immune systems weilding the blades of legend is perfectly fine as long as they learn to harness that power only to smite evil. it is the journey of every fine hero to hone their self-control to resist the urge to fell yggdrasil even if it would look really really really cool
︵ ೀ mdni. satoru railing you on the table in the early morning
“you’re still horny? didn’t i fuck you hard enough last night?”
satoru grins against your mouth as you kiss him over breakfast, all needy and desperate like you didn’t get railed for hours last night. you’re straddling his lap at the kitchen table, grinding your soaked pussy against the hard bulge in his sweatpants.
“fuck, baby,” he laughs but his hands grab your ass and pull you down harder. “look at you. one kiss and you’re already this wet.” his lips trail down your neck, sucking marks into your skin while you rock your hips faster, rubbing your clit against his thick cock through the fabric.
you whimper and tug at his shirt. he doesn’t bother with foreplay. one hand shoves your panties to the side, and with the other he pushes his sweat shorts down just enough to free his thick cock. “always so greedy in the morning,” he mutters, then sinks in.
you moan loud as he fills you up, stretching your tight walls around his fat length. he grips your hips and bounces you on his cock right there on the chair, deep and rough. wet sounds fill the kitchen every time you slam down.
“shit, still so fucking tight,” satoru groans, biting your neck. “fucked you so good last night and you’re still clenching like you need more.” he suddenly stands up with you still on his cock, legs wrapped around his waist. he lays you flat on the kitchen table, knocking a plate aside, and starts fucking you with hard, deep thrusts.
the table shakes under you and you have to grab the edge of the table to steady yourself. and then satoru reaches over, grabs the coffee mug beside your head and takes a long sip while he keeps railing you.
“really!??” you manage to choke out between moans.
satoru smirks down at you, thrusts never slowing. “what? i got an early meeting. need my caffeine, baby.” he takes another sip, then sets the mug down and grips your thighs, spreading you wider so he can fuck you even harder.
his cock slams in deep and fast, balls slapping against you. “fuck, this pussy feels too good. can’t help it if you’re still this horny after i filled you up last night.” he leans over you, one hand braced on the table, the other on your leg to fold you in half.
“gotta multitask today. now cum for me before i have to leave.”
Please have a moment of silence for the people who were killed instead of freed when news of emancipation finally reached the furthest corners of the american south.
have another moment for the ledgers, catalogs, and records that were burned and the homes that were destroyed to hide the presence of very much alive and still enslaved people on dozens of plantations and homesteads across the south for decades after emancipation.
and have a third moment for those who were hunted and killed while fleeing the south to find safety across the border, overseas, in the north and to the west.
black people. light a candle, write a note to those who have passed telling them what you have achieved in spite of the racist and intolerant conditions of this world, feel the warmth of the flame under your hand, say a prayer of rememberance if you are religious, place the note under the candle, and then blow it out.
if you have children, sit them down and tell them anything you know about the life of oldest black person you've ever met. it doesn't have to be your own family. tell them what you know about what life was like for us in the days, years, decades after emancipation. if you don't know much, look it up and learn about it together.
This is Juneteenth.
white people CAN interact with this post. share it, spread it.
yes transfem supremacy in the sense that I want her to use me as her personal sleeve and fuck me into the mattress
but also transfem supremacy in the sense that I still want her when she learns she doesn't have to comptop anymore. that I help her explore new ways to get off now that hrt makes her struggle to stay hard. that I learn all the ways I can help her feel good and watch her eyes roll back as her body melts into soup in my arms.
You all mean transfem supremacy like that too, right???
some hyper famous artists like Van Gogh transcend overratedness and become underrated because they're so normalized. Like I'll look at a van Gogh and I'm like wait this really is amazing you guys don't get it
[image transcription: McSweeney’s: Why write poetry?
Lindenberg: I think there is a general misconception that you write poems because you “Have something to say.” I think, actually, you write poems because you have something echoing around in that bone-dome of your skull that you cannot say. Poetry allows us to hold many related tangential notions in very close orbit around each other at the same time. The “unsayable” thing at the center of the poem becomes visible to the poet and reader in the same way that dark matter becomes visible to the astrophysicist. You can’t see it, but by measure of its effect on the visible, it can become so precise a silhouette you can almost know it.]
free use bsf!sukuna gets annoyed when you touch yourself. fem!reader, dom!sukuna. nsfw 18+ mdni drabble. mlist
──── ୨୧ ────
You didn’t know what the dream was even about, recalling only the disembodied tangle of limbs and a slick warmth blooming low and hot in your belly.
All you did know when you were finally tugged back into consciousness was that you were panting, sharp humid breaths huffed into the crook of your drool slathered arm, and that you were soaked.
“Shit…” you cursed, whisper barely audible in the silent room.
Still drunk with sleep, you shifted, shoving an arm unceremoniously between the heat of your body and the couch cushions below, teasing downward until your fingers hit their target, and your eyes rolled behind fluttering lashes.
