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liliacamethyst · 1 year

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Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know, I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.”

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

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nasa · 9 months

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The Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s flight harness is transferred from the mock-up structure to the spacecraft flight structure.

Your Body is Wired Like a NASA Space Telescope. Sort Of.

If our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope were alive, its nervous system would be the intricate wiring, or “harness,” that helps different parts of the observatory communicate with one another. Just like the human body sends information through nerves to function, Roman will send commands through this special harness to help achieve its mission: answering longstanding questions about dark energy, dark matter, and exoplanets, among other mind-bending cosmic queries.

Roman’s harness weighs around 1,000 pounds and is made of about 32,000 wires and 900 connectors. If those parts were laid out end-to-end, they would be 45 miles long from start to finish. Coincidentally, the human body’s nerves would span the same distance if lined up. That’s far enough to reach nearly three-fourths of the way to space, twice as far as a marathon, or eight times taller than Mount Everest!

An aerial view of the harness technicians working to secure Roman’s harness to the spacecraft flight structure.

Over a span of two years, 11 technicians spent time at the workbench and perched on ladders, cutting wire to length, carefully cleaning each component, and repeatedly connecting everything together.

Space is usually freezing cold, but spacecraft that are in direct sunlight can get incredibly hot. Roman’s harness went through the Space Environment Simulator – a massive thermal vacuum chamber – to expose the components to the temperatures they’ll experience in space. Technicians “baked” vapors out of the harness to make sure they won’t cause problems later in orbit.

Technicians work to secure Roman’s harness to the interior of the spacecraft flight structure. They are standing in the portion of the spacecraft bus where the propellant tanks will be mounted.

The next step is for engineers to weave the harness through the flight structure in Goddard’s big clean room, a space almost perfectly free of dust and other particles. This process will be ongoing until most of the spacecraft components are assembled. The Roman Space Telescope is set to launch by May 2027.

Learn more about the exciting science this mission will investigate on X and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #astronomy #telescope #Roman Space Telescope #engineering #space hardware #dark energy #dark matter #space #technology #tech #universe

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molinaskies · 9 months

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What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

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after-witch · 8 months

Text

Alone in the Dark [Gojo x Reader]

Title: Alone in the Dark [Gojo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re training alone and Gojo has some… ideas for how to improve on your training.

Word Count: 6000ish

notes: noncon blowjob, noncon cunnilingus (done on reader), degradation/humiliation, some misogyny, mentions of reader childbearing, Gojo being a nasty creep

There was no place in the world of sorcerers for someone like you. You were too kind, too sweet--too soft.

That’s what everyone (or almost everyone) told you, almost for as long as you can remember. Yes, you can remember being a child and hearing adults tut-tut at the way you served others before yourself; at the way you made everyone stop so that a group of ducklings could cross the road; at the way you fretted over your brother when he came home black and blue and scratched-red from fighting curses.

It was bad, they said, for you to focus so much on caring for others and not enough on developing the strong skills to do what is necessary. Even when what is necessary might not be what is just or kind or thoughtful.

If you were to lament about these frustrations to the average non-sorcerer, you imagine they might widen their eyes, put their hand to their heart, or maybe even rest a hand on your shoulder. You poor thing! They might say. How cruel.

Was it cruel? You weren’t sure. You didn’t have anything else to compare it with--this was how most generations-long sorcerer families raised their children. You had to excel, you had to be strong, there was no room for weakness.

Kindness, it seems, was a weakness.

But… maybe your sweet personality wasn’t a complete weakness. Because your family didn’t throw you out, as some families did with the weaker leaks in their formidable chains. Instead, they pivoted.

If you weren’t going to be a stony-hearted sorcerer who could take down curses with their eyes closed (no pun intended, they would say, if they had a sense of humor) you would serve the family in another way.

You must still be strong, yes, but you could keep your tendency to dote and devote yourself to others if you were to take on another role: a wife. More than that--a mother. Marry a strong sorcerer, have lots of children, continue the line until your body could no longer stand having children.

And so you grew up learning duties of a different kind. How to manage a household--from the servants you would be expected to order around to keeping track of linens and pantries; how to sew, because while servants would no doubt do any heavy lifting, you could at least be expected to fix your husband’s garments or embroider a family crest on them; how to dote in the right way, acquiescing to your husband while doing your best to maintain the honor and reputation of your old and new families. How to raise children--the right way, so they hopefully don’t end up like you, needing to be delicately placed into a niche.

All this, while strengthening your jujutsu, while practicing harnessing your cursed energy, while knowing that you were not what your family wanted but you weren’t entirely useless, and you had to make the best of that.

Now that you’re an adult of marriageable age, it’s only a matter of time before they find a suitable husband for you. He must be from one of the great families, of course. You were too important to marry off to some low-level sorcerer without a stellar reputation. Not only that, but marrying someone from a prominent family (a strong family) would increase the chances that your children would be strong.

Strong children--strong sorcerers. More sorcerers--more soldiers in the ongoing battle against curses.

And if you wanted to do your duty, then you needed to be strong enough to perform it. No sorcerer wanted a weak little thing for a wife, did they? Of course not.

That’s what brought you here, alone, isolated and tired but so damn determined to improve yourself. It was your idea to come here, which seemed to please your parents. Your cursed energy has been running a little too wild lately, seeping out of you, escaping in little trickles.

It’s your own fault. Admitting this also seemed to please your parents, though it made a low pit form in your stomach, and you didn’t dare divulge into why it was your fault that cursed energy was streaking out of you like a stubborn dripping faucet.

You have too much self-doubt. You’re too worried about letting people down. You’re not confident enough, strong enough, and if you aren’t strong enough then you aren’t good enough regardless of how well you might perform on the wifely front in front of the increasingly judgemental matchmaker your parents brought in to monitor your progress.

But, no, you couldn’t say any of this to your parents. It’s not that they wouldn’t understand. It’s that they wouldn’t care. Self-doubt? No room for that here. Get rid of it. No confidence? How could you lack confidence, given your heritage? Change. No no, to be more precise, they would say: shut up, deal with it, then change.

The only person you did explain any of this to was Satoru Gojo, a friend (or colleague? Or friend-colleague? Or colleague-friend? You were never entirely sure where you stood with him) who would at least listen without completely dismissing you. Not that he did much more than cluck at you condescendingly and offer to marry you--in jest--to get your folks off your back.

You’d laughed and swatted him in the shoulder (which he didn’t mind you doing, leading you to think friend-first-then-colleague is the more appropriate moniker) and asked him for advice.

Which is what has led you here to train, alone and hard. But training was meant to be hard, so you couldn’t complain. And training alone would give you the focus you needed to actually improve.

And you would improve. You had to--not just for your family but for yourself, and your future. The wife of a sorcerer (you tried not to think too far beyond that, to what your parents had been grooming you for: to become a matriarch in the continuing line of your family’s clan) still had to be strong enough not to let cursed energy seep from her so easily.

With the right training, you were going to get better.

Right?

Right.

This is what you needed: time alone.

Because although you plan to be here for much longer, you can already tell that you’re sewing up those weaknesses within you, preventing cursed energy from sneaking out like it had been doing so readily for the past few months.

Confidence was key, after all. Your family had never been wrong on that front. You just needed to get away from the stresses of life to regain that confidence.

You sigh through your nose. The air down here is stale, but it’s not surprising. It’s not like there was anyone down here but you and the darkness and--

“Hey!”

You and the darkness and… Gojo Satoru.

“How are your leaks?!” His voice rings out cheerfully in the empty space, almost echoing.

For a moment, you fracture, and you can feel something trickle out of you. But you hold your breath and regain your senses, forcing yourself to regrip the focus you’d been maintaining for hours now.

Breathe in.

It’s just Gojo.

Breathe out.

Coming to check on you. Which means he cares, in his own way, which is more than you can say for a lot of people. But you wish he’d told you that he intended on coming. It’s a bit jarring, and a whisper of embarrassment begins to build in your chest. He was, as he didn’t mind saying (it could not rightfully be called bragging)-- “the best.”

You hear his footsteps before you see him in the dim lighting. His slow, aimless walk might have even seemed a bit creepy, if you weren’t already used to it. Or if he hadn’t called out beforehand.

He grins when he comes into view, hands in the pockets of his trousers. He’s wearing his sunglasses today, his hair down and loose. He gives a short wave, and you bite back a sigh. You don’t want to stand up--you’re still training--so you merely straighten your back a little and wave back.

“Ah, Gojo. Have I really been down here that long?” You wonder if anyone in your family has bothered to wonder where you were or took the time to track you down.

“Ah, Satoru,” he says, idly. “Oh, it’s only been a few hours.”

Just like that, there’s a sting in your chest. A few hours? Why would he check on you so early? Did he think you were that weak? Were you that weak? No--you shake the thought away, willing yourself to maintain focus, maintain the layer that keeps your cursed energy from releasing.

No, he was just… concerned about you. This would be the first time you’ve done something like this, after all. And he was always telling you that he’d be happy to give you advice, and he didn’t have the same sarcastic twang in his voice reserved for people he didn’t care for.

“So…” Gojo crouches down, getting close to your eye level. “You think you’re doing well?”

You let a smile show. A shy little smile, the kind you gave when you were feeling genuinely proud. Those smiles were few and far between when it came to your family, but you didn’t mind them in front of people like Gojo.

“Mm-hmm. I think coming here is helping me regain a sense of…” Your eyebrows furrow as he stands up and begins walking around you in slow, lazy circles. “Purpose?” Your head follows him, but he doesn’t stop or acknowledge what he’s doing. “Or um, confidence.”

He stops only when he’s right in front of you, but instead of crouching he merely leans down and gets right up in your face, a smile with a hint of teeth showing. The proximity brings heat to your face, and you lean back. He follows your motion, blue eyes behind his glasses peering at you in an almost uncharacteristically serious manner.

After a few moments, he speaks--

“I’d like to conduct a test.”

You fidget in your seated position.

“A test?”

Your heart beats a little faster--one, two, three. But you’re not worried. It’s more like you can feel the first creepy-crawlies of self doubt making their way back up your spine. Why does Gojo want to test you? He’s smarter and stronger and there’s a reason he’s consulted so much on teaching others, so… so…

You swallow that “so” while you wait for him to answer.

He taps his chin in a dramatic way, and it makes you feel better. At least, until he starts talking and seemingly confirms those creepy-crawlies. Not intentionally, though--he wouldn’t do that.

“Yes, a test! A truly great jujutsu sorcerer must be able to maintain control in all situations, no?” He waves his hands around at the surrounding space, the emptiness except for you and him. “Not in isolation. You won’t be fighting curses in isolation, will you? You won’t be fighting curse users in isolation, will you?” He asks these last two questions slowly, kindly. It makes you feel younger and more stupid, and you make a note to talk to him later about that, since he wouldn’t knowingly hurt your feelings.

“I…” You lick your lips. You brought a case of water, but you haven’t yet opened it, and your mouth is dry. Too dry. But that’s not important. What’s important is that Gojo has presented you with a very realistic, all-too-true conundrum.

You shake your head too slowly for your own liking. “No, I… I guess I won’t be.”

“You guess?” He asks, voice taking on an almost sing-song tone at the end that plucks at one of your fraying nerves.

Your heart pounds just a little harder, you feel a trickle of sweat on your forehead that you don’t wipe away. You force your breathing to even, your muscles to relax.

“I won’t be,” you reaffirm, removing all traces of doubt in your face. “I know I won’t be.”

He already started the test, you think, he just didn’t tell you. You might be mad but you’re not, not really. It’s just like Gojo to pluck out your weaknesses so he can help you better them, isn’t it? That’s what he’s here for, what he’s always been here for. To help you improve. To help you.

And you? You can do this. You were born and raised, literally, to do this. To be the best sorcerer you could be, and if you need someone like Gojo to help you, who were you to reject him? Nobody.

And so, when Gojo hums happily and plops himself down in front of you, crossing his legs to mimic your own position, you take a breath and remind yourself how lucky you are to have someone like him ready to help instead of quietly watching you fail, waiting for your downfall and wondering if it would help boost their own family’s status to knock you down a peg.

