle in his body start to relax as the hot water gushed over every inch of his hunky form. He couldn’t help but let out a long sigh of relief as he rolled his back a little before running his hands through his wet hair and beard.

Part of him wanted to go slow. To work his way down to that impressive manhood he’d been itching to test out… but he’d teased himself enough today. Right away Martin wrapped a huge hand around that thick rod with a shivering groan. It felt better than he could have ever imagined. Gripping a cock that wasn’t his own. One that was not only much bigger but seemingly more sensitive as well as he guided his hand back and forth along its shaft. He bit his lip softly as he worshiped it, his thoughts a flurry of all the erotic fantasies he’d once had about Chris finally becoming reality in the best way imaginable.

While his right hand had fun pumping Martin’s new and improved cock, his left hand was having a party of its own as it continued to worship the rest of his delicious muscle. Relishing the sensation of squeezing all of his wet muscle as he glistened under the water. He’d never get tired of groping his meaty, award winning pecs. Especially not when pinching at his nipples felt this damn amazing. Those rigid nuns sending shockwaves through down to his cock just like in that cubicle earlier today, causing even deeper groans to escape his mouth. Martin’s strokes became more and more furious, causing the tip of his cock to splutter a few extra drops of precum. All while he gave his left arm a string flex before kissing the massive bicep with glee. “Damn… I still can’t believe how fucking huge I am.” Martin muttered to himself with that iconic Cbum lisp. “Huge chest, huge arms, huge legs… huge dick.” He said, grinning even more at the last part.

He was jerking off so aggressively that it wasn’t long before a familiar pressure began to build. He didn’t want to blow his load just yet though so Martin built up the courage to let go of of dick for now so he could grab some soap and actually get clean. After rubbing some shampoo and conditioner into his hair and beard, Martin was quick to squeeze a helping of shower gel into his hand before rubbing it around his body. Ordinary he’d use a loofa to soap himself up but not this time. He was gonna make sure to lather the soap in every nook and cranny with his bare fingers. Going over every ridge of hard earned muscle all while his dick stayed at full mast. After getting his upper body all soaped up, he moved his hands towards his backside and made sure to lather his ass up good. He honestly hadn’t paid it enough attention since the transformation. This juicy behemoth of a muscle ass deserved a hell of a lot more worship for the beauty that it was. Just as thick and huge as everything else. Soft when relaxed and hard as steel when flexed. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d give his new ass the attention it deserves in the near future…

Speaking of under-appreciated body parts, Martin’s hands finally had the chance to wander lower. Past his bubbly ass and giant cock until he reached those colossal tree trunks he now called legs. He hadn’t had a chance to properly worship them yet but planned to make up for that right here and now. He glided his hands over the hard lines that decorated his bulging hairy thighs. Flexing them as he did, causing his quads to swell with the kind of strength that could crush a pumpkin. As he touched them, Martin thought back to all the times he’d nutted all over himself imagining what it would feel like to have his head squished gently between Chris’ thighs. Now all he could think about was how many men he’d have grovelling at his feet for a chance to live out that very fantasy between his legs. But of course that didn’t stop him from bending down even further just to run his hands along those bulging calves of his, looking just as large and impressive. Though it was hard not to be distracted by his feet again when he was that low down.

After taking a good long while to run his needy hands up and down the length of his legs again and again, Martin finally stepped back under the water and got everything washed off. As much as he loved that sweaty post gym smell he had, he certainly felt a lot cleaner now as he watched the bubbles circle down the drain. However, now that was taken care of, Martin just couldn’t ignore his urges any longer.

In a matter of moments he had a gorilla grip on that fat cock of his once again. It wasn’t long before he was lustfully pumping his stolen length as his low groans began turning more into primal grunts fuelled by an innate male desire to release his seed. Of course Martin was familiar, having been a man his whole life, but now that desire felt as though it’d been dialled up to eleven! Perhaps it was part due to his new body. All the new muscle and testosterone of a professional bodybuilder enhancing his masculine needs. It was also probably because he was just obsessed with himself now. That said, Martin was surprised he’d lasted this long after walking around with the body of a living god. Getting to feel so huge in literally every physical aspect was a wet dream come true! How he’d managed to not cum in his shorts at any point due to the sheer erotica of it all was behind him.

The reason he’d been able to hold onto his load for this long was likely thanks to the incredible sexual stamina Chris’ body seemed to possess. Because that man wasn’t perfect enough apparently. Martin lasted much longer than he thought while jerking himself this rigorously but finally, after what felt like a good arm workout, his load was drawing near. His legs were spread apart as the intensity continued to ramp up. His mouth hung open a little as his eyes began to flutter. His head moved back just far enough to catch the streaming water that’d been striking his back as a soft but guttural moan escaped his lips. Right now, in this very moment, Martin’s life was absolutely perfect. And he wanted nothing more than for it to stay this way. Forever.

“Fuuuuuuck yeahhhh!” He began as more precum dripped from his cock and down the hand he was using to stroke it. “Yeahhhh… I’m Mr Olympia now…” Martin groaned to himself in ecstasy before bouncing his pecs a little. “Mmmm so big… like a fucking muscle god.” He used his free hand once again to worship his giant body for all it was worth. Meanwhile his balls began to tense until suddenly his dick couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Ohhh yeah!! Fuck being Martin! I’m Chris Bumstead now!!” He claimed proudly in a horny daze as his cock let loose in an eruption the likes of which he’d never felt before. His dick was like a hose splattering thick alpha male cum all over the shower wall and floor with more force than he expected. He shot rope after rope of delicious high end semen until his fat balls were completely drained down to the last drop. All the while a big dumb grin had been plastered across that adorable bearded face of his as cum dripped down the wall.

Once the dust had settled on his orgasm, it didn’t take Martin long to lick some of his own seed up off the wall. Safe to say it tasted just as amazing as had when he’d licked it out of the underwear that same morning. Shortly after he rinsed off the shower walls and himself one last time. Martin twisted the shower knob again and stepped out. At last he felt clean, refreshed and relieved.