You grinded slowly, sinking back into that delicious fuzzy heat - listening to your own stuttered breaths and the crinkle of leather beneath you. Each creak sounded deafening in the still silence of night, and your pulse jumped with the shame of what you were doing and the vague memory of where you were.
Not that it stopped you, or did anything to cool the white-hot lust swirling in your belly. No, it only made you bite your forearm pitifully, a vein attempt to muffle the desperate little noises slipping free.
“Brat.”
Now that gave you pause.
You lay frozen in the dark, blinking wildly at the shadowed bulk on the couch opposite you, trembling hand still tucked into your slick panties. Maybe you’d imagined it, the gruff, familiar voice of your best friend curling out from the darkness.
But Sukuna wasn’t stupid, it wouldn’t have taken a detective to figure out what you were doing. Not with all the frantic breathing and the half muffled moans barely caught by the damp fabric of your pillow.
“Sorry,” you swallowed a thick, dry breath before you continued, “just needed to… uh…”
The lump on the sofa across from you began to shift, and you realised as your eyes slowly adjusted that he was rising to his feet, slipping free from the sheets with a low groan and a few muted cracks.
You followed suit, pulling yourself to your elbows before a sharp and disappointed tut made you stop.
“Stay where you are,” came the short command, “don’t move.”
After a moment of pause, you acquiesced and settled back onto your belly, arms outstretched to clutch your pillow beneath your chin.
Sukuna approached without another word, a broad shadow eclipsing your vision until you felt the delicate thrum of fingers dancing along your lower back.
“Hips up.”
Your pulse raced, that familiar sticky heat licking up your neck at the sternness of his tone. When you complied, he shoved a pillow beneath your hipbones, forcing your spine into a severe arch.
“Good.”
Thick fingers hooked over your waistband, tugging your sleep shorts down with little effort. You shivered against the cool kiss of air for only a moment before you were blanketed by his body heat as he settled into place behind you. There was the barely audible shuffle of clothing in the still silence before you felt him - the grind of thick inches pressed against you, hard and raw.
“Deep breath,” he murmured, waiting to hear the shaky pull of air from your lips before he finally nudged inside.
He sunk in slowly, let you map each pulsing vein stretching your tight heat until you felt the delicate tickle of hair at his base, and your eyes rolled back.
“Oh… S’kuna…” you breathed, a whiny little exhale slurred where your cheek was pressed against the pillow.
He hit deep like this, so deep that with each breath you could feel him poking incessantly at what could have been your stomach for all you knew. It was stunning, enough to make your thighs tremble and a spineless little moan escape you.
He gave no reply, just slipped out a few dizzying inches before pressing back inside with a wet sucking slap. He set a steady pace, not rushed or particularly delicate - firm and intentional, just like everything he did.
“Don’t know why you insist on touching yourself like that,” he grunted, head craned so that you could feel the puff of his breath against your sweat-soaked nape with each accusatory syllable, “when you’ve got a perfectly good cock right here.”
As if to prove his point, his thrusts slowed - firm deep pumps pulled all the way out only to sink back inside with a force that pulled a broken little sound from your throat.
His voice was low and serious, still thick with sleep as he worked you open with the practised roll of his hips. The weight of his words sent a little tremor of need through you, and you heard him curse when you clenched around his length.
“Didn’t -hn-… want to wake you…” you panted, tongue slipping on the words as your brain gave in to the fuzzy haze of pleasure beginning to settle over you.
Each nudge earned a sticky slap, heavy balls smacking against your creamy cunt as he took you apart, fucked you into the couch in a mean prone bone.
“Don’t be stupid. It’s yours,” He grunted, hips pressed snug into a mean grind that had little blinking stars dancing in the blackness behind your eyes. “So use it, whenever you want.”
His bluntness, alongside the kiss of his cockhead against your cervix made you writhe desperately, tenfold when with the next rock of his hips you felt the slick sheen of the leather sofa graze your tender clit.
Your brain was foggy, swirling with obscene images of waltzing into his room whenever you pleased, tugging down his sweats and settling down onto his fat cock like you belonged there, using him like a toy who’s only purpose was to get you off.
“You… hn-… you mean it?” You sniffled, cheek smushed to the side just to throw a desperate glance over your shoulder.
“Fuck, of course I do,” he growled, breaths coming a little frantic now, “I’ve said it before haven’t I? My hands, my mouth, my fucking thigh if you want.”
Knuckles dug into the couch cushions either side of your head, and his lips grazed your throat, the shell of your ear, the delicate hair curling at the nape of your neck.
“So I don’t want to see you touching this needy little pussy again. No toys, no fingers, no humping the goddamn pillow, got it?”
You buried your face between your arms and nodded limply, sinking into the sheets, feeling less and less lucid with each targeted buck.
“That’s a good girl,” came the last purred words before you finally tripped over the edge.
thinking about “you haven’t met all the people who will love you” and like!!! you also haven’t found all the things that will make you happy!!!! there will always be new authors and musicians and artists whose work you will one day discover and love!!!! there will always be new hobbies and skills for you to learn and feel fulfilled by!!! there will always be new things around the corner that will bring sudden and unexpected happiness!!!!!!!!!!!
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