#bad boy/nerd

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 1:

Yandere Bully Forces Nerdy You to be His

[I hope you all enjoy my first semi-series on here!]

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Everyone at your high school knew that it was best to avoid Blake.

The upperclassman was a bully, plain and simple. He had a habit of beating people down if they dared get in his way, or even if they just looked at him in a manner he didn't appreciate.

You were on the complete opposite of the spectrum: a grade-A nerd. You were a goody two-shoes to boot, always volunteering after school and helping your fellow classmates study whenever they struggled with a subject. The captain of the Mathletes team and one of the star columnists in the school newspaper, you were the epitome of nerd.

However, even with your good nature, you avoided Blake as best as you could, fearful that you'd face his wrath and have him beat your face into a pulp. You'd heard the stories, and you'd seen enough teen movies to know that bullies and nerds do not mix, at all.

Unfortunately, one Friday morning, you walked out of the front door to your house to head towards the bus stop-- but you immediately froze when Blake was in your driveway, leaning casually against his car.

"Bl-Blake?" you coughed out in surprise. "What are you doing--"

Blake just grunted and opened up the passenger side door, gesturing at it. When you didn't make a move, his frown deepened on his face.

"Get in!" he barked, the forcefulness of his deep voice making you jump.

Afraid of making the bully even angrier, you scurried over towards the car and practically leapt inside. "Um, wh-where are we going?" you trembled as soon as Blake got in and started to drive off down the street.

Blake cocked his eyebrow at you in confusion. "School," he scoffed, as if it should've been obvious.

You wanted to ask why the school bully was driving you to school, but you were too concerned with how he placed his arm over your small shoulders in the tight confines of the car.

You were stunned silent at first, but then something popped into your head that you couldn't ignore.

"How did you know where I live?" you asked Blake, your voice small and barely audible over the loud music playing over the speakers.

"Huh?" Blake asked, turning the volume down a bit before shaking his head. "Don't worry about it."

"B-but..."

Blake turned the volume back up, effectively silencing you. You kept your lips pursed for the rest of the drive to school, anxiety seeping out of your every pore. When Blake finally parked in the parking lot, you thought about bolting as fast as you could, but your legs were like jelly.

You nearly crawled out of the car and cautiously began to walk towards the entrance when a tight visegrip swallowed your hand.

Blake interlocked his fingers with yours, giving you a sneer when you attempted to pull away. He was much stronger than you, and when you kept trying, he leaned down closer to your ear.

Thanks to his proximity, a lot of the other students began to gawk at the two of you, their eyes widening and many of them murmuring to another as they saw the school bully holding hands with the nerdiest person in class.

"You're smart," Blake smirked as he whispered in your ear, "so I need you to comprehend this: You're mine."

A cold shiver traveled down your spine, and you tried to pull away once more; but Blake was much stronger than you, and he gave you a rough tug, making you topple into him.

"That's one," Blake sneered, even holding up one of his fingers to count. "When I get to three, I'll have to punish you. So make sure you behave and be my sweet little angel, got it?"

Swallowing hard, you nodded, fearful of what was in store for you.

To be continued...

[ravelqueen]

People saying that Aziraphale is into bad boys and Crowley is into good boys actually have it the wrong way around! You guys are just getting distracted by the Aesthetic!

Proof: Crowley got interested in Aziraphale when he started acting a bit bad aka unangelically while Aziraphale meanwhile has heart eyes every time Crowley does something Kind (tm).

Q.e.d.

[molinaesque]

Astarion: I think he likes us. Tav: I like him, too. But I'd never say it to his smarmy face. Raphael has a crush on Tav and tries real hard to act cool about it.

[gayromancelovers]

Dirty Love by Bethany Winters

Dirty Love by Bethany Winters

Title:Dirty Love                  Word Count:223 pgsGenre: Dark High School Gay Romance Blurb:In a small town like ours, you’re either straight or you keep your mouth shut. Being gay would be dirty. Touching the guy who’s been your little brother since you were three would be dirty. Falling in love with him would be even worse. I protect him because it’s my job. I resist him because…

[koriand3r]

Willow | Spike - Clothing

“Why are you still in costume?” “Okay, still having to explain wherein this is just my outfit.”

[haanahaki]

Would these technically be rare pairs?? Anyways, more Noah ship art !

