#i hate this stupid fucking league so much

[hockeyandpens]

In case someone didn’t get it: The NHL very obviously rigged the draft lottery so Chicago would get Connor Bedard. Because they are very obviously trying to reignite the franchise after they couldn’t hide Kyle Beach’s sexual assault case any longer. They even went as far as cleaning house (notably: Kane and Toews) to make everyone forget any of it happened.

Now, in no way shape or form is this eighteen year old Connor Bedard’s fault, obviously. But I think it’s important to acknowledge that so far every single move has been calculated and there was no such thing as coincidence or luck playing any part here. The NHL just doesn't give a shit about anything that isn't profit. They have proofed time and time again that protecting their players is not a priority. Never as been, and if a lot of things don't change, it never will be.

After the news about Ottawa today the NHL’s actual priorities were, once again, very well established:

[tagy489]

[schrijverr]

It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

~~

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

[andvenuscried]

nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak

requested by poll!

description box; the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

warning; heavy nsfw warning, mentions of cheating and an affair, porn with a bit of plot, anakin is a total pervert and freakyyyy, smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS A nerd, and it’s by default that he doesn’t associate with ‘your kind’.

the popular kind, the pretty kind.

the ones that run around with the football players, the kind of people that have this certain aura that just makes everyone look at them the second they walk into the room.

most of the popular people at your school were known to be arrogant douchebags, unintelligent jerks and vain bitches who thought they were above everyone else. but not you, though.

you were different. you were popular, really uniquely and breathtakingly beautiful, but your heart and soul were just as pretty as you. you also had a jerk of a boyfriend, and you really sucked at mathematics and physics. but luckily for you, your desk mate anakin skywalker, who also happens to sit next to you in physics classes, knows that. and also happens to be a very valued tutor.

“another D?”

anakin’s gaze is deplorable, his lips are pressed together in a pitiful way.

“yeah,” you wince as you examine the big, red D on your paper, “can’t say i didn’t expect it though. i thought the questions were really easy—maybe that should’ve given it away.”

anakin is hesitant, he doesn’t want to upset you—he knows you’ve been called stupid and dumb plenty of times by teachers, but really, he knows you’re not. really, you excel at subjects like history, english or music, you just… need a little tutoring. but he also knows you’re too prideful for that. you’ve never been bad enough at a subject to need tutoring, but you’ve been consistently getting D’s the whole year and there’s nothing anakin can do.

he would’ve let you copy his answers, but the teachers never look away during exams. he wouldn’t have done for just anyone—he would’ve only done it for you.

you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. you probably don’t remember but about four years ago, maybe a little more, he was getting bullied really bad. and not just by anyone, a guy named dylan. he was your boyfriend at the time. and still is. fucking asshole. anakin hated him passionately.

but you’d broken up with him after you’d caught him throwing punches into anakin’s stomach. you had yelled at him, even slapped him, you had taken anakin by the hand and went to the school nurse with him. and you were so kind to him. so sweet. so nice.

honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he developed a huge crush on you. but he never confessed, he knew you were out of his league, and not his. especially after your (shitty asshole! anakin would treat you so much better) boyfriend dylan had apologised to him and you in a heartbreaking manner through a big gesture, and you had forgiven him.

ever since, dylan and anakin still give each other dirty glances and nasty glares, but he never laid hand on him again.

anakin would like to describe you and him as friends. you talked to each other in every class you had together, especially physics, because you sat next to each other, and you always greeted each other in the hallways.

but you guys have never hung out together and you’ve never been to his place, or he to yours.

“listen, maybe you… maybe i can study with you.” anakin muttered gently, carefully studying your face expressions as he made his suggestion.

your eyebrows formed into a frown, “you think that’ll help?”

anakin nodded, relieved you weren’t taking this as badly as he’d thought you would, “yeah, sure. i’m a tutor, you know? i can explain stuff pretty well.”

“oh, i wouldn’t want to impose—” you’re quick to deny, you hate bothering people.

fuck, you’re the sweetest person there is. truly an angel sent down from heaven. anakin made up his mind, right there. he would do anything to make you his.

“no, you’re not imposing. i want to. i want to do this for you.” he smiled, but seeing your hesitant face, he added, “besides, we’re friends. isn’t that what friends do for each other?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “really? you… you’d do that for me? but i really don’t want to be a bother! you’re so smart and clever, you probably have so many tutees and you’re probably so busy—”

anakin would be replaying those words in his mind tonight. non-stop.

“listen, i really don’t mind. it’ll be like us hanging out. ‘kay? you don’t need to worry about it, i’m happy to be at your service.”

you hesitated for a second. and then you smiled, and anakin knew he’d won. “OK, then. it’ll be like a hangout.”

“it’s settled then,” he smirked at you, “my place? tomorrow afternoon?”

you laugh.

“your place, tomorrow afternoon.”

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO idea how you ended up like this. in his bed. in this position. moaning and whimpering his name.

you were on all fours, legs trembling and quivering, your arms weak and the only thing that was holding you up was anakin’s toned arm, hooked under your waist, holding you up firmly as he thrusted into you.

you had never noticed it before, but his arm… looked so… delicious when it was flexed.

“that feel good, darling?” the smirk in his voice is all too evident, he got off on the way you were so fucking responsive to his every touch.

his hands went from caressing your thighs and kneading your ass to playing with your nipples and tugging back your hair.

“haven’t even begun properly fucking you and you’re already so soaked. does your boyfriend not fuck you, darling?”

your mind is nothing but chaos, and your stomach all fuzzy, and the only thing you can do is whine around his cock, writhing underneath him. you nod, you just nod because your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t kiss your cervix like this, your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t fit into your womb so fucking well, because your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel so, so, so good.

“n-need you to go faster…”

he kisses his teeth with his one, making a quiet ‘tsk’ sound. “that’s not very polite, demanding others like that. what’s happened to your manners, angel?”

he’s fucking you agonisingly and painfully slowly from behind, the question papers he brought and physics notes he made for you, just for you, carelessly scattered in front of you. your hands are gripping them as you moan.

“f-fuck, ani—please just… won’t fuck me faster? can’t… can’t, ‘m not—hah—”

“all right, all right, doll,” he replies to you sweetly, bending over next to your ear, still thrusting into so painfully slowly, “only if you admit that you love me more than your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “b-but—”

“ah-ah. no buts. say it or i won’t let you cum.”

you loved your boyfriend. you did! but anakin just made you feel so, so good…

“love you more than my boyfriend,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in shame.

“‘m sorry, what? i didn’t catch that.” he grinned teasingly.

“ani,” you whine, “don’t be like that.”

he laughs. “all right, all right. cum for me, doll.”

author’s note;

i have never written smut like this before. please have mercy on me 😭😭

[sordidmusings]

Thirsty Thursday with Insecure Buggy

A/N: Yay another Thirsty Thursday lol next I’m gonna be getting out less explicit things but for now have more smut sluts 🖤 thank you to @fanaticsnail for hyping me love you ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), all NSFW, getting down to nonsense on The Clown Throne, chop chop fuckery, praise, dirty talk, thigh riding, handjob, blowjob, face fucking kind of, clothed sex, lots of desperation and neediness, almost sub!Buggy, he gives you many pet names, praising Buggy because he's somewhat convinced you're doing this for the bit

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure, you’d flirted with him often, but he figured you must be doing that with everyone if it was coming his way. He was certain you were out of his league; if your steadfast dedication and addicting personality weren’t enough then looking at you would let anyone know why. He’d seen members of his crew float around you in search of connection so why would you float to him?

“Stop thinking so hard, baby,” you whisper in his ear before going back to sucking on his neck. Your hips continue their steady grinds against the long erection trapped in his pants. Buggy’s head is leaned back and tilted, desperately offering you as much skin as he can to feel more of your kisses blazing across him. The heat of your mouth and tongue radiate out to his whole body, emptying his mind and quickening his heart. He pants, feeling like air wasn’t enough, but he holds back most of his moans, only letting the ones he could force deep in his voice to go by. He doesn’t want to move too much or be too loud for fear that it would startle you out of whatever has gotten into you to make you climb on top of him on his throne. His hips do work with you though; he couldn’t stop himself from grinding back into you if he tried. The warmth and weight of you is better than his private thoughts could conjure and the way your thighs and ass molded to him make him feel like he could properly attach to you and never let go. The thought of being tied together has his fingers digging harder into your thighs and even gets a whinier moan passing his open lips.

“Captain, you sound so good,” you praise him. You’ve long noticed his hesitation and want to unravel him. Pulling back to look at his face, you bat your lashes at him. “Can I have more?”

“Fuck, dollface, you’re gonna make me lose my head,” Buggy groans. Even in his overwhelm he manages to tilt his face down and waggle his brows at the stupid reference to his powers. You give him a huff of a laugh for his efforts, while your hands curl around the fur lining his jacket. You jerk him towards you, stopping him just short of your noses meeting. Letting him wait for a moment, you watch his hooded eyes admire you, looking first into yours before flicking over your face and settling on your lips. His tongue flicks out to wet his own and you dive in to chase it back into his mouth.

Buggy meets you eagerly, vibrating a grumbling moan into you. His hips pick up beneath you while his hands massage up your thighs to begin working into the meat of your hips. Once they’ve properly sunk in, he guides your hips against him in a needy pace, dragging his hardness deliciously against your clothed cunt. He relishes in the pleased sighs and moans he earns from you, each one making his chest flutter and his dick throb. He wants to slow down and keep this going as long as possible but he can’t help himself.

You shift back and to the left, centering your pulsing cunt on top of Buggy’s right thigh. He hates the distance and uses his clinging grip to pull you flush to him. The whole way, delicious pressure licks at your swollen clit. The closeness has his hip bone snuggled up to your mound, feeling divine when grinding lets it offer indirect pressure to your bud. You had wanted to bounce closer to his knee but this is a wonderful substitute, since you’re craving closeness just as much as he is. Buggy continues guiding you against him, pressing his forehead down into your shoulder to keep himself from moving you too quickly.

Your hands slide up and tug his bandana off, releasing his long hair. It feels so nice with your hands fisted into it. At your light tug, Buggy moans loud and long, sounding fucked out without even getting inside you. “Doll, pleaaaaase.” He isn’t even sure what he’s begging for. Wanting to muffle the whiny sounds leaving him, Buggy turns his face to bury it in your neck, working hard to send tingles across your skin and leave you with pretty marks. He knows they’ll look gorgeous under the smears of his makeup.

“Wanna taste you,” you moan to him and his cock throbs hard. He bites out a breathy “fuck” at the idea and bites eagerly at you, but he won’t let you move back. He can’t stand any distance from you at the moment but refuses to voice that. You figure it out, however, when his right hand slides up your spine to keep your chest pressed tight to his. One of your hands leaves his hair to pull at his waistband and shove beneath it. His cock feels hot and wet in your hand, making your head spin at how worked up he is for you - he’s positively dripping.

“You’re fucking perfect, Captain,” you groan, feeling his dick jump at your words. Buggy trembles beneath you, overwhelmed at your touch and the euphoria of hearing you praise him. He’d rarely let himself enjoy cumming to the fantasy of you calling him pretty things; he found that it made a lonely ache settle in his heart once the burning joy drained out of his chest, leaving him alongside the delusions of your affection. But you’re real now, fulfilling his wishes and why?

“Don’t taunt me,” Buggy grumbles, some actual anger creeping into his tone.

“I’m not,” you respond incredulously.

“I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea,” he grouses, slowing his movements in his souring mindset. His body at least is still as eager; his cock stays just as rock hard in your hand. You keep up your slow pumping and turn to trail sweet kisses across his shoulder and up his neck. The flowing strands of his hair that spill everywhere feel just as soft against your lips as they do on your fingertips. You reach his ear, which peaks out between the blue rivers of his hair.

“Well you’re my cup of tea, and if I had my way you’d just be mine,” you whisper, tickling his ear with your hot breath. Buggy ramps up the circling of your hips again, moaning prettily for you.

“Don’t say that,” he whines. His eyes are scrunched shut, protecting himself from the temptation of your words and how quickly your touch is beginning to send him to his end.