After a quick stretch he grabbed a towel and wrapped it gingerly around his waist before heading off back towards his bedroom. But not before picking up the original Chris who’d been forced to listen to another man enjoying what should be his body! The moment Martin grabbed Chris, he could already hear the other man’s disgusted protests over what he’d heard but Martin just laughed it off.

———

After the day he’d had, Martin found himself feeling incredibly drained and all he wanted to do now was sleep his ass off for as long as possible. It was no wonder. He’d considered putting Chris back on to sleep in but somehow he felt like he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if he had that voice in his head all night. “Sorry big guy but you’re gonna have to sleep with your new buddies tonight.” Martin said before giving the underwear a mocking sniff. “And by buddies I mean my pile of clothes over there.” He giggled before tossing the possessed underwear on top of the clothes pile across the room.

With that Martin found himself slipping under his bed covers at last. He found himself shuffling around a bit as this bed certainly wasn’t made with someone as enormous as he was now. Eventually though he managed to make himself comfortable in a position that didn’t involve his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. And with that he slowly closed his eyes and drifted off into his first dream as the new Chris Bumstead.

[maeintree]

blushes and bruises | l. laufeyson

Summary: Loki never cared for Midgardian traditions—least of all Valentine’s Day. But when the God of Mischief finds himself enamored with the Avengers' beloved nurse, he begins to question everything he thought he knew about affection. Pairing: avengers!Loki x nurse!fem!Reader Word Count: 1.2k Author's Note: made a valentine's day fic! i know it's a little early and i literally just posted.. a few hours ago? and i love brotherly banter. what can i say? i love writing. hope you enjoy this one lovies!

Loki had never been one for sentimentality. He prided himself on being logical, composed, and above all, untouchable. Yet, when it came to you, he found himself unraveling in ways he could not comprehend.

It had started subtly—at least, that’s what he told himself.

A passing glance that lingered too long, an inexplicable urge to listen when you spoke, an unwillingness to look away when you laughed. That laugh—light, melodic, effortless—had a way of sneaking into the darkest corners of his mind, lingering long after you had left the room.

You were different from the others. There was no fear in your gaze when you looked at him, no wary glances or hushed whispers behind his back. Instead, you regarded him as if he were just another person, as if he hadn’t once tried to claim dominion over Midgard.

It was infuriating.

It was intoxicating.

He caught himself watching you far more often than he should, drawn to the warmth you exuded, to the way you moved through the Tower as if you belonged among gods and warriors alike. And perhaps, in some ways, you did.

The others adored you, their affections apparent in the way they sought you out for comfort, for care. Even Thor, his ever-boisterous brother, held you in high regard.

Thor had always been perceptive when it came to his brother, and lately, he had noticed something rather amusing. Loki, the ever-composed God of Mischief, had developed an irritatingly obvious habit—his gaze lingered on you more often than it should. Whether you were speaking, laughing, or merely passing by, Loki's eyes would track your every move, and Thor, being the loving older brother that he was, found endless entertainment in this revelation.

One afternoon, as the two brothers sat in the common room, Thor leaned closer to Loki with a knowing smirk. "Brother.. I do believe you have taken quite the liking to our dear healer."

Loki barely spared him a glance, feigning disinterest as he continued reading. "You are insufferable."

Thor chuckled, undeterred. "Admit it, Loki. You fancy her. I have seen the way you look at her."

Loki’s grip on his book tightened. "Ah, so this is what your royal tutor meant when he spoke of speaking fiction and succumbing to delusions.. you see nothing."

"That was only one time, and, ah, but I do! You, my dear brother, are smitten." Thor grinned, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You watch her like a lovesick pup. It is quite adorable, really."

Loki shot him a venomous glare. "If you value your teeth, I suggest you cease this ridiculous—"

At that moment, you entered the room, completely oblivious to the conversation taking place. You greeted them with a smile, a soft "Hello, Thor. Loki," before continuing down the hall.

The second Loki caught sight of you, his frustration boiled over. Without thinking, his fist swung—directly into Thor’s face.

"Oof!" Thor reeled back, clutching his mouth. "Brother! That was uncalled for!"

You turned at the commotion, eyes widening as you rushed over. "Thor, are you okay?"

Loki, ever the quick thinker, straightened and cleared his throat. "Yes, well… he was choking on a piece of food. I was simply assisting him."

Thor shot him a bewildered look. "I was not—"

Loki elbowed him sharply, offering you a smooth, collected nod. "See? Crisis averted."

You blinked at them before shaking your head with a small smile. "Alright, if you say so. Just try not to kill each other."

As you walked away, Loki crossed his arms smugly, while Thor glared at him, rubbing his jaw. "Oh, you are well and truly doomed."

Valentine’s Day in the Avengers Tower was always a spectacle. The team found ways to celebrate, whether through grand gestures or friendly banter, and this year was no exception. Heart-shaped decorations had mysteriously appeared in the common room, and Tony had been on a mission to outdo himself with extravagant gifts for everyone.

Loki, however, found himself feeling out of place amid all the festivities. Despite being allowed to roam freely within the Tower, he still felt like an outsider.

The concept of Valentine’s Day was foreign to him—another Midgardian tradition that seemed needlessly sentimental.

And yet, there was something about it that intrigued him. Or rather, someone.

You.

The team adored you, and for good reason. As a nurse who had been working with them for quite some time, you had a warmth and kindness that made even the most guarded of them feel at ease. Even Loki, with all his sharp wit and cold exterior, found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain.

He hadn’t meant to grow attached. He had fought it, convinced himself that it was nothing more than fleeting curiosity. But every time he found himself in your presence—whether it was a passing conversation in the infirmary, a fleeting glance across the room, or the way you always seemed to see right through him—it became harder to deny.