[57sfinest]

also yall we need to step back from the harryvision and understand that kim, at his core, is a loser (affectionate) like everyone else. so much out there wants to portray him as limitless patience, great cook, super organized, good handwriting, nice tasteful living quarters etc and that's fun to contrast him to harry but well i am here to RUIN that we need to take off the du bois glasses and appreciate kim for the weirdguy that he is. he has horrific fits of road rage and harry genuinely fears for his life riding along with him and witnessing the generational curses this man is capable of unleashing upon the stupid little fucks that cut him off on the 8/81. he has never had the time or space or budget to learn to cook so he lives off deli sandwiches and butter noodles and the occasional grab-and-go fruit. he writes so much so frequently with such awful handwriting that he has invented a new form of shorthand and the moralintern is contacting him to create a cipher system for them. he has no resources to furnish and maintain a nice flat so it's like a slightly gentrified r/malelivingspace but with a table for his sewing machine and there's scrap fabric and thread and half-pinned half-hemmed pants strewn about the place. there are absolutely a bunch of shitty mockups of his old wirral character in the backs of his notebooks and he hasn't played it in years but if he ever picks it back up then his minmax high int high dex definitely-not-a-self-insert sidhe artificer is READY. everyone add your weirdguy kim thoughts NOW 👇

[shakingparadigm]

hey guys do we fw ivan till luka and hyunwoo in a boy idol unit

[idesofrevolution]

My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 2:

Yandere Bully Gives You Rules to Follow

Part 1

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Blake, the school bully who often elicited terrified looks and sent people scurrying to safety, had for some reason claimed you as his.

"You're mine."

That phrase that Blake had growled to you kept replaying in your addled brain over and over.

You didn't exactly know what that meant. However, given your status as the school's resident nerd, you figured that you were meant to be his sole victim for relentless teasing and harassment.

Yet, there you were: Your hand trapped in a deathgrip from none other than Blake.

The rest of the student body cast disbelieving glances towards the two of you, many of them dropping their jaws in shock at the sight of the terrifying bully and the school nerd walking hand-in-hand.

"The fuck are you lookin' at?" Blake spat at some of them, momentarily letting go of your hand as he did so-- only to wrap a possessive, heavy arm around your shoulders.

The terrified glances from the fearful students flickered from Blake to you before diverting altogether.

Your face burned bright hot and the tiny voice in the back of your head told you to run as fast as you could. You totally would've too, had you not been trapped in the hold of the school bully.

You were too busy panicking on the inside to notice when Blake stopped at your locker, did your combo to unlock it, snatched your Pre-Cal textbook out of it (your first class), and led you towards class.

"Wait," you gasped when you finally put two and two together, "how did you know my--?"

"Give me your phone," Blake grunted as soon as the two of you were at your first period class. He stopped right near the door where the rest of the class could easily see you (and quite a few of the nosey ones were gawking), holding out his free hand expectantly.

Oh! This must've been it.

All Blake had really wanted was your phone.

You mentally berated him for being so weird and cryptic if all he'd wanted was a free phone; but you figured that going without a phone for a bit was leagues better than dealing with the school bully twenty-four/seven; hence, you practically thrusted it at the guy.

Blake ignored your eagerness, still keeping one arm secured around you, trapping you tightly against him. You could smell his body spray permeating your senses and the heat from his larger body was overbearing. In fact, thanks to the unwanted proximity, you could clearly see how Blake towered over you and just how muscled he was-- he could easily manhandle you all day if he wanted (and he seemed to REALLY want to lately).

Blake somehow knew your passcode (1-2-3-4) and began to mess around with your phone using his free hand. Seconds later, he handed it back to you.

Before you could ask what was up, Blake quickly leaned down and--

Out of instinct, you jerked back.

Blake frowned and pursed his lips into a thin line. "That's two," he huffed. "I'll be here when class gets out."

"Wh-why?" you couldn't help but ask.

Blake rolled his eyes at you. "So I can walk you to your next class," he grunted, again making it sound like it was obvious. "I'll see you soon, my angel."

With that, Blake gave you a gentle push towards the classroom as he disappeared among the crowd in the hallway.

Throughout class, you struggled to concentrate on the lecture. The whole time, your thoughts kept drifting back to the scary bully who wouldn't leave you alone. Plus, you were hyperaware of the all of the stares from the other students, hearing murmurings involving Blake and you.