“Fine. Then I’ll say this.” You pull a shiver from him by nipping his ear earlobe. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes and the most handsome face I’ve ever seen,” you begin, moving your hand lower to fondle his heavy balls. He shifts his thighs wider to beg for more. “It’s like your jaw was cut from marble and that stubble is so fucking hot.” You use the hand in his hair to pull his head up and rub your cheek into the scratch of his dark blue facial hair. “I’ve been dying to see what you look like under your clothes; watching those muscles of yours in your arms work is enough to get me daydreaming.” Buggy thinks that sounds great; he’s feeling way too hot for all the layers on his body. “Even more than that, I need to touch you.” You slide your grip back up to give him a squeeze and thumb at the head of his cock. “I’ve thought about it every day - thought about you making me yours.”

“Shut up,” Buggy begs weakly, his body and mind burning uncontrollably for you.

“Detach this,” you order, squeezing his cock again. Buggy obeys without thought, head too busy drowning in your praises. You pull him from his trousers with ease, since he only detached his actual penis, and bring it up to your lips. You place a loving kiss on his frenulum before flicking your tongue on it playfully. Buggy jolts back to look at you with foggy eyes. His swollen lips look so pretty, hanging open to pant and highlighted by all that red paint. You won’t tell him because you know how sensitive he is, but his red nose matching his red lips looks beautiful and makes all the blue in his eyes, makeup, and hair even more handsome.

Buggy’s eyes are glued to you to watch his tip disappear into your mouth right next to his face. His eyes flutter with the want to roll back but he stubbornly keeps them on you, needing to absorb this in his memory. You’re inching him in slowly, letting him catch every detail of the act that was making him feel so fucking good. The swirl of your tongue against him makes his eyes shut a few moments before blinking open again. High moans struggle out of him with his breath and his brow creases above his glossy eyes. When the tip reaches the back of your mouth, you give a firm suck around him. He groans and stutters the pace of your hips, fingers twitching against you.

You pull him back out of your mouth and loll your tongue out to lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock. Continuing to put on a show, you sweep the tip of your tongue around his head before licking your lips and swallowing heavily. You get a show in return, watching pleasure and need play out clearly on his flushed face.

“Oh shit, sugar, you’re so fucking good for me,” Buggy moans. You sink him all the way into your mouth again for his hungry gaze. His voice turns reverent as he watches you. “My doll -hah- my spotlight.” Fuck, that sent you clenching. You grind your hips down into him harder while you pull him back out to suckle at his head. His warmth is still seeping right into your hips and thighs even through his leather pants and your shorts, the seam of which was pulling tight and teasing at you perfectly. You were beginning to struggle with thrusting Buggy into your mouth while he turns your mind to mush with the way his death grip is grinding you onto him. You get an idea for a solution and a shiver crawls up your spine in anticipation.

“Fuck me, Buggy,” you plead on a whisper before sliding him back past your lips. Buggy throws his head back, clunking it into the wood of his seat, and gasps out a “yes”. His dick begins moving on its own, tentatively grinding against your tongue first to get you used to it. Slowly, his shallow movements gain more length but keep their indulgently slow pace. Once he’s approaching your throat on the push in, you ease your head backwards to line him up. Buggy pants out curses at your willingness to be used and to please him, swearing to himself that he’ll pay you back ten times over for doing this for him.

The rest of his thoughts leave him when he slides his dick lower to stretch out the entrance of your throat. You are in a similar state, struck with the heady feeling of him using you in such a sinful way. It’s deliciously overwhelming in conjunction with the buzzing shooting through you from rubbing your pussy across his leg. A loud moan shakes through your throat, into his head, up his shaft and Buggy loses any ability to hold back.

He curls into you, burying his face into your shoulder and neck, moaning and whining against you. The hand at your back is clawing and tugging at you, desperate to keep you as close as possible, while the one on your hip continues encouraging your heavy grinds into his thick thigh. The muscle keeps tensing against your drooling pussy, helping to increase the friction. The seat underneath you both groans at your growing motions but you ignore it as easily as you ignore the armrests digging into your knees. Buggy is the only thing on your mind - the push and pull of his grasp, the overwhelmed sounds spilling from his lips, the pressure of his thigh sparking pleasure through you, and the thick cock fucking your breath out of you. The need to breathe through your nose causes you to take in lungfuls of his musk and shampoo and salty air. 

“My sweet -nngh- sweet star, you feel so -hahn- good taking me like that,” Buggy pants, painting your neck with humid breath. He’s losing himself to the sloppy sounds of his dick fucking your mouth and the fervent vibrating moans you use to sing out how good he’s making you feel. “Need to slow down or -aaaahh- you’re gonna make me cum too soon-Fuck!” You had forced the curse from him by groaning even louder to the thought of him cumming.

Keeping his arm around you, Buggy detaches his hand to sneak it into the front of your shorts. His eyes roll back when he feels how wet you are; enough that your grinding already smeared it up and over your clit. “You’re so damn perfect, sweetness, can’t -nnngah- believe you’re here riding my thigh,” he moans. He begins sliding shapes over your swollen bud, needing you to be as close as he is. His words and ministrations have you sobbing around the slow thrusts of his cock. Despite your efforts to swallow your spit around him, a thin line of drool has begun to creep from the corner of your mouth and down your cheek. 

Buggy’s fingertips are trapped tight to you from your clothes and his thigh, his hip also keeping his hand curled firmly against your mound. Hot, syrupy pleasure is swirling through your clenching walls and thrumming strongly behind your clit. Your struggling breath keeps your mind scattered and hazy and sets tingles alight in your hands and feet. Each drumming beat of your heart highlights the promise of bliss tearing through your body.

“Need you to cum for me, dollface,” Buggy rushes out, “Ple-hease -hnnggaahhh- can you do that? -hhah- For me?”

Becoming overwhelmed with the pressure pounding between your hips, you twist your fist tighter into his thick hair, getting a heavy groan from him. Clumsy and frantic, your right hand moves back into his pants and cups his balls, earning a jerk of his hips - a bright shock to your clit.

“Fuck, doll! Don’t stop, don’t stop-”

Your hips are shaking in his grasp, adding jolts of extra friction on top of your steady bounces and his consistent swirling fingers. Buggy’s hips move to match the thrusts of his cock, massaging his tightening balls into your hand. His babbling gets higher and less and less coherent, matching the desperate way his dick twitches and throbs in your mouth. He’s gotten sloppy there, getting you to gag occasionally around his length when he accidentally shoves a little too deep or off rhythm. It gets you even dizzier and closer, feeling messy and animalistic in this rabid chase for each other’s climax.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, shit -nhah!- please I-” He’s already over the edge, pressing too deep into your throat and spurting hot cum for you to swallow. You would have choked if you didn’t catch your orgasm right with him, relaxing your throat and letting you swallow mindlessly. Both of you shook and clung to each other through the ride, hearts pumping scorching heat through your bodies. You can feel each of his breaths cramming his chest into yours and causing your breasts to rub against him. The tingling from your nipples was swept right into the whirlpool moving through you. 

Still pumping cum, Buggy pulls his cock back to rest the head on your tongue, which starts massaging at him, seeking more twitches and more to drink. Buggy is crying curses into your neck, well into the realm of ‘too much’ but adoring the way he feels like you’ve pulled him apart at the seams, coaxing the longest orgasm he’s known from him in throbs that just keep coming and coming and coming. You’re doing no better, marveling at the endless waves that seize your muscles and have colors dancing behind your scrunched eyelids. The flood of your orgasm slams through your whole body, saturating every nerve, before the receding tides are dragging and pulling at your trembling limbs.

In the wake of your pleasure, both of you are left to slump against each other, panting loudly. Buggy’s hand moves back to the arm held around you and joins the hand on your hip in the act of trailing soothing fingertips across your overworked muscles. You begin peppering happy kisses on Buggy’s shoulder, managing more and more as your breathing settles. You’re overcome with the need to smother him in affection, shimmying yourself to be centered on his lap and hugging him tight, snuggling your cheek into the crook of his neck. You card your fingers through his soft hair and scratch gently at his tender scalp. A rumbling moan leaves him at the feeling, and you giggle lightly at how much it reminds you of a purring cat.

“Can I-” You cut yourself off, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. Buggy hums and tilts his head against yours to prompt you to continue. “Can I sit with you here awhile?”

Buggy’s heart is fluttering at your words, making him fully lovesick in the swirl of endorphins. You thought he’d just want to fuck you and send you away? He can’t be fucked to guess at why you’ve chosen him at the moment, not after all that. He’s just going to do his damnedest to make the choice worth your while.

“Spotlight, pumpkin,” Buggy breathes, “you’re never leaving my side.”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

I had to add this at the end because it just fits too fucking well 💀💀💀

[ktsumu]

FIFTH TIME’S A CHARM

cw: suggestive content, nudity happy valentine's day ᡣ𐭩

This year, for the first time ever, Tooru doesn’t buy flowers for his valentine. You are the only witness to the crime.

His first girlfriend, back in junior high, got roses. She got him roses, too, with a chocolate bar he ended up giving to his sweet tooth sister. They were real, shockingly, smelt good too.

They were discounted, and it’s a basic gift, but he was twelve and had only been seeing her for three weeks.

(And they broke up two weeks later, so he has no regrets about the roses that cost his mom less than fifteen bucks.)

The second girlfriend was a little more serious.

Tooru thinks he might’ve been fourteen for that one. He liked her—she was kind, pretty, had a nice laugh. He remembers holding hands in the hallway at school and their first kiss (well, peck) was surrounded by a bunch of classmates, screaming like it mattered more to them than it did to him.

He forgets how long they lasted, but he’s sure they started dating in November and made it to Valentine’s Day. He bought her tulips, her favourite, and a stuffed bear, because it was right beside it in the store. With his own money, too. 

His second girlfriend—he really, really feels bad about not knowing her name anymore—got him chocolate. He gave it to his sister again, but he kept the card she wrote him, saying she loved him three months in like either of them knew what that meant.

And to be fair, he said he loved her, too. Just not to her face. Many, many times to Hajime, though.

Tooru and Girlfriend #2 broke up in May. He wasn’t even planning on it, either. She just moved to a different country and he wasn’t looking for a penpal, and she said she didn’t wanna cheat on him.

The third girlfriend is where his small list gets serious.

He gave romance a break after the one that got away. He just flirted with people up until his first year of high school, the big leagues, which is when he actually got too much attention.

It’s a huge deal when you’re sixteen and your girlfriend is seventeen. He was crowned royalty of his class, the chosen one. The only one that could possibly score an older girl and act like it’s no big deal, and then proceed to blow her off to watch a game taping or something. On top of the world, and yet so below the standard.

She was pretty good to him. Makki always said he was a moron and she was gonna dump his ass, and Tooru probably knew that, too. Hajime said he was wasting his time, and every time he’d deny it, he’d think about how right he was.

He and the third girlfriend—Hana, he remembers—had one Valentine’s Day together, but it was so close to two that he almost wants to count it as such for the hell of it.

He got her wildflowers because she always said she hated roses and tulips. Basic flowers mean they don’t care, or something like that. He didn’t understand it fully, but he was happy when she leapt into his arms, that was for sure. It felt pretty good when she kissed him stupid and said he was the best, but that high didn’t survive the Spring Tournament the next year. 

That’s how close he was to two Valentine’s Days—January. Fucking brutal.

She dumped him and he swore off girlfriends in senior year; probably even blamed it on something stupid like ‘bad omens.’ He graduated with D1 offers, though, so he counts it as a win.

That tallies up to three successful Valentine’s Days, so far right? Yeah, right—all with flowers. 

The fourth bouquet wasn’t a bouquet at all, it was actually orchids in a pot, left on the kitchen table of the apartment he lived in when he moved. He was twenty, her name was Riko, his first almost everything. First I love you, first time—name it, basically.

He did make it to two Valentine’s Days with Riko, which is something so impressive for him that confetti emojis were everywhere in the groupchat he kept with his friends from high school. Hearts, confetti, eggplants, whatever else.

The first one was admittedly better than the second, though. The second one, he got a really serious offer overseas, and he didn’t even ask about it. He just told her that he loved her, and that he’d be in Argentina by August.

(Safe to say that he was the only one packing for that.)

That was the last time he bought flowers on Valentine’s Day, because it was the last time he consciously celebrated with someone. He sent his friends funny clips or pictures just to tease, taunted them whenever they could keep a girlfriend to celebrate with, but he gave up himself.

(It’s just so much easier to relax—he’d have no problem getting a girlfriend if he wanted one. His issue is keeping them.)

He’s twenty-seven and solo.