Which was why he was currently pacing in the hallway outside the infirmary, muttering to himself as he tried to form the right words.

Thor had told him—rather enthusiastically—that Valentine’s Day was a time for mortals to confess their affections. It was a day for lovers, for gestures of devotion, for warmth.

Loki scoffed at the notion, yet here he was, battling the unfamiliar weight of uncertainty in his chest.

When he finally gathered the courage, he stepped inside, clearing his throat to get your attention. You looked up from your work, a warm smile instantly gracing your lips.

“Loki,” you greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. He had practiced this. Rehearsed the words over and over again in his mind. And yet, standing before you, they seemed to abandon him entirely.

“I… I was informed that today is a day where… gestures of affection are exchanged.”

You raised an amused brow. “That’s one way to put it.”

He exhaled sharply. “Yes, well. I… was considering if, perhaps, you would…” He trailed off, frustration flashing across his face as he rubbed his temple. He loathed this. The vulnerability, the uncertainty, the way his pride and fear warred within him.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. The mighty Loki Odinson, reduced to fumbling over his words like a nervous schoolboy? It was endearing.

“Sure, Mr. Odinson,” you replied easily, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’d love to.”

Loki’s gaze snapped to yours, as if he hadn’t expected such an easy answer. He searched your face for any sign of mockery, but all he found was genuine warmth. For a moment, he simply stared, his lips parting slightly before pressing them together again.

“…Right,” he finally said, straightening. “Well then.”

You shook your head fondly. “Come on, Prince of Mischief. I think you owe me a Valentine’s date.”

For the first time in a long while, Loki allowed himself to smile—a real one.

The date itself was surprisingly pleasant—dinner on the Tower’s balcony, candlelight flickering between you. Loki, despite his usual skepticism toward Midgardian customs, had gone through the effort of making the evening special. And just as the night seemed to settle into something warm and comfortable…

The Avengers walked in.

Or rather, Tony led the charge, with Steve and Natasha in tow. “Okay, tell me this isn’t borderline ‘back in the cell’ behavior?” Tony deadpanned, before Steve elbowed him.

“Let the man court in peace, Stark,” Thor grumbled.

Tony clapped Loki on the back. “I'm watching you, Edgelord Supreme.”

Loki groaned. You just laughed.

honestly really wanted to make him flustered out considering i have a headcannon where girls usually fawn over him and he takes it so he didn't really have to ask someone out, ehhh love soft!loki aha

likes, comments, and reposts are much appreciated! hope you enjoyeddd.

[kaiserboom]

KUNIGAMI? MORE LIKE KUNI-YUMMY

Prompt: your boyfriend kunigami thinks he dating a normal girl, not knowing your full of cuteness aggression. cw. pure fluff, ooc, biting, not proof-read. a/n: Bye I hate this title name but whateverr. pairings: kunigami (post wc) x fem! reader.

In your eyes, your boyfriend isn't just a guy- you see him as the sweetest little treat, a tempting, irresistible snack that you can't just get enough of. Honestly, could you really blame yourself for the way his muscles tensed beneath your playful grip, desperate to break free from your teasing hold? His shirt stretched taut across his broad chest and biceps, every fiber of his frame trembling slightly as he tried to subtly wriggle away, yet there you were, enthralled by every inch of him. You couldn't help but imagine sinking your teeth into that soft, tempting skin- he's just too adorable for his own good, effortlessly pulling you deeper under his spell with every glance, every touch.

The way he's got you wrapped around his fingers? it's utterly, totally irresistible. You're completely captivated, caught in his web of charm, and tonight's no different. Sitting close together on the plush couch, the ambient glow of the room casting a warm hue over everything, you find yourself completely distracted- more interested in him than in the movie he picked, which he kept babbling about with his usual enthusiasm. That film, some so-called "peak" movie he swore was the "best you'd ever watch," fades into the background as your attention fixates solely on him.

His biceps, those soft, tempting muscles that seem to ripple with every subtle movement, call out to you louder than any scene on the screen. You find yourself subtly tracing your fingertips along his veins, feeling the gentle flex as he tenses up at your touch. Your fingertips linger just a little longer than usual, drawn to the softness of his skin, the way his muscles ripple beneath your touch, the faint warmth radiating from him. Every small movement, every twitch, makes your heart flutter- your gaze drifting downward to admire the way his arm muscles seem to breath and shift under your gentle caress.

But honestly, your focus isn't on the movie. It's not on the nonsense he's babbling about or the plot twists unfolding on the screen. No, all you see is a pair of muscles practically screaming, "Bite me, Y/N! Dig in!" like a delicious, juicy feast calling out to you. Playfully, you decide to play it safe- your hand moving to grip one of his biceps, your fingers curling around the soft, warm flesh, feeling the slight give beneath your touch. That earned you a soft, muffled "hngh" from him, a sound that's half surprise, half pleasure.

You giggle softly- can he really be that sensitive when you touch him? The thought makes your cheeks heat up, with mischievous delight. Just imagine how he'd react if you started nibbling, teasing him like a buffet of sweet temptations. The idea sends a thrill through you, and you wonder if he'd be able to resist or if he'd melt into a puddle of soft moans and sighs.

Maybe you're a little obvious about it- more clingy on his biceps than usual, tracing your fingers along the soft, prominent veins that pop out when he tenses up, your touch lingering on the warm, pliable muscle. You whisper to yourself with a squeal of delight, "You look yummy... ahh! so cute!!" though you know he probably hears every word- and, honestly, he probably wishes he didn't.

Before he can even say "wait, what-," your mischievous side takes over. Without warning, your teeth gently sink into the soft flesh of his bicep, like he's a five-course meal waiting to be devoured. Your teeth chomp softly, just enough to leave a playful mark, biting into him as though he's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. Your mind races with wild, teasing thoughts- how tempting he looks, how soft and vulnerable he feels under your nibbling.