Midway through class, your phone vibrated and you glanced at the notifications to see a rather long text from Blake:

My Angel, here's a set of rules that I expect you to follow:

You belong to me and only me

No talking to any other boys

I will drive you to and from school

I will escort you between classes

You will call me every night no later than 9 PM so I can say "Goodnight"

Every weekend you will stay over at my place

I get to hold you whenever I want

You better tell me if someone bothers you or tries to take you away from me so I can have a "chat" with them

I get at least one kiss per day

Tonight I want you to start calling me "Daddy"

Follow these rules and I promise that I will take good care of you.

But disobey these rules and I will punish you. And you're already at two out of three.

See you soon.

Love you.

The blood drained from your face as you read and re-read the text from Blake.

This had to be some sort of sick joke. The school bully had legit just said that he loved you over text. He was lying... right?

Images of his past victims flashing into your mind: black eyes, people getting the crap beat out of them, relentless tormenting, threats of violence and bodily harm-- just hearing the name "Blake" was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Yet, when you really thought about it, Blake never had bullied YOU specifically...

Your phone buzzed again with another notification, this one with an icon that you didn't recognize:

YAN-Tracker: The location tracking app that let's you keep an eye on those most precious to you...

A tracking app?!

That's what Blake had been doing on your phone, downloading some sort of tracking app?

Instinctively, you went to uninstall it, but as soon as you tried, a notification box popped up, requesting a passcode.

You tried to enter in yours, only to be dismayed that it wasn't the correct one.

Your heart raced in your chest as you mulled over all that had happened recently-- all of the signs pointing to a horrifying realization:

Blake, the school bully, wanted you. And he wanted you badly.

Without another word, you quietly got out of your desk (leaving your phone behind), and tip-toed out of class, praying that Blake wouldn't see you making your escape...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

P.S. the following have requested that I tag them in this update as of the posting of this! Thank you very much for reading and I hope you all enjoy this part! @eoryn-shit @paninibit @evan-trand @psychicglitterdetective @springkuinn @vinivave

[totalswagisland]

gwen duncan and harold

[disastertwins9000]

@toraisidora yes :3

[bibiwrld]

Nerdy loser Anakin Skywalker!— Turned Bad Boy!

Pairing: Nerdy loser Anakin! x Black fem oc!

Author’s note: I honestly thought this was a cute and funny idea. Kinda short, but I’m thinking of a part 2, idk.

Bad boy! Bad boy!

Whatcha gonna do?

Can’t run away from ‘em

💋!

They weren’t girlfriend and boyfriend, that’s what they agreed on until Sydnee was ready and he was fine with that. Anakin thought what they had was special and he wouldn’t want to ruin it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when he’d see Sydnee talking to other guys around campus. They didn’t look like Anakin, they looked cooler— wearing fashionable and darker clothes, messy dark hair, piercings, always had a cigarette between their lips and they spoke with such vulgars words.

Was that allowed? Talking to other people?

Even if he wanted to, Anakin couldn’t, no other girl caught his eyes quite like Sydnee did. She was the only one for him.

He paced his living room with his phone to his ear, listening to it ring. “Pick up, pick up—”

“Anakin, it’s late, this better be some type of emergency.” Obi-Wan, his older brother, groaned.

“I-it is!” Anakin interjected, standing in place. “I met a girl.” His voice now a little more hushed.

Obi-Wan almost choked. “A girl?!”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He said with rolled eyes. “I just need..a–a little advice.”

“I’m your older brother, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Do you think girls like edgy bad boys?” He plopped down on his couch.

“Some girls do, yeah. Girls think they’re cooler, more attractive, assertive. They like laid back guys, very nonchalant, guys who just don’t give a shit, y’know?”

Anakin was none of those things.

“I should just fake it, huh?” He adjusted his glasses.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Little did Obi-Wan know what he told his younger brother, was the worst advice ever.

Right after that phone call, Anakin went on a shopping spree. Buying a new wardrobe that consisted of dark tees with cool graphics, dark long sleeved shirts and baggy jeans. He also stopped at Target and bought black and blue hair dye, fake piercings and contact lenses.

He stood in front of his mirror, listening to the audiobook of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, with a patch of blue in his hair.

He couldn’t believe he was going through with this. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling.