Mostly solo, he should say. You come around a lot, stay the nights with him. You typically collect your clothes and leave the next morning with a wave and maybe a ‘text me if you wanna do this again Friday,’ but he hates how he’s lying when he grins and says he just might.

Tooru is so used to being the one to leave, or to sabotage himself until someone else does, that he’s forgotten that it actually sucks when you don’t wanna be left alone.

The whole point of you and him is to keep it casual, but Tooru can barely keep it cool.

He likes to consider himself experienced. It’s why he gets so fucked up when he kisses you for longer than he realizes, or how he finds himself holding back words he thinks might be too much for casual sex. 

You two are functional together, at least. He just puts the system at risk a lot.

When he wakes up today, February fourteenth, he doesn’t even know what day it is. He’s naked, in his own bed at the very least, and he can see his jeans on the floor through the light of the bathroom dripping through the door left open. Dawn peeks through the curtains.

The room is quiet, the window’s open so the birds can talk to him, and to his left, you’re still here. 

“Hey,” he says, yawning.

“Good morning,” you say back, a small smile on your face as you stretch. He can’t help but smile back, with his grin and smile lines, eyes drifting to the hem of the sheets that try and cover you up. Okay, naked too. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Woah.

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he replies in a hurry, leaning up on his elbow as he grabs his phone. Yes, very much so.

You raise your brows. “What? Got a wife you forgot about?”

“Very funny.”

“I know, I’ve been waiting,” you say. It’s your turn to yawn now, moving to lay your head on his chest, hand pushing him back down into the bed. “What’s the panic, then?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just … forgot. It's weird.”

“Hm. So where are my roses, huh?”

Tooru scoffs, glancing down at you as he rests a hand on your waist. “They’re being delivered, obviously.”

“I figured.” You cock your head. “What’s up with Valentine’s Day, huh?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never not gotten flowers for someone when I’ve had them.”

“Are you talking about me?”

“What, I can’t get friendly flowers?” he asks, raised brows and attitude waking up with him. “You’re naked in my bed, that must constitute something.”

The way you pout your lip in thought makes him wanna reach out for your hand. Is it weird to do that? Can I do that? 

(You do it first, but he holds you tighter.)

“No, this is fine.”

“Fine?”

“Better,” you quickly correct. “I’d rather just stay in bed and say it once. I prefer acts of service, anyway.”

Looking at you, laying on his bare chest, the sun creeping in over yours, he doesn’t care all that much about how he’s breaking tradition anymore. Maybe it’s not even tradition, maybe it’s just a cycle he’s breaking; a vicious one, at that.

You’re an unconventional valentine in the sense that you’re not even his, but maybe when the day’s passed and he doesn’t feel it looming over him, he might bring it up again.

“Acts of service, you say?”

You snicker, being pushed onto your back as he looms over you. He’s looking at you like Cupid hit him; bullseye.

“You wouldn’t happen to know of those, would you?”

“Just tell me what you want, already. Let me make up for the flowers.”

You take him by the back of the neck, pulling him down to kiss you like he means it. Tooru speaks in tongues the two of you best understand.

For the first time in four official Valentine’s Days, Tooru doesn’t buy his valentine flowers. But, for the first time in four official Valentine’s Days, it feels so right that it doesn’t even matter he’s doing it ‘wrong.’

(Next time, when you’re hopefully here again, he doesn’t think he’ll get flowers, either. This'll do.)

[boydepartment]

enhypen as things from 2014 tumblr

a/n: i am literally frothing at the mouth that 2014 tumblr is coming back. around 2016-2018 this aesthetic and mentality was my EVERYTHING. now in 2024 the mentality and aesthetic is still there just a lil more.... um flavorful for me 😋😋 but it’s okay! i also had to go on my LAPTOP to lay this out so please like this post... my ass worked hard on this- i also dont know if heeseung's aesthetic photo for his headcanons is messed up?? if it is i am so sorry

warnings- 2014 tumblr was a lil cray cray, but i worked my hardest to make sure none of the photos or themes would be triggering :) if you felt anything negative during reading these headcanons- tell me and i will add it to the warnings. but as far as i know and with my own experiences/disorder everything is pretty good and non triggering! :)

MASTERLIST

🕰️jungwon- specifically that one brand of music

okay let me elaborate: out of my league by the fitz and the tantrums

tongue tied by grouplove

electric love by børns

the really like happy yet sad songs??? he’s very like HES SO TONGUE TIED BY GROUPLOVE IM SORRY???? listen to the song that is jungwon he is that song. he is def like that summer romance who you never speak to again and it’s so sad because you loved him so much but now you’re like strangers. just wait till next summer tho, he’ll make you fall in love with him all over again. it’s bittersweet

⚰️heeseung- knee socks

okay me being out of pocket for a sec

heeseung is absolutely fucking insane and drives me nuts. and so do knee socks. any socks that go above the shin drive me fucking insane because they don’t sit properly ever, no matter the size the sock or the size i am they FALL. but i own like 4-6 pairs, because they look nice and make me feel pretty when they sit properly. heeseung drives me insane but i want to be his gf ☹️☹️

he’s def the type of guy to fix your socks too when he notices they’re shifting

🎥jay- the wallpaper quotes

like the sad ones everyone had EVERYWHERE. i was on quotev during this time around 2015?? and they were EVERYWHERE. bangchans wallpaper from 2018 core

these aesthetic quotes just remind me of jay. music is everything to him so he’s the mf to reblog this being like

“this resonates with me.”

he’s also very arctic monkeys coded but do what you will with that 😋😋HE WOULD SO POST HIS OWN WRITINGS AND AESTHETIC GUITAR PHOTOS. HES LIKE THE TUMBLR HOT GUY. imagine while he’s like super popular on tumblr ur like the actual “rockstar’s gf” aesthetic. LIKE THAT ONE FUCKING PHOTO OF THE 1975 ROBBERS MUSIC VIDEO??? I THINK IT WAS THAT ONE RIGHT??? i’m attaching it rn

💋jake- the bold lip makeup + messy photos

dayum let me get out of pocket rq again

that really specific dark aesthetic where it’s in parking lots and blurry and you can make out the dark lip makeup, bleached damaged platinum blonde hair, and the makeup is messy. everything is messy

HEUWBDJBFJAVSHDBBD that is jake :) he’s def the type of guy to be like “wait let’s take a cool photo.” then kisses you to smudge your lipstick then snaps a photo with the flash so when you’re alarmed by the flash you move and it makes the photo all cool looking bc it’s blurry.

👓sunghoon- the john green obsession

i’ve read every john green book pre 2016

i hated looking for alaska it was fucking insane. however sunghoon is like the good part about the paper towns book. like the fun road trip part. that happened right? or did i imagine that? NO IT DID. sunghoon very like curl up bbg im gonna read this book to you and make little stupid comments during it. def the type to have you in his arms while he reads, you hold the book and he has his hands over yours, softly rubbing circles.

💍sunoo- the victorias secret aesthetic

this is actually me rn sorry, all my clothes come from there pretty much. if it’s not thrifted it’s from victoria’s secret. it’s not just lingerie, they have like everything there. NONETHELESS it also screams sunoo. a lot of it is very like chic in a way and it just fits him perfectly. the black and pink colors, the small pops. it just really fits him. the aesthetic is just chefs kiss. especially since i feel like he’d be obsessed with the lotions (i own the mint chocolate lotion and wear it)

def the type of bf to come home with new body sprays for both of you. probably mixing scents too. MATCHING JACKETS AS WELL

📸riki- the electra heart album

MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS. god everything abt this album screams riki.

me relistening to this album and realizing how much it did effect me😨😨😨😨 maybe i’m just projecting now but besides the point

that album is so like riki coded let me get quotes

“I think I want your, your American tan- I think you're gonna be my biggest fan”

“The pretty lies, the ugly truth”

“All I ever wanted was the world- I can't help that I need it all”

“Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek- But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat”

“You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?”

“you don’t love me- big fucking deal”

"question good and question bad."

okay i’m GONNA BE WRITING A BOOK I HAVE TO STOP. he’s def the type of bf where if he hears you listening to this album he’s like “wtf…” then finds himself humming to it. he’d be like that with all your music taste too. riki with black chipped nailpolish OKAY I WILL SHUT UP ABT HIM NOW

[goodboyyyy]

Your phone dinged- it was an email from your college. You'd been waiting for it all summer- you'd been dying to know what dorm you'd be in and who your roommate would be.

You were super excited for college, to be around other smart people, especially since you were going to an Ivy League. You'd kind of been an nerd in high school, but thought that in college, brains might be appreciated over brawn. You'd imagined it a lot- being around other smart people who could actually have a discussion, instead of the homophobic idiots you went to school with, the dumb jocks you had to take classes with, all the dumbasses who cared more about football than books and things like that. You hated being around these idiots more and more every year. Even though you always wished you looked more built, you never let yourself work out or go to the gym. You didn't want to be anything like them.

Grinning, googled your roommates name excitedly and found an Instagram….

Your jaw dropped. This had to be a joke.

He looked just like every stupid muscle head jock you been trying to get away from! You, scrolled and scrolled, hoping your opinion would change, but every picture was just him at the gym, or faxing, or at some party scene like a beach. He was really hot, but you didn’t really want a hot roommate, you just wanted a cool roommate.

You sighed, closing your laptop. There was no sense stressing about it now. You couldn’t really tell how a person was from a picture, anyway. Maybe he was a cool guy who just happened to work out.

But then school started, and your roommate was worse than you imagined- an annoying, pompous jock who thought he knew everything. All he talked about was lifting, dumb motivational sayings, and partying. He wasn't actually dumb- but that just somehow made it worse. It just added to his smug, superior attitude knowing he wasn't a typical dumb jock- and he loved to hear himself talk, always went on and on about everything to show you how much he knew. He wasn't even that douchey- he was just annoying as hell, always thinking he knew more and better, always acting like this great person so people would think that about him. He was even hotter in person, until he opened his mouth at least and the dumbest shit you ever heard seemed to come out of it without fail every time. Now, every time he spoke, he rolled your eyes and automatically tuned him out. It was the only way you could bear having to room with him.

It was awful at first, but the year is going by pretty fast. Before you knew it, winter break was here you were busy packing the last few things to head home. Ironically, you were as excited about going home as you have been to arrive at college. You couldn’t wait to be by yourself, away from this idiot, and not have to hear him or hear about working out or anything like that for a couple of days. Suddenly, your phone dinged. You went to grab it, but your roommate was right next to it, so he passed it over to you. His eyebrows raised as he stared at the screen. “Shit, man.”

“What?” You said as you took the phone. It was a gmail notification.

FLIGHT CANCELLED.

Your stomach dropped. You were already leaving late because your last final had been on the last day the school was open, at the dorms and closed for break that night at midnight. You lived across the country.

“Fuck! What am I supposed to do now,” you said more to yourself and more out of frustration than to him. You didn’t even consider that his dumbass would have any ideas for you.

“Well, why don’t you come stay with me for a little while?”

You looked up at him, eyebrow raised and pretty surprised that he’d offer, till you remembered he was too dumb and clueless to realize how much you didn't like him. You wanted to tell him it was fine, no thanks… but you had no other options now, aside from maybe sleeping in the airport till the blizzard passed. That could be hours or even days, though

“You mean it?”

“Of course man! Look, I know we’re not like, best buds, or gym bros or anything like that, I’m not just gonna leave you stranded here. I’m heading out in like an hour. You can come stay at my place a night or two until you can figure out another flight.”

It wasn’t ideal, but like you’d already realized, you had no other choice right now. You packed the last of your things and put them in his car. The snow was already starting when you left, and came down harder and harder as you drove the 20 or 30 minutes over to his house. You were kind of scared sometimes, but he was actually a really good driver. Anytime this car slid or skidded even a little, it was like he knew exactly what to do to get it back on track. His big muscular arm bulged now and then as he gripped the steering wheel tight when the Jeep had fishtailed briefly a few times, and you caught yourself staring at it a little too long more than once. It was honestly really impressive to watch, you would’ve been freaking out if the car skidded at all like that, but he stayed totally calm. Maybe he did know a thing or two after all.

He already texted his parents and explanation of why you were coming, so they had a plate the food ready for you when you arrived. You weren’t that surprised to see the rest of his family was kind of like him. He had a brother who was like a little jock in training, and a Dad who was like a veteran jock. The conversation was pretty similar to what you’d expected – nothing really substantial, with each of them nodding dumbly every time one of them said something equally dumb.