Gojo wouldn’t do that, not to you.

You take another breath, and Gojo stares at you, blinks--once, twice.

“Ready?”

You smile a little, sigh a little, and nod.

“Let’s do this.”

It takes your brain a few moments to process what happens, because it’s like there is a disconnect between your brain and your body and your soul and you don’t know how to tether them altogether again.

Gojo kisses you.

Not a chaste peck, either, but warm and wet, his tongue sliding over your lips; a slimy feeling you’ve never experienced before.

You jerk back before you know you do it, your eyes wide, knuckles pressed to your mouth.

“What--G-Gojo--”

Gojo doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t even seem bothered by your reaction or anything at all.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, eyeing you through his glasses. He looks above you, around you. “You’re leaking again.”

Your chest seizes. He’s right--when he kissed you, what control you’ve been confidently rebuilding was completely lost.

“I… I don’t understand how this is a test,” you get out. The words are slow and you feel stupid for saying them.

“Oh!” Gojo grins, then. “Sorry. Guess I should have explained, huh? I bet you never had training like this. Ah…” He leans forward, leaning his elbow on his knee and resting his chin lazily on his hand. “You have to be able to control your cursed energy in any situation, right?”

He waits for you to nod, so you do.

“And curses or curse users don’t always play fair. They may do something you don’t expect.”

“They won’t kiss me,” you say, but as soon as you say it, Gojo’s expression makes you question yourself. “Will… they?”

Gojo sighs, and moves to stand up.

“I guess I was wrong about you.”

Your chest hurts.

“You aren’t ready for this type of training.” He’s almost talking to himself now, getting ready to stand. “Maybe in a few years. Or, ah, maybe your family would rather you get married and your husband can decide if he wants you to reach your full potential. Maybe they won’t care, if you have enough kids…”

You try to clamp down on a stream of energy steadily making its way out of you. It’s like soured milk, bitterness, self-doubt, all clawing their way up your spine and out of you.

“Wait--” You reach for him and grip his sleeve. “I-I am ready, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting… that. I’m sorry. Please train me.” If Gojo won’t train you, won’t help you, then no one will.

Gojo tilts his head at you, considering. Then he slowly sits back down.

“Ooo-ookay. But you have to let me do my job, okay? I know what I’m doing.” He pokes you above your chest, on a clavicle showing above your shirt. The touch makes you jump. Almost makes you forget the lingering warmth on your lips… almost.

“Control your energy,” Gojo says casually. “No matter what, okay?”

You nod. And you wonder if he’ll kiss you again, but no, he’ll do something else. Try to attack you without warning or bring up something strange or maybe even try to dig under your skin with some sort of verbal spitfire.

He doesn’t do any of that.

Instead, he grips the bottom of your shirt and begins peeling it upwards with such quickness and strength that your arms go flying up with the fabric.

A noise escapes you, something like an undignified squawk, but you’re too unprepared and Gojo pulls the shirt up and over your head before you can protest or even try to stop him.

You do, however, regain your reaction time when your shirt is tossed to the side and quickly cross your arms over your bare chest. You didn’t even wear a bra, wanting to keep yourself to as few layers as possible, although it was more uncomfortable to go without because of your larger breasts.

Your cheeks burn terribly hot and you don’t know what you want to say. You just know

“S-Stop, this is, that is--this isn’t…”

This isn’t training, is it? A kiss, okay, okay, that’s something Gojo might do to tease you. Even if he went too far. But your clothes? No, no, no--

Gojo doesn’t stop smiling. You want him to stop smiling, to apologize, and to leave. But you don’t get what you want.

“This isn’t what?” He asks. There’s a stickiness to his voice that is like a filmy layer growing in your gut.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he reaches out and grabs your wrists, pulling them down so you can’t keep them crossed over your chest. You gasp but he keeps them held down while he leers down at your bared breasts.

He’s faster than you, and his hands are underneath your breasts, pushing them up and jiggling them before you can blink.

“These are pretty bouncy, huh?” He murmurs, to himself or maybe you, you’re not sure which would make you feel worse. Your face burns hot and your feeble attempts at batting his hands away get you nowhere. “But you’re always hiding them…” He continues to bounce your ample breasts up and down.

You can’t take it. Your skin feels like it’s on fire and you’re being touched in a way you’ve never been touched, and it’s Gojo, he shouldn’t be, he couldn’t be, doing this.

“St-stop,” you spit out, finally getting the presence of mind to jerk your body away. Amidst the embarrassment and shock is a thready bit of indignity. You aren’t some… some floozy, you’re part of a highly respected sorcerer family. He can’t just--

“This--this isn’t training! You’re just being perv--”

He presses a finger to your lips, and you hush stupidly with it. He takes it away and regards you with an expression you’ve seen him use with particularly stubborn would-be sorcerers.

“Aren’t I stronger than you?”

“Yes,” you say, helplessly. “But--”

Your hands go to cover your breast, and he bats them away.

“Don’t I know more than you?”

“Yes, but--”

“Then let me help you,” he says, taking and squeezing your hands with such earnestness that it throws your mind off balance.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you admit, voice mumbling and stumbling. Your eyes widen and you feel hot tears working their way to the corners of your eyes. He shouldn’t touch you… he shouldn’t!

Gojo merely uses his grip on your hands to clap them together.

“But it’s working, isn’t it? The more distracted you are, the more likely you are to leak energy. And that’s bad, right?”

While he speaks, his fingers release yours, only to slither down to the waistband of your skirt. Your breath hitches.

“Y-Yes,” you mutter.

“What is it?” he asks, fingers latching onto your waistband and tugging it down. You squirm, but he persists.

His question only dimly registers until he yanks down your skirt, pulling it down your seated legs.

“B-Bad?” You should tell him to stop. You should leave. But he’s… Gojo… and you’re just--

“And if you can control yourself, that’s…” He drawls out these words,, placing a finger on your clothed pussy and dragging it down the middle.

“Good,” you squeak, voice tight and tinny.

“Right.” He grins, all praises.

Your legs do kick then, and you try to scoot backwards, away, away, away. But he presses one hand down on your bare thigh, and you’re stuck.

“This isn’t training,” you plead, mouth opening and closing like a fish, shocked and stupid.

He peers down at you from behind his glasses.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Your heart lurches. It aches.

“I d-d-do,” you spit out, jaw trembling as much as your body. “But…”

He gives your thigh a good squeeze.

“Th-th-then just let me do this for you, okay?”

The growing knot in your stomach twists and pulls terribly.

“How is this for me?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead he grips your inner thighs and pulls your legs apart. You’re aware, suddenly, of how physically strong he is--stronger than you, certainly, enough that what feeble attempts at struggling you’re still giving do nothing at all.

“I’m helping you,” he says, pulling out the word so that it’s almost a whine. “You help people all the time. I just want to return the favor. Now try to focus, okay?” As he speaks, he finally pulls at the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down your legs that have begun to feel like jelly.

“Wow.” He pulls his glasses down his nose and stares directly at your naked sex. “You have a really pretty pussy. I bet it tastes just as nice, huh?”

If your cheeks got any hotter, they might be on fire. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, your arms, your forehead.

“D-Don’t,” you say, wishing you had the guts to shut your legs and leave. But you can’t, or you won’t, you’re not sure which.

“Shhh,” he says, kneeling until he’s sprawled on the floor in between your legs. You couldn’t close them now if you had the strength. “Try to focus. That’s why I’m helping you train, right?”

The teasing glint in his tone only makes you feel worse, but it’s nothing compared to the first puff of his breath you feel against your sex.

You make a sound almost like a squeak and Gojo lets out another puff of air, on purpose this time, murmuring something happily when you keep making those noises.

“St--” You don’t get to finish the word before his mouth is on you, not bothering with any tentative licks but sloppily eating you out.

It’s an entirely foreign sensation, wet and warm, uncomfortable and strange. The fact that he keeps making positively lascivious noises only makes you feel more incapable of ignoring the reality. You shake your head and dig your nails into your palm, trying to process what’s happening as an uncomfortable heat builds between your legs.

Before long, he pulls away, and there’s a sick sensation in your stomach when you see that his lips are glossy with... with… you.

“You’re leaking down here,” he says, with the utmost of seriousness. “But I guess you can’t clamp down on that kind of leak, huh?”

You press your lips together and refuse to acknowledge him with a response.

He shrugs and goes back down between your legs, lapping at your clit with short licks of his tongue. The direct stimulation is different--tighter and more intense, and the sounds you can’t help but make are wholly undignified, short gasps and high-pitched grunts.

“Has anyone ever done this before?” He asks, pulling himself away by a fraction of an inch.

“Of course not!” Your cheeks burn at the audacity of the question. “I-I don’t, I’m not supposed to do… that before marriage.” Why you can’t seem to explicitly talk about sex to the man who is currently devouring your pussy, you don’t know.

“Ohhhh,” he says. The words are practically spoken into your twitching clit. “That makes sense… well.” He looks up at you, and flashes a smile. “Maybe we’ll get married. Can’t say I haven’t heard that rumor before.”

Before you can utter any sort of response, he leans forward and pushes you onto your back. With his body in between your legs, your legs fold over at the knee awkwardly, almost making it look like you’re displaying yourself for him.

“S-Satoru,” you say, voice hoarse, “I want to leave now.”

He shakes his head and holds up a finger.

“No way! We’re not done with training yet. Look at all that energy just seeping out of you. Tsk-tsk.” He puts the finger on his chin. “But don’t worry. I have another technique that should help… remember to focus!”

You don’t know exactly what he means until you watch warily as he lowers his finger and presses it against your wet entrance.

“No--”

But he doesn’t wait. He pushes his finger inside of you and your breath is taken away at the sudden intrusion. There’s pain and ache and the unusual foreign sensation of something inside you. You can’t help it, you clench around his finger and he coos appreciatively.

“I appreciate it,” he tells you, all honey, “but save that for my cock.”

“S-Satoru!” You whimper the words out, squirming, wiggling your legs in the air like it might actually stop him. You can feel cursed energy seeping out through you, like there’s a hole you can’t quite patch up. You fight between acknowledging what Satoru is doing--pushing his finger in and out now, sliding inside you, it hurts and feels weird but there’s a warmth, too--and keeping your cursed energy inside.

“Don’t worry,” he teases. “Not today. Don’t got the time…”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the hot tears that leak out, and stare up at the ceiling. Focus… focus… focus. You do focus, then, on keeping your energy from leaking out. Not because this is training--it’s not, you’re naive, not stupid--but because maybe it’s easier to bear all of this if you keep part of your mind elsewhere.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Keep concentrating… gee, you’re doing great.” The snicker in his voice makes your stomach lurch. You wish he would stop pretending this was training. It only makes it worse.

And then suddenly there’s another sensation of intrusion, and you look down to realize that he’s pushed another finger inside you.

“Hmm,” he muses. “You know, I wonder…”

Your jaw trembles as he pushes his fingers in further and wiggles them around, almost like he’s feeling for something. And then--

You shriek, your body jolts upward, and you sit fully up and instinctively grab his wrists.

“That’s the spot!” He grins, laughing, and pulls his fingers out only to bat your hands away. Then he gently pushes you back down onto the ground. Your thighs are trembling and you can feel wetness trickling out of you, slow and uncomfortable.

“I bet you’ve never been able to reach this far with your little fingers. Don’t worry, I’ll help you…”

You push yourself up on your elbows and shake your head.

“No… you, you don’t have to. You don’t need to, I’m--”

He interrupts your pitiful pleads by pushing his fingers back inside, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“’Course I do! Gotta teach you everything. What kind of sorcerer would I be if I left you in the dust?” He watches you intently over his glasses, the blue in them agonizingly beautiful, and he finds that spot again.

But this time, he doesn't graze it in curiosity. Instead, he presses down and strokes it and it’s like an immediate shock to the system. A burst of almost painful pleasure, causing your legs to aimlessly kick and shudder without you controlling them and you let out a primal groan, not words exactly, just mumbled pleas. You feel something squirt out of you and hear Gojo’s surprised sound, a little pleased exclamation.

