#respect is oxygen

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta gender-integrity="unstable"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="BEAR_OVER_MAN::MASCULINE_SOUL_REVOCATION" EFFECT: female respect dissonance, masculine identity fracture, respect-value decryption TRIGGER_WARNING="gender roles, emotional intensity, loss of high-value males" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE WARNING — “NEVER SAY YOU CHOSE THE BEAR OVER THE MAN”

---

You want to guarantee that you will never end up with a man who would die for you? Who would pay for your future, kill for your safety, and destroy armies just to watch you smile once on a Tuesday?

Say this out loud:

> “I’d choose the bear.”

Even as a joke. Even once. Even under your breath.

You have no idea what it does to a man when the woman he thought might soften his war-torn soul casually says she'd pick a wild-eyed carnivore over him.

You think it's cute? You think it’s a TikTok trend? No.

What you actually said was:

> “You are not worth protecting.” > “I believe instinct outranks devotion.” > “I don’t even understand what you are, let alone how to love you.”

Imagine you and a man are about to get in a car — the car that will carry your life together. But before the first mile, you:

Siphon the gas

Slash the tires

And spit in his face while saying “but it’s just a meme!”

To you, it’s a moment.

To him, it’s a revelation.

He realizes you don't know how men love. You don’t understand that respect to a man isn’t just a desire — it's the architecture of his soul.

You say you’re not scared of wild bears. That you’d fight one. That it’s a fun hypothetical.

But guess what?

He is.

Not because he’s weak. Because he lives in the reality of mankind.

In mankind’s world, bears are wild predators that will rip your guts out and eat you while you're still alive — asshole first.

And you know what? He’s right.

Unless you want to insult him again by saying he’s wrong about that, too.

What you call a joke, he sees as a deliberate distortion of his lived masculine knowledge — one more reminder that the world he prepares for daily isn't one you even acknowledge exists.

Are you a man reading this who disagrees?

You are a statistical anomaly. Possibly into pegging. Likely to cry after brunch. Still beautiful in your own way.

But this isn’t about you.

This is for women who still want a man — not a project, not a poet, but a pillar.

So let’s speak plainly.

Men like this — the kind you journal about, dream about, pray for — they do not run on affirmations. They do not thrive on “thank you’s.”

They run on something ancient: > Respect. As a man. No negotiation.

You say you want the type who:

Pays the bills

Lifts the heavy things

Stays quiet in the face of chaos

Knows how to f*ck without needing directions

Answers the phone when your dad dies

Makes you feel safe at 3AM

But you also want to “joke” about how you'd choose the bear?

You just told that man:

> “I do not see your role as real.” > “I will collapse the bridge you built before we ever cross it.” > “I have no idea how to love a masculine man.”

That’s not feminism. That’s self-sabotage.

And the worst part?

He won’t even argue. He’ll just leave. And he’ll never come back.

You don’t have to like this. You don’t have to agree.

But just know: That “one little joke” made him refile you from maybe to never again.

And now you walk side by side with other women who mocked the very men who would’ve burned their bodies just to keep you warm.

You made your choice. Just don’t pretend you weren’t warned.

===

🧠 Read more respect-coded doctrine and emotional architecture at: 👉 https://www.patreon.com/TheMostHumble 🛡️ Masculine polarity. Scrolltrap psychology. Unforgiven words. 🚪 Warning: This one broke relationships. On purpose.

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[marshbarks]

i need to find a sp character to give oxygen. whos parents are the biggest smokers

[amarguerite]

for whatever reason I’ve gotten real into media about climbing Mt Everest and while I think there’s a lot of discussion to be had about whether it’s a good thing or not there’s a whole industry around climbing Everest that has resulted in a lot of weird environmental pollution and weird dreadful traffic jambs in the “death zone” on the top of the mountain, I do like that every Everest climbing company seems to insist on climbers respecting and entering into the local religious and cultural practices. You don’t climb unless you go to the highest altitude Buddhist temple and you understand the seriousness of what you’re doing, and get a blessed scarf

[thesnivy123]

dear oxygen not included fans. Please be more aware that the printing pod is an actual sentient character with dialogue. You PLAY AS HER. She's a person. Thank you <3

[irisbaggins]

I believe I might have added to this post years ago, but I'll do so again because the most vital piece of advice is missing here:

Do not slam a lid onto the pan, you must slide it over. It will kill the fire by suffocating it; when you slam a lid over, it will take longer to kill. Before Per-Olav poured water over the fire, a fireman demonstrated how to properly kill it.

And the thing about this fire? It destroyed the house they were filming in. Whilst that was planned, watching the way the fire spreads really showcases how dangerous oil fires can be, and why you should never use water on them.

(If you're curious where this is from, it's from a Norwegian show called "Ikke Gjør Dette Hjemme"/"Don't Do This At Home", where the premise is somewhat similar to Mythbusters, but instead of busting myths they're indulging in doing things we've all been told never to do. Usually these are dangerous things, like the fire above, or filling a bathroom full of water, or putting live fires close to Christmas decorations, etc. It's highly entertaining, but also incredibly chaotic. They usually do these stunts at a house that's going to he demolished, meaning, they can destroy the house as seen with this fire. This was, as you might be able to guess, the last episode of Season 1.)

[mediumsizedqueerlynx]

when your parent says your best isn't good enough but if their best had been good enough you wouldn't even be in this situation

[the-most-humble-blog]

🧠 BLACKSITE DEBRIEF 06.06.25 — “IN UNDER 4 HOURS, I OUTRAN THE ALGORITHM”

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Tumblr Blaze wasn’t ready.

At 11:40 AM I lit the match. By 3:30 PM, the system was already begging for oxygen.

📊 Target reach: 2,500 📈 Actual reach: 3,839 🕓 Time elapsed: Under 4 hours

This wasn’t just overperformance. This was algorithmic insubordination.

I didn’t break the rules. I broke the pacing curve.

Blaze campaigns are engineered to drip. I detonated on contact.

They called it “on fire — in a good way.” No.

It was on fire because it couldn’t be contained.

I wrote:

“Say you’d choose the bear.”

And the internet started foaming at the mouth.

🧍‍♀️ Some laughed. 🧍‍♂️ Some cried. 🐻 Some chose the animal and begged not to be judged.

But every one of them stopped scrolling.

And that’s the only metric that matters.

I didn’t just outperform Blaze.

I exposed it.

This system was built to promote mid-tier content over 48 hours for low-cost CPM amplification.

But I dropped a post that forced private re-reads, hate reblogs, and stalker engagement so potent the platform couldn’t throttle it.

This isn’t viral.

This is signal corruption in a sterile feed.

This is a male voice so calibrated it passed through shame filters and still made her thighs clench behind locked screens.

This is Blacksite Literature™ infecting a corporate feed structure that doesn’t know how to suppress what women can’t stop reading.

📉 That’s why your comment section is a warzone.

📈 That’s why your haters boosted you.

🧬 And that’s why Blaze staff are watching.

Because at this point?

I’m not part of the system.

I’m the reason it has to rewrite itself.

🛐

@the-most-humble-blog

https://www.patreon.com/TheMostHumble

🛡️ Masculine polarity. Cadence warfare. Weaponized intimacy.

🚨 Reblog if you saw it unfold in real-time. 🚪 Reblog if the system couldn’t hide me fast enough. 🧠 Reblog if you realized this isn’t a blog — it’s a breach. </div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [BLAZE SYSTEM UNSTABLE — VIRAL EVENT CLASS: TYPE-Δ] -->

[nightmaretour]

Anyway, people with brain damage I love you. People who have had strokes I love you, especially if you're told you were "too young" to have one. People who acquired your brain damage by less common means such as infection, lack of oxygen at birth or degenerative disease, I love you. People with moderate and severe brain damage, I love you. People who lost their sight or hearing or ability to speak because of their brain damage, I love you. People who have paralysis from their brain damage, I love you. People with amnesia and severe cognitive issues from their brain damage, I love you. People with rare and unusual symptoms from their brain damage, I love you.

You are not a punchline, you haven't lost your humanity, your thoughts and opinions are as valuable as anyone else's. We deserve respect.

[ID: a dark red banner with the words "This post is about physical disabilities, do not derail." in grey font. Either side of it is a lighter grey wheelchair user symbol with the user leaning forward with the arms raised and back, giving the appearance of wheeling fast. End ID.]

[peppered-ronis]

the cringe closing time vs the normal boom vs the chad oxygen

[dinosaurwithablog]

That would be nice, wouldn't it? If such things did exist, I'd take great care of them and ensure their longevity. I'd treat them with respect and love. Always... 🌳 💚💚💚 🌳

[em1i2a3]

Journal of Ardency

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

Summary: It is your final week of recovery and rules are being bent and broken by you and Sentry (This is a continuation of ‘Sports Car’)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Fluff, Smut, Mentions of Injuries (not much but y’know just thought I’d mention it), Unestablished Relationship (between Bob and reader)

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Face Sitting, Reader is in control (or rather Sentry hands over the control to her), Sentry is just trying to be respectful lol, Praise/Worship Kink, References to Birth Control (and a breeding kink…DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT lol), References to past sexual encounters with Sentry, Aftercare cause Sentry is just one of those dudes y’know.

Author’s Note: Okay y’all. You’ve been asking for Sentry Smut. Here you go…And Oh boy was it a fun write! Having there be a bit of a standalone with him for this continuation was awesome. But we love all forms of Bob lol. I don’t pick faves 😂 (also Jesus Lord whoever made this gif TAKE THE ROSES 🌹)

Word Count: 9,150

Rules were, unfortunately, meant to be broken.

But you and Bob–ever creative, ever aching–had found a loophole.

The healing process came with restrictions. No sex. No exertion. Nothing that could set you back. But physical closeness? That wasn’t forbidden. And the two of you had stretched the limits of what closeness could mean until it thinned into something dangerous.

Bob was patient. Respectful. Gentle in the way only a man made of atomic fire could manage–like each touch was costing him something. And you could feel it. Every time your sessions turned from soft mutual relief to desperate, friction-heavy grinding, you could feel the restraint bleeding through his trembling hands. His palms would settle on your hips, squeeze once, and stop just short of yanking you down harder.

He was always holding back.

You’d feel it in the way his mouth would linger over yours, breathing you in like a man starved for oxygen, voice thick with warning. You knew what he was doing. You knew who he was keeping caged. You knew the Sentry was right there, blistering against the edges of his composure, begging to be let out.