Kunigami stares at you for a few long, bewildered moments- his eyes wide with surprise- until realization dawns on him. "Aye-! Ah, stop that!" he blurts out, trying to pull away, but all you can hear is a teasing voice in your head, echoing phony words: "Keep going, eat me!" you don't stop; your nibbling continues, playful and affectionate, your lips curling into a mischievous grin as soft grunts escape his lips.

He utterly a fool for you, you think, and though he tries to protest, a gentle sigh escapes him- he's already falling under your spell. Slowly, reluctantly, he gives in, a wry smile tugging at his lips before he croaks out one last warning, wincing slightly at the sensation.

"Stop using your teeth, you little minx..."

epilogue:

Kunigami was focused on his training, muscles tense, when Bachira and Isagi burst in, gasping.

"Oh my gosh- were you attacked by a dog?!" Isagi exclaimed, eyes wide with concern.

Bachira grinned excitedly. "Look at that bite! So cool! Which dog did it?"

Kunigami sighed, opening his mouth to explain, But Nagi stepped forward, narrowing his eyes. "That's not a dog bite." Kunigami paused, about to thank Nagi for his reason, but before he could, Nagi continued, "It's clearly a monster."

Kunigami groaned inwardly, realizing he spoke too soon. Kunigami's eyes twitched in frustration as his friend's wild theories about him being a rabid zombie or cursed monster took shape- completely unaware that the "bite" was just your playful mark.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | January 20th-26th 2025

On time this week, woohoo! And less thsan 40 days until season 8B !!

Special mention to all of @tizniz's drabbles that I've been reblogging, which you can find on her tumblr or on ao3 at E & E: A Buddie Drabble Collection !

Let me know if I'm missing a tag for someone!

Complete

home is where you've called my name by atlasblue85/ @atlasblue85 (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 3K | General): Buck plays a game with himself. It goes something like this: for every house Eddie outright rejects, he adds an item to his list of why Eddie shouldn't move to El Paso. He doesn't know what the threshold is, that magic number that will make him finally speak up and express his thoughts to Eddie, but until he finds it, this is how he's coping. They're up to nine so far. Nine perfectly good houses, nine reasons Eddie shouldn't go.

you're a dog (i'm your man) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy (Dog Shelter AU | 3K | General): "Hey." He turns around, leans against the doorframe, tries to look casual. "Maybe, only if you're free of course, you could come round and let Chris pick out a band aid for you tonight. Don't want you bleeding out before you can get your Spider-Man band aid." Buck lights up like the fucking sun. Oh no. Eddie has one rule: never take a dog home. But he thinks Buck might be worth the risk. (OR: eddie is a dog trainer with patience, buck is a shelter worker with more bark than bite)

🔥 My Mouth Don't Move When I'm In Too Deep by taegyungie (PWP, Semi-Public Sex | 7K | Explicit): But here’s the thing: Eddie’s taken giant mouthfuls of life and chewed every last one of them up. He’s taken enough, he’s still taking enough - he doesn’t want to be the one to ask for it. All he can do is offer himself up, over and over, and hope that Buck will finally get the hint and dig his claws into what’s been his from the very start.

🔥 Five Years by aubrey_writes (Blip AU | 8K | Mature): Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence.

Liminal Space by ameliahart (NDE, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Eddie Diaz dies on a sunny afternoon in January. It seems fitting, he thinks, that it should happen like this: trapped beneath three floors of a collapsed apartment building, a piece of rebar through his right lung, and his eyes on the love of his life. Because of course Buck is here with him, watching horrified as Eddie’s love and life bleed out around him.

Buck, Bedbugged and Bewildered by writedontfight (Post-S8A AU | 8K | Explicit): Buck gets bedbugs, so he's staying at Eddie's until they're gone.

🔥 everything you need (put all you need in me) by jaekyu (PWP, FWB | 9K | Explicit): Eddie imagines it. The faux-domesticity of grocery shopping with his best friend and full-time fuckbuddy, filled up with come like a jam donut or something. It would be kind of ironic. It would be definitely, wholeheartedly, totally erotic.

My boy only breaks his favorite toys by paleredheadinascifi (Amnesia, Post-S8A | 10K | Teen): Eddie wakes up five years in the future. It turns out five years is all it takes to ruin a friendship and run your life into the ground. Or, Eddie gets hurt and his apparently now ex-best friend Buck hops on a plane to El Paso. They figure out what the fuck happened together.

🔥 Firelight by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Post-S7, Monster Eddie, HOH Buck | 61K | Explicit): When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck

WIP

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 35/? | 23K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

35. 44. A goodbye kiss, but neither of you can quite let go 

🔥 An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-8x05: Masks, Cursed Buck | 1/6 | 8K | Mature): Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 12/? | 76K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 8/? | 37K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

Podfic

Sunlight is Fire (Burning is a Matter of Degrees) by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Incubbi Buck, FWB | 1-1.5h | Explicit): In the wake of Buck's leg injury, Eddie learns that his friend needs some unusual methods to help him recover. Eddie's willing to do whatever it takes to help Buck, and it's not like this could make his quiet pining any worse, right?

Bed Sharing Concerto in Monsterfucking No. 3 by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Eddie, Human Buck, Only One Bed | 10-20min | Explicit): Buck has the worst fucking luck. His only consolation here is that Eddie’s with him, so at least he’s not alone in a cabin with no Wifi, no central heat, no cell service, and no proper winter gear. The water works, the pipes haven’t frozen (yet) so at least he can get briefly clean. He’s so focused on scrubbing the day away that it’s not until he gets out and heads into the bedroom that he realizes— There’s only one bed.

A Chorus of Howls by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolves, PWP | 10-20min | Explicit): Buck is running through the woods. He’s on two feet, four, two again, dodging around trees, kicking up dirt, leaping and landing hard. Behind him, sometimes, he thinks he can hear another set of feet—a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, black on black, shadow on shadow— There. There. He can smell his pursuer’s blood and he runs faster, fast as he can. He’s not going to lose. His blood is up and running and so is he.