Once dinner was done you headed upstairs with him.

"So, there's a guest room, but there's also a bed in my room that used to be my brothers. I think you should sleep in that one. It'll be a lot more comfortable."

"I dunno-"

"C'mon man! It'll be just like at school! Plus, there's a bathroom in there. Otherwise you have to share with the rest of my family," he said with a big dumb grin. You sighed. He was just so oblivious, but he had saved your ass letting you stay here, and you didn't want to be rude.

"Alright, fine," you said, heading into his room with him. You saw a picture of him and his brother on his dresser. They were identical. A gold chain necklace was draped over the frame.

"You guys were twins?"

"Yeah..."

"Where did he go?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Fell in love with some girl from another country. Out of the blue, he told us he was moving there with her. Had a big fight with me and my parents over it, and hasn't talked to anyone since. It really sucks. He was my main gym bro."

"Ah, that sucks," you said, not sure of what to say.

"Anyway, lets get to bed," he said, sliding his shirt and pants off. It was a shame he was so dumb, because you would have thought he was so sexy otherwise. He'd been right though- this bed was really comfy. You drifted off to sleep after a few moments, exhausted from packing.

He slid out of bed, opened the closet, and pulled a pair of his brother's old gym shoes out. They were so rank he could smell them from a couple feet away. He slid them under your bed quietly and stepped back, watching the smell seep into you. Your nose wrinkled at first, but he smiled when you started to draw slow, deep inhales of the scent. Then, he pulled his sweaty gym clothes out from earlier, wringing them out into a cologne bottle he left on the bathroom counter.

"Night night, future gym bro," he said, getting back under his covers.

You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and lethargic. When you opened your eyes, you saw him in the bathroom with the door open, doing the same morning routine he did at school. The thing was, you never really saw him do it that much, because you always avoided using the bathroom when he was in there, otherwise he'd start talking your ear off. He was washing his face. His thick muscles shifted with every slight movement. You knew he was showing off, but fuck was he sexy. It was early and you were still pretty groggy and horny and half-asleep, so much so that you found yourself staring at him, unable to look away. You felt like an asshole, suddenly. He'd invited you here in an emergency, and you'd been rude and judgmental the whole time. His chiseled abs contracted as he bent over the sink and scrubbed his face.

He must've felt your gaze on him, because he turned over to you. "Hey man," he said, "Yo. c'mere. You gotta smell this cologne I just got."

You rolled your eyes, but instead of being annoyed, you smiled. He was so cute, in a dumb way. You got up and walked into the bathroom, pulling your boner into your pants elastic so he wouldn't see it. It was good you did, because you felt your cock surge as he raised his arms and sprayed the cologne into his muscular pits.

His biceps peaked as he did. He looked like a model. And the cologne smelled amazing. He noticed you watching him flex and smirked. "You like those, huh? Haha," he said with a laugh.

"Uh- yeah man, really cut... ha ha" you said, trying to play it cool.

"We could get your like that I think," he said, gripping your tiny arms with his big hands.

"Haha, no thanks," you said, stepping back. Still, the scent of the cologne drifted over to you. You had to admit, it smelled pretty good. Kind of familiar, too.

"C'mon man, why not?"

"The gym really isn't my thing."

"Have you ever even been?" he asked, giving his pits another blast of cologne.

"No. Just really not my thing," you said. You got another huge whiff of the cologne just as you turned away from the door. You stopped suddenly. Damn, it smelled good- like it was getting better and better by the second. You took a deep whiff. You didn't want to walk away from it.

"Yo, what brand is that?"

"It's an off brand," he said, "i dunno really."

"Can I try some?" you said, taking another deep inhale. The smell was invigorating. It made you feel like you were bursting with energy- energy you needed to release.

He smirked. "If you come to the gym with me, maybe."

You were about to say no, but you really, really wanted to try that cologne. Plus, you had so much energy now, you needed some way to burn it off. And what else would you do all day? Sit around with his weird family?

"Ok, fine," you said, "But I'm just doing the treadmill though. Maybe an eliptical."

He shrugged. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere. What matters is, we're finally gym bros dude!"

"I don't know about all that," you said with a laugh, going to put your shoes on. He was so dumb and easily pleased. Like, who gave a shit if you went to the gym with him or not? Why did it matter so much?

You frowned down as you tried to put your shoes on. For some reason, they seemed smaller. You could barley fit them on, like your foot had grown overnight or something.

"Hey man, i got you," he said, reaching under his brothers bed. He pulled a pair of gym shoes out for you. "These should fit."

You picked them up. They smelled familiar and nice, kind of like the cologne. You were really excited to wear them for some reason, and after you put them on, you felt even better about your decision to go to the gym. You rocked your legs back and forth, bursting with energy. "You ready dude?" you said.

"Lets get it," he said nodding you out the door. "Oh wait. Almost forgot." He reached into his bag and tossed the bottle of cologne over to you. "All yours, man," he said with a grin.

"Thanks bruh," you said, spraying a thick coating under your arms. You wondered why you were talking like that, but as the cologne filled your nose, the thought faded away.

You'd stayed on the treadmill for a while at first, but even there, you were shocked at how fast you could run without getting tired. His brother's old gym shoes were so broken in and cushioned that it felt like you were running on air. But you'd been watching him while he lifted, watching him while the cologne you drenched yourself in seeped into your nose. Running wasn't enough. You needed something to release more energy. You headed over to him, asking if you could join.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. He was drenched in sweat that got all over your clothes. "Here, hit some curls with me," he'd said, handing you a dumbbell. It felt weird but... right in your hand, like you'd finally undergone some masculine right of passage you'd been putting off. You lifted it, but with terrible form.

"Nah man, like this," he said, springing up, and before you knew it he was behind you, his big frame dwarfing yours, and gripped your hands with his own, pushing them up into a proper curl.

"See man? Just like this. Up.... and down," he said slowly into your ear.

He did it a couple times. It felt nice, having him show you. He was a real nice guy, you thought, feeling his hands gripping you own. Your eyes started to glaze over- but when he left go, you immediately started overcompensating with your back. In a flash, he was behind you again.

"Nah bro. You're thinking too much," he said slowly. "Stop. Thinking." he said, gripping your hands again. You were about to tell him to fuck off, but the thought faded away suddenly as his skin touched yours. All your thoughts did, Your head became an empty vacuum.

"Up," he said slowly into your ear, lifting your arms.

Up. Yes. Up. The single directive rushed in to fill the entirety of your empty mind. Up. Up. Up.

He lowered them slowly, maintaining the tension. "And Down."

And Down. Yes. The other two words entered your brain, filling any gaps missed by Up. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

"Up. And Down.," he said in your ear. "That's all that matters. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down."

Your lips began to say the words slowly, matching your movements. Your eyes became totally glazed, and this time, when he let go, you didn't stop. You kept moving with the perfect form he'd just programed into you while he picked up his own dumbbells and lifted next to you moving in sync... it felt so.. nice... moving up...and down....up... and down...

You hadn't remembered much more after that till you were both in the locker room, drenched in sweat after a full workout.

"Great job, man," he said, pulling you in for a high-five hug again. Your sweaty bodies and pumped muscles rubbed against each other in the exchange.

"Thanks bro," you said, still invigorated from the workout. It felt fuckin great. And he'd been so great, showing you proper form for every move, correcting you, adjusting the weight for you. As you both left, you once again felt like an ass for being so rude to him all these months...

When you got home and showered, you felt something itchy under your arms. Checking it out, you noticed your pit hair had gotten a lot darker and thicker. You shrugged. You were almost a year younger than most of your classmates with the way your birthday fell. It must've been the final strokes of puberty, or something.

You headed into your roommate's room for bed. He was propped up in bed in just his underwear, massaging himself with a theragun, nearly moaning. You laughed as you looked at him. He smirked, realizing how funny it looked.

"Laugh all you want, dude, but if you tried it, you'd feel the same way."

"Lemme try then. I'm pretty sore from today already. I still can't believe you convinced me to do weights."

"Haha. I knew you had it in you bro," he said, walking over to you with the theragun. "Aren't you glad you did?"

"Yeah," you said honestly. It had actually felt surprisingly good.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. "Good shit bro. The treadmill is for pussies. You gotta pump these guns, otherwise you're wasting time."

You were about to argue when the theragun hit your sore tricep. The thought slowly faded away as bursts of pleasure rippled out from your muscles. You fell onto the bed, overwhelmed by the feeling, but he kept the gun on you steadily the whole time, watching you squirm and moan. It didn't just feel like a massage, it felt like a whole other workout. You felt the blood pumping into your arms, felt them getting warmer as they bulged and swelled. It felt incredible. He moved around to your bicep, then shoulders, then upper back. He lifted your arms to get underneath them, and you thought you saw his eyes linger on your hairy pits, smiling at them, but you were too preoccupied to think about it. You weren't sure how long he kept at it, but by time he was done, you felt amazing.

"Woah, thanks brah."

"Anytime. Why don't you wash up? We gotta be up early to hit the gym."

"For sure bro," you said, standing up and heading to the bathroom. Yeah, you'd hit the gym again tomorrow. It wasn't even a question, really.

Your eyes widened as you stared in the mirror. You arms looked huge! They hadn't looked this big when you'd gotten out of the shower.

He noticed you admiring them. "It's the theragun, and the uh.... the hot shower. Gets the blood pumped into them. It'll probably be gone in the morning," he said.

"Oh...makes sense," you said, brushing your teeth and sliding into bed.

Once he heard you snoring, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his shaving cream, heading into the bathroom. He whipped his thick cock out and stared at a couple of bimbos getting fucked on his phone, shooting a hot, huge load right into the cream. He swirled it around with his finger, mixing it, then dabbed a bit onto his hand as he headed over to you. He gently spread it over your face, smearing the extra under your pits. Smiling, he went to bed.

You woke up the next day feeling sore and... itchy. You thought it was the pillow, but no matter how you moved, the feeling never went away. Blinking, you scratched at your face, where the feeling was coming from. Your hand met a rough surface. You felt around your face until you realized it was... stubble? But you'd only really had that above your lips. You felt more and more, but it was definitely there.

He looked over to the bathroom. He was up already, shaving in the mirror. He caught your eye again “Hey man. Sleep good?“

“Yeah man, but it looks like some of my facial hair came in overnight or something. It's all itchy.”

You scratched it again, but then thought another itchy, feeling coming out from under your arm. Lifting your arm, you noticed that your pit hair looked even thicker and darker than the night before. And despite what he said about the Theragun and shower, your arms still looked huge. You stare at your body, confused. That late puberty really was hitting you like a train.

"Hey bro, that’s just what happens when you get that testosterone pumping. Come here, I’ll take care of that for you. Just let me finish up.“

You approached as he lifted his chin, showing off his thick neck and sliding his shaver across it. It was strange to watch. You were the same age, and he looked so natural doing it, but it was something you'd never done before. You never had enough facial hair to.

He turned to you, lifting your chin up with one finger, inspecting your stubble. He looked pleased for some reason. He grabbed a jar of shaving cream and opened it- but he hadn't used any? With his razor, he could shave dry, so why-

He smeared the shaving cream on your face, and the cool, minty feeling wiped the question from your mind. Your eyes drooped to his beefy pecs and six pack in front of you as he moved the razor softly over your skin. "You just go nice and slow, just like this," he said, shaving you delicately. Your heart beat faster. It felt weirdly... intimate. You guessed this was something Dad's or older brothers showed youhow to do, but you hadn't had one. You watched intently, trying not to shudder where his fingers grazed your skin. What was weird was, even as the razor removed the hair, it seemed to leave more stubble behind.. but... you liked it. You almost looked... hot. He kept going, till you had a thick 5 o clock shadow just like his.

"I'll let you finish up," he said, sliding you the shaved and shaving cream. "You should shave your pits too, brah. Makes lifting easier. Less irritation."

"Sounds good man," you said, smearing a thick coating of shaving cream onto your hairy pits. It tingled like before. Just like with your face, even though it removed the hair, it seemed to leave more hair follicles behind. You squinted at it. Probably just a trick of the light.

"Ready to hit the gym again?"

"Hell yeah," you said. "But I just have to check flights first-"

"Ah, you know, I was gonna check for you earlier, but our Wifi was acting up."