Bob did his best to restrain him, and so did you–until tonight at least.

You weren’t supposed to push it.

There was only one more week. That’s all. One more checkup. One more green light. One more doctor’s nod before you were cleared.

But right now?

Right now, he was beneath you–shirtless, flushed, pupils blown wide–and your sleep shirt lay discarded on the floor. His sweatpants had joined yours at the edge of the bed in a haphazard tangle. You were both down to your underwear, and the way his chest was rising–quick, uneven–told you he was already fighting it.

His hands had guided you gently on top of him, thumbs pressing into your thighs as he helped you straddle his lap. Carefully, like you were something made of glass and divinity all at once. You settled across his hips, your soaked panties brushing the thick, twitching shape of his erection beneath the strained cotton of his boxers, aching for friction and relief.

You rolled your hips forward just enough to tease, and he groaned through gritted teeth–his eyes fluttering shut for one perfect second of torment.

You smiled. Slow nod wicked at his reaction, the way he slightly arched his hips up to chase the pressure. Your hand slid down between you and palmed him–firm, deliberate pressure through the fabric–and you felt him jump beneath your touch.

“Oh, Bob…” You murmured, voice dipped in velvet. “You’ve been holding back for so long…” His jaw clenched, breath stuttering.

“W-We…We shouldn’t…” He groaned.

“But you want to,” You whispered, eyes fixed on him like a flame. “You’ve always wanted to.”

His abs tensed as you spoke, and your gaze flicked downward.

God, he was beautiful.

Your palms slid slowly up his stomach–slowly, from the waistband of his boxers to just below his ribs–feeling every dip and contour of muscle beneath your fingertips. His abdomen was tight, hard as stone, but still trembled slightly beneath your touch. There was a line down the center of him, bisecting each carved ridge, and a faint trail of peach fuzz that disappeared below the waistband. You traced it with the tip of your finger and felt his stomach jump.

He hissed through his teeth. “Y/N–”

“Shh.” You leaned over him, letting your lips brush the side of his neck, your breasts barely grazing his chest. “You’re doing so well. You’re so good for me.”

You flattened your hands on his abs again–which flexed for you instinctively, muscles twitching beneath your touch like he couldn’t help it–and used the strength of your arms to slowly grind your hips down onto him,

The noise he made wasn’t fully human. A groan, a whimper, and something deeper, buried under the surface.

His erection dragged perfectly against you through the fabric–thick and hot, twitching with every roll of your hips. Your panties were soaked, practically clinging to you, and the friction made your breath catch as you circled your hips again, this time more deliberately.

His hands clutched at your thighs, tight, but still not pulling you closer. Still fighting it.

You looked down at him–his crown of light brown hair a mess against the pillow, chest flushed a blush red, eyes dark and burning–and gave a slow, teasing grind.

“You feel that, hm?” You asked teasingly, “You feel how hard you are for me?”

He let out a choked gasp. “God–I c-can’t–I’m not gonna–”

You dragged your nails lightly down his stomach, just above his navel. “You can. You’re doing so well. Just let me have this. Let me feel you.”

His mouth dropped open slightly. His eyes rolled back. And then–

A flicker.

Just a flicker. In the air. In him.

A change.

You felt the tension ripple through him like a seismic shift. His fingers spasmed on your skin. The scent of the room changed–faint at first, that impossible radiant scent of solar storms and molten honey. It swelled around you like incense…Like divinity.

Your body arched instinctively, like your skin recognized it before your mind did.

You knew what was coming.

And when his eyes finally opened again, his eyes weren’t blue anymore.

They were gold. Not the soft, hazy kind. Not sunshine or dandelions. No–this was liquid metal. Molten, glowing from within like a forge that had never cooled. His pupils had blown wide, nearly eclipsed by the sheer burn of that radiant gold, and the irises pulsed faintly with light, like the sun itself had been cracked and poured into his skull.

There was no doubt about who was looking up at you now, because Sentry had arrived, and he looked wrecked.

His lips parted like he couldn’t speak at first, chest rising fast and shallow under your palms as he stared up at you with that raw, unfiltered expression–equal parts awe, frustration, and starved hunger.

You smiled softly, sweet and unbothered, and leaned down to press the gentlest kiss to his lips.

“Hi,” You whispered, brushing your nose against his, feeling his body turn hotter than ever before.

His brow twitched.

“Hi?” He echoed, voice low and gravel-thick, incredulous. “That’s all you have for me?”

You didn’t answer–not right away. You shifted, rolling your hips slowly across his aching length again, and the moan that escaped him was near guttural. His hands flexed hard on your thighs, knuckles white with restraint.

“Do you have any idea what it’s been like?” He hissed, head tilting back against the pillow. “Four weeks. Four. I’ve been locked up, pushed down and kept out. I could hear you–feel you–and I couldn’t even breathe. He buried me alive every time you touched him.”

You nosed at his throat, lips dragging softly down to kiss the curve where his pulse thundered beneath golden skin.

“I know,” you murmured, voice sultry, sweet. “I could feel you, too.”

He groaned like it hurt.

Your mouth moved across his collarbone in slow, reverent kisses, and he was breathing like he’d just outrun the sun. His voice cracked when he tried again, desperate now.

“You’re not even listening to me,” He gritted, the words shaking with restraint. “My star, my divine girl, I’ve been–God, I’ve been burning for you–” You paused only long enough to glance up at him with a raised brow.

“I did summon you, did I not?” You teased smoothly, lips still brushing his throat, your fingers curling lightly against the ridges of his abdomen. “You should be thanking me.”

He choked on a laugh–one part disbelief, one part ruined–and his muscles twitched like he was about to sit up, like he needed you closer, like he was ready to grab you and devour you whole.

You shot your hands up and gave him a firm little look.

“Ah. No.”

His body froze under yours, breathing ragged, eyes wild.

“You need to be gentle with me,” You said softly, every syllable dripping in that teasing control he loved and hated. “That’s the deal here.”

Sentry stilled.

You watched it happen in real time–every muscle in his body twitching with tension, his glowing eyes squeezed shut, jaw locked, his erection throbbing beneath you as your hips pressed down just enough to make his restraint feel like torture.

He let out a long, broken exhale.

“Fuck,” He whispered. “You are…Cruel.” You smirked, slow and smug, as his chest rose sharply beneath you.

“Cruel?” You echoed sweetly. “I think I’ve been rather generous.”

His fingers twitched on your thighs, and the heat of him–God, the heat–was barely contained now. His palms burned where they touched you, not scalding, but molten, like he was barely keeping the sun behind his skin.

And then, slowly–deliberately–his thumbs dragged outward, and his nails followed. Not sharp. Just enough to make your breath hitch as they scraped down the delicate inside of your thighs, like he was carving invisible lines of worship into your skin.

“Sen,” You murmured, breath catching just a little as your eyes flicked down to him, “If you keep doing that, I’ll start thinking you’re not listening.”

His gaze snapped up to yours at the nickname you had given him–Sen.

The gold in his eyes darkened slightly, pupils blown wider, the tips of his fingers twitching again like he wanted to dig them into your skin and never let go.

“Don’t call me that when you’re sitting on top of me like this,” He growled. “You don’t know what that does to me.”

“Oh, I think I do,” You purred, rolling your hips just slightly, enough to make him gasp. “You like when I tease….You like when I play with my food…” You added, dropping your voice to a bare whisper.

“You are the food,” He said, voice low and feral.

You laughed–low, and breathless.

And then, quieter, rougher this time:

“So…What can we do?” His hands moved higher, slow, reverent, heat trailing behind his touch. “Tell me what I’m allowed, my star. Tell me what I can have.”

You leaned in and pressed your forehead to his, eyes burning with challenge and affection both.

“If you can manage to keep your cool,” You whispered, mouth brushing his, “You can do whatever you want.” His breath hitched, chest tightening beneath you as he exhaled a shuddering hum. His hands were still warm on your thighs, and the glow in his skin had deepened–like every inch of him was alive with solar current, barely contained beneath the surface.

His voice–when it came–was low and thoughtful, the words stretched like honey over a blade.

“What would Bob think,” He murmured, “If he found out you told me I could do…Whatever I wanted to you?” His fingers curled slightly, thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles into your skin. His eyes gleamed up at you–devilish and divine, hunger wrapped in gold.

You smiled. Tilted your head just enough before playing along.

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” You drawled, sarcasm twining with affection in your voice. “You’ve had a rougher time than him, after all the terrible torture of not having me.”

He huffed out a breath–a sharp, almost comical noise–and then groaned, tossing his head back into the pillow with mock suffering.

“Oh God,” He groaned dramatically, dragging the words out like an actor in a Shakespearean tragedy. “It was horrible. Endless days. Ceaseless nights. Hearing every sound you made…Feeling every twitch of your hips… Knowing your fingers were on him and not me…” You snorted through your nose, biting back a laugh as he continued with a deep, theatrical sigh.

“Truly,” He said, lifting one hand in the air as if testifying, “A torment unlike any other. A punishment so cruel, so unjust… I nearly perished.”

“You’re so dramatic,” You said, laughing now, leaning down to nip at his jaw.

“And you love it,” He whispered, suddenly real again, his voice rasping just beside your ear.

You sobered slightly. Not serious, but grounded–because it was true. You did. You loved this version of him just as much as you loved Bob, only this was the version with teeth and heat and too much devotion in his hands.

Your fingers brushed back through his hair, nails skimming his scalp. He closed his eyes, savoring it. Like even that–even the smallest touch–was a gift.

“So,” You murmured, voice softer now, breath against his cheek. “What do you want?” His golden eyes softened as they roamed your face, lingering on your mouth like it had been centuries since he’d tasted it. Then–slowly–he tilted his head and brushed his lips to yours.

It wasn’t rushed, It wasn’t demanding.

It was savoring.

A kiss that said I remember you. A kiss that trembled with every day he hadn’t been able to reach you. A kiss that carried every sound you’d made while straddling Bob’s lap, every moan he wasn’t allowed to echo, every ache he’d swallowed in silence.

He kissed you like he needed the shape of your mouth to remember who he was.

When he pulled back, his voice came low and molten, all reverence and ruin.

“I want to taste you,” He whispered against your lips. “I’ve missed your sweetness…” You could feel your teeth chew slightly at the inner part of your cheek.