He doesn’t stop, though, but keeps going. The white-hot pleasure is like being touched in all the right places in all the wrong ways, and you can’t stop your thighs from quaking.

“Too much too much too much!” You get the words out, just barely, drool dribbling down your lips.

Mercifully, he pulls his finger out. You can see him look down at them through his tears, and he tsks lightly.

“You know, for such an innocent girl, you're soaking. Or is that why you’re so wet? Because I’m the first one to touch you?” He leans in and presses an almost chaste kiss to your lips. You can taste something on them, salty and almost earthy. Yourself.

“I hope I’m the last, too.”

When he pulls away, you eventually sit back up and, arms shaking, reach over for your underwear.

At this, Gojo tilts his head.

“What are you doing?”

It’s your turn to tilt your head, though you can’t tell if you’re mirroring him intentionally or not.

“My… clothes,” you say, slowly. “I’m putting them on.” Because this is over, right? He’s had his fun and you can leave and never talk to him again.

“We’re not done yet, silly.” He grabs your underwear and shoves them into his pocket, then stands up and stretches his arms casually.

You stare up at him, naked, warm wetness between your legs. Feeling dazed and spent and tired.

You’re about to ask what he means when he simply unbuttons his pants and pulls them down, boxers and all, without a word or a warning.

He grins, like he’s just shown you a present. What he’s shown you is his erect cock, glistening at the end with a wetness of its own. You’ve never actually seen a man naked before, a few photos in a pilfered naughty magazine that you snuck out of a friend’s house notwithstanding. It’s fleshy and slick, thick.

“Now,” Gojo says, looking down at you in more ways than one. “Here’s the real test!”

His name comes out of your mouth pitifully, but he just pushes a finger to your lips and smiles.

“C’mon. You’re sweet, aren’t you? Always helping everyone else. I helped you just now, so now you return the favor. Easy.”

Your face screws up in a grimace. You can feel hot tears still pricking at your eyes, threatening to fall again. Then you look up at his face and down at his cock and then back at his face.

You’re not entirely ignorant of what he wants you to do--you just know that seeing a picture or reading about it in a spicy novel is far different than experiencing it for real. Especially like this. Especially with him.

“I don’t… I’ve never…”

He pats the top of your head gently, but strangely, keeps his palm on the back of your head afterward.

“I know, I know. But I’ll teach you. Besides,” and there’s that awful grin in this tone again, “it’s not enough to control your energy while things are being done to you. You have to control it while you do things to others, right?”

He shifts forward and his cock is right in front of your face. You can’t really look away. You can smell him, even, a musky smell. Not wholly unpleasant but like the taste on your lips from his own, there’s an earthiness to it. A primal sense.

You want to run. You should. Others would in this situation, wouldn’t they? But he’ll just bring you back, if you do. Or worse, let you go and… who knows what he might say to others? At least if you do what he wants, he can’t do anything worse than this.

You hope.

“What do I do?” You whisper.

He releases his grip on your head only to clap his hands twice.

“There’s my girl! You’ve got the right spirit.” He beams down at you and you hate how the blue of his eye peeks through the top of his glasses and the way his smile should make you feel good, but only makes you squirm.

He shifts forward again until his cock brushes up against your cheek. You gasp and lean backward, only to find that his hand is back against your head, keeping you in please.

“Open your mouth,” he says, almost sweetly.

And you don’t want that thing on your face anymore so you do, opening just a little.

“Wider. Like you’re at the dentist. Watch your teeth.” He sounds more serious. Like he’s instructing you--and he is, isn’t he? you think, sickly.

You open wide, feeling stupid, feeling sick, as he guides his cock into your mouth. He lets out a sigh of appreciation as he pushes inside, and you instinctively make a muffled noise of protest--this isn’t right, this isn’t right. In front of you are his naked hips, the base of his cock, a smattering of pubic hair.

The taste of him is vaguely salty and warm, but it’s the sensation of having something--having him--filling your mouth that makes you back your head up, wanting him out. But the hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, pushing. His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. Tears stream down your cheeks from reflex and the realization of what’s happening.

He snickers, but pulls back a little.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be more gentle.”

He begins to move, then. Slowly at first. You don’t do anything but keep your mouth open, keep your tongue pressed flat to avoid touching his cock, though you soon find this to be an impossible task. You can’t help but gag a little when he pushes, but at least he seems to be trying to avoid doing it on purpose.

It’s a small mercy, you think, though what counts for “mercy” right now is highly debatable.

Your cheeks are hot like fire as you begin to taste more of him, feel more of him. He’s inside you, all flesh and warmth, an extension of himself that he’s using to--to what? Tease you? Use you? Something else?

He begins to move faster, and you gag, trying to mumble his name in plea around his cock. He groans and the hand on your head grips harder.

“Oh, fuck, don’t do that. I won’t be able to control myself.”

You want to sob but you’re afraid of moving your mouth so much. The tears fall down your face, regardless.

“Good girl, you’re being so good… you were born for this, weren’t you?”

When you look up, Satoru is looking down at you the way you think someone might look at a nice collectible figurine. A precious item to be touched and dusted at whim.

“Born to be a good sorcerer’s wife,” he continues, and it’s almost as if he’s talking more to himself than to you. “That’s what we’re doing now, aren’t we? Practicing that? There’s all sorts of training for sorcerers, you know…” His thrusts begin to get less controlled, quicker. “Practicing controlling energy… controlling techniques… all those little nuances of life as a sorcerer. Like this.” The thrusts are so quick that you start making helpless noises around them, little grunts. “You’d be a good wife, m-maybe--” His breath hitches, the first time you’ve heard him lose control. “Even a good mother, after a while.”

You make a sound of protest--it’s the last thing you want to be thinking of right now--but he shushes you and starts thrusting sloppily, clearly lost in his thoughts. “You’ve even got nice big tits, don’t you? Perfect for breastfeeding or, fuck, holding onto while we fuck…” He sighs, languid. “I’ll try that next time, okay? Gotta be patient.”

His words seep into you like cursed energy, confusing (it is true, you were raised to be a wife, raised to have children,--but this?) and hurtful and twisting in your stomach.

Suddenly he pulls himself out of your mouth. Your lips make a wet plop and you open them to start to ask what he’s doing, but you don’t have the time to ask, because there’s suddenly something warm and thick all over your face. Something lands on your lashes and you blink, feeling a salty sting on your eye.

Your pussy clenches and you don’t know why.

As you sit there, shocked, dazed, you hear a click.

Oh.

He took a picture.

You wipe at your eye, cringing at the feeling of something wet and globby on your hands, and look at him with wide, teary eyes.

“Just for safekeeping,” he says, tucking the phone into his pocket. “Wouldn’t want this to get out, would you? Would definitely put a damper on your marriage prospects…”

There’s no reason you shouldn’t sob, now, without Gojo in your mouth. So you do. Your face crumples and everything that just happened hits you all at once, until you’re weeping pitifully in front of him.

You’re dimly aware of him leaning down before he pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his cum off your face like he’s wiping at a bit of stubborn dirt. He wipes at your tears with his fingers, at least.

“Don’t be so glum! You did great!”

He presses a kiss to your cheek and straightens up.

“I’ll be sure to tell your father about your improvements in cursed energy control. He’ll be happy, don’t you think?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t have words anymore.

He leaves, his footsteps receding loud. You don’t watch him go. Instead you sit there in the same position, naked, wet, feeling sticky and used.

And like that, you’re alone again.

You don’t try to dampen down the energy that leaks from you this time.

#gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #afterwitch writes

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konigsblog · 19 days

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i think about this a little too often...

synopsis; kidnapped by a ‘photographer’ who spares you no mercy.

photographer, kidnapper-könig thots™

tw/cw; rape, non-con/dub-con, dark fiction, sexual assault and assault, kidnapping, the dove is dead. dead dove: do not eat. 🔞

photo credits; x_bruisedpeach_x on x/🐦

if someone had warned you that the sweet boy who had approached you down the street claiming to be a model photographer was in fact a violent man, who'd kidnap and beat you until you were unrecognisable and nothing but a bloodied mess on his dirty basement floor, you wouldn't believe them.

könig came across as calm and relaxed, he seemed sweet when you spoke to him, with a surprisingly quiet voice for someone of his size.

at first, he came across as threatening and intimidating as he towered over you and gazed at you creepily before finally speaking up, but after inviting you down the road for a coffee together to talk about his photography career, you had agreed eagerly to come around to his house to take some photos together and act as a model for him. you should've been alarmed from the start when a random, old pervert had asked to take pictures of you, but the thought and dream of becoming a model left you blind to any and all danger, falling for his depraved, immoral plan to kidnap a pretty little thing like you for himself.

when you stepped into his house, the atmosphere shifted suddenly and completely. könig no longer radiated a sweet, calm energy that you once knew of. instead, könig was no longer smiling sweetly, but instead a sickening grin curled the sides of his mouth with terrifyingly wide eyes staring into your soul, enough to scare you into silence. you choked on your words as könig began to inch closer before dragging you downstairs into his basement by your hair. his grip was tight, firm. he held your hair in his fist and would drag you, throwing you downstairs despite your wails and mortified screams. it's a shame that he lives in a secluded area, far from any other neighborhood or town, where nobody would hear your wails for help.

you were a vulnerable and naïve mess. he almost felt guilty and remorseful for this treatment when he threw his fist at you repetitively, seeing how you'd eventually come to take his beatings out of horror and terror, blood running down your chin from your split lip. you were too gorgeous for any other man and he worried someone would take you away for themselves. he didn't want people to recognise you from the missing person posters put up around the city, with your face plastered on all the pictures, so instead, he left your face swollen with marks, making sure that you were always bruised with a slap, punch, or spanking.

although one thing was true. not his attitude and the persona he put on, the façade of a kind-hearted boy. the truth was that he wanted to take photos of you, but not for modeling, for his own sick enjoyment, gratification, and pleasure.

the basement wasn't like any other modeling shoot you'd seen in movies or television shows. instead, there was a metal table that könig had strapped you down to, and one large camera recording the entire thing. you were stripped naked, your dignity stripped alongside your clothes. you couldn't fight it, not when you were weakened and understood what would happen if you cried too loudly and irritated him or distracted him for his work, or used your sharp nails and canines against him as weapons.

bare on his table, könig began to record despite the obvious discomfort and mortification in your wide, glossy eyes. the flashing red light left you ashamed, feeling too raw and exposed with your legs forced open and your puffy cunt for him to admire and grope. he'd pinch and clamp your sensitive clit, until you sobbed out painfully, only to be forced to take his girthy and lengthy size for hours on end until he had his fill for the day. although könig warned you not too weep too loudly, he desired the sound of your sobbing, to harden his already stiff cock.

nothing would stop könig from raping every hole you have, to use these videos and pictures for his own personal usage.

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sugasiren · 9 months

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🧜🏾‍♀️ SIRENE (1009): Top 3 Sex Symbols! 💋

SIREN: A seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men; A woman who is a very attractive but dangerous temptress. 🔥🔥

The Sirene (1009) asteroid is one of my absolute favorites to explore. 🧜🏾‍♀️ And I have many! Its placement in a woman's chart tells us about her brand of Dark Femininity. How she seduces and influences. How she harnesses her power and the TYPES of men who are helplessly drawn to her. 💋 Every Sign has incredible qualities! I'm simply sharing my Top 3 Sirens based on the research I've done. So enjoy and share your Siren below!