Duet for Two Monsters by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Eddie, Succubus Buck | 20-30min | Explicit): Buck’s been meaning to tell Eddie for a while, now. Especially now that they’re both single again. He needs to tell Eddie, because he’s pretty sure—he thinks he’s sure—that Eddie loves him back. And he won’t be intimate with Eddie without telling him. Of course, it’s a bit hard to start that conversation, on a logistical level. Hey so I have horns and a tail and feed off people’s orgasms, fun, right?

🔥 [Podfic] Buddie, It's Cold Outside by diazaster287 // fic by terranobis (Christmas, Hallmark AU | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): Big City businessman Evan Buckley travels to a small town Christmas Village in an attempt to save his personal and professional life, but when he meets the local father Eddie Diaz, he finds that he just might get the greatest present he could ever ask for.

[everlastingdream]

The first time it happened, all agents took their weapons out the moment Lena entered the building like she owns it.

Alex considered firing everyone who let her past the guard post and then shoot her. In the leg. Maybe.

"Take it", Lena threw something at Brainy, who somehow was completely calm. It relaxed Alex too, since Brainy was an expert on calculating danger level of everyone.

And then Lena just turned around and exited the DEO, like she was dropping of their lunch or something. And she was still fighting with Kara!

"What the hell, Luthor!?" Alex shouted to her back, only to recieve resolute "Shut up!" in return.

Alex sputtered, because: excuse me, but you came to the secret underground goverment facility like to your own office! Brainy muttered something, tinkering with the thing Lena brought.

"It's anti-kriptonite suit", he said in wonder, already running some simulations on his tablet. "She shouldn't has figured this out for ahother five years".

"Brainy, test this thing in every way you can, and if it's safe, take it to Kara immediately", Alex grumbled, but her sister's safety was more important than Luthor's strange wims.

/ / / / / / / / / /

Next time everyone still grabbed their weapons, but wasn't ready to shoot just yet, as Lena angrily stormed into the building. Perhaps it was because despite her stare she complied with every security measure guards asked of her.

Which didn't stop her from slamming thick file into Alex's chest.

"What the hell, Luthor!?" Alex saw how Brainy grabbed Nia's hand to stop her from standing up.

"Shut up", Lena returned, as she went back without any explanation.

Alex was left with papers and strange sense of deja-vu.

Looking through evidence on their resent villain and drafts of some devices to counter his powers, Alex thought about how Lena always choose time when Kara was absent from the building.

/ / / / / / / / / /

When they reached fifth visit like that no one was surprised anymore. Because everytime they would be stuck, Lena will miraculously appear with what they need. But she still stubbornly refused to talk with anyone besides Brainy and only about science behind her inventions.

This time she confidentely walked into the building, but Brainy instantly stood up. Everyone around them tensed, powers and guns ready. Lena opened her mouth to protest but he forced her to sit under bewildered eyes of everyone in the room.

"She's injured", was the only thing Brainy said, as he pried another helpful thing from Lena's hands.

"Am not", Lena replied, and Alex noticed how she slurred her words a little. "Take this shit and let me go".

Nia was already out of the room, fetching medical supplies, when Alex moved Brainy to the side to check on her.

"Left side, one inch lower than her ribs", he told Alex. Nia, who put Alex's medical bag down, gently rubbed his back, even if it was almost invisible that he was worried.

Alex pressed her hand under Lena's jacket where he instructed, and her fingers returned covered in blood.

Lena was still swearing, when Alex cleared her wound - bullet hole - and dressed it.

"You need medical attention, Luthor", Alex said quietly. After everything she was still angry at the other woman but it didn't mean she wanted her dead.

"If I show it to someone, I'm as good as dead", Lena chuckled, cleary half-delirious from pain and pain-killers. How she managed to get there on the sole willpower was beyond understanding. "Even if you want it, I would like to live a little longer".

Alex didn't answer. Couldn't. Even if she knew it wasn't true, some part of her wanted Lena to believe it. To suffer.

It was a shameful, selfish thought.

/ / / / / / / / / /

"Lena?" Kara's weak voice sounded incredibly loud in the quiet of their usual exchange.

Lena stiffened and promtly turned to flee in the middle of her conversation with Brainy.

"Lena!" Kara could catch up to her in the blink of an eye, but somehow near Lena she always forgot she has powers.

Lena spent too much time talking over some sort of mathematical models and Kara wrapped up her mission early.

"Please, wait!"

"Leave me alone", Lena gritted through her teeth, but even Alex saw tears in her eyes, as she sped up.

"She's hurting", Brainy supplied from Alex's side, as they both watched this strange chase.

"She's injured again?" Alex asked with small pang of guilt.

"No, she's hurting emotionally. More than she shows."

He didn't add anything else. They watched door slamming into Kara's pitiful face.

/ / / / / / / / / /

"Why are you helping us?" Alex asked her about a month after Lena and Kara's dramatic meeting.

"Shut up", Lena answered, tired as hell after three all-nighters they pulled to rescue Kara from another dimension.

"It's getting old, Luthor. Spill the beans".

Perhaps it's exhaustion, perhaps it is somehow sisterly look in Alex's eyes, but Lena is silent suddenly, before almost pushing words out.

"You said you will turn over the world for your sister, didn't you? I had someone like that once. My big brother, who would be the only one to treat me like a person in the place that was supposed to be my home. Who protected me from everything he could. And whom I admired so much I wanted to be just like him".

Alex tensed, as always when talking about Lex. But Lena's voice was quiet, and her face already wet from tears she seemed to hold for so long, and Alex shut her mouth this time.

"When he did all that he did, I was disappointed. But I still loved my big brother. But when he first tried to kill me? I was heartbroken. The person who withstood father's beatings in my place tried to kill me", Lena chuckled through her sobs.

Alex never allowed herself to think about Lex past his atrocites. She couldn't afford any pity for the person who tormented her sister and her family. But right now there was another little girl beside her who lost her only family.