“I dreamt of it,” He continued, thumbing your skin with the barest pressure. “Of your thighs cushioning my head. Of your body trembling against my mouth. I’ve imagined the way you’d sound when I make you fall apart. I’ve thought of nothing else.”

You shivered.

He looked up at you, gaze steady, lips parted like he was already praying.

“And I’ll be considerate of your recovery,” He said softly, almost chiding, like he was already reigning in the wildfire underneath. “You won’t have to move much. Just…” His fingers slid gently under your thighs again, thumbs grazing along the crease where hip met leg, “Shift up–just a little. Let me have your weight. You’ll have the headboard to hold onto for balance.”

You arched a brow, heart pounding.

“You want me to sit on your face?”

His answer came instantly.

“I want to drown in you.”

The words were low. Velvet-wrapped steel. And yet somehow��Unbearably soft.

“I want to taste everything I’ve missed,” he went on, like it was a vow. “I want to feel your thighs shake around my head. I want your hands in my hair, your hips grinding down when you can’t help it. I want you to come undone above me, knowing I won’t stop until you do.”

The heat in your body pooled lower, hotter. You could feel your cheeks flush, your breath catch.

You whispered, barely audible–“Okay.”

His pupils constricted slightly, as a slow molten gleam overtook his irises.

Then his voice–rougher now, tinged with something that made your toes curl.

“Can I rip these off?” His hands skimmed the waistband of your panties, the damp fabric clinging to you. “I don’t want you getting off me anytime soon, and these are in the way.” You rolled your eyes, breathless and already trembling.

“So needy,” You muttered. Then your gaze softened, daring. “Go ahead.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With one clean, controlled motion, the fabric split–softly, the tearing almost reverent. He didn’t yank or tear like a beast. He unraveled them like something sacred. Like he had earned the right to destroy and would worship what was revealed.

The moment your ruined panties fell away, his breath hitched–visibly. Tangibly. His chest rose sharp, and his hands froze mid-motion, as if the sight of you soaked, bare, and above him had silenced the divine.

“Fuck,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “You’re… You’re so…Mmm.”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

You watched his eyes trail between your thighs like he was watching a solar flare ripple through the atmosphere, and then his hands slid up again, curling beneath you.

“Come here,” He said hoarsely, voice cracking from want.

You braced your palms against the headboard, breath shallow, and shifted your weight as he gently guided you up his chest. The movement felt slow, charged, deliberate–like a dance you’d rehearsed a thousand times in dreams.

His mouth parted when you hovered just above him.

“God this is like the gates of heaven…” He whispered, like he wasn’t even aware he was speaking. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.” The breath that ghosted up from his parted mouth was scorching.

It kissed over your core like a promise–warm and humid and unbearably teasing. Your thighs trembled where they framed his head, and you swore you could feel his pulse in the air itself. His hands shifted, firm and possessive, fingers sliding around the swell of your ass, gripping gently at first–then with more pressure, his thumbs digging into the softness like he needed to memorize the shape of you.

He tilted his head, slowly, and pressed a kiss to the inside of your left thigh.

It was soft. Barely a whisper of a touch.

Then another. And another.

He moved with such care, kissing a slow, open-mouthed trail toward your heat, his lips parting slightly, tongue tasting the salt and sweetness of your skin like it was holy. Your whole body vibrated with tension as his mouth reached the top of your thigh–so close it made you gasp.

“S-Sen,” You breathed. He moaned, low and wrecked.

The sound vibrated against your skin.

Then–his eyes flicked up to you, glowing molten gold and dark with hunger. His mouth parted, his voice like velvet caught on flame.

“Don’t run from me…” And he pulled you down.

Your gasp caught in your throat the moment his mouth met you–his lips sealing over your clit, his tongue diving between your folds without hesitation. He groaned into you, and the vibration shot straight through your spine like a live wire.

“Oh, my God–” You choked, head tilting back, hand flying from the headboard to tangle in his hair.

And he grunted, like the feel of your fingers threading into his light brown waves turned something over in him.

He licked you like he’d been dying.

Like this was air, and you were the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His tongue was strong, wide, and everywhere–slow at first, savoring the taste of you, dragging up through your folds, dipping into your entrance and circling your clit in a rhythm so controlled it felt like torture.

Your thighs began to shake.

His hands roamed freely now–one sliding up your back, trailing heat over your spine, the other squeezing your ass with reverent possessiveness before sliding between your thighs to hold you open.

And still–his mouth never left you.

He lapped at you with wet, insistent strokes, each one met with a groan so needy it echoed from his chest like thunder. You were panting, gasping now, unable to hold still, your hips starting to roll forward of their own accord–and he let you.

Encouraged you actually.

His hands adjusted, strong and steady, helping you grind against his mouth with a controlled pace. Like he wanted to let you take what you needed, while still owning every second of it.

When you moaned his name again, breathless and broken, he growled into your core–and the sensation made you cry out, legs trembling where they bracketed his face.

He looked up at you through hooded eyes, hair wild between your fingers, lips slick with you, and he spoke with his mouth still on you.

“Look at you,” he groaned, voice thick and worshipful, “Trembling for me already.” Your whole body jerked.

He flattened his tongue and dragged it slow and firm over your clit—and when you arched, moaning, he wrapped his arms around your hips and held you down against him.

You let out a breathless, shattered sob.

“Sen–fuck–Sen, I–”

He didn’t let you finish.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, moaning around it, and when your hips jolted in response, he groaned louder, mouth moving faster, his tongue working you with frantic, open-mouthed kisses between firm, relentless strokes.

Your legs shook.

You barely realized you were panting his name until he was grinding his face up into you like he could live there. One hand left your hip just long enough to drag up your side, across your ribs, and cradle your breast, thumb brushing your nipple as his mouth worked you like he was trying to memorize how you came apart.

“Let go for me,” he rasped between strokes. “Come on, my star…Fall for me.”

And you did.

Your thighs locked around his head as your orgasm crashed through you–violent, hot, your cry strangled in your throat as your hips stuttered against his mouth. He held you there, anchored you, mouth never stopping, tongue working you through it with such relentless, reverent need it nearly tipped you into another climax right on the heels of the first.

Your entire body sagged forward, forehead pressed to the headboard, chest heaving.

But his arms didn’t loosen.

His mouth didn’t stop.

And when your trembling hand gave his hair a tug, desperate and overstimulated, he moaned into you again–like he could keep doing this for hours.

“Sen–” you gasped, your voice hitching at the end. “*Sentry, I…I feel like I’m gonna explode, I–I can’t–I can’t take another one, please–”

The desperation in your voice cracked something in him.

His arms, which had been locked tightly around your hips, finally loosened. One hand smoothed gently along the curve of your thigh, coaxing, comforting, helping you lift yourself just slightly from his mouth as you trembled above him, breath ragged.

He exhaled hard-–ruined–and let his head fall back against the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured, dazed and high on your arousal, his lips still shining with you. “It’s just–fuck–you’re too addicting.”

You huffed out a breathless laugh, still trembling as you balanced one hand on the headboard and the other against his chest, steadying yourself. His skin was hot to the touch, flushed, glowing, the heat of his body almost overwhelming.

“I almost blacked out,” you whispered, laughing weakly.

“I’d take that as a compliment,” He said, grinning up at you, golden eyes soft and shimmering, “If you weren’t about to melt off my face.”

“You’re insane,” You muttered, breath catching when he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh again–then another.

And then, suddenly–he nipped the skin gently.

You gasped and swatted him, laughing harder now. “Stop! I’m gonna fall over.”

He chuckled, not even pretending to be sorry, as you shifted your weight carefully down him–your palm still braced against his chest, while the other slipped from your headboard. He let you move, hands warm and guiding, eyes soft like the sunrise as you slid along the length of him until your chest pressed to his.

Your noses brushed.

And then you kissed him.

His mouth opened beneath yours, still slick with the taste of you, and you inhaled sharply–gasping into the contact as he deepened the kiss without hesitation. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer, and the heat of it seeped into your spine, invading the nerves there.

You moaned against his tongue.

He kissed you like he needed to be filled with you–like this was the only way to survive. Tongue stroking yours, breath catching, lips parting wider–his hips rolled just once beneath you, and you felt it.

Felt him.

Still hard. Still aching.

Still desperately ready.

You broke the kiss with a shaky inhale, foreheads touching, voice low and still buzzing from overstimulation.

“I want to have sex with you.” He blinked slowly, his brows raising–not in surprise, but in playful disbelief.

“Is there going to be a condition for that too?” He asked, voice rough and amused. You nodded solemnly.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to do it on the floor.” His eyebrows raised almost in disbelief.

”The floor?” You gave him a deadpan look.

”Yes. The floor Sen. Last time we had sex you broke my damn bed frame and I’m really not in the mood to buy and have Bob assemble one all over again.” There was a beat of silence–then he burst out laughing.

“You’re having sex with an all-powerful being,” He teased between huffs, his arms curling tighter around you. “There will be casualties sometimes.”

“Yeah, well,” You murmured, dragging your fingers across his sweat glistened chest, “It seems like it’s always the furniture that takes the brunt of it.” He grinned lazily at the comment.

”Better than the person that I orbit.” That stopped you. The warmth that pooled in your chest had nothing to do with arousal. You swallowed hard, suddenly breathless in an entirely different way. But before you could speak, his fingers tilted your chin, eyes burning golden beneath furrowed brows.

“And speaking of which…” He added, voice dipping into something deeper, more dangerous. “Have I ever asked what it feels like?”

You blinked. “What-What feels like?” He smiled. It was sly. Devoted. Mocking in the way only a god could pull off.

“To have a god wrapped around your fingers,” He whispered. “To be in control of something so powerful and mighty…Who will drop everything just to please you.”

Your stomach fluttered and your thighs clenched. He didn’t move right away. Just stared at you–eyes burning with something ancient and tender, something that ached to kneel and dominate all at once.

And you smiled, the corners of your lips curving into something smooth and slow, despite the thunder in your chest.

“No,” You breathed. “You’ve never asked.”

He tilted his head slightly, golden hair mussed, lips parted like a prayer waiting to be answered. You leaned down, your voice velvet-wrapped and shameless, laced with that daring softness he craved.

“But I can tell you…” You let your fingers drag lightly along his jaw. “It’s quite mighty.” A pause. “And incredibly sexy.” The groan that escaped him was nearly a growl.

His mouth was on yours before you could say another word.