**FYI - Men with these placements are also very sexy and captivating in their own way. 💯 So I will include some famous examples for them as well.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Siren in Scorpio 🔥

Famous Women:

Sophia Loren (pictured above)

Sade (pictured above)

Lisa Bonet (pictured above)

Lana Del Rey (pictured above)

Dita Von Teese (pictured above)

Beyonce

SZA

Traci Lords

Monica Bellucci

Mae West

Grace Kelly

Bridget Bardot

Christina Aguilera

Angelica Houston

Zeudi Araya

Liv Tyler

Siren in Scorpio MEN:

The Rock

Brad Pitt

Paul Newman

Ryan Gosling

Carlos Santana

Idris Elba

Bruno Mars

Fabio

JFK

SCORPIO SIRENS lure you in with their hypnotic eyes that are as deep as the Blue Sea. 🧜🏾‍♀️ Their powerful aura will quickly swallow you whole and you will enjoy every moment of it. 💋 They effortlessly captivate and are explosive Lovers! They love to keep you guessing. As they know, you'll be addicted to the mystery of it all and keep coming back for more. And they're right! Just like Monica Bellucci and Lana Del Rey - these women can casually sit somewhere, smoking a cigarette, and *everyone* around them is watching in total ENVY of that damn cigarette. 🔥 Others like Lisa Bonet and Sade are gentle and ethereal but they will *still* snatch your SOUL. The Male Sirens are charismatic heartthrobs who make panties drop everywhere they roam. Women submit to them with glee. They want their 'Notebook' moment with Ryan Gosling, okay! And for The Rock to lay the smackdown (and pipe) on their kitty. 😺 And nothing less.

Siren in Capricorn 👑

Famous Women:

Brooke Shields (pictured above)

Megan Thee Stallion (pictured above)

January Jones (pictured above)

Stevie Nicks (pictured above)

Amal Clooney (pictured above)

Megan Fox (pictured above)

Teyana Taylor

Doja Cat

Mamie Van Doren

Ava Gardener

Mariah Carey

Shania Twain

Tyra Banks

Karrine Steffans

Amber Heard

Ellie Goulding

Eartha Kitt

Siren in Capricorn MEN:

James Dean

Robert Plant

Robert Pattinson

Matthew McConaughey

William Holden

Prince William

Kobe Bryant

Suge Knight

Andrew Tate

AJ McLean

Gerard Butler

CAPRICORN SIRENS lure you in with their deeply earthy, erotic energy. They are smoldering volcanoes underneath their cool IDGAF exterior and this enticing contrast drives people wild! 🔥 They have monstrous sex drives yet are very grounded in their personal power and selective about who they entertain, so others seek their approval. The Female Sirens often attract highly influential and/or dominant men who crave her submission and loyalty. Their desire to control her can truly consume them! 💯 They see her as the Ultimate Challenge and want her AT ALL COSTS. Their results vary depending upon what *she* actually wants. For instance, Amal Clooney. She was able to capture the heart of life-long bachelor George Clooney with impeccable ease. 🩷 He looks at her with stars in his eyes! They have the ideal marriage. Mariah Carey ultimately made Tommy Matola (the Record Executive who signed her to his label) wait until they were married before being intimate with him. She had such an effect on her ex-husband after **opening her luscious Pearly Gates** 🙌 that he put cameras up around the house to watch her every move. He was utterly obsessed with her! Amber Heard is an example of Capricorn Siren in full Destruction Mode. And Karrine "Superhead" Steffans in literal Maneater Mode slurping her way to THE TOP. The Male Sirens simply have Big Dick Energy - period. They are Doms, Bosses and Kings. 👑 Women yearn for them to (symbolically) suck their blood and their p***y like Robert Pattinson in 'Twilight' with carnivorous passion. 🔥 They want to surrender doggystyle to a man like Gerard Butler in the '300' movie. And even when they are stone cold killers like Suge Knight or manipulative pimps like Andrew Tate... they still command respect! They possess massive amounts of Masculine charm.

Siren in Sagitarius 👠

Famous Women:

Marilyn Monroe (pictured above)

Dorothy Dandridge (pictured above)

Rita Hayworth (pictured above)

Shakira (pictured above)

Indira Varma (pictured above)

Kim Cattrall

Margot Robbie

Robin Givens

Tina Turner

Dana Delaney

Emilia Clarke

Gwen Stefani

Aishwarya Rai

Rose McGowan

Sagittarius Siren MEN:

Paul Walker

Patrick Swayze

Elvis Presley

Clark Gable

Mario Lopez

Marilyn Manson

Shia LaBeouf

Michele Marrone

Marvin Gaye

SAGITTARIUS SIRENS lure you in like smoke rising from a bonfire in an enchanted forest during a Drum Circle. They illuminate dangerous levels of heat. ☀️ That will melt you like hot lava with their dynamic sex appeal. Baddies to the bone! Their esthetic widely appeals to the masses and individuals from *all* walks of life. People from *all* ethnic backgrounds admire and lust after them. 💋 They are exciting and make people feel ALIVE. And they're often the epitome of someone's Dream Girl or Guy. Marilyn Monroe is a FOREVER Icon who lives on generation after generation. 🌟 And her Feminine prowess remains unmatched no matter how much time goes by. Rita Hayworth is another immortal Sex Symbol and proud Latina. As is Dorothy Dandridge - who broke many barriers for Black Women in film and greatly appealed to a variety of powerful men such as Marlon Brando and Otto Priminger. Margot Robbie in the 'Wolf of Wallstreet' and 'Barbie' movies? 🩷 Nuff said! The Male Sirens are usually a strong yet suave bunch - like Clark Gable and Patrick Swayze. And that's a killer combination, my friends! They are often Rebels. 💪 Whether clean-cut ones like Paul Walker, goth ones like Marilyn Manson or rebels GONE WRONG like Shia LaBeouf. Either way, they are magnetic.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

And that's a wrap for now! 💛 I'll be back soon with more on SIREN and other awesome asteroids. Thanks for reading.

#siren asteroid #asteroid astrology #asteroid observations #siren #astro tumblr #astroblr #astro observations #capricorn #sagittarius #scorpio #scorpio astrology #venus astrology #9th house #10th house #8th house #pluto #saturn #jupiter

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pinkaditty · 8 months

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WHB Sitri Thirst

teehee guess who's back (at long last!!!!!)

summary: sitri needs to give you devil energy in Satan's absence. you are tired of him calling you Solomon. a/n: you would not BELIEVE how many days this took like what if i keeled over and died fr. ANYWAYS ANYWAYS part 3 of the pervert obey me thing is still in the works as well as a few other writing projects im working on. please be patient with me i swear i will deliver what the crowd wants!!!!!!!!!!!!

also any anons that have sent asks: I SEE THEM! I PROMISE! I WILL RESPOND!

cw: cardiophilia, smut, creampie, begging, sub!sitri, dom!reader, gn!reader (none of the reader's physical attributes are mentioned with a specific description), some fang action, mentions of blood, NOT PROOFREAD, and i think that's all! let me know if i missed anything in the comments, please!

Word count: ~3k

ONCE AGAIN AS USUAL MINORS DNI! I DO NOT WANT YOU INTERACTING WITH MY CONTENT THANKS!

By the time you'd returned to your lodging, Sitri was riddled with want and desire. Your face betrayed nothing, but you knew he could hear your heartbeat, beating a million times per minute as you attempted to unlock the door. The temptation to slow your pace to tease him was hard to resist, but you knew it would be useless when your heart gave away your every thought. Sitri is not a demon of many words, but you can hear his silent urging in his heavy breathing and twitching fingers against the leather of his harness.

Thump, thump, thump.

You can feel your heart beating in your neck as you carefully turn the knob to the door, pushing it open and stepping inside, holding it open for Sitri to follow. He wastes no time in stepping through the threshold, the click of his heels stopping short before he turns to watch you as you close the door. You take your time doing it, the thumping of your heart harmonizing with the creak of the door. Sitri only watches, but you can feel his gaze boring into the back of your neck as you prolong the creaking of the door until it finally reaches the end. You shut the door in tune with your heartbeat. Thump.

The newfound silence of the room is almost deafening. You only realize how dark it is when you notice nothing but moonlight pouring across your skin. It is cool and glowing, illuminating the room in white light. You turn to look at Sitri, and the moment your eyes meet his, he approaches you. His light blue hair flows as he moves, shining white in the light. His skin is ever so pale, only dotted by a blue pentagram on his neck and the soft pink of his lips, pointed downwards in a soft pout. His eyes shine with what you can only assume is lust. He reaches for you, sharp blue nails curling into your clothing and holding you in place before he swiftly buries his face in your chest, listening intently to your heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

He presses his ear to your chest and sighs comfortably, gripping your body like a lifeline.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Solomon…" He whispers quietly into your chest, relaxing against you. "How I missed this sound." His lips brush lightly against your chest as he speaks, making you shiver.

You part your lips to correct him, remind him that you're not Solomon, but you don't bother after observing how peaceful he seemed, pressed against your chest. Despite him being so close, you could tell he was still antsy, his fingers tightening and loosening their grip on you, his thighs squeezing together and releasing, his breathing still heavy on your chest…

Careful to avoid his horn, you gather some of his hair and tug on it twice, gently pulling him away. He hesitantly, and rather reluctantly, moves away from your chest, his lips still in a soft pout. He looks at you questioningly, and you simply shake your head. "Come on, let's get comfortable at least." You tug him along to your bed, sitting on it, and motioning for him to sit next to you. Instead of doing that, however, he situates himself on your lap, facing you. He curls his arms around your waist and once again presses his ear to your chest, as though desperate to hear your heart again. He pulled you closer with his arms and pressed into you further with his ear, so much so that you ended up on your back with him pressed against you at every inch, listening to your heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

You hear him whispering Solomon's name multiple times, like a prayer, savoring the way it sounded on his tongue. You were not Solomon. But you could tolerate it… for now.

He just couldn't seem to get enough. He continued to press his ear into your chest, as though he needed to hear every single contraction, like he needed to hear the blood as it rushed to and from your heart. He started breathing heavier, his face turning red as he did. He began to press his body against yours a little rougher, breathy whines coming from his lips as he did.

"Solomon, Solomon, Solomon…"

He begins to nuzzle his face into your chest, needing to feel more, more, and more. You hear him click his teeth in annoyance at your shirt, and he rather brazenly tears it away, as well as anything underneath, with his sharp nails. He tosses the ripped clothing to the side, ignoring your shocked noise, and presses his lips to your chest, right where your heart would be. He pulls away, his heavy breathing turning to panting, and he continues pressing kisses to your chest. You sigh in pleasure and let him continue, not that stopping him would result in anything fruitful.

The kisses become more and more desperate, and eventually, his lips make room for his tongue and teeth, licking and scraping his fangs against your chest. Occasionally he pauses, panting out of sheer excitement, and presses his ear against your chest again to listen to your rapid heartbeat. Each time he does, you feel him shift his hips and squeeze his thighs together, a shudder running down his spine. His hands grip anything within reach - your waist, your chest, your shoulders, your hair, the sheets - his hands rotate indiscriminately like he can’t decide what should ground him. You reach around him and tug on his hair, taming him. He hums into your chest and pulls back, lips swollen slightly from working at your chest, and eyes teary from stimulation. His face is bright red, barely visible in the pale moonlight. His chest heaves from his panting. You behold this sight for a while, gazing at him.

“I’ll need more than this to receive your devil energy, Sitri.” You gently remind him of the purpose of this endeavor, and his blush deepens. You reach out to cradle his cheek in your palm, and he leans into it, pressing his fingers against your wrist to feel your pulse.

“I apologize, Solomon. I… I’ll make you feel good.” The words drip from his lips like saliva, thick and heavy with meaning, hunger laced in every syllable. He licks from your wrist to your palm, as though he could taste your pulse, before releasing your wrist and shifting his focus to your lower body. He grabs the hem of your clothing and gently tugs it away, removing your intimates as well. He seems to savor the way more of your skin is revealed, more skin through which blood flows, all for him to hear through a pulse.

He moves further away to allow him access to you, kneeling just off of the bed and facing your core directly. He leans his head against your right thigh, pressing his ear to it to listen for a pulse, holding your left thigh away from his horn. You can tell immediately when he finds your pulse, as his grip on you tightens quickly, and he sighs in satisfaction. He starts almost immediately, licking a long stroke from the bottom to the top. You stiffen, trembling. You carefully prop yourself up on your elbows as he continues, sighing in pleasure. He maneuvers his tongue in long, careful strokes, exploring you as he pressed your thigh closer to his ear. All he needed was your heartbeat to know how well he was doing.

Thump, thump, thump.