"You said you will turn over the world for your sister, didn't you?", Lena turned to her. "I killed my brother for her".

She didn't said anything after that. Just cried herself to sleep. And Alex was just sitting there, left alone with shocking news and even more shocking realizations. Lex was dead. Lena was the one who killed him. He told her Kara was Supergirl and she still killed him.

/ / / / / / / / / /

"Don't pity me, it makes my skin crawl", Lena said the next day, when she was given her own pass to the DEO. She threw it on the table right in front of Alex, and agent considered asking 'what the hell, Luthor' just for the fun.

"I'm not. But after what you did for my sister and what you continue to do, the least I can do is to give you free entrance".

Lena sat beside her, tired and feverish from overwork.

"Don't care about me either".

"When will you talk to Kara?" Lena scowled when Alex ignored her, but still took the pass.

"Never, perhaps. I look at her and see the dead body of my brother. It's not something a little talk can fix. And she will blame herself, burdening me with another endless boundle of her apologies".

"She will learn of his death eventually, and then she'll found out how he died. It will happen anyway. And yes, of course, nothing will be fixed just because you too will talk. But maybe you can relieve some of your burden, and maybe several small talks will help you both".

Lena didn't lift her head from the shiny surface of the table. But she nodded tiniest bit.

/ / / / / / / / / /

Lena kept coming to help. Kara kept trying to talk to her.

One day Lena conceded, and then she screamed at Kara for an hour in the empty conference room and stormed out.

They had reverse situation later, when Lena came injured once again. Kara screamed about her being reckless, and they eventually reached her past sorrows.

They screamed, then talked, then whispered. And slowly started to smile again. Later came tentative touches, lunches and game nights.

So when almost two years later Alex found them in the kitchen doing something she would prefer to erase from her mind, everything finally became as it should.

[fear-is-truth]

⋆𐙚 ₊ pregnancy announcement .ᐟ

requested by anon

ft. kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ kai anderson ‧ rory monahan ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would be stunned at first, eyes widening as he processes the news. but a slow smile would spread across his face as he takes it in. a soft joy would fill his expression as he realises he’s about to become a father, and he’d pull you into a big hug.

his protective side would instantly surface. as someone who would do anything to keep his loved ones safe, he’d be extra cautious about your well-being. “tell me if you need anything, alright?” he’d want to make sure you’re comfy and taken care of, going out of his way to handle things so you can rest.

he’d worry about whether he can be a good father. he’d confide in you, saying, “i just hope i can be the dad this little one deserves.” he’d want to do everything right, maybe even overthinking small details about parenting, but he’d be earnest in his desire to give your child a better life.

would immediately start making plans for the future, thinking about practical things like finding a safe place to live, budgeting, and making sure there’s enough space for your growing family. he’d sit down with you to talk about these things, wanting to be responsible and prepare as much as possible.

works extra shifts to earn more money.

he’d become even more attentive, watching out for anything you might need, even if it’s something small. kit would check in on you constantly, asking if you’re okay, if you need anything. insisting on doing things for you, like cooking (or attempting to), lifting things, or making sure you’re relaxed.

hope you don’t get kidnapped by aliens lol

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

completely bewildered, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping slightly. he’d never expect something like this, not now, not while he’s still in college.

nervously laugh, thinking maybe it’s a joke (even though he knew you wouldn’t joke about things like this) . “wait… seriously?”

once he’s wrapped his head around the news, he’d immediately ask, “are you okay? how do you feel?” wanting to make sure you’re not scared or upset.

the second question he’s ask is whether you’d want to keep the baby. he’d respect your decision no matter what. it’s your body, after all.

kyle is a smart and super responsible guy, he’d begin overthinking everything. “oh my god, we need to figure everything out—where are we gonna live? i don’t even have a real job yet!” his mind would fill with thoughts of money, school, and what your parents would say.

he’d want to start planning for the future, but he’d be panicked about how little time you both might have. he’d talk about finishing school quickly, getting a job, saving up, and trying to secure a better living situation.

you’d probably hear him start cracking dad jokes way too soon.

would randomly ask, “do you think the baby will have your eyes?” or “do you think they’ll like sports?” he’d start imagining what kind of person your child will be, picturing what it’ll be like to raise them together, and getting really invested in the idea of being a dad.

⟢ 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐍.

his excitement would be matched by a fierce desire to shield you and the baby from public attention. “we don’t need the whole world in our business,” he’d say, giving you a serious look as he assures you he’ll do everything he can to keep the news private.

though he’s usually very open and upbeat on social media, rory would hold back from posting anything about the pregnancy until he feels it’s the right time. he’d cherish these early moments in private, making sure you’re protected from the stress of the spotlight. if he’s asked by friends or fans, he’d stay low-key, not wanting to give anything away until you both feel ready to share the news.

the two of you would joke and laugh about all the outlandish hollywood baby names out there, making ridiculous suggestions “can you imagine if we named the kid ‘rayleigh moonbeam monahan’?”

when you two finally announce the pregnancy, he’d choose a special photo—you glowing and visibly pregnant or a snapshot of the ultrasound. the caption would be heartfelt like , “just when i thought life couldn’t get any better with you, y/n… along comes our little one to prove me wrong. feeling so grateful, blessed, and ready for this next chapter together. ❤️”

would be adamant about protecting the baby’s identity, using stickers or taking photos from behind to shield your child’s face. he wants them to have a real childhood, not just be “rory monahan’s kid.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

the moment you tell him you’re pregnant, kai’s eyes would light up with an almost crazed joy. he’d instantly see this as the fulfillment of his vision, his grand plan for creating a “messiah baby.”

would immediately assume control over the entire situation. he’d tell you that everything will now revolve around the pregnancy and what this child represents.

would obsess over every detail related to the pregnancy. he’d dictate what you eat, how you exercise, and even what kind of prenatal care you receive, believing that this child must be raised under perfect conditions.