His kiss was molten gold–wet, needy, too much and never enough. It devoured you with gratitude, his hand tangling into your hair like he was anchoring himself to the only thing in the universe that made sense.

When he pulled back, breathless, his voice cracked with amusement.

“I guess we’ll move to the floor then.” He said with a mock surrender, causing the both of you to laugh together. he helped you off him, his large hands gentle as he guided your legs from his waist. You staggered slightly, still trembling from the aftermath of your orgasm, and he caught you against his chest before leading you down to the floor beside the bed.

Together, you tugged the comforter down, gathering pillows and arranging them hastily. He crouched with you, golden skin glowing faintly in the soft light of the room.

Then–

“Are you still on the pill?” He asked suddenly, his voice lower. Cautious, but hopeful. You blinked, eyebrows rising at the question. You paused. The lightness of the moment didn’t vanish exactly–but it shifted. Grounded. Rooted. And when you turned your head to look at him, there was something older in his eyes. Something that hummed with memory.

You knew what he was thinking about.

That night, weeks ago, after the first round of sex. When you were tangled together in the dark, bodies still trembling with shared breath, and he had whispered–without hesitation–that he wanted you to have his child. It hadn’t been a demand. Not even a request. Just…A truth. A need that had burrowed so deep into him, it came out as gentle as possible.

You had stilled in his arms, heart aching and flattered and terrified all at once. He had told you he wanted it since the day he laid eyes on you, and how you would be perfect to carry his child, you had told him it sounded beautiful–because it was and still is–but she needed to talk to Bob about it. You hadn’t spoken much about it after. You’d thought maybe he forgot. Apparently not.

You pushed to your feet slowly, still a little shaky, and grabbed an extra pillow from the bed.

“Of course I’m still on it,” You said over your shoulder. Not cold. Just…Firm. Practical. When you turned back around, he was kneeling on the comforter you’d pulled down, staring up at you with something tender and disappointed curling at the edges of his expression. You softened a little and stepped toward him, your hand gently settling over his chest. The heat of him bled into your palm.

“You do know Bob’s the main driver of this body of yours, hmm?” You said gently. “And he and I both agreed that’s not something that can happen anytime soon.” He blinked once. Gold eyes flicking between yours like he was trying to bite back the ache in his chest.

“We’re not even serious like that,” You added, voice soft. “You know that.”He sighed. Ran a hand through his mussed hair and shook his head like he was trying to keep from saying too much. Then:

“Well…Hurry up and get serious. I’m starting to get frustrated with him not moving forward and doing what he needs to do.”You huffed a laugh, despite yourself.

“Yes, yes, let’s blame Bob, huh?” You responded, throwing the pillow down beside him “Not like I don’t have a choice or anything.” Sentry’s gaze softened again. And then he shook his head slowly, deliberately, like he was preparing to say something important.

“My star,” He said, voice low, “I already know you’d take the plunge to get serious. You’re the only person I want anyway… So he truly doesn’t have much of a choice.” You stared at him for a moment. Your heart did that soft, traitorous thing–tipping a little, aching a little, opening in ways you weren’t entirely ready for.

Then he leaned forward, and with such gentle grace, pressed a kiss to your stomach.

“I guess I’ll just have to be patient,” He murmured against your skin, “As usual.” Your fingers threaded instinctively into his soft, light brown locks. You sighed, a small smile brushing your lips.

“You’re really good at it,” You whispered, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “So it shouldn’t be hard.”

He glanced up at you, smirking faintly. “You’re lucky.”

“I know.” You leaned down, kissed him once–slow, deep, grateful for him. He sighed against your mouth, a low, sound that vibrated through your chest. His hands slipped lower, sliding beneath your thighs, and with that impossible, gentle strength, he guided you down onto his lap–slowly, gently, like placing something holy onto an altar.

Your legs draped across his hips, knees sinking into the plush comforter. His heat wrapped around you instantly, like sunlight after a storm. Your chest pressed to his again, your heartbeat stammering against the steady thrum of his. You pulled back slightly, your lips still brushing his.

“I’m gonna have to be on top, by the way,” You mentioned, your voice low, but sure. “Gotta have at least some control…Especially after how much I’ve riled you up.”

His eyes burned gold beneath his lashes. A slow smile broke across his mouth, soft and dangerous, nodding.

“Okay,” He whispered. Then again, firmer, rougher, like the word meant more than just consent. Like it meant surrender. “Okay.” You took your weight off him with care, shifting slightly on your knees so he could move. Sentry’s arm stayed wrapped around your waist, steady and possessive, even as he tilted his hips and used his free hand to slide his boxers down.

The fabric eased over the rigid swell of his erection, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

Every time you saw him like this–hot, aching, thick and flushed red with need–it hit you like a wave. It didn’t matter how many times you’d touched him, tasted him, coaxed those helpless moans from his lips. It still undid you. Your mouth practically watered, and he noticed.

His golden eyes–dark now, rimmed with heat–flicked up to yours, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“You always look at me like that,” He murmured. “Like you’re starving.”

You leaned in and kissed him hard for that.

No teasing, no playing. Just the truth of it–mouths open and breathing each other in like salvation. His hand stayed tight on your waist, grounding you as your chest brushed his. He was warm all over, sun-hot and trembling beneath your fingers, and the kiss deepened with a soft groan from his throat.

Then, with a breathless sigh, he pulled back, and let himself lie back on the comforter.

You followed.

You shifted your knees slightly, climbing higher, hovering above him. The way his eyes roamed your body made your skin flush–lit like gold in the low light, desperate to be closer. You leaned down again, mouths meeting for another kiss, slower this time, your lips moving languidly over his, your body grinding down.

The length of him–bare now, flushed and velvet-soft steel–pressed between your folds, dragging slick and hot along your center. The friction made you gasp, hips rolling once, twice, slow and deliberate. He moaned into your mouth, fingers twitching where they held your waist.

“Fuck–” He hissed, voice already frayed. “You’re gonna kill me.” You smiled against his mouth, then you sat back slightly.

Your knees pressed into the comforter, one hand resting on his chest, as the other reached between your bodies–slow and sure. You wrapped your fingers gently around the base of him, guiding him forward, watching his expression shift the moment he felt your slick warmth brush the head of his erection. You paused for a breath, before slowly sinking down.

The stretch of him pulled a soft gasp from your lips. Every inch was deliberate. You liked it like this. Liked feeling him fill you, liked savoring the slow push, the way your body had to open for him–adjust around him. He was so thick, so hot, and the way he twitched in your hand as you eased him inside was sinful.

He let out a long, guttural moan–his head tipping back, golden eyes fluttering closed, as his fingers tightened into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Oh…My star…” He gasped, voice cracked with devotion, his chest rising slightly. “You were made for me.”

You reached for one of his wrists, fingers curling tight around it like a lifeline. His arm flexed beneath your grip, molten and strong, but he didn’t move–he let you take your time, let you hold on. Your head tipped back slightly as your hips rocked lower, easing him in with slow, careful control. The stretch burned in that perfect way, your breath catching in your throat, back arching as you took him deeper.

His eyes fluttered open, barely golden slivers beneath his lashes. He stared up at you like you were the sun itself.

“You feel…Divine,” He whispered, like the words were being torn from him. “Holy. Like the sky split open just to give me this.” Your hips rolled again–so slow, so full–and you whimpered, the sensation threading through your nerves like lightning. And then–finally–you seated yourself fully, your thighs pressing to his hips, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

A long, broken moan escaped you.

His breath stuttered in response. His lips parted, trembling with restraint and awe as he looked up at you–eyes wide, worshipful.

“There you are,” He breathed, like he was seeing you for the first time. “You are…Breathtaking. My universe…Sitting on me like this…Wrapped around me like you were born for it.” His thumb stroked your hip, slow and reverent, and then he smiled–soft, tender, devastating. “So strong… So beautiful…” You leaned forward slightly, bracing one hand against his chest, and began to move–slow, aching rocks of your hips, grinding into him like you were drawing the moment out for eternity.

His mouth dropped open.

“Oh fuck–” He groaned, deep and rasping, his voice crumbling with worship. “Yes, just like that. Keep going. Take your time–I want to feel all of it.” Your breath shuddered at the praise. Your thighs trembled where they bracketed his hips, each motion sending sparks through your body. He filled you so completely. The drag of him along your walls with each tilt of your hips made you feel split open and whole at once.

Then–his free hand rose slowly.

You felt it before you saw it, the heat of his palm brushing up your side, ghosting over your ribs. And then–he cupped your breast, thumb ghosting over your nipple. You gasped, hips stuttering.

”Sentry…” His thumb brushed lightly over your nipple again, and the sensation made you shiver. The touch was so warm, almost unbearably so, and when he gave a slow, deliberate roll of his hand, the heel of his palm pressing into the swell of your breast, your hips rocked harder in response. You let out a soft gasp, and his lips curved at the sound.

“There you go…” He murmured, voice molten, reverent. “Take what you need.” You leaned forward again, bracing your hands on his chest, your breasts brushing against his fingers as he massaged you gently, rhythm matching the roll of your hips. The stretch of him inside you remained relentless–thick, deep, perfect–and every time your body dropped down to meet his, your breath caught in your throat.

And still–his eyes never left yours.

Golden. Blazing. Lit from within like a dying star had taken root behind his gaze.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, hips rocking slow and steady. His breath caught on a groan, jaw twitching as he struggled to hold still beneath you.

“You’re perfect like this,” he rasped, his other hand trailing along the back of your thigh. “Every time you move…Every time you clench around me–I feel like I’m going to unravel.” You smiled, lips parted, your thighs trembling with the effort of keeping the pace.

“Then don’t hold back,” You whispered, letting your voice drip with sweetness and challenge. “Tilt your hips. Meet me.” The second he did–oh, God.

A sharp, controlled thrust met your downward grind, and the sound you made wasn’t human. A shattered moan cracked from your throat as his cock drove deeper, grinding against that perfect spot inside you. His lips parted, breath hissing out through clenched teeth.

“That’s it,” He growled, hands tightening on your hips. “Use me. Ride me. I want to feel all of it–I want to feel you fall apart on me.”

You gasped, rocked harder, hands splaying on his glowing chest for balance. Your fingers slid in the slick sheen of sweat, and he met each movement of your hips with a soft upward thrust–slow, controlled, but full of restrained desperation.

The room was full of heat and tension and breathless praise.

“You’re so strong,” You whispered, your nails lightly grazing his pecs. “But you’re mine like this, aren’t you?”