You roll your hips against Sitri, reaching down for him and gripping his hair, encouraging him. He whimpers when you pull his hair, and you feel him shudder against your thigh. He peers up at you as he continues, his long tongue strokes turning into shorter, more focused ones at more sensitive points. He swirls his tongue in small circular strokes and the steady pattern of stimulation makes you see stars. You tugged harder on his hair, pulling him in closer to you, and he follows, malleable to your touch. It wasn’t much longer until you reached your peak, gripping his hair like a vice and trembling, pleased moans falling from your lips. He grips your thighs harder as you ride out the last of it, thumbs pressing painfully hard into the skin of them, feeling the blood pulse through your veins under his fingers. When you release his hair, he finally pulls away, his lips dripping with the remnants of your release. His hair is mussed, his skin is flushed red, his pupils are blown wide, and his lips are swollen and pink. He is beautiful.

His thumbs are still pressed painfully hard into your thighs and his ear is still pressed against your skin. He’s the picture of ecstasy, enjoying each and every thump of your heart, savoring the sound as though it’s the last he’ll hear of it.

“Solomon…” He pants, licking his lips to clear them of your release. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he shivers again, and you watch as he bites his lip from the sheer thrill of listening to your heartbeat. “Thank you… Thank you for letting me indulge…” He pants between his words, rubbing his cheek against your thigh, still listening to your heartbeat.

You decide you have had enough.

You sit up a bit more, adjusting your posture, and he watches you with adoring, lustful eyes. You roughly grab the front of his shirt, slightly damp with saliva, and pull him towards you. He obediently follows, watching with wide eyes as you lead him over you, pressing his knees into the bed. You take this opportunity to hook your legs behind his knees and flip him over on his back, pressed into the bed as you hover over him.

“I am not Solomon.” You stare down at him, adoring his shocked expression and red cheeks. You reach low for his pants, pressing a palm into his strained erection, gently pulling at his pants button before it pops open, revealing his zipper.

He squirms from your movements, excitement lighting up every nerve of his body. He looks away from you nervously, mumbling an apology. His words are breathless and desperate. “I apologize, Descendant of-”

“No.” You interrupt him quickly, reaching for his jaw and holding it in place. He stops talking purely out of shock, his lips snapping shut. He watches you with wide eyes, breathing heavily. “I do not care about being his descendant. I only want you to say my name. Say my name. It is me you are in bed with, not Solomon.”

He exhales, whimpering slightly. “Yes, yes… MC. MC.” He pants out your name, pupils blown wide with lust once again. “Please… please let me indulge myself, MC.” He begins to beg, squirming more. You knew perfectly well he could hear your heartbeat from where he was, but perhaps it was not enough. Ignoring his pleas, you instead reach down for his zipper, this time pulling it down agonizingly slowly. You watch as he twitches beneath you, his eyes rolling again in ecstasy, waiting for his dick to be free. He starts panting impatiently as you finally unzip them all the way. He whines, his fingers curling into the sheets. “Please… please please please, let me indulge myself. Please, MC.” He begs more, blinking away pitiful tears as you hook your fingers over the band of his boxers, pulling them down. He whimpers more, and you finally indulge him, moving your other hand closer to his head, turning so that your wrist was right against his ear. He sighs happily, and presses his ear to your wrist, sighing again when you finally free his length. He gently rolls his hips upwards, not high enough to touch you, but enough to send a message. He pleads with his eyes, wide and wanting for you. He awaits your movement, biting his lip and curling a hand around your wrist to feel for your pulse again.

Thump, thump, thump.

You simply smile at him as he pleads, and position yourself above him, at last. He visibly gulps, his eyes flickering from your core to your face. Various pleas and whines and broken phrases fall from his lips as you gently position his erection to align with you, and you begin to slowly lower yourself to where his tip meets your entrance. He starts to squirm, the pleas getting more and more insistent. You make direct eye contact with him and hold his gaze and you lower yourself onto him entirely, taking his length in full. He moans pitifully, never breaking eye contact. You bite your lip, gripping his side with one hand to steel yourself. You breathe deeply to calm yourself, still holding Sitri’s gaze.

“Are you ready for me to start moving?” You ask, smiling and biting your lip.

He nods vigorously, too impatient to wait any longer. “Yes, yes!”

You waste no time in going slow. The want that burns within the two of you is far too great for that. Using your knees as leverage, you begin to move, lifting yourself off of him and immediately lowering back down to take him in. The sound of skin slapping on skin and the bed creaking begin to fill the room. Sitri rolls his eyes back and moves his hips to thrust upwards into you, though he can barely keep it up as the pleasure gets to his head. He keeps whimpering and moaning, writhing in pleasure and pressing his fingers to your wrists, savoring the feeling of your pulse. His light blue hair is spread out below him, his bangs sticking to his forehead. His eyes are wide and unfocused, switching between rolling back, staring at yours, or looking at your chest, listening to your thumping heart. His lips are parted and red, breathing heavily.

You can feel him filling you up to the brim, his tip barely kissing a sweet spot deep within you as you continued riding him. You were panting, using up all your energy but unable to stop, purely from how good it felt. You suppressed your moans by biting your lip, but they would escape, betraying how quickly you were falling apart form the pleasure. Every time he managed to thrust upwards, he’d hit the sweet spot directly, and you would curl your back, moaning loudly. The pleasure began to build up within you, and you knew the same was true of him.

You paused your quick movements to instead grind yourself on him, savoring the feeling of him inside and giving your legs a break. Sitri whines and curls his face towards your wrist, gently dragging his tongue across the spot where your pulse was strongest. He presses his lips to your pulse as you continue to grind, muffling his whines and savoring the feeling of your pulse on his lips.

When you finally recover, you lift yourself up again, slowly dragging your walls across the entirety of his length. He pulls away from your wrist and moans, tightening his grip on your wrists and looking up at you pitifully. You lower yourself again, speeding up this time, and he sighs with pleasure, relishing the feeling of you riding him. The break was not enough, however, and you can still feel the pleasure building up. You speed up your movements, not bothering to hide your moans any longer. He simply writhes underneath you, his eyes rolling and his tongue lolling out of his mouth, tightening and releasing his grip on your wrists. He couldn’t ground himself anymore.

You reach for his horn at last and grab it roughly, pulling his head towards your chest. He yelps in surprise, but that very quickly melts into a loud moan, muffled into your chest. He turns his head to press his ear to your chest, and wraps his arms around your back, listening for your heartbeat once more.

Thump, thump, thump.

You stroke his horn as you continue to ride him, and he’s practically yelling at this point, his moans so loud you were sure they could be heard down the hall. Your riding pattern becomes erratic as you reach your peak, and you can feel he is, too, as he desperately attempts to thrust upwards and scrapes his nails into your back, moans barely muffled by your chest.

“MC… MC!” He calls your name and babbles pleas and broken words incoherently before you feel him thrust roughly upwards and still against you. His nails dig into your back and his ear presses harder against your chest than before. You feel him release inside you, warm and sedating. A similar liquid melts across your fingers from his horn, and it drips onto the bed. You are in a similar state, having reached your peak as well. You stiffen as you feel his release within you, panting and moaning, clenching your thighs together as tight as you could.

He shivers against you before he collapses, releasing his grip on you and falling back onto the bed. His eyes are rolled far back into his skull, his lips parted wide and panting, and his cheeks are flushed a beautiful red. You relax and lean over him, not wanting to lift yourself off of him just yet. He whimpers softly at the feeling of still being inside you, twitching slightly. You press a gentle kiss to his lips, which he excitedly reciprocates, reaching weakly to cradle your chin in his hands. As the kiss deepens and becomes sloppy, your tongues searching each other’s mouths, he lazily wraps his arms around your neck, gently pulling you closer. You relax your body against him entirely, pressing your chest to his. Your heartbeats sync, slowing as you both come down from your highs.

You break the kiss, licking your lips, and you look down at him. He looks up at you with hooded, satisfied eyes. His lips are parted, and his panting is slowly slowing down.

“What’s my name?” You ask him, leaning towards him and pressing your forehead to his.

“MC.” He answers, smiling as he does. He curls his arms around you tighter, pulling you closer again and pressing your noses together.

Thump, thump, thump.

“You are not Solomon after all.”

------------------------------------------

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE SITRIIIIIIIIIII!! i admit i don't think this was my best writing ever but i hope it's good, genuinely, because i spent lots of time on it. reminder that i really appreciate likes, reblogs, comments, and asks!! please let me know what you all think!!

this was self-indulgent but also a gift for @jessamine-rose !!!!

#minors dni #whb satan #what in hell is bad #whb sitri #whb mc #whb sitri x reader #sitri #what in hell is bad game #what in hell is bad satan #what in hell is bad sitri #what in hell is bad x reader #whb #what in hell is bad smut #whb smut #sitri x reader #what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb sitri x mc

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verus-veritas · 5 months

Text

Taking Down the Jocks

Reworked Interactive Story from CYOC

Part 1: The Set-Up

You were kicking a stone along the footpath, walking after it, and kicking it again when you reached it. It was Thursday afternoon and you were walking back to the dorms after some classes. You, being the relatively unpopular, unassuming, and unattractive nobody. Not that you were actively disliked, just that nobody really paid attention to you, apart from the football jocks at the campus. They loved to make fun of anybody that wasn't in their group, and that was often directed at you. Even though you often tried to avoid them and disliked them for being a clique, you secretly thought most of them were hot.

You kicked the rock again and it bounced off the footpath into a muddy patch that was a consequence of all the recent rain your town had been having. As you passed the mud, you looked down at the rock and noticed a spot of brightness in the brown, a speck of gold. Leaning down to see if it was anything interesting, or just a candy wrapper, you saw it was a small band of gold that was half buried under the dirt. Pulling it out of the mud, you found it was a gold ring, adorned with a circle of a green raw cut gem, or crystal. Rubbing off the mud, you put it on to see if it would fit, and it surprisingly slipped onto your finger with ease.

A gust of wind blew through the leaves on the trees around you, and the world went dark, the footpath, trees and road all disappearing from your sight. You were about to shit your pants in fear when you heard a voice whisper behind you.

"At the dawn of the universe, 5 gods emerged from the light of the galaxy's formation, and they ruled over the Earth for millions of years, each using their individual and unique powers for the betterment of the Earth."

You turned around in the darkness, but nobody was there. You reached a hand out and grasped at only air. The voice continued, now coming from directly in front of you.

"But 3000 years ago they gradually lost their powers, withering away. Before they eventually died, they all agreed to put the last of their life energy and powers into a stone, and laid the magical stone into a ring. The ring has been found and worn by many hands, but none survived longer than 13 days after they found the ring, betrayed by their own greed.”

And now you have the ring. The possessor of the ring has the ability to harness the powers of the Ancient Gods, and are able to bend reality to their will.

With that last sentence left to linger in the cold air, the light returned and the light and warmth of the sun touched your skin again. The Ancient Gods? That couldn't be true. But what other reason could explain the sudden darkness and cold that passed over you, and the voice with no physical body?

You decided the only way to test it was to try and use the ring's powers. You wished to be back at your college dorm with every ounce in your body, and you were suddenly looking into the dorm’s bedroom mirror. You jumped back in surprise though, as the face staring back at you was that of your jock roommate. You soon smiled. He was obnoxious, he was messy, and he left condoms everywhere, but at least he was hot...

Still, slightly shocked at the fact the ring's power worked, you turned around, and attempted to close your roommate’s bedroom door with a flick of your finger. It took a few tries but it slammed shut with much more vigor than you were expecting on the fourth try. Thinking of what else you could do, you tried to float off the ground. After 5 minutes you figured out the trick was to jump with no intention of falling back to the ground.

After practicing a few other tricks while wearing the ring, you decided it was time to explore. You floated over to his bed, layed down and reached into your roommate’s mind with your powers, giving your borrowed body the best orgasm it had ever had, as you squirted your roommate’s seed all over his room. You swiped some of it off your chest and gave it a taste, clearly enjoying the musky and salty flavor of it. With a couple flicks of your hand, the sperm was cleaned off the walls, and you began to jerk him off all over again.

You woke up in the morning with the sun streaming in through your open blinds, and you rolled over to see your unconscious roommate lying on the floor, completely spent and drenched in his own white seed. You got ready for the day, making sure the ring was firmly planted on your finger, and made your way out the front door. You made sure to leave it slightly open so that someone might find your roommate in that humiliating state.

