tyr is kinda hot I’m ngl like that scene where he stands up to Kratos and shows how really tall he is like the height difference? 😮💨 and the way he walks and the STRENGTH on him likeee the way he just pulled that thing down ✋🏾✋🏾 I love me a big stronk man and tyr fits exactly that
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Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god chubby Eddie chubby Eddie chubby Eddie chubby Eddie chubby Eddie chubby Eddie Meda I would literally sell u my soul for more chubby Eddie
Fun fact: the Eddie in my mind is just always chubby? Like it’s just how I’ve always visualized his character? But maybe when I’m feeling a little better, I’ll think about giving like a full headcanons list for chubby!Eddie lol
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Clark is taking Kon and Jon out for a classic, super-style bonding flight. Just a quick jaunt around the US and back!
They don’t get far. Somewhere in Illinois airpace, they run across another family.
The three (a hulking man, a snarky teenage boy, and a cackling youngest girl, each a grayscale blur in the blue, blue sky) throw neon-lit beams of energy at one another, quips and insults flying almost as fast as they do. It looks like training. It looks like fun!
The boy of them looks like a younger version of the man. Exactly like, even. Clark is familiar with clones.
The youngest, a girl, looks like both of them, but not quite. Perhaps she will, age sharpening her childish features, but it’s hard to say. More likely, she’s the man’s daughter.
Interested, Clark introduces himself to Dan. He seems to be a hero in his own right, even if Superman’s yet to see him in action. And it’s not often Clark sees a family so like his own!
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"Urph...oof, maybe that was too many."
He looked down at the tiny he had pressed into his stomach, listening to and feeling the squirms and protests of their friends that came before them. He didn't intend on indulging as much as he had- just one treat after a long day of work would've normally sufficed, but he just so happened to come across a morsel with friends, and...
His stomach at least was quite pleased with the arrangement. His fitted suit however, was not. It was tight around his full belly, buttons straining to stay together while his snacks squirmed unhappily inside. It was more of a meal at this point, but they tasted so good...
Stifling another quiet burp, he studied the anxious tiny under his hand. "Maybe one more...it'd be a crime to waste something so delicious. Don't worry! You'll be meeting back up with your friends real soon!"
Before they could react he lifted them up and shoved them in their mouth. He didn't spend as much time with tasting them as the others- there was no need to tease the last one left! He tilted his head back, pulling his collar back as he gulped them down and sighed. His stomach gurgled contentedly as it accepted another tiny, and his hands immediately moved to it to massage it. If they kept squirming like that he'd feel sore...but for now, the bliss of feeling full was worth it.
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Please, dearest parental figure, can we get a snippet of moon and soap after she has decided to come plop in his lap? I love the feral cat metaphor so much.
(Totally don’t have to if you’re not in the mood for it of course)
Yeah let's do some Soap POV cuz I love writing for the boys.
The living room is dim save for the flickering light from the television. Soap leans against the arm of the couch to avoid getting caught in the lovey dovey vibes emanating from the other side of the couch. Ghost takes up enough space on his own without Goose cuddled up next to him. If he cranes his neck he can see you popping popcorn in the kitchen, you lean against the counter in a way he thinks might be unbecoming of someone pretending to be a nun. It's more interesting than the movie anyway. He watches you with his hand against his cheek, and wonders if you're ever going to get it through your head that he's serious about you.
For fuck's sake there's only so much room a man can leave for Jesus before he starts assuming you don't want anything to do with him. Or, nothing with any feeling to it. It's all good fun sneaking around but at some point a fella has to wonder if you're just in it for that, fun.
You're so pretty. You're so damn pretty. Fearless, stubborn, always thinking you know best and so fucking- God. He must be crazy to love you like this. You certainly aren't as consumed by it all as he is. Prickly little- You take the bag from the microwave and dump it in the previously full bowl, stealing a few pieces for yourself. Soap doesn't bother to hide his staring when you catch his eye, he smiles, and watches your expression soften a little before you can catch it.
You make your way back to the living room and hold the bowl out to Goose, who takes it graciously, never taking her eyes off the movie as she grabs a handful of popcorn. Soap assumes you'll take your seat in the armchair again, cozy yourself up with one of the blankets. Maybe you'll even fall asleep, then he could have a reason to ask you to stay the night.
The wheels are turning in his brain, churning out plans and casual asks, when you sit on his lap. Every muscle in his body tenses, too afraid you'll move to even breathe. Move you do, settling a hand on his knee to find a comfortable spot and driving an anxious affectionate stake even further into his heart. You mumble something and start to stand again, Soap can't let that happen.
It's a gamble pulling you to lean back against his chest, spreading his legs a little wider to give you room as you tense under his hold. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Goose move her legs over Ghost's lap, his hand holding the outside of her thigh to give more room. Damn good friends, Soap thinks to himself. You're another issue, settled in his lap, legs neatly between his, and still as tense as a man waiting to be executed.
"Sorry, I'm not," you mumble, a hand on his thigh, a threat that you might try to get up again, "I'm not good at this sort of thing."
"Couldn't give a rat's ass," Soap tells you, quiet as he can manage. He can't make you relax but he can certainly make you more comfortable. He can settle your head against his shoulder, box you a little closer to the arm of the couch, rest his hand on your knee and rub his thumb against the cotton of your pants until you go boneless against him with a soft sigh. You certainly don't feel bad at this, whatever this is. Cuddling, God you're so- Overthinker, he's adding it to the list. Fearless, stubborn, smart-ass, overthinker.
You press your face a little closer to his neck, grip his shirt between your fingers. Cuddly little thing. Soap turns the kiss your forehead, wraps his arm around your shoulders instead of just letting you rest against it. Just like that, he thinks, isn't that nice? All cuddled up like a proper sweetheart.
Just for him. You don't have to be sweet for anyone else, and he sure as hell isn't going to ask you to be. But maybe once in a while you can be sweet for him.
You pull back and Soap's arms tense around you before he feels you touch his jaw. Gentle fingers that draw his attention down so you can kiss him, soft and slow. Christ if he could marry you on the spot he would. Goose can notarize, Ghost can witness, all he needs is a priest. Where the hell is Gaz when he needs him?
"Comfortable?" He asks when you pull away and tuck your head under his chin.
"No." You don't make a move to leave his lap, but Soap didn't think you would. Getting a proper yes out of you is like pulling teeth. He doesn't mind though. You're cute when you try to lie to him.
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