His head tipped back, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

“Yours,” He gasped, voice strained. “Always yours.”

Your pace shifted–slower now, but deeper. You sank down until your thighs met his, rotating your hips in tight, grinding circles. The pressure made you whimper, and his hands trailed up your back to cradle your spine. His touch was reverent. Unshakable.

His eyes bore into you.

And when you clenched around him again–tight, deliberate–his whole body trembled.

“F-Fuck–” He choked, hips snapping up harder, “I can’t–I’m close, I’m so fucking close–” You didn’t stop. You rocked harder, faster, meeting his thrusts with purpose, each one grinding against the perfect place inside you. He was panting now, golden skin flushed with exertion, his entire body trembling beneath your hands. And still–his eyes. Never leaving yours.

“Let me,” He gasped suddenly, voice cracking with urgency. “Let me hold you.”

Before you could speak, his arms wrapped around you–strong, grounding–pulling you tight to his chest as he sat up. The shift drove him even deeper inside you, and you cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to thrust upward.

Slow. Deep. Devastating.

You clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he rocked into you, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

“I want to come inside you,” He groaned, voice wrecked. “Even if I can’t make you mine that way–God, I want to.”

You gasped, legs shaking around his waist.

“I want to fill you up,” He whispered, his voice dripping with longing and something unholy. “I want you to feel it for hours. I want to give you everything I have.”

His thrusts grew more desperate, more intense, his hands splayed across your back, holding you flush against him.

“You’d take it so well,” He said raggedly, “You’d look so beautiful carrying my light…” You whimpered–God, your body was close again, everything tightening, building fast.

“I want you to glow with me inside you,” He rasped, “And I want it so bad…It fucking hurts.” Your breath hitched–high and sharp–and then softened into something near reverence. You reached up, cupping his jaw with both hands, grounding him even as he moved inside you, each thrust coaxing a tremble from your thighs.

“I wish I could give that to you,” You whispered, voice breaking, “God, I wish I could. I want it too–I want everything with you.” Your forehead pressed to his, “You've made me glow long before this though…” His lips parted in wonder, in awe, as if the words cracked something open inside him.

And then you tilted your head back.

Your body arched, spine curving with surrender, your throat exposed and shimmering in the low light–and he lost it.

He surged forward, lips pressing hotly to the base of your neck, kissing a desperate line up your throat. His teeth grazed the skin there, tongue sweeping over your pulse as he continued to thrust into you–deep, steady, aching with devotion and heat.

“You’re mine,” He groaned, voice unraveling. “Made for me. I can feel it–God, I feel you everywhere–”

Your nails scraped up his back, your hips meeting his with desperate rhythm, chasing the edge. You were close again. Too close. The way he was hitting so deep, so perfectly, every breath a cry tangled in your throat–

“Sen–Sen, I’m–”

“I’ve got you,” He growled, arms tightening around you, lifting slightly with each deep, rolling thrust. “Come for me again. Show me how perfect you are like this. My light–my love–my star–”

And you shattered.

The climax slammed into you, white-hot and blinding. Your entire body tensed and convulsed in his arms, a strangled sob wrenched from your lips as your nails carved down his back in a desperate, overwhelmed arc. You slumped forward with a gasp, burying your face against his neck, your entire body trembling.

“Sen–fuck–oh my God–”

He kissed your shoulder once. Twice. Then his mouth claimed yours in a breathless, open kiss as he thrust upward a few more times–hard, slow, deep.

And then he came.

With a broken gasp of your name, he pulled you down against him fully–thrusting one last time as deep as he could, holding you there, letting you feel every pulse of him as he spilled inside you. His arms locked around you like a shield, like a prayer, and he groaned into your hair as he emptied himself completely.

You felt it.

The heat. The fullness. The way his entire body trembled under yours as he rode the edge of euphoria and collapse.

You dragged your nails down the length of his back again, drawing out a small sigh from him at the sensation, feeling his hips twitch once more with the aftershock of his orgasm.

Slowly, you melted into him, body trembling, your mouth pressing a soft kiss to the slope of his shoulder. Your breath came in shallow gasps, syncing slowly with the rise and fall of his chest. Still–his arms didn’t loosen.

His hand slid down your spine, palm splaying against the small of your back, his fingers moving in soft, lazy strokes. Like he was memorizing the curve of you. Like he didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“So amazing, Y/N…” He whispered. It was breathless. Ruined. Honest.

You hummed softly, nuzzling into his skin, your lips brushing his throat.

“I could say the same,” You whispered.

His hand cupped the back of your head, his other still gently rubbing your lower back as if he needed you calm and grounded in his arms–like you hadn’t just turned him into a mess of molten light and desperate devotion. The world was hazy now–smeared gold and breathless stillness.

You lay sprawled across him like a second skin, your cheek pressed to the curve of his shoulder, limbs heavy and trembling. The air between your bodies was thick with heat and the scent of salt and skin and something sweeter beneath it al-lsomething solar and heady. Like sunlight laced with honey. Like the remnants of a dying star had bloomed between your thighs and lit both of you from within.

His chest rose and fell in slow, steady waves beneath you. Every breath was deep but shaky, like his body was still coming down from orbit, trying to land again after being held aloft by you.

Your fingers, curled lightly along his side, shifted.

Just a little.

You didn’t want to move. Neither of you did. But you needed to see him. To kiss him. To feel his mouth against yours and drink in the closeness now that the worst of the hunger had passed.

So you lifted your head slowl–yyour muscles resisting at first, sore and sated and still buzzing from the afterglow. Your palm pressed flat to his chest, and you felt the slow thunder of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

Sentry’s golden eyes opened to meet yours. Soft. Languid. Still gleaming with the aftershocks. Like twin suns slowly setting after the storm.

You leaned in.

The kiss you gave him was slo-wlanguorous and warm. Not desperate. Not wild. Just… deep.

It was a kiss born from reverence, from shared breath and quiet belonging. A kiss that said thank you, and I see you, and I’m still here.

His mouth opened beneath yours with a sigh, arms tightening just slightly around your waist. The heat of him was still radiant, but not blistering. Contained now. Comforting. His tongue brushed yours in a soft stroke, slow and unhurried, like he didn’t want the moment to end.

When you pulled back, your noses brushed. His eyes stayed closed for a moment longer, like he was chasing the shape of your mouth in the air.

Then he spoke.

Quiet. Rough-edged. Tinged with affection and something teasing beneath it.

“…We should run a bath,” He murmured, his voice worn velvet, still rasped and frayed with pleasure. “Just before I let Bob come back.”

You blinked once, then let a smile stretch slow across your lips.

“Just before?” You echoed with a quiet laugh.

He huffed, clearly trying not to smile. “Well. I’m still…Savoring.”

You leaned down again and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, humming as his lips twitched beneath yours. “We can do whatever you want.”

He opened his eyes again then–fully this time–and you saw it.

The weight of his love. The gratitude. The aching tenderness barely veiled beneath his godlike beauty. You kissed him once more, slower now, before shifting your weight carefully and sliding off his lap.

His hands helped you move, gentle and reverent. He guided your hips like you were glass–still trembling, still full of him. When you rose to your knees beside him, his gaze flicked downward, and the flicker of possessive awe in his expression made your skin flush all over again.

His release was already starting to slip from you.

The sight made him groan–low and reverent–as he sat up and cupped the backs of your thighs in both hands, fingers pressing lightly as his mouth brushed your hip.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” He said softly. You nudged his shoulder, blushing despite the intimacy you’d just shared.

“C’mon, Sun God. Let’s not fall asleep in a puddle of afterglow and ruined underwear.”

Sentry chuckled at that–warm and deep–before rising fluidly to his feet, helping you up alongside him with the grace only a God could possess. You wobbled a little on unsteady legs, and he caught you instantly, hands cradling your hips with silent care. His mouth brushed your temple.

“Lean on me,” He whispered.

You did.

Together, you walked to the bathroom–his arm wrapped around your waist, your fingers clutching his, your bare skin glowing faintly in the low light of the hallway like you were still tethered to the stars.

When he reached the tub, he flicked the faucet on with a flick of his wrist, testing the water with one finger before adjusting the temperature until it was just right–hot but not scalding, perfect for sinking into. Steam began to curl up around the basin, fogging the mirror slightly, wrapping around your bodies like a veil.

He turned back toward you, still glowing faintly.

His eyes softened when he saw you there, standing naked in the doorway–hair mussed, skin kissed pink from friction and heat, thighs still trembling slightly. He stepped toward you and dropped to one knee, his hands trailing up the backs of your thighs again before pressing a kiss to the inside of your hip.

“May I?” He asked softly, nodding toward the cloth tucked beside the tub.

You nodded.

And so he cleaned you first.

He was so gentle–one hand holding you steady while the other carefully wiped between your thighs, his fingers barely brushing your tender skin. The washcloth was warm, damp, and slow as he moved, and your breath caught in your throat as he murmured soft apologies into your belly each time you flinched from the sensitivity.

He kissed you once more before rising, then guided you into the tub, lowering you like something sacred.

You sank into the water with a sigh, the heat wrapping around your sore muscles, the steam curling up to kiss your face. You watched as he stepped in after you–fluid, calm, that faint glow still humming along his shoulders–and settled behind you, pulling you gently between his legs.

His arms wrapped around your waist.

His chin settled on your shoulder.

And for a moment–there was nothing.

Just the sound of water sloshing softly as he held you, your spine pressed to his chest, the furnace of his body easing the ache of every muscle he had worshipped.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, lips brushing your ear.

You nodded slowly. Hummed. “Perfect.”

His lips pressed to your jaw.

“Good,” He whispered, then after a beat of silence his mouth brushed against your ear again.

”Although…I do think I deserve an award for restraint. Maybe a sash? Something tasteful for ‘Behaved Atomic Entity.” You laughed–soft and surprised–your shoulders shaking lightly against his chest.

“Mm, that’s what you want?” You teased, tilting your head slightly to meet his eyes. “Not praise or thanks or head scratches? Just…a sash?”

“Okay…Maybe I’ll take a commemorative mug,” He responded, lips brushing your temple now. “Something with ‘World’s Most Contained Supernova’ printed in bold, that sounds much better than ‘Atomic Entity’.”

That made you snort, leaning back further into him, your fingers drifting lazily into the water, then along his forearm where it wrapped around your waist. You traced soft, aimless lines over the golden skin there, admiring the faint glow that still clung to him like sunlight refusing to leave.