You realized you needed more practice using the ring’s powers before you could attempt to change anything major, and the long walk through the campus was a great place to mess with people. Apart from there being nobody in sight at the moment. You used your powers to break a few tree branches, and you started to get the hang of it. It was less like having a giant invisible hand like you expected, and more like using your mind and hands to move the air around the branches.

You were already breaking your twentieth branch when you saw a couple of jocks harassing a bunch of nerds next to a dumpster, and you decided to help the nerds out… by giving them all the jocks’ muscles! You concentrated on their muscles, and the strength within them, and slowly transferred it all from the jocks to the nerds. The two groups quickly noticed and looked startled and confused, as the nerds' clothes ripped apart while the jocks screamed in frail horror. You decided the best thing to do was to walk by pretending you didn't notice anything, as you heard the screams of someone being thrown into the dumpster behind you.

You continued forward, looking at the floor, and when you looked back up you saw you were almost there. You couldn't be bothered to walk so with a quick look around to confirm nobody could see you, you teleported in front of the gates, and walked in. On your way to your lecture hall you saw all the obnoxious jocks goofing around and throwing stuff at others, and you couldn't help but take a second look at their muscular bodies and beautiful faces. Arriving at the lecture hall, you thought about what to do next. You still had some time until your first class, and the ring was pulsating with excitement to be used.

You looked around at the crowds and groups that were all standing in the open campus area. Everyone was either conversing with friends, or studying for their first lessons. You looked around and caught sight of the two people who you've had a huge crush on ever since you enrolled here:

Your eyes glanced over at Jack, who was busy rallying a group of jocks into harassing some studying girls. The heartthrob, the narcissist, and of course the leader of the biggest fraternity of jocks. Anything he said goes, and if you fucked with him you’d be left royally screwed. Not only was his family filthy rich, but they also owned half of the college buildings. Which meant he could get away with literally anything, like the time he almost beat to death a guy behind the bleachers or left a cheerleader pregnant. No one ever heard from those people again…

Still, there was no doubt in your mind that he was one fine specimen. Blue eyes, hot face, amazing jawline, and a fucking amazing plump and firm ass. Although he was slightly shorter than most of the other jocks and clearly wasn’t as talented on the fields, he made up for it with his dashing looks and charisma. He also spent most mornings at the gym, and it showed with his broad shoulders, slim waist, extremely defined muscles, great thighs, and great posture. Looks, money, privilege, he had it all… even if he didn’t truly deserve it.

On the other side of the hallway you caught sight of Shawn, followed by an entourage of admiring football jocks and worshiping cheerleaders. He was the so-called “Starchild”, who made miracle plays every game and had a whole career already planned out in the future. Star quarterback, the pride of the college, and childhood friend of Jack, no one ever dared to mess with him. Although he always carried himself with respect and never specifically bullied anyone, he always looked down on anyone weak, worthless, and not worth his attention. Which was basically anyone not part of his group of jock friends. Those deep glaring eyes and imposing aura of his made that very clear.

As for his appearance, Shawn was a complete adonis, as if sculpted by god himself. An incredibly tall and handsome jock with short brown hair and stubble, who stood at 6’3 feet tall and was made of pure solid muscles. Biggest, strongest, and fastest, his body would glisten and shine with pure sweat as he ran across the football fields. With his amazingly broad shoulders, broad hips, great thighs and calves, and stunning biceps, it wasn’t a surprise then that he apparently had the biggest penis on campus, measuring at around 8 inches. The so-called “Star Piercer”.

The bell rang and you made your way through the halls to your courses. You sat and thought about your powers instead of doing the work set for you, and when the professor called on you, you weren't prepared with an answer, and asked to go to the bathroom instead. When you got to the bathroom you closed and locked the door, and looked in the mirror, deeply considering what you could do with your crushes. Your penis was getting excited at the thought of having full control over those sexy jocks, and you took one final look in the mirror as you realized what you truly wanted:

To BE one of them.

Part 2: Taking down the Star Quarterback

Your thoughts went back to Shawn for a few minutes, thinking of the big muscular jock as he strutted his body through the hallway. His physique alone had caused the rest of the hallway to part when he carried himself by. Between him and Jack, they commanded a sort of subconscious presence, a dominance that caused everyone around them to both notice them, fall into awe of them, and then either get out of their way or do their bidding. Everyone either respected them or were terrified of them. Whereas Jack was the complete asshole and the leader of the jock clique, Shawn was the pride and star of the town, a confident but quiet man who just told people what to do and they listened.

You envied that seeming feel of authority, of dominance. Shawn didn't even realize that he had it, he just worked to be a great athlete, but with his body and with his talent, he had created a much bigger presence at the college than even he realized.

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror, you thought for a moment about possessing Jack, after all, that jock had humiliated you time and time again simply for being a non-jock, an outsider to his clique. While Shawn had never directly bullied you, he was just so damn intimidating that you had never wanted to cross him. But that lust for his presence was making you want to take him.

"If only I could be him and live his life, just to feel what it's like to be such a dominant and successful jock," you told yourself.

The ring started to warm up on your finger. Looking down at it, you realized that you could use it to will this very wish into being.

"But how?" you asked yourself.

The ring seemed to understand your desire because right as you asked the question the bathroom door opened and Shawn stepped in. You turned your head and your jaw nearly dropped. Shawn turned his broad shoulders toward you and looked back. At first a glance, and then again with annoyance. "What do you want, shithead?" he asked, before stepping into the bathroom and toward a urinal. He walked with his usual, confident swagger toward the urinals, still 10 feet from them, he unzipped his jeans and pushed his hand into his crotch, already feeling to pull his dick out well before he reached the urinal. As he stepped into it, you could tell that he pulled out his monster cock and aimed toward the urinal. A strong splash of piss hit the ceramic.

Shawn shut his eyes, completely ignoring you, and meditated for a moment. You wanted to listen to his thoughts, so you ordered the ring to help you read his mind. Just as you had suspected, he had already forgotten that you were even in the room, he was thinking about his conditioning after school today, and the fact that he wanted to get to benching 300.

You chuckled to yourself for a moment. Of all the things for anyone to think about, all this jock cared about was getting more swole and showing off to the rest of the team.

You looked back down at the ring on your hand. This single artifact, this one find that you had discovered, it was able to give you whatever you wanted. And you were ready to make your first life-changing wish. To become the incredible jock standing a few feet away from you.

The thought of being Shawn was making you excited, so much so that you could feel your dick starting to push hard against your leg and jeans.

"Yes, I made up my mind. I will possess him completely and live his perfect life!" you told through thoughts to the ring, and as you did so, you noticed your hand started to fade and became more ethereal. You started to become more transparent, like a ghost! But no, it was more than that, you were turning into smoke! "Ahh," you told yourself as you directed the smoke of your hand, causing it to flow towards Shawn. "I can just force my way right into his body!"

The urinal flushed. The distraction caused you to form back into your human body once more.

Shawn walked over to the sink next to yours and started to wash his hands. You turned your head again toward him, then down his stocky arms and toward his hands as they scrubbed the soap between them. He carried a hefty amount of thick, brown hair on them. You figured that he was probably a pretty hairy guy underneath his clothes.

"What are you looking at, Fag?!" Shawn retorted to you. Then he took his left hand and shoved you backward. "I asked you a question, you piece of shit!" he shouted before stepping toward you again.

You smirked, Shawn had no idea what he was getting himself into.

When he went to push you once more, you grabbed his left forearm with your left hand. The powers of the ring allowed you to hold his thick physique in your grasp despite the fact that he was so much bigger than you. "What did you call me?" you asked him.

For the first time Shawn started to get worried. His eyes widened as he realized that he wasn't able to free his arm of your grasp, but also that you were able to hold him in place.

With your right hand you reached out and grabbed his cheeks, puckering up his lips. "What the fuck?" he said as he realized that you had him completely in your grasp. You pulled his face toward yours until he was only a couple of inches away. Despite being over 50 pounds bigger than you, he could barely move away from your grip.

"I can’t believe soon I’ll be Shawn, the Starchild." you tell him through a form of thought-speak. His eyes widened in horror. "In a few minutes, you'll be nothing but a husk, and I'll have complete control over your incredible body."

Thinking for a moment, you figured you would try something you had never done before, to give the jock a taste of you before you took over his life. You leaned your lips toward his and gave him a long, deep kiss, massaging your lips against his for a few moments.

Shawn was disgusted with the act but more terrified that you were continuing to hold him into a grip that you were. "Your body and life is mine now, Shawn. Thank you and goodbye, forever." you said.

It was then that you ordered the ring to give you the power to possess him completely and wholly, and as soon as you released your lips, you felt your body turn into the ethereal, smoke-like form once more. Not just your hand this time, but your entire body. You felt the weight of your physical clothes fall to the floor and you could feel yourself in your new form as a type of weightless, flyable cloud, an amorphous cloud of vapor.

You directed yourself into Shawn, covering his rugged face and feeling yourself pulled in as Shawn took a terrified breath.

As you did you felt yourself quickly get swept into the jock's muscular body. You distilled yourself throughout him, feeling yourself flow into his lungs, then his blood, taking over him from the cellular level outward. After he took the first breath you quickly gained control over his lungs and subsequently pulled yourself into him, further and further integrating yourself into his physical body until your entire being became completely integrated into him. You then continued further, deeper, until you found his inner core, his soul. It was warm and pulsating with life, and you quickly decided to envelop it, absorbing it into yourself.

All of your senses quickly fell into line. You took over his vision, hearing, sense of smell and taste, and you could feel his body become your own as his own blood circulated you throughout him. When you finally nestled yourself into his mind you felt yourself adapt to his entire memories, his personality. You became Shawn, the cocky, confident football jock. "Exactly what I always wanted!" you told yourself as you felt his body and mind become your own. Your sense and feeling of strength was amplified tenfold. The body you now held was a tank of power, of endurance, and you could feel the jock's body as one of pure athleticism.

But it was now your own. Truly and completely.

You took one final deep breath as you opened your new eyes. "Ahh! Fuck yea!" you whispered to yourself. Looking back at the mirror, you noticed the jock still looked the same as only a few moments before. "Only this is me now," you told yourself, smirking.

Looking down at the pile of clothes next to you, what were your old clothes, you took out your old student ID and wallet and picked up the pile and threw them into the trash can. You had no need of them anymore. Looking down at your left finger, you realized that the ring automatically moved with you onto Shawn's body. No, your body. You continued to have possession of and own its powers.

You strutted yourself back to the mirror and pulled back Shawn's t-shirt, revealing a massive bicep. Flexing for a few moments, you pulled up the front of the shirt and admired your new six pack, crunching them and rolling your finger between the brown hairs and valleys on the jock's abs. Relishing into the body that you now owned, you pondered what to do next.

"ARGH!" You shout as you give yourself a big stretch. Every pulsing nerve in Shawn's body felt like so much more life than your old body had. The sheer weight of muscle that encapsulated Shawn's body felt like one pulsing piece of pleasure after another. You smiled again, a wide, cocky, arrogant, proud smile as you looked back in the mirror. You bit your lower lip as your glistening white teeth showed through, cracking another smile and admiring the jock's beautiful and handsome face, deep brown eyes, and intensely masculine muscle on this body, now your body that you held.

You knew everything about Shawn, his history, his personality, his skills. You were in control, in complete possession. After all, Shawn's brain along with his talents now belonged to you, so it wasn’t weird for you to be able to perform as him perfectly.

"First thing's first," you told yourself as you lifted up your arms so your biceps were parallel to the floor. Flexing upward, you watched your muscle bulge against the t-shirt, stretching the fibers as they gave outward. Crossing your arms you flexed again, admiring your new forearms with wisps of brown hair covering them. Your chunky, thick hands had fingers of steel, well cut fingernails and thick, calloused palms.