"That's cool. I can just check on my phone."

"Alright. But just get dressed first," he said, handing you his brothers shoes again.

You were going to tell him to just wait, but the sight of the shoes got you excited. You'd felt really good wearing them.

"Alright," you said, taking them and eagerly sliding them on. The second you tied them, you stood up, pumping your legs one after another. You felt ready to go!

"Oh. and don't forget the cologne. You don't wanna smell like sweat, ya know," he said with a laugh as he tossed you the bottle. It excited you, just like the shoes. You sprayed about ten or eleven sprays on you, letting the scent fill your nose. It smelled even better than the day before. You felt filled with energy, invigorated again, like you needed to get out and release it. But first you just had to... had.... to... look... at...... you................had................to..........look..........at......f....???

"Yo, was I gonna do something man?" you asked, brow hunching in the same confused, dumb way his usually did.

"Yeah. You were gonna wear my gym clothes since you don't have your own. You just asked like a minute ago, man, haha. Remember?"

"Ah, my bad," you said laughing. You'd really zoned out there, haha. You threw on the muscle tee and thigh shorts he tossed you. They must've been from a three pack or something, because he put on the same exact ones.

"Lets get it, brah," he said, slapping you on the back.

"Lets gooo!" you said back, and you guys headed out.

It was the same as the day before. You were doing shoulder presses awfully at first, feeling awkward and self concious, but then his hands were under your arms and his voice was in your ear.

"Up and down, bro. Up and down. That's all that matters. Let all those other thoughts, other things you know about go. They're just weighing you down. You only need to know three things, bro."

You nodded, eyes glazing over again. "Up. And Down," you said, pressing the weight overhead cleanly. "Up. And Down," you repated, sinking into a smooth rhythm of presses. He stood next to you again, lifting at the same time as you. You felt yourself sweating all your thoughts out, getting dumber by the second. You knew you should stop but- buuu- u- up....

Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

He took you through a bunch of other exercises, reminding you whenever he saw you lose focus. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

You both got home an hour or two later, still panting and dripping with sweat from your lifts.

"That was sick, bro," he said, peeling his wet shirt off and bouncing his pecs in the mirror.

"Yeah, I feel great," you said, starting to peel the muscle tee off. It was tight, even before your pump, like it had been clinging to you throughout your workout, warming your chest. Now, it was tight because your chest seemed a lot bigger.

"Chest day best day!" He inhaled deeply. "Ah, you smell that bro? I missed that smell. When me and my twin would get back from the gym, this room would stink up in like 30 seconds and reek for days. Its been a while."

"Damn, it does reek in here," you said with a dumb laugh.

"Breathe it in. That's the smell of hard work, bruh."

You both took a deep inhale, laughing. It was so good having a friend to be a stupid guy with.

"Yeah, man," you said, finally managing to peel the shirt off. Your chest looked huge, wide, and puffy. Almost exactly like his... that was... weird....but they looked so... so... good... just like your shoulders you'd hit that day... and your back.... your lats looked like... like wings... wings..... flight.... wasn't there something you were supposed to do with a fligh-

You let out a gasp that turned into an "ahhhhhh" as he hit your sore muscles with the theragun. Part of you was realizing what was happening. You were still smart- somewhere in there. You were... you were somehow turning into him, literally. You tried to think about how, but it hurt. All the blood your brain was used to was flowing into your shoulders and chest as he massaged them. Thinking felt... bad... but... what was in the mirror looked... good.... yeah. You looked fucking good, like this. Yo.... you looked so good haha. Thinking.... bad.... lifting.... good... blood in... muscles.... not in.... brain.... lift.... more... get... sexier.

You felt energy surge through you again. Instinctually, you flexed in the mirror the way he did in the morning, grunting and scrunching your face. Toned muscle bulged under your skin as more and more blood and oxygen left your brain and poured into your muscles. You looked big, but you still felt small. You needed to get bigger... it felt.... urgent... like any time you spent not working out was time wasted. Your thoughts faded as he moved the theragun over you and your chest. It almost was like an exact replica of his.

Your eyes moved to him.

Gym.... bro.... love my.... gym.... bro.... love my..... bro.... wanna.... workout.... with my... bro

"Yo, it's still pretty early bro. You think we could lift again tonight, after dinner?"

"That's what I'm talkin about man," he said, slapping you on the back. "Love seeing you finally motivated to get in the gym and work on yourself."

"Feels great, dude," you said, hitting another pose in the mirror, staring at your muscles. Bigger.... need to.... get.... bigger...

"I told ya so."

"I know. I should've listened earlier. You're so smart, man."

"Haha, thanks man. Lets go get our protein in so we can get out there again. I'll go make our shakes. You shower first man- you stink," he said with a laugh.

"Haha," you said, lifting your pit and taking a big whiff of it. You did reek, but it smelled good, in a way. Like a sign of your hard work.

"Damn bro. I'm gonna need a gas mask in here," he joked, laughing as he walked out.

You laughed back. Joking with your bro was the best. You got into the shower, feeling all the new muscle in your body move under your skin. Feeling its power. The hot water just exacerbated it. You felt big- strong- but needed to get bigger- stronger- the thought was constant.

But- this wasn't... you?

You didn't... care about this stuff.

No.

This was all wrong. What were you doing lifting, focusing on superficial shit like this? What were you doing hanging around with this idiot? No- you had to get out of here. You'd be polite to him, but as soon as you got out of the shower, you'd book a flight for the next day. Enough of this! You'd been getting swayed by a pretty boy being nice to you, and it needed to stop.

He came in with the protein shakes just as you got out of the shower.

"Here you go man," he said, handing it to you. "Gave you a little extra," he said with a wink. Your glass had a little more in it than his did.

"Thanks dude," you said, putting it down. Fuck him and his protein shakes! "I'll have it in a minute. I just remembered I need to look up flights."

"You should really drink it first," he said, handing it back to you. "It's best to drink it as soon as possible. You don't wanna stay small, do you?"

Small? Small? No- never small- big- need to be big- big- huge- need- protein-

"Fuck no," you said suddenly, and before you could stop yourself you were grabbing it and gulping it down. It tasted good. Creamy. Really creamy.

"Damn that's good," you said, cheersing with him when he finished his. It was like you could feel the protein seeping through your body, repairing you. It felt so good. You felt confused, though.

"Yo, was I about to do something?" you asked.

"Yeah man. We were gonna do our meal preps for the rest of break. I'm so glad you decided to spend break here to focus on working out instead of going home with your family," he said.

"Huh? No, no, something with my phone..."

"Yeah man, remember? You were gonna tell your family you weren't gonna make it home this year. You really wanted to see them, but you didn't wanna waste a whole month away from your gym bro when you could be learning from me & making gains. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah yeah," you said. That made sense. Why else would you be here "Hell yeah man! Three solid weeks of nothing but lifting with my bro. No stupid classes or reading to distract us from what matters."

"Exactly man," he said, "C'mon, lets go make our meals for the week. Chicken broccoli and rice city!" You did, then headed to the gym.

You did legs this time.

"Just remember," he said as you got under the squat rack.

You nodded vacantly, feeling your mind slowly emptying again of everything except those three words. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.... Up ... And.... Down....

The next thing you knew you were grunting and dripping sweat as you boosted the 6 plates on your last rep up. Your legs were throbbing, bulging, and felt amazing. They looked bigger already, and you'd only done 4 sets of one exercise. He nodded approvingly.

You both got back from the 2nd round at the gym a couple hours later, scarfing your meals down out of your microwavable meal prep trays.

"Yo, did you see all those pussies on the treadmill staring at us?" you laughed.

"Of course man," he said, laughing back. "That's all they can do," he said as he flexed his huge, pumped muscles. "Stare and wish they were us."

"Feels good," you said, scarfing down your food. Both of you ate like pigs, spilling rice and shredded chicken all over your laps and the sides of your mouths. He went to get your protein shakes, and came back a few minutes later, once again with yours a little bit more full and creamy than his. Extra supps, he told you. When you were done, you cracked open the six pack his Dad had bought for you guys and started slamming them down while watching Family Guy, both laughing dumbly every couple minutes at it. You used to hate this show... but it was so funny! You'd just never given it a chance.

About 2 hours later, with empty beer cans strewn all around the room, you guys decided to get to bed. He went into the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and whipping his dick out to take a long, hot piss in the toilet. His eyes flickered over to your toothbrush, and he smiled. Grabbing it, he dropped it in front of his stream of piss, making sure to soak it thoroughly before putting it back in the holder.

You came in once he was done and started brushing your teeth. Your toothbrush felt warm and tasted kind of funny, thank you, fuck it. You instinctually swallowed it as the taste hit your tongue, sucking it deep in to your stomach. It felt like your stomach was rumbling, then tightening, then pushing out, then tightening again. When you were done brushing your teeth, you lifted your shirt up to reveal a nice set of toned abs just like his. You smiled. Damn, he was a really good coach.

You stared into the mirror, reflecting on how much you'd changed over the last few days. You smiled dumbly, hitting pose after pose in the mirror. In pretty much everything but your face, you looked just like him now. Your arms were thick and corded, your pecs sat nice and high, your legs were ripped, stomach shredded. Even your feet had gotten bigger, going from a size 8 to a size 13, just like his, and you'd grown a few inches, too. Wait... taller? You didn't get taller from the gym...

...

...and why were you his exact height?

You threw open the bathroom door.

"Yo, what's going on here?"

"What do you mean, bro? Chill."

"Nah man. Are you like, turning me into you or some shit? This isn't cool, bro," you said, struggling to talk like how you used to, before "bro" and "man" and "bruh" were every other word?

He smiled. "Into me? Of course not. You could never be me. But I am making you into my twin brother, bro. Haha."

"Well it stops now, weirdo. I'm outta her-"

He grabbed your arms, pulling them towards your head, forcing you to flex. You let out a moan as blood pumped out of your brain, into your sore muscles. It felt so good. So warm... so.... relaxing. But, no, you had to leave – he turned you towards the mirror, showing you your reflection as you flexed. You gave a dumb smile at the hunk staring back at you, at all your hard work- no, he wasn’t gonna get you like this again---

"Just look at yourself, bro," he said slowly massaging your thick traps. Waves of heat flowed over you- no– you had to- leave. He bent down, lifting your leg onto the ball of your foot. Your thick calf muscles contracted, stealing more blood from your brain, pumping more down into your body. It felt so good after a long workout. So good. So waaaaarm, you thought while he bent you into pose after pose like his mannequin and you stared in awe at what you'd become. You were.... hot.

"You’re telling me you don’t like this, bro? That you'd rather be a little nerdy bitch like before?"

It– it felt so… Good... you looked so… Good... you look like… Someone you would’ve thirsted after for months before .. you... loved it. It felt good. Before you knew it, he'd taken his brother's chain off the dresser and fastened it around your neck.

Your mind instantly blanked as he did it. What the fuck were you thinking? Leaving? When he was fucking turning you into a god for free? What kinda ungrateful piece of shit loser was the old you? Nah, he wanted nothing to do with that shit. You were lucky to be here.

"I was gonna wait until we were done to do this to you, but since that nerd in you has so much fight apparently, we can just get it over with now. It doesn’t really matter," he said.

"You want to act like a fag? I’ll treat you like a fag, boy," he said grabbing your head and rubbing it against his bulge. His big. Warm.. bulge... Your eyes glazed even more. "That's right, broski. Tell me how you really feel."

He was fucking sexy. You tried to lie to yourself all year and tell yourself that you didn’t like him, that he was annoying, that he was an idiot. But still, you stared at him whenever you could, every time he'd come into the room with his towel... take a peek every time he was in his boxers. Pretended you didn’t like him and denied it. But you did. You hated the girls that he brought back to the room because you wished it was you in there, getting pounded out by him, or maybe you wished you were him, getting to be such a stupid fucking asshole and still getting all the ass you wanted. He must’ve felt like a king.

You suddenly realize'd that you said all this out loud. Your mouth dropped open in surprise- but- how...

"Good, good. Now tell me, wouldn’t it feel nice if someone felt that way about you, boy?" Your eyes lit up.

"Me?"

"Yeah you. You’re going to be a God just like me boy. And I get the gym bro! Everyone wins."

You nodded slowly as he pulled his cock out, rubbing it against your face. Yeaaaaaah. Jock cock. You'd always loved jock cock when you'd been.... gay? No, you weren't gay... you'd never been gay. This was just bonding with your bro, haha.