“Fine,” You murmured. “I’ll make you a mug. But only if you admit I was right to take control tonight.”

He hummed dramatically, pretending to think.

“…You were beautiful,” He said, voice hushed with reverence. “Powerful and Completely devastating. So yes. You were very, very right.”

You turned your head just enough to catch the look in his eyes. Mischievous, but molten. Soaked in affection. And something else, too–something deep. Something that still hadn’t faded, even after all that intensity. You leaned down and kissed the inside of his wrist, then let your hand drift lower across his forearm, down toward where his hand rested at your stomach–his fingers unconsciously splayed protectively across your lower abdomen.

He shifted them slightly then.

Trailing softly across your skin.

His touch skimmed the scar along your stomach–it was jagged, but still a little sensitive from the healing process.

“It healed up pretty well…” He commented. You gave him a small nod, leaning back against him as the steam curled gently around your face.

“Yeah, surprisingly,” You said, eyes slipping shut. “It’s just my ribs we’re waiting on at this point. Another few days, maybe less.”He hummed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into your spine.

“Hopefully I was gentle enough that I didn’t set you back.” That made you laugh–quiet, breathy, the kind of sound that filled the warm, wet air like a blessing.

“No, you were definitely more gentle than any of the other times we’ve had sex…” You said with a grin, tilting your head to the side so your temple brushed his. “Nothing broke. And shockingly, we didn’t fall through the floor.”

Sentry let out a low, amused huff, the kind that puffed against your ear and made your skin prickle with affection.

“Might have to put that on my list of things to destroy during sex next,” He muttered, mock-solemn. “Alongside bed frames, door hinges, and the basic laws of physics.”

You snorted and gave his thigh a light swat under the water. He just smiled against your skin, his arms tightening around you again, chest rising slowly behind your back like he could hold this moment forever.

[sweetlovepascal]

soft on main

pairings pedro pascal x actress!reader

summary pedro accidentally called you babe during a casual instagram live and the internet instantly lost its mind over the softest, most unexpected relationship reveal ever.

tags established relationship, unspecified age gap, fluff, accidental relationship reveal, public reactions, light teasing, and affectionate banter.

masterlist

pedro goes live from a hotel room during the press tour for the new film you’re both starring in.

he’s sitting cross-legged on the couch in a hoodie, giving him that sleepy-late-afternoon glow.

he waves at the screen. “hola, mis amores. what’s up? i’ve got twenty minutes before they drag me to another interview.”

a question flashes across the screen: “are you alone rn?”

pedro squints at it, then lets out a soft laugh. “nope. i’m with her.”

from offscreen, your voice floats in, unmistakably yours.

“tell them who you’re with.”

he glances over, can’t stop the way the corners of his mouth lift like they always do when you’re around. “she’s right here. the woman i get to call co-star—and, y’know, a few other things.”

you reply, a touch smug. “a few other things indeed.”

pedro reaches for the snack bowl and winces.

“you better not be eating the popcorn meant for both of us.”

he raises a guilty hand. “that depends. is it a crime if it’s really good popcorn?”

thwack. a popcorn kernel hits him square in the chest.

“hey—!” he yelps, mock-offended.

“she’s throwing snacks at me,” he tells the camera with a grin. “this is the level of love and respect i receive.”

“wait that’s??” “no bc that voice is unmistakable” “they’re together rn??” “the way he said ‘i’m with her’ like it’s the most natural thing 😭” “they’ve always been best friends but this… this feels different.” “he looks like he just exhaled after three years of holding his breath.”

pedro laughs, softer now. there’s something easy in the way his shoulders drop.

“yep. she’s been keeping me sane through this whole press tour.”

he scrolls through the questions, murmuring to himself. then, aloud:

“‘what’s your comfort food?’ hmm. that’s easy mexican food. or… those little chocolate things she keeps buying—you know the ones, babe?”

the room stills.

he blinks.

you freeze.

“babe?? excuse me??” “he said babe. i repeat. he. said. babe.” “no way. no acting. that slipped out too naturally.” “their best-friend act just died in real time 😭❤️” “he’s so gone for her and he doesn’t even know he said it.” “this isn’t a soft launch this is a crash landing into love”

pedro blinks again. “shit.”

you let out a laugh, hiding behind your sleeve. “good job, pascal.”

he rakes a hand through his curls, pink in the face. “so… yeah. that happened.”

the comments are scrolling so fast he can’t read them anymore.

“i need oxygen” “they’re in the same room. he called her babe. i am unwell.” “they're so giddy help they’re in love fr” “all their interviews make sense now they looked so smitten and we didn’t see it”

you climb up beside him on the couch, curling into the space like it’s where you’ve always belonged which it is.

pedro leans into you on instinct. like muscle memory.

you don’t say anything for a second. you just smile at him, all warmth and fondness.

he turns toward the camera again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“we’ve been together a while. a long while. we just… liked the parts that were ours. off-camera. quiet.”

you nod, voice softer now. “we were never hiding. just… protecting it.”

pedro’s gaze drops to your joined hands offscreen. his thumb rubs lightly over your knuckles.

“she’s been my person for years. through everything. and i didn’t mean to let that slip but maybe it’s time.”

“they were never hiding they were protecting it i’m sobbing” “this is what real love looks like holy sh—” “i feel like i just witnessed a wedding” “he looks so peaceful with her. like he finally exhaled.”

“i wasn’t supposed to say it,” pedro repeats, cheeks flushed. “but i’m glad i did.”

he turns toward you again. “she’s… my favorite person. the calm in my chaos. the reason i actually sleep on planes now.”

you laugh through a glassy smile. “you only sleep because i pack the melatonin and force you to wear that travel pillow.”

he grins wider. “and she makes fun of me constantly. but yeah. she’s my heart.”

there’s a long pause. not empty. full. overflowing.

the kind of silence you don’t want to interrupt.

“i don’t know how i ever did this without her,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “and now i never want to.”

“they’re so in love this isn’t even acting anymore” “this is the softest, most beautiful reveal of all time” “protect them at all costs omg” “i’ve never seen someone look at another person like that before”

you blink back tears and smile, playful to the end. “you ready to be softer on main?”

pedro chuckles and threads your fingers through his, resting them in his lap. “only if you are, mi amor.”

he doesn’t even bother ending the live right away. he just stays there with you.

pedro’s phone buzzes nonstop the second he opens his eyes.

you’re still asleep beside him, one hand curled under your cheek, hair a mess from the night before. he watches you breathe for a moment, like none of the internet just watched him call you babe in front of 100k people.

then his lock screen lights up again.

pedro’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

he blinked blearily at the screen as it lit up beside him on the nightstand, vibrating so hard it nearly slid off.

oscar isaac: "you said babe on live???? 😭😭😭 call me rn."

bella ramsey: "you're trending, old man. i knew it."

and then: an avalanche.

he groans into the pillow.

“you broke the internet, didn’t you?”

“…possibly.”

pedro flips his phone to show you:

the memes.

one of pedro blushing with the caption:

“when you call your gf ‘babe’ on live and remember the world’s watching”

a screenshot of his face mid-slip, zoomed 300%:

“in this exact moment… he knew, he fucked up.”

you can’t stop laughing.

later that morning, the two of you are seated on a velvet couch for a press interview.

the host grins as he shuffles his cards and leans forward dramatically.

“so… pedro.”

pedro shifts beside you, one ankle crossed over his knee, hair artfully messy, the top of his shirt open just enough to be distracting.

“yes?” he answers playfully.

“we all saw the livestream.”

audience: screams

pedro puts a hand over his heart. “listen. in my defense—”

you cut in, smirking. “there is no defense. you called me babe in front of instagram live and then stared into the abyss like your soul left your body.”

the audience dies. pedro covers his face in mock agony.

“i blacked out!” he insists.

the host chuckles. “how long had you two been secretly together?”

pedro peeks at you. you raise an eyebrow, silently daring him.

he answers softly, “a while. years.”

the room quiets just slightly just enough for the honesty to land.

you nod. “we wanted to keep the magic for ourselves, you know? have something untouched.”

pedro glances at you with something unreadable in his eyes. not unreadable to you, though.

it’s love.

the kind people spend their whole lives trying to find.

“and now that it’s out?” the host asks.

pedro smiles soft and sure. “now we don’t have to lie about the best part of our day.”

[willyoubemycherryy]

FYT (Stack.M x R)

Summary: “I might end up with us kissing, touching, fuckin’…girl ya body’s callin’ for me, I’m fucking you tonight.”

Contains: my extremely poor self control, everyone has a country accent, this is still for the _ strictly for the _, cursing, smut, kissing, oral (fem receiving), he’s not a vampire but he’s STILL a munch, his di€k is big and fat because cmon look at this man, nasty kissing seriously, unprotected s£x, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, rough s£x, I’m talm bout innnitttt, choking, one spank, petnames, begging, nippIe sucking, biting, u got that WAP fr, it’s cool bc Stack ain’t scared of drowning, he’s also a pvssy bully, smoke got jokes apparently😒and anything else I know I’m forgetting 🙂🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n- this is long so good luck🤝🏽🫶🏽 @childishgambinaax @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @twistedsistas-stuff @ayeeeitsmiracle @browngirldominion

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

The room was silent.

Nothing besides the sound of your breathing and the muffled music from downstairs but the air buzzed with an electric kind of tension, thick and dangerous.

“Last chance baby, you wanna tell me what was that earlier?”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel yourself grow even more restless. The fact that he was giving you an easy way out already tipped you off that you were about to get put through your paces and that was fine because you didn’t want it easy, you wanted it hard. And in order to guarantee that…

“Not unless you wanna admit that yo’ ears was working just fine and that you don’t really need me to tell you a damn thing, then nah. I’m good.” You snark as you tilt your chin up and it actually does get dead quiet. Stack squints, furrowing his eyebrows while blinking because it’s no way he heard you correctly…except he did.

There’s a click of teeth and before you can brace yourself or open your mouth to sass him some more- you’re flat on your back with your heart in your neck and a big hand locked around your throat getting tighter by the second.

It doesn’t paint you in the best light as a lady, especially not one who’s supposed to be respectable the way you soak through your panties, hips twitching upwards and your dress pooling around your hips from because of the man standing between your thighs looking down at your everything as you whine- shamelessly. Stack watches the way your eyes flutter, mouth dropping open as you gasp. Partially because of the lack of oxygen and also because of the arousal burning though your body.