You couldn't help yourself, you had to see what was underneath. Who the fuck cared if someone walked in. You quickly pulled the t-shirt off as you stepped out of your tennis shoes. Dropping the t-shirt your smile widened as you saw your new, broad shoulders and thick pecs. You traced your hand down your abs, rolling the tips of your fingers over the valleys of muscle as you reached your belly button. There, a thick puff of hair concentrated down to your waist underneath your underwear band. You turned to admire your backside where your lats rippled down your back and your thick shoulders were apparent up against your thick neck.

"This is too fuckin much!" you whispered. Checking yourself out, you couldn't help but notice that your dick was hardening with every second.

You had to see it.

You unbuckled your belt and unzipped your jeans before shoving both the jeans and gray boxer briefs down to your ankles. The breeze of air hitting your loins caused your dick to jump. You looked down and chuckled as your newly-acquired dick hardened to full mast. The stock of meat was massive, a pulsing eight inch hard monster. Your balls were equally huge and despite being pulled up into your body they were like huge eggs waiting, begging to be touched.

You quickly stepped out of your pants as you turned back to the mirror, moving between a full frontal and a profile angle, admiring the massive football bubble butt and bulked quads that Shawn's body owned. As you looked at your ass, you slid your hands down your abs once more and cupped your balls, shuddering as a new wave of orgasmic pleasure rippled through you. "Ugh," you whispered. Shawn's balls were churned full and ready to explode. You weren't sure if it was caused by the ring or if Shawn was always like this.

Sitting nearby the radiator in the bathroom laid a couple of freestanding cinder blocks. You lifted each with one hand and practiced curls and then presses with your arms, staring at the mirror and admiring the fine contours of muscle bulge and twist with each move.

Your dick started to leak pre with each press, and you knew you had to give it the attention it deserved. You sat the blocks down and traced your fingers across your dick and balls, feeling them carefully as they cocked into your body and ready to release your new seed.

One hand around your dick and another cupping your balls, you began to pump, each successive thrust brewing a greater and greater orgasmic ripple, a greater wave of pleasure, a greater feeling not only of masculine sex but one of extreme satisfaction, you were now Shawn, you were now the star quarterback, you were now everything you had wanted to be and you would live the most successful life ever.

But that wasn't all, as you held what you thought was the most powerful ring of eternity, something that could allow you to literally manifest anything and everything you could imagine. What else would you do with it? Who else would you change, who else would you control and influence and seduce. "Umm," you whispered as all these thoughts swirled in your head, you could feel yourself brewing closer and closer, each pump a greater feeling of pleasure than you had ever felt before.

It was time, you knew it was here. Ready to release, you aimed your dick at the mirror in front of you, "ARAGH!" you shouted, a deep guttural moan of pleasure as your dick cocked and exploded. The first shot hit out with such ferocity that it slapped the largest splash of cum you had ever seen, shooting all the way to the mirror in front of you.

Your body rocked in pleasure as a wave of goosebumps and a spasm of pure delight rocked your body, warm cum rolling out of your dick and like a waterfall spilling a puddle in front of you.

"Ummm, fuck yeah!" you groaned as you continued to pump, More and more and more until, finally, it slowed.

You shook your hand to fling off the spooge that had caught onto your hand. Deep, controlled breaths as you reflected on what was the most powerful orgasm of your new life.

"I can do fuckin' anything!" you realized again, smiling at yourself in the mirror. You stretched and turned again to see your dick fading back to its flaccid but extremely impressive state. “But first, let’s find Jack…”

Part 3: Taking down the Top Jock

You entered the locker room and were immediately hit with the stench of pungent jock musk, a smell both foreign yet familiar to you. A sense of familiarity washed over you as you stood within the metal lockers and cold floor tiles, as if you belonged here, as if it was your second home.

A group of rowdy football jocks stood on the other side of the room, obnoxiously laughing and playing around with the equipment. One of them was kicking the ball against a brick wall with their muscular thighs and calves. You had always fantasized about fucking them, and now you had the power of the Fallen Gods on you finger to do so. Fuck it, you thought, you could literally do whatever you wanted now and nobody could stop you.

You walked over to the locker labeled with your name “Shawn”, and subconsciously entered the code for the lock without any effort. Some old worn sports clothes and a jockstrap laid inside, which you couldn’t help yourself but grab and push it close to your face, giving it a deep long inhale. It smelled just like you, and that was euphoric.

You weren’t sure what to do next though, and it was hard to focus with all the loud jocks yelling and screwing around. If only everyone could stay quiet and calm down, you thought as the ring on your finger began to heat up. Sure enough, the ring heard your request and slowly everyone began to slow down until they completely stopped, as if frozen in time. Even the football floated in midair, halfway through its journey towards the brick wall. You had stopped time for everyone else in the locker room except yourself and now had all the time in the world.

Deciding to inspect the scene in front of you, you walked over to the jocks and smiled. Some of them were halfway through a step, others were bending over in awkward positions, and one of them was slightly suspended in the air with his leg raised into a kick. You got closer to him and were able to see his giant thighs on full display. With a devious smirk on your handsome face, you reached out and touched them, the softness and warmth of the supple skin still there. You continued tracing your hands up his meaty legs until you reached into his shorts and felt his underwear, which contained his sizable bulge. Suddenly you caught sight of your true goal; Jack, standing there by his locker completely undressed.

Jack was the top jock on the campus, with his cocky and arrogant attitude, and lack of care for anything or anyone. With an unlimited resource of money, privileges, and the worst personality ever, it wasn’t hard to understand why everyone was terrified of him. Yet, you couldn’t help but salivate from your mouth as you went over and began exploring every inch of his frozen immaculate body.

He had a classic jock body, with broad shoulders that lead down into a smaller waist, creating a perfect V-shape. His biceps were giant and he had meaty pecs that jutted out from his chest. He had some powerful calves right underneath his firm thighs and plump ass, all dusted with light colored hair. You couldn’t resist putting your hand on his ass, and moved it all over his smooth body, fully feeling every inch of his muscles. You left it to rest on his left pec, and looked over his head. He had such striking features on his face, smooth with perfect complexion, almost innocent-looking had it not been for his privileged background and horrible personality.

That gave you the perfect idea, after you’ve had your fun that is…

You stepped back from Jack and looked at the group of frozen jocks horsing around with the football.

"Holy shit," you tell yourself. You willed this. Every one of these jocks who you had lusted after for years are now completely at your, and only at your, disposal.

A smile crept across your handsome face. You looked around the hall and realized just what had become of you. You were no longer beholden to the rules of mortals. A feeling of superiority washed over your mind as you realized just what the ring has enabled you to become. A fucking god!

As you turned your attention to the ring, you noticed the powers that were embedded within it, and that it was completely attached to your will and want. Its powers simply waiting for your mind to command it to give you whatever you desire, at any time or place. You allowed time to restart as you stepped back towards your own locker, smirking at your newfound abilities. You had spent years jerking off to the thought of these buck naked men, not to mention a lust to touch them. Now you had not only touched two of them, but had one such body of your own!

Your attention turned back to Jack. He had gotten away with so much bad shit ever since his father literally bought the school. Whether it was hooking up with every girl in his sight or bribing the professors into passing him, the success had gotten to his head. He was also known for bullying the smaller guys on campus on multiple occasions. You remembered one time last year when you were sitting outside working on your math homework, only to have Jack's goons hold you down while he stuffed his used jockstrap into your mouth. His crotch musk filled your nose as they laughed at you, not realizing that they had satisfied one of your deepest lusts. Despite your humiliation, you remember exactly what the jock smelled like. And you wanted to capture it again.

"But this time," you told yourself, "it's not me who is going to be humiliated." You had lusted after Jack for the last few years, hoping they would introduce you to his jockstrap once more. Now it's you who would be in control.

The bell rang and the gang of jocks began to split up. "Hey bro, don't forget about the party at Mason’s tonight," another jock shouted to Jack as they bumped fists. "I heard Brie’s sister is gonna be there."

"Damn, really? Guess I’ll be fucking both sisters.” Jack responded, "Just imagine the drama… They gonna be so fuckin' mad! Crazy bitches!"

Jack turned around quickly, too fast for you to dart your eyes away from his own. He gave you a somewhat respectful nod, but briefly frowned before stepping away.

"Did he seriously get bigger since last time, the fucks wrong with him? Asswipe. Probably thinks he can look down on me just because he’s better at throwing a stupid ball…" You could read Jack's mind thinking to himself, as his feelings of jealousy and rage washed over you. You had no idea their relationship was this strained, even though they used to be childhood friends.

"Still, thanks for the compliments…" you thought to yourself as you looked down and flexed your beefy biceps. You loved how much power and potential this body had.

You dove into Jack's mind for a moment while he walked out to his Tesla to unload his sports bag. Quickly, you flipped through his whole life like a book. The jock's talents, abundant fortune, shallow friends, heavy partying and reckless sex life. He lost his virginity years ago and was currently active with four girls that went to the same classes as him. He was currently lusting after a cheerleader named Brie, hoping they could get together tonight at his parent's house since apparently they were out of town. Although now he was debating if maybe he should go for the younger sister first.

You shook your head, not wanting to dwell more on the disgusting things he was planning on doing.

"Now, how do I get this guy alone?" you asked yourself.

The bell rang again, a sign that some classes and seminarss were starting soon. The hallway and locker room began to empty out. A devious idea quickly came into your mind.

"You have time, Jack, don't you need to take a piss?"

Jack grabbed some of his books before feeling the need to use the restroom. He turned and quickly started walking toward the nearest bathroom.

"Don't go there, Jack, you should use the locker room," you commanded telepathically.

Looking back into Jack's mind, you could tell that Jack was confused as to why he felt compelled to go to the football team locker room. Never before had he needed to go to the locker room before just to take a piss. But he obeyed his mind and continued down the hall, through the gym, into the athletic center, and into the men's football locker room.

Jack didn't pay any mind to the fact that you were still standing there inside, being too focused on emptying his own bladder. Before the door shut to the restroom area, you slipped in behind him. Using your new powers, you surveyed that the locker room before and the stalls were all empty, with the football coach in a morning meeting upstairs.

Jack quickly set his stuff to the side and proceeded to a long row of undivided urinals. You imagined yourself now being among that row of football jocks, taking pisses and sizing each other up buck naked. With you no doubt having the largest and girthiest equipment of them all. The very thought made you painfully hard.

Jack unzipped and began to pee. "That's better," he whispered.

You took a step, just loud enough to draw up his attention. Jack turned and saw you staring at him with a slight smile across your face. The first time you've ever been able to be smug to a jock like Jack.

“The fuck?!” Jack jumped a bit, surprised there was someone else in there with him. The interrupted stream of piss resumed once he saw who you were. “Oh, it’s just you. What do you want?”

You decided to take a few more steps towards him, hoping to make him more uncomfortable. He turned again, giving you a long thoughtful glare before a smirk emerged on his devilish handsome face. It seemed Jack wasn’t about to be intimidated by you. “I knew something was wrong with you the way you were staring at me earlier…”

“You’re a fag, aren’t you?” he asked demeaningly with a malicious grin on his face, making sure to put extra emphasis on the "fag". Not that it mattered to you. Not anymore.

Jack tugged his dick then turned to flash it openly to you before zipping it back into his jeans. "Just wait till Coach and the other boys hear of this! The team is only for real men, not for homos like you. You’re done, finished. Hah!"

"Oh Jack," you responded with an amused tone. "I don’t think they’re actually going to care, not that you’ll want to tell them anyway."

Jack tightened his right fist. "Yeah, and why wouldn’t I tell them?" He asked, as he slowly took steps toward you and stared you up. "Now get out of my way or I'm gonna lay one on your eye, and knock you out till the New Year. I’m not afraid of you just because you’re bigger, you motherfucker!"

You smiled as you ordered his legs to stop. Jack's expression turned from aggression and anger to surprise. "Woah!" he said, catching his balance, trying to stop himself from falling over.

"Time for a little payback, Jackie Boy," you said, as you ordered his hands up to his hoodie. Jack involuntarily pulled it off, revealing the jock's tanned arms with a thin but noticeable layer of blond hair over them. They were sculpted up to his biceps, thick, meaty arms that he had spent years on in the campus gym.