Your tongue lapped up the precum off the tip of his dick. He shuddered, his cut, muscular hips thrusting instinctually. Your mouth opened just as automatically, sucking his cock. It felt so easy to hold yourself up with your new, big muscles as he pounded your mouth. His balls slipped out of his boxers, slapping you in the face as he thrust into you. They smelled great.

"Ahhhhhh yeah," he said, grabbing your hand and placing it on his tight ass. You gripped it, feeling the power from years of squats in it. "We got one more step left, broski. Tomorrow we're gonna put my facecream and gel on you and fix that busted face and wack haircut of yours. You’ll look just like me, bro. And you'll love it. I want that nerd inside of you watching while I snuff the last of him out- well, while you do it, really. He'd hate you so much, now," he said, pulling you off his dick and turning you towards the mirror again. "Look at you now, just a dumb jock big boy."

You smiled goofily in the mirror, flexing again at the sight of yourself. "Dumb jock big boy". The words resonated in your brain. Yeah, dumb jock big boy you thought, flexing harder. Hahaha. No- you weren't a jo- dumb jock big boy. Hahahaha. Yeah, you were just a dumb jock big boy- no- no- you were smar... just a dumb jock big boy. No matter what else you tried to think, it was the only thing your mind would land on. You flexed even more. You couldn't help it. Your body looked... so.... fucking... good. You felt like a ... man. Brutish. Powerful. You had muscles... big... muscles.... you couldn't stop staring... you fely so... powerful... needed... more powee. Needed... to get bigger. Needed... to be a msn not a cyck beta loser.

"That's it. Who's my dumb jock bro?"

"Me," you said proudly.

"I thought you were too good for that shit tho? Too smart?"

"Nah," you said.

"Damn boy, I trained you good."

"Yes. Showed me what matters. Need to get bigger," you said in a trance. Any resistance felt far away now. You couldn't really talk in complete sentences anymore. "Bigger. Stronger. More powerful."

"We will get you there, bro," he said, sliding your mouth back onto his cock. We're going to get you there, together. Plus, then we can be reeeeaaal bros! Like, bros for real. We can tell my parents my bro came back. You can just enroll in school and come back with me. It'll be like he never left. And you actually get to be something, instead of being a dumb nerd. Everyone wins!"

You nodded. Real bros. He was like your brother already, kinda. Yeah.

"I love you bro," you said.

"I love you to bro- ahhh- AHhhhhhh"

You felt his legs tense and back arch a little, and a blast of his cum shot down your throat, then another, then another. The necklace got hot around your neck as you swallowed them. You gulped each down, feeling your body absorbing them, feeling him seep into you, take you over, and crush any chance you had of turning back. Yeah. Good. You didn't want to turn back. You didn't want the nerd loser in you to take control. This was you now. You were in control.

He thrust into you a couple more times as you licked the last of his cum off his cock. He tapped the back of your head twice approvingly as you finished him off and slid his cock out of your mouth.

"See you in the morning, bro. You won't remember this part tomorrow. You'll just wake up, see my putting my moisturizer on and gel in, and come to do the same. Like I said, I want that nerd inside you watching while we complete your transformation, wanting to stop it, but unable to. Because this," he said, placing your hand on his bicep, and placing your other hand on your own bicep, "just feels too good."

You nodded dumbly. "I love you, bro" was all you could say.

"Love you too, bro. Goodnight!"

You woke up the next morning, just as he said, to see him putting the moisturizer all over his face and styling his hair. You walked over, asking him if you could use some. He looked so good. You just really wanted to use whatever he used.

"Sure thing, bro. What's mine is yours."

He passed it to you. You took a thick glob out, smearing it on your face. It tingles a little bit as you put it on, like the shaving cream head. Part of you was yelling, no, that you didn't like this, that you wanted to keep your old life, that you didn't want to be his twin and give up everything you had, but that voice was quiet now. It was drowned out by the demands of your big, hulking body, your shrinking brain, the testosterone pumping through you, and the burning desire you know how to get bigger and look good, constantly. The old you needed to go. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn't stop you from rubbing the cream in deeper and deeper. Had... to... look.... good... you thought as you ran a big glob of his white gel through your hair.

You both watched, smiling, as your face bubbled and changed and your hair lightened and shortened, perfectly matching his, erasing the final part of you. His brothers Your chain got hot around your neck as a bunch of his brother's your old memories floated into your head. All the details of his your life, everything you needed to know to convince his your parents that he'd you'd come back home.

"It's so great to have you back, bro," your roommate brother said. "I been so lonely at the gym," he said flexing in the mirror.

"Good to be back, bro," you said, hitting the same pose.

His real brother never did end up coming back. You lived happily ever after as a dumb jock big boy, hitting the gym with your bro everyday.

[dkisms]

Warrior

Wonwoo x afab!reader /// enemies to lovers /// 5k words /// smut

You’ve hated Wonwoo’s guts for most of your esports career. He’s always targeted you, and you’ve had enough. 

      If one person on planet Earth hates Jeon Wonwoo, it’s you. In fact, that’s how you feel right now, with the stupid little grin on his stupid face looking at you from across the stage, brow arched at you. He’s teasing you for sure, and the bright red ���LOSE’ on the stage above you does absolutely nothing to change that.

      You honestly had no idea when Wonwoo started to act like this. As a woman on an esports team for League, you’ve always been careful of every move you’ve made. Two years ago, you joined ASTAR, much to the disappointment of many in the world. In fact, Wonwoo had been kind to you previously, going on stream many times to express how women belonged in the sport, and how he was excited to game with you.

At least, that was what you thought. 

      Now, every single time you play, either practice or in comp, your screen stains black and white, now matter what you do. Every move? Wonwoo’s there. Switch to top? So is he. At this point, even your team starts to feel bad for you. In any regular match against any other team, no one can beat your Seraphine (or fiddlesticks, if feeling frisky). 

      Your team captain gets up before you, patting your head. As much as it seems comforting, the steam coming from your ears and the blood boiling in your veins has yet to cease. You exhale loudly, getting up to follow your team. The next ten minutes go by in a blur, with the manager asking the team about the matches while heading to the bus, barely a blink coming from your face. 

      Even when you got to your base, all you could do was trudge to your dorm, and get in bed, wallowing in silence. The notification you got on your phone made you feel even worse, seeing your teammates go to stream and talk about the matches. To them, it wasn’t a bad loss, with Wonwoo’s team, JACKL, being number one in the country, and the easy contender to worlds, but it didn’t make the loss any easier.

      Your phone dinged with a text from your friend. ‘He’s talking about you.’ Was all it read, and it took everything in your soul to not throw the phone across the room, opting to open Wonwoo’s stream instead.

“We don’t bash other teams.” Was the only thing you heard as the stream loaded out of the advertisement, Wonwoo spinning back and forth on his chair as he read his comments.

“Are they as good as my team? No. JACKL is number one for a reason right now. However, they’re one of the best teams I’ve played against in years. Their mid showed mine how you can’t screw around in a match and expect them to not crush you into the dirt. My support had to pretty much solo heal them. Not great, but he’s gonna work on it.”

      Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing his newly silver hair out of his face. He chuckled at a few comments that came in, eyeing one from an international fan.

“Yes, I did go after their support. They rely on her too much on bot lane, and can’t protect her. If they leave her open, it’s my job to go after-”

      You killed the stream immediately after, the familiar anger coming back out. ‘Fuck Jeon Wonwoo, and fuck his team,’ you thought, throwing your phone onto the bed, and heading over to your computer, turning it on. As much as bed therapy helps, the fury in your bones could only be solved by crushing as many people as physically possible in the game, and enjoying the cheez-its you had left. Unfortunately for you, the stupid game hates you, and you nearly just decided to evaporate from the planet entirely seeing your team.

JAKCL_EveryWonwoo was on your team.

Jeon Wonwoo was on your fucking team!

      It seems he noticed as well, as the chat started to roll through his messages at an alarming rate. 

‘Boba???? ASTAR_BobA???’

‘Good to see you again, BobA!’

‘Are you my support??? This is crazy’

‘Yes, I’m your support. Now hurry and pick’ You wrote back, cooling down. The game loaded in, and you picked the route farthest away from Wonwoo. If you had to play with him, you refused to be near him only if necessary, and maybe let him die a couple times. Maybe.

     As much as you hated Wonwoo, he was fucking good. Way too good at this damn game, with the amount of times he saved your ass. The bot lane was pretty much useless, leading you to have to take over, and he pretty much took over the south side of the jungle with you, killing as many as he could. The pretty 15/2/18 was growing by the second on your leaderboard, and his 28/6/13 made the two of you look like you were dancing with each other on the field as you finished the match, a ghost of a grin on your face. It was quickly removed, however, when you got a message outside of the match. 

JACKL_EveryWonwoo has sent you an invitation. 

     Against every bone in your body screaming at you not to accept, you had to. What better way to learn how he plays than to play with him? Right? You even checked, he’s not streaming. You let out a sigh, making sure your headset mic was working, and joined the group. 

“I wasn’t too sure you’d accept.” Wonwoo teased, the grin in his voice easily apparent. 

“Had to get my mic.” You said, watching him change to a casual lobby.  

“Mmm,” He said, hitting the queue. “You did good today.” 

“Sure,” You said, clear in your voice that you didn’t want to talk about it. “So, why invite me?” 

“I’m trying to show you that your team is taking advantage of you.” Wonwoo said, picking his character with you, and choosing to go bot lane. 

“Listen, I don’t need you bashing my team, okay? We did what we could.” You snapped. 

“I’m not bashing them. Yet. But I promise, you’re worth more than you think.” He said, shutting up as the game started. 

     While Wonwoo wasn’t… great at bot lane, he definitely kept up. In fact, he was shockingly right about your team. He was taking bullets and arrows with every match you played, and for hours, had you questioning your team’s plays. At four A.M., when he ended the matches, he sat with you in silence as you looked over match replays. 

“Listen, don’t take it to heart. Just understand you might have to rework some stuff. I know your coach is retiring, so next year, you can work with the new one to find out about plays, okay?” He said. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice dry. “I’m hopping off. Have a good night.” 

“Night.” 

——///——

     You groaned at the buzzing of your phone, reaching over to grab it, and rubbing your eyes. The yell you let out seeing the 250+ notifications decorating your screen could have woken up anyone sleeping. JACKL_EveryWonwoo follows you, tagged you in a video, tagged you in a picture… the notifications kept going late into the morning, clearly after you had fallen asleep. The first was a picture of your characters emoting, one you had sent to him as a joke. Every video after that was VOD’s of every match you had, and the comments were endless. 

‘She’s actually so good. Does her team just suck?’

‘He works well with her. If I was JACKL, I’d be calculating offers.’

‘I knew he was going after her for a reason. Man’s knew she held the team together’

     As much as you could keep reading the comments to inflate your ego, you were NOT excited for the upcoming PR nightmare, especially with the lineups for the upcoming tournament to be announced this week. Knowing the industry, your team would be out in seconds with them Matching ASTAR and JACKL. 

     Your phone ringing broke you from your spiraling anxiety, with your friend’s picture on screen. You pressed the accept button, only for a piercing scream to nearly blow your ear drums. 

“What. The. Fuck?!” Avia shrieked. “Why are you all over his Twitter?! I thought you hated him!”

“I do,” You said, exasperated. “He wanted to show me my team sucked at protecting me when I was vital to the lineup. He did.”

“I know, ASTAR is getting lamblasted on every media site, it’s hilarious. Your teammates are… trying to defend themselves,” She said, as you heard a knock on the door. 

     You ended the call, and opened your door to see your manager, who requested a statement about the play from the previous game. After a quick tweet, most of the internet was cooling off. 

“So, we have a practice match,” Your manager said, pulling out a clipboard, as he walked with you downstairs to the rest of the group, already playing. “JACKL.” 

     You turned, startled, pausing before you sat down. “Is that really okay? After the Twitter BS?” 

“We have no choice. We planned this weeks ago,” the manager said, and you just sat quietly, while they set up the custom matches. 

     At the start of the match, you knew it was going to be horrible. If your team was a little turned around during the first tournament, then this was like a tornado going off. In fact, it pissed you off more when Wonwoo immediately killed you. Actually, you barely remember a time you were alive, if any. At the end of the match, you were so pissed off, you shut yourself into your own room, pissed.