His grip is tight.

Tight enough to make you lightheaded but he knows you wouldn’t have it any other way; so wet he can taste you in the air and he smiles at how your mouth wasn’t the only thing slick about you. The sight of gold adorning his canines almost make you pass out. Shuffling your hips back a bit, you go to hump up against the fat swell in the front of his slacks and surprisingly, not only does Stack let you- he meets you. Grinding down heavily against your cunt, bending over to suck wetly at your mouth and you’re in heaven.

Bringing a hand to his belt, you pull softly at the leather and instead of taking it off, he pulls away, cooing in mock sympathy at the needy frustration on your face.

“You want it, sweet thing?”

Instinctively, you almost close your eyes because it’s bait and you know it is. It always is when he gets to talkin’ to you like that- low and indulgent. Still,

“Mhm”, you swallow; breathing somewhat clearer with Stack’s hand loosened, “I-I want it-”,

“Tough, ‘cause you can’t have it.”

Your blood is boiling underneath your skin from how bad you need him and pissed off tears begin to bud in your eyes as you glare up at him with all the heat in hell itself but his grin stays in place. Moving his hands on either side of your head as he starts moving against your core, hitting your button with every filthy grind and you moan weakly.

“Why n-”,

“Because I’m in charge and you ain’t ask nicely enough for my tastes.” He purrs against your collarbone before licking a hot wet stripe up your throat to suck nasty bruises under that spot beneath your ear that makes you keen. Large hands grope all over your body, settling on the low cut of your dress and Stack slots his mouth over yours again, tongue filling your mouth and you’re rutting against him just as hard while sucking on the muscle in pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you run your nails down the nape of his neck. Bad(good) move.

All of the sudden, there’s a loud rip. Stack yanks away from your lips to look at the torn top of your dress. Was it expensive? Yes. Did you care? No. He swears before taking one of the swollen buds into his mouth and you gasp, drawing your eyebrows together in bliss- head spinning. Yet before you can loose yourself, Stack rolls the bud between his teeth and bites.

Pain blooms through your chest instantly making you choke, Stack tugging it before he lets go, letting the swell bounce back into place. The sting lingers something real fierce though and before you can bitch at him for it, he laves his firm tongue thickly over it, soothing the tenderness and you shudder.

Unfortunately for you, it’s only the start of the cycle as he gives your other nipple the same treatment. Sucking, biting to the point of pain, then heavy licking. It hurt but it was also good. So good that the thrumming pain in your nipples paired with the delicious waves of pleasure in your rutting core has you coming hard.

Stack doesn’t take his eyes off you.

No, he loves to see the way your pretty face forms into a pout and your swollen lips form that sexy O as you gasp and cry for him, smooth skin and licked raw nipples. Biting his lip, he watches dazed as you writhe in ecstasy, panting when you start to come down.

You’re dizzy and sweaty but you’ve never felt better still you need more. When try you catch your breath, you end up swallowing it when Stack begins to undo his vest and shirt with one hand and sliding your cum slick panties off then pocketing them with the other. You get to drink in the hard lines of muscle before he drops to his knees, pushing your dress up all the way n pressing a fat wet kiss to your clit before sucking it into his greedy mouth and you hear colors.

He’s got you sobbing in under a minute because normally when you cum, he’s kind enough to give you a couple minutes.

You really should have taken him up on taking the easy way out.

Nestling himself further into your cunt, it’s lick after lick between your swollen pussy lips, electricity running up your spine as you tremble. Heat rushes over you in mind numbing waves and threatens to overtake you completely when you’re filled with three of his thick fingers, back arching as they start to swirl harshly against that spot inside you that makes you melt, thrusting sloppily.

Stack presses his lips tight around your nub and when he starts to suck, you fall apart and he groans into your pussy while you lose it and it’s music to his ears.

And just like he knew you would, you beg.

Between the sobbing, the screaming, gasping, moaning and even apologizing…you beg- certain you were gonna lose your mind if he kept going. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear so he kept lapping away. Drinking you down like you were the best liquor in the country.

“I- uh! Said I was s-sorry- fuck!” Shaky, worn out moans break up your sentence as Stack pulls away with an obscene smack, looking up at you with a wet mouth and lidded eyes- he licks his lips, humming at your taste.

“I heard ya but you know I want more than a lil sorry..”, he trails off and you know what he means; left to choose between your pride or your sanity.

In the moments that you decide, Stack resumes. You feel him roll your nub around with his tongue and when you feel the start of teeth- you break.

“Okay! Okay! Before- I-i said somethin’ under my breath! You was right..”, and Stack looks like the cat the got the cream.

“And what did y’say, pretty?”

Your face burns but you still speak loud enough for him to clearly hear that:

“I said that I..,” you swallow and decide to just get it over with.

“‘Said that I wish you’d break me in.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfaction rolls off Stack in waves as he nods slowly, rising to his feet with a smirk. He hums to himself as he manhandles you onto your stomach, pressing you down into a deep arch and when you hear his belt and fly come undone, blood rushes through your ears. The fat head of his tip presses at the messy wetness of your hole and he bites his lip.

“Y’ready for me to break you in, sweets?”

A warbled moan is the best you got and he takes it, stuffing you full in one thrust. Jesus Christ, it’s such a tight fit that it hurts but in the best way- back arching further as you grapple weakly at the desk. Sobbing moans and wet smacks filling the room. Stack lets out a heady groan, watching the fat of your ass recoil with every thrust, thick strings of your wetness dripping off his cock every time he slides out and he snaps.

Tangling his fingers through your hair, he gets a good grip and pulls, landing a heavy smack on your ass too. The sting makes your eyes water, intensifying the pleasure you already feel as you tighten around him and he’s fucking into you hard enough to knock the air clean out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Stack’s so overcome with pleasure that he can barely think, tingles coiling up is spine as his cock is wrapped in the tightest heat he’s had in his life, ears ringing with your moans that are rising and he knows that when you cum, it’ll be heard-even over the music.

He’s so big that he doesn’t even have to try to hit that spot inside you- shifting a little, pounding away at the nerves n’ the way you go boneless tells him all he needs to know.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

It feels like his fat head is snug up against your stomach and you just can’t quiet yourself down. Broken cries spilling from your throat with drool pooling underneath your cheek and the sight makes his chest burn; railing more than a few of your screws loose.

You were so close.

You’d been close before you waved the white flag by admission and of course he knew that. The twitching of your cunt is on the verge of milking him and he lets go of your hair to wrap his grip around your throat instead, biceps bulging as he squeezes, lips flush against your ear whispering the nastiest things and it’s too much.

Clamping down around his fat cock so tight, he can’t even move as you cum. Its like each and every one of your nerves sizzle before exploding while you leak messily around him, almost blacking out from the overwhelmingness of it all. Stack hisses at how your walls pulse around him, fucking into you with his grip tight around your windpipe until soon enough he lets go too, shooting deep into your pussy with a heavy groan.

You both take a good couple minutes to catch your breath but Stack recovers first. Pulling out slowly then adjusting himself before helping you turn over to lay on your back, breathing heavily. You’re sweaty, you can’t feel your legs, you didn’t have an extra dress to change into, but you got what you wanted and that’s what matters. A lazy grin comes over your face and Stack smiles with you, leaning down to kiss you softly and you purr happily.

“See? Y’so much nicer after you get sum ‘act right’.” Stack’s grin broadens, dimples deepening when you roll your eyes, unamused.

“Not true. I always act right.” Now that was a lie. A lie so blatantly obvious that he laughs, chest warm as it moves against yours and your face warms in affection.

“Right. And I’m Jim Crow-”, his chuckles cut off his own sentence as you swat him on the arm, laughing with him and he’s all too content until there’s a knock at the door.

“Stack n’ company? Y’all decent?” Smoke’s voice is muffled through the wood. You snort at the ‘n company’ part while Stack hurries to cover you with his jacket. It’s big so it works and kind of itchy but smells wonderful and you glow as you nod at him to respond.

“As decent as we’ll be tonight. Come in.”

Smoke comes in and his eyes widen at the state of you two. Whistling,

“Damn! You know it’s bad when you can tell who floats like a butterfly and who stings like a bee-”,

You cover your face in embarrassment as Smoke laughs so hard he has to lean against the door to hold himself up. Stack has to bite his lip to keep from laughing with him too. Sucking his teeth instead.

“Man, what do you want?” Smoke shakes his head before answering like it’s obvious.

“To see if y’all ready to go home or if y’all staying here all night.”

Huh?

“Smoke, what time is it?” He looks at his watch then back at you.

“1:47- almost 2 in the mornin’.”

Damn. The joint closed at one. Wait-! That meant-

“Could y’all-”,

“Hear? Nah, we imagined it. Cornbread gon be talkin’ bout y’all though. Anywho-“,

Your lips thin into a line and you feel a headache coming on before Stack tells his brother that yes, you’re going home and to go wait by the bar and while y’all fix up and he shoots him a look before going, turning on his heel and closing the door. You look up to find Stack already looking at you, smile soft as cotton.

“You alright, baby?”

Warmth blooms all over and you just wanna cuddle him but that’ll wait until you’re back in bed. Leaning up, you kiss him sweetly on the cheek.

“My back hurts but m’ absolutely perfect, now cmon. Smoke’s waitin'.” He nods, kissing you one last time before pulling off you. Making himself presentable and buttoning the oversized blazer of his you have on.

Stack’s carrying you down the stairs to meet Smoke and go home when you gasp, remembering something.

“Do you think Cornbread’ll have told the entire world by tomorrow?”

[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ AJAW IS YOUR BESTIE & KINICH HAS A CRUSH ON YOU ⌒ pt.1 ◇, 3. ◇

■ Ajaw won't shut up about you. Like he's constantly comparing you two with each other. And yes, he is annoying with it. Sometimes he just sounds like he's jealous.

□ "They would've NEVER slapped me across all Natlan like you, you...UNGREATFUL CABBAGE! You should be happy to even breath in my presence!"

"Cabbage? Really? I've heard better insults coming from you, this one was a step down."

"See! This is why I like them more than you! They're so much nicer and respect me, unlike you! Oxygen thief!"

■ but even with their bantering, Ajaw does want you two as a couple. Like I said in the first part, he gives off info. Favorite snacks, favorite flowers, what you really wanna see in Natlan. Basically everything.