Jack threw the hoodie to the side. "Oh what was that?" He asked, his breathing intensifying out of his surprise and fear of what his body was doing without his control. "I didn't do that just now, did I?"

He turned to you with a look of pleading. "W-what's going on?" he asked, finally with a look of fear in his eyes.

"You're under my control," you told him, with your smile widening. "I can do whatever the fuck I want now, and what I want is for you to get out of those clothes."

"Huh?!" Jack said, his demeanor quickly turning to a submissive, confused and vulnerable man. "Wait, what is going on?" He kept repeating.

"Kick off those shoes," you commanded, and ordered Jack to cross his feet and kick off his tennis shoes.

"Holy shit," Jack whispered, continuing to pull his socks off. It was the first time in his life that he felt truly without control.

"And the pants, jock boy," you commanded again, Jack quickly unbuttoning as he watched his hands in horror.

He shoved down the sweatpants to his ankles, revealing his dark gray boxer briefs. Sitting squarely between his legs, his six inch, fat, uncircumcised dick resting in front his fat testicles. Your smile widened. You had never seen the top jock this close before, and he was now finally yours.

Jack stepped away from his undergarments, his face still one of complete shock. "Wait wait wait wait, what are you doing, Bro? What the fuck is going on?" his voice was getting louder and more fearful.

"Don't worry," you reassured him. "Just having a little fun before I seal the deal..."

You dropped your backpack behind you and started walking toward Jack. As you did, you willed your clothing off of your body, peering down as your t-shirt, jeans, shoes and socks incinerated off of your jock body. You were left only in your musky jockstrap, that you had decided to wear earlier from the locker. You walked up to Jack and, ordering him to lift his arms, you slid your hands up his chiseled abs, rested them on his pecs for a moment, and then pulled the shirt off of him. "No, no, no" Jack whispered desperately.

"Come on, big man, why don't you just give it a try? You've never lusted after a dude before?" you whispered close to his ear. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it…” you ordered him, as the ring on your finger warmed up.

You reached your hands to his package and stroked his underwear, feeling his engorged rod as it began to stiffen. You stroked it at just the right rhythm to turn the arrogant jock on, pushing right where his sensitive points were. "Ugh," he responded, and somehow started to feel more and more lust for the situation despite being straight all his life. "Umm," he groaned again, his hardening dick approaching the band of his underwear.

"You like that?" you asked, arching your neck down to kiss his neck and cheeks, giving him little taps of kisses as you started to head toward his mouth. Jack had now shut his eyes, completely lost in the most orgasmic build up of his life.

You pushed your hands around to the sides of the jock's toned ass and rolled his underwear down, feeling the peachfuzz of blond hair across the sides of his asscheeks as you did so. You let the band snap over his dick as it bounced to attention, finally free from the underwear. Jack stepped forward to facilitate pushing his underwear down to the floor, and he stepped out of them.

Jack opened his eyes, "don't do it, bro" he pleaded. "Don't do it."

"Do it" you ordered, and with that Jack shoved down your underwear and began to massage your dick.

You began to grapple with Jack and felt his body up as he did to yours, too. You then ordered him to reach his hands to your dick and begin stroking it. He looked down at your incomparably larger dick as tears began to well up in his face. "Why?" he whispered.

"Bend over," You responded, as you shoved the jock back before pushing his head down onto the urinal in front of you. He held on as he bent over. You dragged your rugged hands up his legs to his rear and positioned yourself perfectly.

"No! Don’t you dare-" Jack threatened, but you simply grinned as you thrust your dick into his hole, pushing with as much force as you could muster.

"OH FUCK YEAH!" You groaned as Jack whimpered. As you began pumping, you realized you are fueled just as much by your want to humiliate the school’s most arrogant jock, as much as your want for him to notice and love you.

"You're mine, little man!" You shouted. "Every last inch of your being, you're now under my control, let this act be the mark of my dominance. OH FUCK!" You could feel your hefty balls ready themselves before churning, pumping your thick starchild seed, volley after volley into the spasming jock.

You wished for your body to produce more, to keep going, as you had a second, then a third full on orgasm, each better than the one before. Your seed began to leak out and dribbled down the jock’s athletic legs as he began to cry. "Stop it please, stop it!" he said between sobs.

You kicked his legs and shoved the naked jock onto the floor of the locker room as you stepped back. Your still hard cock bounced up and down as you admired and flexed your own sweaty body. "Oh fuck that felt amazing!" you roared. "I’m Shawn, and I can fuckin do anything now!"

Jack tried to crawl away on the floor for a moment before stopping from exhaustion. You turned back to him. "Hey Jack!" You shouted. “It’s time!"

Jack turned his head from where he sat nude on the floor towards you, fear in his eyes, all traces of the cocky confident jock from ten minutes ago gone. You stepped towards him, reaching out your arm, until you were close enough to rest your hand on his shoulder. You rubbed his shoulder and knelt down until you were at eye level with him.

"Jack, I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do to you so I can witness your reaction before it happens. I'm going to use the same powers I just tested on you to make you fall deeply, and passionately in love with me. In fact, we’ve been together ever since our childhood days, a love between us so strong and persevering through time itself. A true love story of sorts, so secret no one knows but us."

Jack's face turned from showing an expression of fear to one of horror, his mouth and nose contorting to show his obvious disgust at your plan. You leaned in closer and added more things in a low husky voice.

"And you’re going to be a much better person. Kind, compassionate, and supportive of others no matter your differences, but still confident and proud of who you are. You’ll spend more time on your studies to make your parents proud, but also keep going to the gym to stay in perfect athletic shape, for me. You’re going to use your prestige and family’s trust funds to help those in need, while keeping just enough to give us a lavish lifestyle. Such as taking me to your family’s private beach house every weekend so I can fuck that plump ass of yours."

He looked into your eyes, his face still reading disgust, and in a last-ditch effort he spat into your open mouth, and catching you by surprise he launched upwards, grabbing your upper arms with his hands and pushing you to the floor so that he was above you, looking down into your eyes. Your dick sprung upwards at the sight of him above you, excited by the closeness and feeling of his naked thighs on yours.

"You're not doing anything to me you deranged faggot, I'm going to fucking snap your neck and you'll never speak to me again!" he said, recoiling one of his arms in preparation for a punch to your face. You used the opportunity to quickly break free from his grasp, which required barely any effort given your enormous strength, and in one quick move wrestled him stomach-first down onto the cold hard floor. He laid flat against the tile floor as you held your knee on top of him, using your entire weight to keep him from moving anywhere.

“Stay still. This will be over before you know it.” You felt the ring on your finger slowly heat up, and subconsciously tell you it required direct contact to rewrite a subject’s whole life and reality. The heavy wheezing and thrashing underneath you made it apparent that Jack was beginning to panic.

“W-wait! Fuck!! You’re basically turning me into a pussy! A loser! No, no, no!! Please, stop! I-I’ll work under you, I’ll give you all my money, I’ll even make sure no one threatens your career! Just, please anything but that! I can’t possibly live like that! I don’t deserve-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence before you brought your enormous hand against his plump ass and gave it a loud and hard slap. The ring burned hot on your finger as the red imprint of your palm slowly emerged on Jack’s right butt cheek.

The slap was so loud and so hard, it seemed to have completely paralyzed Jack, leaving him slack-jawed and staring forward in utter shock. He remained in that same frozen position for a minute or so, until a tingle seemed to pass through his body. Immediately his shoulders slumped, his whole body relaxed, and facial expression changed - to one of pure lust and ecstasy.

“Oh, sorry. What were we talking about again, babe?” Jack asked, as he turned around with a smirk on his handsome face. His tone of voice seemed softer and more gentle, and his entire demeanor seemed to have changed. “That slap just felt sooo good!”

Seeing the change in his nature, you released him and helped him up, noticing immediately his engorged member poking against your thigh. “Oops, guess I got a bit too carried away…”

You felt him lean in closer, moving his hands onto your thick and strong back, as his gentle hands rubbed it sensually. You opened your mouth to allow the tongue that was trying to open your lips in, moving your tongue into his breathing hot mouth.

Jack moved his hands down your back, grabbing your asscheeks and squeezing them lightly. You looked into each other's eyes and through what seemed like telepathy, which it easily could've been, you both got into position. You spreading your legs wider and him getting on his knees, with his lips almost but not quite touching the tip of your throbbing dick. You looked down on Jack’s flustered face before pushing your head onto his gaping warm mouth. He expertly wrapped his soft lips around your massive stick and began moving his mouth up and down it, causing you to moan in ecstasy and sending you straight to blowjob heaven.

You sped up, lost in the frenzy, before you finally climaxed down his throat. He kept sucking copious amounts of your salty man seed down into his stomach, as if he hadn’t had a single drop of water all day.

Then, before you even had time to recover Jack suddenly stood up and pushed you back into the locker room, grinning widely as he did. Pushing you down onto one of the benches with a loud thud, he quickly climbed on top of you and aligned his scorching hot hole against your still pulsating monster. “Now stay still, big boy. I’ve been yearning for your “Star Piercer” all day, and I only have half an hour left before my next class. You’re gonna let me milk you dry before then…”

You could only howl and moan in pure pleasure as Jack sat himself down, forcing you deeper and harder into him than you could ever imagine. You never would’ve thought of him as a power bottom, but you’re so glad for it…

An undefined time passed before the locker room door opened and you both peered outside, making sure no one was in sight. You and Jack quickly walked out, acting as if nothing had happened. He suddenly pulled your neck down and gave you a sloppy kiss on the lips, before whispering deeply into your ear. “I love you, my big boy. You know I can’t wait for the weekend.” Jack beamed with joy, as he turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

You were still reeling from the afterglow of the entire encounter. You never expected that you would experience six orgasms within half an hour, and yet that was the reality. A reality given to you thanks to a small ring sitting on your finger. Just a few hours ago you were a nobody, always fantasizing and lusting after the jocks within your life. Now, you were Shawn, the star quarterback, destined to a life of success, with a rich and influential boyfriend to boot. A new body, a new identity, a new life, and a new love. The very thought made you chub up all over again, leaving you walking down the hallway while constantly adjusting your enormous crotch…

Epilogue

A few months had passed since the day you became Shawn and claimed Jack as yours. You were truly living the perfect jock life, with a successful career and loving boyfriend. Everyday you’d still find yourself amazed over the athletic prowess and sports experience your new body had. The feeling of blazing across the football field was exhilarating, and every goal you landed made you feel more and more proud over who you were and what you would become. You were Shawn, the Starchild, and you were planning on staying that way forever.

You and Jack were still deeply in love. There wasn’t a single day when you didn’t long to plow that plump athletic ass of his, and he desperately yearned for your creamy “Star Seed”. It also didn’t take long for you two to finally decide to come out. Though the other jocks were shocked initially, surprisingly many were very accepting of your new sexuality. Not that they had much of a choice anyways. It was either accept it, suddenly turn gay the day after… or be completely replaced. One prime example being Shawn’s dad, a former college jock turned body-builder, who refused to accept his son’s newfound sexuality. Everyone was surprised when the middle-aged man suddenly started talking and acting like one of the college’s openly-gay twink, who had suddenly disappeared the day before…

In the end, you had completely rebuilt the dynamics of the college and town. You had united the different groups of jocks, made your town one of the most gay-friendly neighborhoods, and had Jack and his powerful family spread their influence all over the world. Although you weren’t interested in world domination, with the ring on your finger nothing was impossible.

For now, you were living the life you had always dreamed of, and you were loving every single second of it. You truly believed it would never end.

That is, until a few months later when the old coach finally decided to retire. A younger, more experienced, and quite famous football coach was to replace him. You wouldn’t think much of it then, but you had no idea about the vendetta he carried against the former Shawn, nor that he had a special ring of his own…

For the next few months, the perfect life you had built up would be completely turned upside down...

To Be Continued...

Merry late Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! Hope you enjoyed this present I prepared to end this year with! For those that wonder, I'm doing well health-wise and I just recently got a new job. The future is still somewhat uncertain, so we'll see how much time and energy I'll actually have for writing. Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to another year of great TF stories! /Verus

#possession #mind control #reprogramming #jock #sports #identity theft #revenge #selflove #bodyswap #magic

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