—-///—-

     The moment the tournament matchups were announced a few days later, the stress in your body melted. Thankfully, JACKL were in the other side of the bracket, arguably harder than yours. Thankfully, this seemed to have also motivated your team, and within a few practice matches, they were back in order. 

“Wake up!” The manager called, hopping onto the bus. “First match of the playoffs. I didn’t want to talk about this here, but I believe this is the best place for it. Listen… the company is gonna have to make changes if we don’t win. They don’t know if they want to keep everyone, or if they want to dissolve. Either way, you’ll be contacted shortly about your contract.” He said, clearing his throat. 

“Seriously?!” Her mid laner said. “Dude- I can’t fucking believe this shit.”

     The rest of the drive was relative silence from the group. Many wondered where they’d go, and you were no exception. The skin around your nails was raw by the the time you got to your locker room, filled with an ice cold fear of your future. The manager tried to comfort everyone as much as he could, up until your team took the stage. 

     The ice hardened into a lump in your stomach, one made even worse as you looked around at the crowd. Signs were decorating the audience, and you nearly choked on your own spit, seeing JACKL front row.

“Why the fuck are they here?” The top lane called over the headsets, your team agreeing. 

“No fucking clue,” You said. “Watching us, I guess? To be fair, the news of a team revamp got put out. Maybe seeing if they can steal anyone.” 

     The midlaner just nodded in response, as the signal for the match to start was activated, and bans were chosen quickly. 

“Going Senna,” you called, setting up a protect strategy. 

     The game was one of the longest you’ve had, knowing how intense team emotions were. After the first victory round, you ran up and down the hall stairs to gain some energy, and the second match was a breeze. Against your wishes, however, after your matches, you were stuck front row watching JACKL. 

“They’re fucking good,” Your manager said, eyeing the plays. It was annoying, and to be honest, seemed a little showy. 

      At the end of the first match, the smirk Wonwoo gave you was enough to make you glare, knowing exactly what he was playing at. He was showing off at this point, and trying to get your attention. With the amount of times he had looked over in your direction, you were starting to get pissed off, and the manager was starting to notice. 

“You really made him mad, hm? Play a practice match or something?”

“No. He’s fucking irritating, though.” You said, and your coach perked up. 

“It reminds me of my neighbor’s kid. Idiot thought being an ass was his way of flirting. Y’know, messing with your crush…?” He trailed off, seeing your face. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t even,” You said, getting up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

      As you wandered into the player halls, after refusing to use the public restroom seeing the lines, you were sharply stopped by Jeon Wonwoo running into you.

“Ah, the golden girl! I wanted to see you today.” He said, a grin lighting up his face. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, with pursed lips. 

“Yeah. You see my match? It was pretty fucking good.” He said, teasing. “Y’know, if you joined my team, you’d get the same treatment. Princess and all.”

      Your eyes narrowed as you scoffed. “As if, Jeon Wonwoo. Let me be straight with you. I don’t like you. You bash my time, try to steal me from my group, and post matches without my permission, which, mind you, had audio. If I said anything iffy, it would be a PR nightmare. Not only that, but it already was! My team had to make a statement twice. Now, I don’t know why the hell you keep messing with me, but I’ve had enough, seriously. I’m unable to do my job in any sense of the word. I know my teammates aren’t doing great, they’re at retirement age and are injured half the time, but I don’t want to hear about it. Enough.” You snapped, finally feeling some weight off your chest. All Wonwoo could do was stand silently, swallowing roughly at the words, as you sped walked off in another direction, away from him.

—-////—-

     A week later, you finished your second match. To be honest, your conversation with Wonwoo had lit a fire, making you push to prove your team wasn’t useless, in anyone’s eyes. You dropped your headset onto the table, quickly exiting the stage, not wanting to talk to anyone, until you were stopped by the manager, and another woman. 

“Hi. I’m Sasha, I work for ASTAR’s main offices. I wanted to talk to you about your work on the team.” She said, and the both of you quickly headed into a small meeting room.

“Now, I understand you’ve played with us for a year, at most. Unfortunately, you’ve seen us quite vulnerable this year,” She said, laughing. “I’ll be honest with you. Your bottom laner and jungler are retiring, and I’m only resigning you and the mid laner, if you’re willing. I already have next year’s team set, and contracts sent out for future prospects. I’m willing to offer you a salary increase, if you’ll have it.”

“I’d love to rejoin.” You said, and she quickly slid a contract, letting you read over it. “I’ve sent it to the company’s lawyers, so you can sign within the week. We won’t announce it until after the tournament ends.”

“Yes ma’am,” You said, smiling at the paper. 

At least Jeon Wonwoo can’t fuck this up.

—-////—-

      Two weeks later, you sat in the locker room, biting your nails, watching a random band play on the tv before the tournament final was to go. Your team had taken the cake on the left side of the bracket, but that left you with only one team left to go, and you weren’t sure if you even had a chance.

JACKL.

      You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You were oddly calm going into it, knowing you still had a future with the team, but were still stressed. As you took a final sip of your drink, you headed to the stage, only to be met with Wonwoo’s piercing eyes, and a shit eating grin. 

     Well, fuck. There goes your screen time, was all you could think, scowling at him, and opting to set up. The keyboard glowed as you clicked away, checking the mouse, and remained silent as the announcers droned on about the game, and every playstyle, the crowd roaring at the game. You picked your character after the bans, quickly making it onto the field, and the bottom lane. 

“We gotta be careful this round,” You said, moving back and forth. “They’re heavy on movement. If you see something, say something.”

“Got it,” Your midlaner said, as the game quickly began. 

      As the game stretched out, Wonwoo was noticeably gone. Before you could even note he must have listened to you, your screen turned gray, and you looked to see Wonwoo had killed you. Looking over to him across the stage, he didn’t return your stare, only smiling at the game, as you huffed. 

      The first match carried deep into a match against the dragons, but as much as you hoped you could keep up, Wonwoo stole nearly every dragon on the field, leading your team to play a losing game of catch up, until the match ended. 1-0 rang out on every screen as the crowd cheered for the other team, and you quickly headed off stage to recoup with your team.

      The second match was a turnover, however, as your toplane deployed a new strategy of killing Wonwoo from a distance before he could ever get to you, leading your group to come out on top in this match, and for you to grin brightly.

“One left, boys!” You called, high fiving your team, and sticking your tongue out at Wonwoo, who could only shake his head at your antics.

      The arena darkened with lights, as you sat down at your computer. The technology around you glowed with light, and your fingers almost felt as if they were pulsing with energy, as you made your final round bans and picks. 

      As you started the round, you opted to play as safe as possible in the start, gaining money. At one point, you were shocked, as you managed to kill Wonwoo, who eyed you from across the arena, daring you to try again. Again, you did.

      If when you played together previously, it looked like dancing, this looked like war. You didn’t even care about the majority of the others, knowing they’d be fine, instead opting to go after the star player on the team. You and your bot lane pushed against Wonwoo, quickly taking him down time after time, until the first dragon appeared, and your own jungler lost it to their mid lane.

      Around this time, you were positive the game was over. Wonwoo quickly turned the match on your head, giving back everything you were given, and then some. The match was going downhill, and nothing could stop them, as they approached your base, the familiar black and white screen turning red, as you lost the final match. 

      You let out a shaky breath, watching JACKL jump around in victory, and heading over to give you all a handshake, and your team quickly exited the stage, heading back to the locker room. A few members quickly left, but you opted to take a few interviews about your team, to help your fans stay calmer, promising victory next year. 

      After what felt like an eternity of interviews and pictures, you notice quite a few members of JACKL as they greet you, heading back home to their friends and family. You said goodbye to the others in your team, returning to the quiet locker room to grab your bag, only turning around at the sound of the door softly closing, seeing Wonwoo.

“Congrats,” You said, honestly. “As fucking annoying as it is to not be able to play much, you did your best.”

“Thank you.” Wonwoo said. 

“But seriously? Pretty fucking annoying to be killed all the time. Don’t do it again next year.” You said, heading to the door, only for him to block it right in front of you.

“I know it’s annoying. Got a little feel of it today from you, to be honest.”

“Then why the hell do you do it so much?” You asked, exasperated.

“Honestly?” Wonwoo said, eyes scanning your face, the silence growing. “You’re really fucking hot when you’re pissed off.”

“I’m… sorry?” You asked, eyes blinking at him, bag falling off your shoulder.

      Wonwoo moved closer to you, making you back up against the door. He let out a soft sigh, scanning your face, as he leaned in towards you.

“The first match I played against you, your teammate got you killed. I saw you curse him out over and over, and the angrier you got, I liked it,” he said, fixing your hair. “So, ever since then, I couldn’t help but piss you off.”

“Are- are you serious? You have to be joki-” You were cut off as Wonwoo kissed you quickly to shut you up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was joking.” He said, ears red.

      For a second, everything clicked into place. The first match you ever had with JACKL should have been a tell from the beginning. Your bot lane had made a stupid decision, not checking the grass next to you before letting you go in, and had instantly got you and him killed. You had been pissed beyond belief after he had promised he checked everything, and you had reamed him out for an hour over it during and after the game. Wonwoo had been watching you, in shock, and you thought he was being annoying when he killed you again, and suddenly started killing you every chance he got.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t being a dick.

No, it turns out he was just horny.

      Something in your brain fizzled out, and you honestly couldn’t think anymore, as you reached up behind his neck, pulling him back down to meet your lips. Wonwoo tasted like the stupidly sweet lollipops he always ate before a match, and always used to tease you with. You supposed they held a different meaning to you, now, as his tongue licked your lips to kiss you deeper. His hands pulled your waist closer, dangerously close to your ass.

      You weren’t sure how much time had passed before he had completely given in to grab your ass, muttering for you to jump. You hopped straight up, and wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried the two of you from the doorway over to the couch on the other side of the room, dumping the two of you onto it. 

“Hey,” Wonwoo said, hands on your hips, looking more at your lips than your eyes. “If you want to stop here, I’ll get it. But you’ve gotta let me know now.”

“Jeon Wonwoo, if you stop now, I’ll actually hate you for the rest of my life.” You said, and Wonwoo laughed, reaching up to take off his glasses, and setting them on a nearby table, before leaning down to kiss you again. 

     The grip on your thighs felt like fire, and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper as he moved to attach his lips to your neck, sucking a spot where your jaw meets your neck. You felt painfully aware of the heat growing in your stomach, letting your fingers move to his hair to lightly tug, keeping yourself grounded. 

     Wonwoo’s hips pressed into yours, and his fingers moved from your hips up your shirt. You lifted up your back as he yanked your shirt off, leaning back to take his off. You oogled him for a good minute, opting to run your fingers down his abs. 

“Enjoying the view?” Wonwoo teased, and you nodded, playfully licking your lips.

 “Who said video game nerds can’t be fit?” You teased. 

      He chose to ignore your comments, instead moving to remove your bra, and tossing it somewhere else in the room.

“Good thing I locked the fucking door.” He said, mouth moving to kiss down your neck, to your chest.

      The moment his lips met your nipple, you let out a breathy moan. His hand met the waistband of your shorts, and he gave you a second before moving further, hand reaching to cover your mound. 

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like it.” He said, and seconds later, his fingers were plunging into your core.

      The two fingers within you felt like heaven, while his thumb moved in circular ministrations along your sensitive bud. The heat grew in your belly with every movement, and Wonwoo was forced to cover your mouth.

“Listen, I’m all for you being loud any other time, but I don’t want to get caught.” Wonwoo said. “Be quiet, or I’ll have to quiet you.” He warned, and you nodded.

      The fogginess in your brain grew, and heat coiled in your belly, letting out a warning whimper to Wonwoo, who quickly removed his hand, licking at his fingers. You would’ve thought that was the hottest thing ever, except for the empty feeling in your belly making you irritated instead. 

“What the fuck, Wonwoo.” You said, irritated.

“I’ll let you come on my fingers any day, but I’d rather the first time you do be with me in you.” He said, and your face reddened at the raunchy statement coming from his lips.

      Instead of letting you say anything, Wonwoo lifted your hips to remove your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, eyeing your soaked core, as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“Hate me this, hate me that, but you’re soaked,” Wonwoo teased, pulling your hips closer to his. “Last time to back out, mortal enemy.”

“Wonwoo, please,” You said, long past annoyed, and more desperate to come. “I will find anyone in this building if you don’t fuck me now.”