His arms grew tired as he dabbed a section of his hair with a hair dye brush coated in black hair dye. He prayed this came out good, finally putting a clear plastic cap on his head.

💋

“I was thinking of hitting up this club tomorrow night, I heard they got male strippers.” Lilian slowly scrolled on her phone giggling.

“Wait for real?” Chloe leaned all the way into Lilian trying to look at her phone. “Oh my God, they’re hot.”

Sydnee didn’t really care to look, she had other things to worry about, like where Anakin was. He didn’t send a good morning text like he usually does every morning, as he’s always up before her, she hasn’t seen him around campus and it usually doesn’t take long for her to see him walking around.

“What’s your problem, Sydnee?” June asked with obvious attitude, chewing her gum obnoxiously as her nails clicked against her phone.

Sydnee doesn’t know why she still hung around this girl, she was so rude and annoying. “I’m just wondering where Anakin is, that’s all.”

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t see him in Physics today.” Chloe rested her chin into her palm, suddenly thinking about Anakin.

“Seriously girl?” June scoffed. “You’re still hung up on that guy? It was one thing to fuck him, but to actually give a shit about him is crazy.”

Sydnee’s fist balled up, slowly turning her head towards the obnoxious snob. Before Sydnee or Chloe could say something in defense of Anakin, Lilian cut them off.

“Is that..is that Anakin?” Her tone was a mix of surprised and a bit of disbelief.

Sydnee quickly turned around, searching the busy cafeteria for the boy with glasses, but she didn’t see him at all. She squinted, then noticed a tall guy in an army green tee, baggy ash jeans, grey converse and black, messy hair, sluggishly walking over to them.

She could only stare in awe, her eyes just following him as he got closer. She noticed he had on black eye shadow, messily smeared on his lids.

He dropped his bag on the floor, sitting beside Sydnee. “Hey doll face.” He removed the cigarette from his lips, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Doll face?” Sydnee silently muttered to herself. He’s never talked like that, ever.

“Sup girls?” He nodded to the 3 girls.

“Uh..hey?” Lilian rose a brow.

“What’s with the look?” Chloe asked.

He focused hard on every word, trying not to stutter.

“Can’t a guy express himself?” He snapped, slouching and spreading his legs.

“I think he looks better this way.” June gave small nods.

Of course she did.

Sydnee rolled her eyes at June, then brought her attention back to Anakin. She reached her hand out to fix his hair . “You have bed head, Ani—”

He corrected her, moving his head so she couldn’t touch it. “Anakin and that’s just how my hair is.”

“Well Anakin, you missed Physics class.” She narrowed her eyes at him, taken back by his actions. “And you didn’t text me, I was worried.” Her voice softened, a pout on her lips.

He took a small drag from his cigarette. “Woke up late.” It took everything in him not to choke.

“You never wake up late.” Her brows furrowed.

“Are you wearing eye makeup?” Chloe leaned over, examining him.

His voice was a bit shaky, trying to maintain that dominant tone. “No…?”

“Okay, liar.” Lilian chuckled.

Sydnee looked him over and over again, noticing every detail about him. She didn’t hate the look, but she was a bit confused.

“What’s with the cigarette? You don’t even smoke cigarettes.” Sydnee felt like she was losing her mind. “And your hair…did you dye this yourself? And when did you get all these piercings?”

Anakin shrugged. “I’ve found myself, y’know?”

Sydnee knew something was up, but she didn’t know what. “Where are your glasses?”

“Don’t need em.” Smoke escaped his pink lips.

“Can you stop with the smoking? We’re indoors.” She screwed up her face.

“Whatever.” He took the cigarette from his lips, smushing it at the heel of shoe, then flicked it off somewhere.

June then jumped in. “Why don’t you stop complaining and appreciate that your boy toy looks hot?”

That was it.

Sydnee grabbed her bag and abruptly stood up. “Go fuck each other.” Looking June and Anakin in the eyes before storming off.

Anakin internally panicked, this wasn’t going how he planned it was.

“What’s her deal?” June screwed up her face.

“You obviously don’t know what the deal is because there is no fucking deal.” He spat before grabbing his bag to chase after Sydnee.

Sydnee hustled down the hall, stepping harshly with arched brows.

“Sydnee!” His voice called out. “Sydnee!”

She rolled her eyes and stopped walking, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “What is it, Anakin?”