he’d talk about how this child will be the first to be raised in his image, with his values and beliefs. “i’ll teach them everything they need to know. they’ll be stronger, smarter, better than anyone else,” he’d promise. he’d start planning out the child’s entire life before they’re even born, from their education to their role in the movement. (wow. poor kid lol)

despite being an asshole, kai would show an intense devotion to you during the pregnancy. you’re the mother of the messiah, after all. he’d shower you with praise and attention, possibly even becoming more affectionate. say things like, “you’re perfect. you’re giving me the greatest gift anyone could ever give.”

there would be moments where kai’s obsession give way to genuine tenderness. he’d touch your bump with awe, whispering, “i can’t believe it… we’re creating something amazing.” there’d be an almost childlike wonder in his eyes at times, as he’s totally in awe of the life growing inside you.

would be super gentle during sex and even go down on you when you’re horny :)

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

when you tell colin you’re pregnant, he’d froze, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. his expression slowly shifting from shock to wonder. completely lost for words, standing there and struggling to find a response, yet somehow still managing to look at you with pure awe.

then, without warning, he’d swept you up into his arms. “are you serious? we’re going to be parents?” his voice shaking slightly as the reality settled in. then the two of you would kiss deeply, colin holding you close as he tries to pour all his excitement, gratitude, and love into that one kiss.

starts reading up on everything he can about pregnancy, making sure he’s prepared for every step.

he’d sit you down with a notebook and start talking about houses, school districts, and daycare options.

whatever your craving—whether it’s pickles, ice cream, or some random weird food—you can count on him to show up with it, no matter the hour. “got your favourite, plus a backup in case you change your mind,” (colin zabel the man that you are)

would get so invested in learning about babies that you’d find him falling asleep with baby books and parenting guides in his lap. he’d read up on everything from swaddling techniques to tips on managing sleep schedules, wanting to be as prepared as possible.

meticulous about getting everything ready for the baby, safety-proofing the house, researching baby essentials etc. when you start picking out strollers, cribs, and bottles, colin would obsess over quality and safety ratings.

be prepared for dad jokes.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

when you first tell him, he’d literally freeze. *peter.exe has stopped working*. “whoa… wait… a baby? like a real tiny person?” he’d feel overwhelmed, knowing he’s on the verge of a huge life change and trying to wrap his head around what it means to be responsible for another human being.

always ready to run off and get whatever weird snacks you’re in the mood for.

would totally go overboard in the baby shopping department, especially toys and gadgets. he’d bring home all sorts of things that seem way too advanced, like gaming consoles and motorized toys, “look, our kid’s gonna be a tech whiz,” he’d say, holding up the PS5 he bought.

he’d immediately start practicing his dad jokes. “did you hear about the cheese factory explosion? there was de-brie everywhere!”

peter would be driven by a deep desire to be the kind of father he always wished for himself. quiet moments of reflection, probably late at night, thinking about all the ways he can be there for your child. “i’m gonna make sure our kid knows they’re loved every day.” he’d tell you. it’d become a goal he’d never stop working toward, fueled by his love for you and the family you’re about to start together.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[kelin-is-writing]

Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.

“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.

He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.

You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.

Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.

Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where’s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.

You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.

As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.

But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.

So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.

That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜

[kitab00m101]

Y'all, I just had a dream about the finale of Wild Life, and I had to share. For context, I haven't actually watched the finale yet, everything I know about it is from spoilers. Also I have been OBSESSIVELY watching Impossible Minecraft, so my brain imputed references from that as well.

So, I spawn in as my own character (minecraft/traffic series oc). All the players were spawned onto a poorly built skynet made of cobblestone a couple hundred blocks above the map, and then lava and water started raining from the sky, and mobs like vindicators were spawing on the blocks with the players, and everyone had their superpowers. (No snails in my dream tho, I didn't want it to accidentally become a nightmare lol)

Tango sped past me, nearly knocking me off the one-by-one cobblestone bridge. Then for some reason, one of the blonde boys (idk who it was either Jimmy or martyn because my subconscious would have flipped out if it wa grian) was out to murder me. I start running, and that's when I realize the only things in my inventory are dragon eggs.

I start using these to parkour/run away from the British blonde boy, and eventually I escape. I end up hiding behind a 3 block tall cobblestone pillar, and I watch the carnage unfold. Eventually, I feel a presence nearby, creeping up to me.

I see the invisible particle effects as Jimmy passes by. I think he knows where I am, so I yell out, "I know you're there Tim!" (Like grian and Scott did lmao). He turns visible and looks around completely bewildered.

"How- Where are you???" I don't move, and I respond-

"I'm in your head Jimmy. Just like the watchers are." Jimmy starts freaking out, and while he's distracted someone (I think it was grian or bdubs) shoots him in the head with an arrow and he is knocked off the bridge, and I watch as his yellow canary feathers disappear into the void below.

Then I woke up.

(I had this dream like a week ago, and I forgot to post this lol)

[stargazedwinchester]

Last Night's Mascara ♡ Dean

Summary: You lose your boyfriend, Dean, to a demonic possession that has replaced his soul.

Word Count: 1,433

Warnings: Physical abuse, some counts of swearing

If that's not something you want to read, please keep scrolling!

This one took a little longer, I had just under 2 weeks off of work and enjoyed it a bit too much and I procrastinated a bit too much, therefore I'm posting this late bc I wanted to stay on schedule xoxox

Inspo by last night's mascara - Griff

Sunday morning. You lay your head on your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Thirteen nights you had slept alone.

Thirteen nights without Dean.

Thirteen nights you had prayed to God by your bedside, begging him to bring Dean back. Nothing worked.

You force yourself up and out of bed, padding down toward the bathroom. Flicking the light on, you glance at yourself in the mirror whilst reaching over to turn the shower on. You peel off your pyjamas, leaving them in a puddle on the floor. While the shower was warming up, you squeeze some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and brush your teeth. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you notice your usually bright, youthful features are now dull and lifeless.