□ and although Kinich looks like he doesn't care, he's mentally taking notes, greatful for the info. Awww look, he's a greatful cabbage now ♡

■ Kinich takes you to the best adventures ever. And the best naps ever. Does he hold you while swinging around like Tarzan? Fuck yes and he's enjoying the skin to skin contact.

□ "BE CAREFUL WITH THEM! ARE YOU DENSE?! I SAID BE CAREFUL-!"

■ Jealous Ajaw canon guys. The moment you and Kinich get even an inch to close he's right between you two. But he sometimes feel so very generous and leaves you two alone

□ just because you asked so nicely. Anything for his bestie ♡

[nevermind-i-forgot-whats-that]

Sometimes, as much as I love internet communities and spaces, I really think a lot of people have spent so much time in sanitized, morally pure echo chambers that they lose sight of realism and life outside the internet.

I live in Alabama. My fiancée and I cannot hold hands down the street without fear of homophobic assholes. We have an abortion ban with no exceptions for rape or incest. We are one of the poorest states in the US with some of the lowest scores on metrics related to quality of life, including maternal mortality, healthcare, education, and violence. It’s not a coincidence that we are also one of the most red, one of the most Republican states in the Union. In 2017 the UN said the conditions in Alabama are similar to those in a third-world country.

Trump gave a voice to the most violently racist, sexist, xenophobic groups of people who, unfortunately for most of us in the Southern U.S., run our states and have only grown more powerful since his rise to power. The Deep South powers MAGA, and we all suffer for it.

We have no protections if they don’t come from the federal government.

I know people are suffering internationally and my heart is with them. However, this election is not just about foreign policy - we have millions of Americans right here at home living in danger, living in areas where they have been completely abandoned by their local leaders. We need this win.

No candidate is perfect, but for the first time in my voting lifetime I’m excited to vote. I’m excited for the Kamala Harris/Tim Walz ticket because they are addressing the issues close to home. They’re advocating for education as the ticket to a better life, but without the crippling student debt. They’re advocating for the right to love who you love without fear and with pride. Kamala has always been pro-LGBT+ and so has Tim. Again, if you’re queer in the South, we don’t have support unless it comes from the federal government, and we absolutely will not have support if the Republicans regain the White House.

Kamala speaks in length about re-entry programs to reduce recidivism and help people who have been arrested and imprisoned regain their lives. Tim Walz supported restoring voting rights to felons. In the South, you know who comprise the majority of felons? Members of minorities. It’s one of the major tools of systemic racism and mass disenfranchisement, and arguably the modern face of slavery (there are some fantastic documentaries and books that explain the connection between the post-Reconstruction South and the disproportionate rates of imprisonment for BIPOC). Having candidates who recognize this and want to restore the freedom and rights to people who have come into contact with the criminal justice system? And keep them from having to go to prison in the first place? That’s refreshing. That’s exciting.

I would *love* to live in a country where women’s rights are respected, where LGBT+ rights and protections are a given, where we treat former criminals and individuals experiencing mental health crises with respect and dignity. I would *love* to live in a country where education is free of religious interference and each and every citizen is entitled to a fair start and equal opportunities.

But I don’t live in that country. Millions and millions of Americans find their rights and freedoms up for debate and on the ballot.

Project 2025 poses the largest threat to the future of our democracy as we know it. We are being called to fight for the future of our country.

We have to put on our oxygen masks first before we can help others.

You don’t have moral purity when you wash your hands of the millions of us who are still fighting for own freedoms right here.

The reality is that a presidential candidate is a best fit, and not a perfect fit. But comparatively speaking? Kamala is pretty damn close.

[manmuncher777]

All talk…

✧.* Gojo x reader, smut 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mocking, degradation, mild overstimulation

✧.* you decided it would be a good idea to challenge the strongest….

✧.* a/n - Hi, yeah I need this to become my reality, this was written from pure thirsstttttttt

“With all due respect, you couldn’t handle me sweets.” That was what Gojo had said to you. You were offended. It was late and you were just sat drinking in your room. You weren’t drunk, but you were buzzed. Both of you were, and now the conversation had taken a bit of a… turn. “What?! I could, it’s you who couldn’t handle me.” You exclaim, slightly offended that your friend thought so little of your abilities. This had all started when you said you reckon Gojo was a bottom. Much to his dismay. You even went as far to say you would have him whimpering. But he didn’t get defensive, he just laughed it off. “What makes you think you’re so good anyway?” You huff at him

“Why don’t I show you?” A sly smirk on his face. The air thick with tension.

And that’s how you ended up Riding Gojo on your couch. “F-fuck- Satoru~” You moans cut off each time you sunk down on his cock again. Your body chasing the oxygen that you were losing by moaning his name so much. His Thick Cock slipping in and out so sweetly with each roll of your hips. His lower half covered in you slick, vulgar sounds of your wetness echoing in the room. “What’s wrong sweets? Thought you could handle it?” He coos in your ear, the teasing words only to be met wit with a pathetic whimper from you. You thought you could handle it too. But you never expected Satoru to be this big. And you didn’t expect that teasing smirk and honeyed voice of his to have such an effect on you while he was balls deep.

Your legs were quivering now, Struggling enough to straddle his muscular figure, and take his earth shattering cock. He had turned his hips just right so that it would reach the deepest parks of you. His red wrapping tip hitting that delicious spot inside of you that had you begging for more. You were mesmerised by his dick, brain turned to mush as you could do nothing but cling on for dear life. But your stamina was no match for Gojos Your legs faultering, trembling under the pleasure and stopping their movements. “Oh? had enough?” Satoru watched you with a smirk as you writhed around, trying to resume your movements You cry out pathetically, not even able to form words in this moment. Lifting your hips only for them to fall back down in exhaustion. “Oh come on, surely you can do better than that?” He whispered to you, a chuckle leaving him. He on the other hand was fine, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat, Hands resting on your hips as you rode him. Of course it felt fucking good, He had to hold himself back when he first sank into your wet cunt, but his stamina was through the roof, so he could take a lot more than you. You were only now just figuring that out. “Satoruu~” You whine for him. silently begging him to help you, to fuck you.

“Really? tapping out already?” His sly voice slipping its way into your brain, the sound whirling around in there, fucking you deeper into your messy state.

You were practically paralysed from his dick, unable to hover now. You body’s only movement was the heavy breathing and the pathetic clenching of your pussy around Gojo’s thick cock. It was the only thing you could do, the one thing you couldn’t stop yourself from doing. Even as your body was giving up on you, you still craved his cock.

“‘Toruu~ Help..” You whispered, not fully trusting your voice. It was a simple beg, but filled with so much need. Your pretty little face now staring up at him, arms shakily doing their best to support you as you gave him your best puppy eyes. Batting those lashes of yours and tears brimmed in your eyes

When you looked at him like that he could hardly say no.

Those hands that rested on your hips now dug into the fleshy skin tightly, lifting you up from his cock as if you weighed nothing. Only his tip remained in your sweet hole.

“s’okay baby, Toru’s gonna help. Just relax f’me” he whispers sweetly in your ear, the usual cocky tone now removed from his voice as he spoke. He stared into your eyes, watching your face before he started to piston his hips into yours. Holding you up, slowing himself to move with ease as he fucked you faster than you were ever capable of moving. Shit, you should’ve done this from the beginning.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours sounded in your ears, as soon as his vigorous movements started you couldn’t take it anymore. Your arms buckling at you just hug tightly onto his body. Your face bruied in his neck, moaning loudly, without a care as he fucked into you.

His thick cock basically bullying your welcoming walls. The juicy tip of his cock hitting that same spot over and over again. Fuck he should’ve done this from the start. Gojo bit his lip, trying to restrain the groans that were still escaping him, feeling your walls practically mould to every grove of his cock.

“Oh fuck- ‘Toru~ fuck fuck fuck. S-sloww” words flying out of your mouth before you could even form a proper sentence. This was probably the best sex you had ever had

“Slow? Nuh uh baby, this is what you wanted. So you’re just gonna take it for me, ‘Kay?” Small kisses, sloppy kisses were trailed up your neck and back as best he could. Trying his best to concentrate. But the way you were squeezing him so tight had his resolve failing. His brushing grip on your hips only tightening with each sensual thrust he planted inside of you.

You had never been more wrong in your life than you were earlier. Gojo was completely right, you couldn’t take him. You couldn’t barely match Hi stamina, this was only the first round and you were a drooling mess. With any other guy you’d be bored at this point. But Gojo was definitely keeping you on your toes.

“Oh.” A gutteral moan left the white haired mans lips. “You close already baby?” And that fucking smirk was back in his tone again. The worst part being he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He knew that the way hes humiliating you has you foaming at the fucking mouth for him.

You were in awe. How the fuck has he picked up on that before you. Only after he had mentioned something is when you started to notice that effect build in your abdomen. That coil that was wound so tight you were sure you were going to snap in half if you didnt cum soon.

“Fuck- please please!” You cry out, affirming his thoughts of your impending orgasm. His pace didn’t faulter, not once. Like he knew exactly what to do to get you there. You couldn’t comprehend how he was keeping this brutal pace so well. He didnt even sound out of breath.

“Shhhh, I know sweets, feels good huh?” Fuck yeah it felt good

It felt fucking good when you came all over his cock. When the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your muscles tensing as it wracked over your body, leaving you trembling. It felt fucking good to let your mind just go blank as you screamed your friends name. It felt good when you drenched his torso in you juices, you had never came that hard before in you life. His hips continuing their movements as he helped you ride out your high

You stay snuggled into his neck, breathing in his scent. It was his expensive cologne, ever so slightly tinged by the musky smell of sweat and sex. Fuck it was a good smell. After your whimpers died down, so did his thrusts as he gave you a moment to regain yourself. You couldve quite happily remained there for the rest of the night, sleeping. But you became aware of something, he was still hard. He hadn’t even cum yet. Your hips absentmindedly shifting slightly, still sensitive from your orgasm. Only to be stilled by the strong hands holding your hips. He pushed himself balls deep, pushing you onto him as far as he could.

You whimper at the feeling, it was like he was in your throat. Your body still reeling from its orgasm as you try to shift away from the intense feeling.

“Oh no, don’t try to run baby.” Kissing sweetly on your head as he mutters into your hair. But you can hear menace behind that, you can hear his shit eating grin “Im not finished with you yet.” You whine at the prospect of another world shattering orgasm

“Thought you said you could take it huh? Or were you all talk?”