“Y-you’re mad.” He frowned, standing in front of her.

“Well duh.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He breathed out. “I thought you’d like m-me..like this.”

“I don’t hate how you look, but the way you’re acting, why would I like that?” She looked away.

“B-Because I saw you talking t-to guys…that l-looked like this.” He breathed out. “I-I thought i-if I–uh— if I looked and acted like them, maybe you’d l-like me more.” He hung his head low.

Her arms gradually unfolded at his confession. “Anakin, what?”

“I-I know, it’s sooo em-embarrassing.” He groaned. “I-I hate cigarettes!” He then tugged off one of the fake earrings. “Th-these aren’t even real!”

Sydnee couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too cute, Anakin.” She cupped his face, bringing it down to hers.

“Call me Ani, plea-please, I like it when you call m-me that.” He nuzzled his face into her hands.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t ever change yourself, I like you just as you are.” She brought her lips to his, tasting the cigarette he smoked, but she didn’t care.

His hands found her waist, bringing her in closer.

The smacking of their lips were the only things heard in the empty halls. She softly tugged on his bottom lip, making him moan out.

“So cute.” She muttered before pulling away. “You do look really hot though.”

“Really?” He beamed.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “How about we go back to your place and fuck with your little bad boy cosplay on, hm?”

He covered his mouth in excitement. “Oh my God, y-you’re so insanely a-attractive.”

She giggled, holding his hand. “Come on, bad boy Anakin.”

💋

[maskyartist]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Clay getting stuck in his own head and thinking he's just hallucinating his brothers and Viva when they come to save him. I could see him even cowering away from them when he is finally freed from his prison, because he's so, so convinced that if he tries to touch one of them, his hand will pass through them like a ghost and he'll be thrown back into the reality of still being trapped and dying all alone in that bottle again.

SORRY I HAD TO POST THIS WITH SOMETHIN ALONGSIDE IT SO HERE HAVE BITTERSWEET-

“♫ Just let me take you to a~ ♫”

“♫ Better place~ ♫”

With one, final, harmonized note, the Diamond containers are filled with one final, bright light before they shatter, leaving each brother freed of their cages. Including the one trapped inside for months, who slowly makes his way to the floor.

Clay is transparent, white and cold, his body drained of talent as he hits the ground. Quickly, he’s surrounded by his brothers, panicked and frantic, and Viva, who holds his face with wide, teary eyes.

“Mr. Clay! I did it! I found your brothers, we can bring you home!” She cries, squeezing his cold cheeks before slipping her hands to one of his paws. “Please! Wake up!”

“Please, Clay…” Floyd pleads, attached to his left side next to Bruce, teary eyed and trying desperately not to let them spill. “I haven’t even gotten to hear you say hello…”

“You know you’re stronger then this, Clay, we all know you are.” Bruce mutters, a quiet anguish on his face.

“I-I built the bunker, Clay! Remember? The doodles?” Branch admits in desperation, reaching for his brother’s side with tears of his own barely held back. “There’s a reading corner, just for you. Plenty of books…”

John Dory has his spot next to Branch, taking his brother’s face in his hands, brows furrowed and mouth wobbly. “Clay…Clay, I’m so sorry. I forced you to be someone you weren’t for so long…” He whispers, gently running a thumb across his brother’s fuzzy cheek. “Please… You have to wake up. I need to make this right. You’re my little brother…I love you…”

And yet, all they’re met with…is silence.

Soul crushing, heart breaking-

“Mm…when’d you get sappy…John Dory?”

“CLAY?!”

“MR. CLAY!”

“You’re okay…! HE’S OKAY!”

As the brothers rush for their missing link, as Viva holds tight to Clay’s empty paw, as Poppy stands next to her boyfriend with tears of her own and a smile on her face, Clay blearily blinks away sleep and exhaustion as he stares up at the blurry faces of his brothers, his Queen…

A hiccup escapes him, before shaky arms cover his eyes. He can’t hear the joyous, slightly worried sounds of his name. Reassurance that they’re here, that his family is here again, that he wont be alone anymore.

If this is another dream, then please…

Please don’t wake him up ever again.

[eamons-redguitar]

i made a silly spoon edit what do yall think

[capriddle]

In fanfiction about Tom Riddle I often see him depicted as the bad boy, whereas from canon I would say he was more of the nerdy boy.