Dean was your happiness. His silly, guileless demeanour was what made him your perfect match. You had faced challenges together before and believed you could overcome this one, too.

How naïve you were!

Spitting the toothpaste out, you rinse your mouth out and run the water so the remnants go down the drain. You turn the tap off and hop into the shower.

“You’re never around anymore, Dean! How do you think that makes me feel?” You spat, an amused look forms on his face. He runs his hand through his gelled hair, looking at you with dead eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck you find funny-”

“Don’t speak to me like that.” He hushes, and your eyebrows furrow in rage. “Don’t speak to you like that? Like what? Like I don’t want to try and sort things out between us? Like none of this actually matters?” you row, throwing your hands up in defeat. Dean sighs. Every second he wasted not talking to you made you more irate. At this point, you assumed it would be impossible to feel this upset with the man you’re supposed to love.

You knew Dean hadn’t been right within himself for quite a while; he had been out a lot more, belligerent in helping you and his brother on hunts, coming across way less affectionate than usual. This left you bewildered and lost. It wasn’t like Dean to be so… cold. He abandoned everything he loved for… nothing. You always felt like it wasn’t completely his fault, but seeing the way he is, it’s hard to think otherwise.

“Talk to me, Dean! Say fucking something!” You walk toward him, who’s facing away from you. Confidence runs through your blood as you stride across the cold floorboards. “Please, Dean,” you exasperate, your throat closing in. You place your hand on his shoulder. He aggressively shoves your hand off, he twists around and fires you across the room. You yelp as your back whips around the bottom of the metal staircase. You’re winded, but that didn’t stop you from getting right back up. “I told you,” Dean snaps, keeping his stalwart, defunct stare on you. He takes a deep breath.

“I told you,” he repeats. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” He raises his voice, booming across the bunker. It feels like the walls vibrated with fear. You storm up to him and he pushes you away, knocking you back onto the floor. “I don’t love you!” He bellows, and you scurry toward the closest wall to stick yourself too. You’re terrified, terrified of what Dean is capable of doing. You’re frozen in place watching him bluster toward you.

He pulls you up so you’re practically glued to the wall behind you, your glare never left his as his pupils dilate. The perfect shade of green that once resides was no longer there.

“I don’t fucking love you, Y/N. I never have. The fact that you feel like you have to try and fix everything? It doesn’t work. It’ll never work. You will never, ever find someone that’ll love you. Purely and effortlessly. This,” he pauses and motions between you both. “This was nothing but for show. You’re a beautiful girl, but I fucking hate you. Quite frankly, you’re worthless. Pathetic.” He smiles intentionally, and those words puncture at your heart like a million shards of glass. You’re unsure of what to do as his awfully strong grasp lets go of you. Your feet touch the ground and you’re still staring at him. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw.

“Get out of my face.” He brushes you off, turning away from you. Dean pauses. He turns and slaps you across the face. You inhale sharply, your bottom lip wobbling but holding in tears. Even though you’re hurting right now, your body and heart have a rush of adrenaline. As Dean turns away, you force him to turn back around to you. You punch him in the cheekbone, causing him to stagger. He attempts to alter himself and reach for you, but you shove him backwards. “Don’t you fucking DARE do that again, Winchester! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” you scream, and he just looks at you. He looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Put your fucking hands on me again and watch what happens, you stupid bastard! Get the fuck out of here! Now!” You shriek, now your voice echoes throughout the bunker. Dean looks surprised as he steps away from you. That same, sinister smirk appears on his face again as he walks toward the stairway.

“I’m not done with you.” He voices just above a whisper. He leaves the bunker and you in silence. You take a shaky breath as you evaluate what has just happened.

Tears roll down your face. A weird comfort from the light, but scorching taps from the waterfall cascading down your back. The water trickles down the drain, mocking you by telling you that you can wash your worries away. A bubble arises in your throat that you can’t control. Your bottled up emotions have finally decided to spill out. You let out a sob, your hands reaching up to your mouth. You don’t want Sam to hear you. Your whole body shakes. You turn around and face the water, letting it fall down your face, hoping that it drowns out the sound of your cries. Desperate and vulnerable cries.

As you step out of the shower, you reach for a towel to wrap around yourself and walk out the door. You make your way to your bedroom and get dressed.

The bright Texan sun beams down, and you pull your sunglasses down over your eyes. You have finally arrived at the church, 46 miles out from the bunker. Despite deserted roads, the entire trip still took almost two hours. Walking down the broken cobblestone path, you push the wooden door open. It squeaks weakly as you step inside onto the floorboards.

There’s no one here, and the door slams behind you. You flinch. You walk toward the altar that’s standing in the centre of the church. Warm colors from the stained glass windows behind the altar reflect onto the rickety floorboards, showing images of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. You kneel down in front of the altar, fixating on the floor. For days, you prayed for the return of the old Dean. You’re stuck on what to say, so you sit for a minute. You assumed Cas would be able to hear your prayers every night, but it felt as if no one could help you. Cas was MIA and Sam’s out of town. You’re completely and utterly alone.

You concentrate as you pray to the shrine in front of you.

“God, if you can hear me, I pray for your divine intervention. To free Dean from the demon’s control and bring back the man we all miss dearly. Please bring my Dean home. I’m begging for something, anything. Please. Amen.”

You sit there for a little while, hoping that the message had actually been heard. You reminisce on how you and Dean used to be, how joyous life felt before he decided to practically give his own life away for the Mark of Cain. You take a deep breath before standing up. You turn around and you’re met with a tall man in a beige trench coat.

“I heard your prayer, Y/N.” He says, gazing down at you with care. Your eyes meet Cas’ and you can’t help but burst into tears. He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you attentively and he allows you to feel every emotion you’ve needed to let out. You feel very grateful for Cas’s help, even if it is as minimal as a hug. God knows you've needed it.