     His eyes glinted at the challenge, and slowly pushed into your core. He let out a groan as he bottomed out, feeling you pulse around him. Once you gave the go ahead, Wonwoo began his slow movements in and out of your core, the sounds you made egging him on.

“Wonwoo, deeper, please.” You begged.

Wonwoo obliged to your begging, shifting your hips to hit deeper, and pulling you into a deep kiss to keep you quiet.

 “Wonwoo, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You begged in his ear.

      The breathy moans in your ear weren’t doing anything to help the heat in your core, and the cord was threatening you, ready to snap. His hip movements grew sloppy as he moved to hold your hips in place, and one final thrust from Wonwoo had you seeing stars, and biting at Wonwoo’s hand over your mouth as you came, Wonwoo letting out a moan as he came, filling you. His body felt shaky as he pulled out of you, moving over to a table to grab a tissue, and cleaning up the mess before any of the couch stained.

      He pulled on his clothes as you got up, looking around for your clothes, and he helped you get ready, in majority silence. Before you looked for your bag, however, he stopped you. 

“I understand if I’ve turned you away from me from my shitty actions. To be honest, I’d probably feel the same, but I really do like you, and I mean it. I didn’t want to fuck you to take any advantage.” He said, nervous.

“Wonwoo, please, calm down. You may have been annoying, but you’re not a shit person. I know you didn’t hook up with me just to hook up,” You said, handing him his glasses to put on. “Um. I’m not terribly good at this, but I’d be willing to continue this… something, or whatever it is, if you want. Serious or not.” You said, and he beamed up at you, and you felt your heart squeeze.

     He nodded, and grabbed your bag for you. “Let’s go, then.” He said, unlocking the door for you, and heading with you to your car.

—-////—-

      The sucker in your mouth did nothing to calm your nerves, as you texted Wonwoo. After your escapade, you and him had a very private don’t-tell-anyone set up, not wanting anyone to fuck with the two of you. It worked for the better, as Wonwoo was able to sign with a new team with a big buck contract, even if it was going to be away from you. To be honest, you didn’t care about being public, and neither did he. Were you sometimes jealous of attention? Yes. Did the pictures and videos you saved from fans help? Also yes. To be fair, though, he was in your bed, not theirs, and it was victory enough.

      The manager ran over to you to knock you out of your thoughts, gushing about the new team setup, and how the world wasn’t ready. Your message to Wonwoo remained on delivered as you spun in your chair, anxiety rising. To be honest, you were starting to get worried, as you stressed, as you tapped away mindlessly on your keyboard.

      You sighed at the delivered on text, again, as you heard a ruckus growing in the entry of the dorms. Not dealing with that, you thought, until a hand on your chair stopped you from turning, and your sucker was ripped from your mouth. You turned to yell at whomever was next to you, only to freeze, seeing Wonwoo stick it into his mouth.

“What the fuck…?” You trailed off, as your manager came over. 

“Oh! Glad you’re getting settled in, Wonwoo,” He said, and turned to you. “Our new jungler!” 

      You nodded to the manager in shock, and Wonwoo held a shit eating grin on his face as he stared at you the whole time, and winked at you. You slowly put your headset back on as the manager requested a quick game, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt Wonwoo touch your hand quickly, grinning at his screen, as the game started.

No, you didn’t hate Jeon Wonwoo, but he was absolutely going to be the death of you.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Plot Bunny; den mom Black Zero.

“You’re Kon-El’s age?” Wonder Woman says, looking thoughtful. 

“I said that, yes,” Black Zero replies in annoyance. He usually has a higher estimation of Wonder Woman’s intelligence than to need the obvious restated, but it could be worse; could be Superman talking again. 

“Are you intending to repeat your crimes in this reality?” Wonder Woman says. 

“You cannot possibly be stupid enough to think I’d answer that truthfully either way,” Black Zero says, eyeing her dubiously. The corner of her mouth quirks up, just a little. 

“Perhaps,” she says. “But I imagine you’re aware that I do have a method to assure that you would.” 

Black Zero rolls his eyes, then holds out his arm in further annoyance. It’s not as if he needs to lie, much less cares enough to. If he wanted to kill them, he’d be killing them. 

“Thank you,” Wonder Woman says, because of course she’d waste time on that, and then loops her lasso around his wrist. “Your name, please?” 

“Black Zero,” Black Zero says. Wonder Woman hums consideringly. 

“What are your intentions towards this reality, Black Zero?” she says. 

“To explain to your Superboy why he’s an idiot and murder anyone between him and his brother,” Black Zero replies dryly. “Also, I might punch your Superman. He’s pissing me off and I’ve never actually gotten the chance to.” 

“Technically not true,” Superboy says. “One of the Superboys we met was actually a younger alternate of Superman, and you definitely punched him. Like, really hard. And his dog.” 

“Did I?” Black Zero feels pleased. “Good.” 

“You’re such a prick, man,” Superboy says, scowling at him. “The dog!” 

“I hate dogs,” Black Zero replies with a dismissive shrug. 

“So do I, but that is not the point!” Superboy says in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “And we’re not murdering anybody! No murder!” 

“You’re not, maybe,” Black Zero snorts. Wonder Woman watches his face, her own expression still thoughtful. 

“You want to abduct Match from the Agenda,” she says, which is again something he feels he’s made very obvious, but whatever. 

“It’s adorable that you’d describe freeing a legally-enslaved teenager as ‘abduction’,” he says. 

“Arguably, I couldn’t even describe him as a teenager, given he’s . . . how much younger than you, Kon-El?” Wonder Woman asks, glancing towards Superboy.

“Oh, uh–like a year, about?” he says. “I think about a year, anyway, I’m a little fuzzy on some of the dates, after the Wild Lands and–I think about a year, yeah.” 

“So you people left a newborn clone with an organization run by slavers,” Black Zero says. “For a year. That’s about as impressive as I’d expect from a Justice League, yes.” 

“Match has made his feelings on remaining with the Agenda clear more than once,” Superman says, narrowing his eyes at him. Black Zero gives him a dubious look. “We tried to help him. He’s made his choice."

“Yes, physiological teenagers with five minutes’ worth of life experience are notoriously adept at making informed choices with long-term consequences that involve them rejecting everything about and everyone in the only life they’ve ever known,” Black Zero drawls, rolling his eyes. “Silly me. How could I forget.” 

“Your priorities are . . . interesting,” Wonder Woman muses, still watching him thoughtfully. He doesn’t know what she thinks she’s looking for. 

“They're correct, is what they are,” he says. “No one else gives a fuck about our kind.” 

“Clones, you mean?” Wonder Woman says. 

“You keep asking me incredibly obvious questions,” Black Zero says. Who else would he mean? 

It's been made very clear to him that no one else is going to look out for any of them except each other.

[luvyeni]

—｛🎂｝VIDEO GAMES; W/ STRAYKIDS

pairings. skz x reader

word count. 1k+ (it really wasn't supposed to be like this)

warnings. cockwarming, oral (m recieving), fingering, usage of nicknames (slut, whore), but cute nicknames too, dry humping... i think that's it

author's note. @skzsmutooo you requested this in the comments.

—｛🍰｝... BANG CHAN ! ⋮

Him playing league of legends, and you on your knees sucking him off like a good girl, he's in fucking heaven honestly.

You wanted unplug the damn game hours ago, you were beyond fed up at this point. "Channnn~ please get off the game, you've been playing for such long time."

"Just a little longer lovey, it's been such a long since i've been able to play." He turned to give a kiss on the forehead, before returning to the game.

"I wish you never got that account back."

"Behave." He didn't even turn around, but you could hear the domineering tone of voice, that just had you gushing even more.

You left him alone for a while, before you grew helpless once again, getting up to force your boyfriend to give you attention.

"I want to suck you off." He stopped, eyes widening at your bold choice of word. "Fuck~ you can't say things like this" he threw his head back. "Get on your knees love."

It was pretty pathetic how fast you got down on your knees, but you didn't care. "Pull it out." You unbuckled his pants, pulling his cock out.

"Be a good girl and suck me off."

—｛🍰｝... LEE KNOW ! ⋮

Lee know stop caring about the game the moment you came into the room with that look in your eyes. Sadly for you, he's gonna pretend to play the game, and until you give in and beg.

"Love." He paid you know mind as you straddled his lap. "Why are you ignoring me? " You pawed at his phone, in attempt to knock it out of hands.

Nothing... absolutely nothing, he completely ignored you.

Lee know on the other hand, was loving this— he was having a blast watching you act like this, needy and desperate.

You couldn't take it anymore, you had to take matters into your own hands. You know he hated when you tried to pleasure yourself, but you didn't care.

You began to slowly rock your hip, a sly smirk creeping on your lips when you see when you see his fingers stop moving along the phone.

"what are you doing? " His low tone voice dampening your already soaked underwear.

"You were ignoring me, playing that stupid game when I wanted your attention." You stopped moving your hips, planting little kisses on his neck.

"So you use me to get yourself off? such a whore. " He said grabbed your hips harshly, forcing to move faster.

"You're going cum like this, then I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop."

—｛🍰｝... CHANGBIN ! ⋮

I don't think changbin really plays games like that—he'd probably just be scrolling through his phone while you play, and then all of sudden he'd get needy and try to distract you from playing.

"babyyyy, please." changbin nuzzled his face into your neck. "binnie, binnie i can't see the game." you whined, slightly pushing his head to the side.

Changbin does not give a fuck about the game your playing, he wants attention and he wants it now.

"Just a kiss then... please babe, just a kiss." He mentally smirked when you turned to him, puckering your lips. He knew you couldn't just kiss him, it always turned into more.

The moment his soft lips touch yours, you were done... you wanted him right then and there. Throwing the game to the side, you desperately clawed at his arm.

"C-changbin... f-fuck... i-i need you."

Laying you down fully on the bed, climbing on top of you... he began leaving little kisses down your stomach until he reached the waist of your shorts. "Changbin." You whined.

"Don't worry princess, i'll eat your pussy real good, I just want to see how wet you are for me." He pulled your pants down slowly.

"So wet for me."

—｛🍰｝... HYUNJIN ! ⋮

Much like changbin, I don't really think you'd be the one to be playing the game—and hyunjin, being the one who needs your attention, would be trying to get you off and show him love.

"jagi, you've been playing games for hours, we're supposed to be hanging out together." hyunjin pouted, trying to pull your controller out of your hand.

"Jinnie, please stop, I'm gonna lose if you keep pulling at- fuck." You tried to concentrate but your boyfriend began to leave little kisses on your neck.

"H-hyune, please." You whimpered. "What baby?" He feigned innocence. "Play your game, you're gonna lose." He mocked, playing with the drawstring of your pants.

"I'm just gonna touch you a bit, you can play your game." He waited for consent, before slipping into your pants, rubbing your clothed folds. "O-oh my god."

you were about to put the game down, when he immediately stopped moving his hand. "Why'd you stop?" you whined, holding his wrist to get him to move.

"No, don't stop now—you wanted to play the game instead of giving me attention, play the game." He reached over, handing you the controller.

"If you win this round, I might let you cum on my fingers.

—｛🍰｝... HAN JISUNG ! ⋮

Cockwarming and playing games with jisung would be a normal thing for you guys. Sometimes you'd play a game together, or sometimes he'd just play while you warm his cock.

"Pay attention, you missed an important piece that we needed to win." Your boyfriend says, like you're not impaled on his cock. "I-it's not- fuck sung, please move." He laughed—amused, even though he could barely keep it together himself.

"Nope, we're gonna stay like this until we win." He ignored your pleads.

As you finally began to focus on the game, picking up all the items you needed—jisung slowly began to lose composure, you could hear his breathing began to falter.

You had him right where you wanted him, clenching around him. "F-fuck, don't do that." He threw his head back in pleasure, you did it again. "Y-you're trying to get me to lose, i-it won't work." He growled.

"I-i c-can't, I need to fuck you." He tossed the controller to the side. "So fucking tight." He growled. "T-the game." He was too far gone to worry about the game.

"I don't fucking care about the stupid game."

♱ ... FELIX ! ⋮

Both of you playing genshin or something together, but you're sitting on his cock.

"Y-yah, S-stop moving, you're making me lose." felix whined, feeling you clench around him for the umpteenth time.

"I'm not trying to, I swear." you feel him buck his hips, thrusting into you, making you moan out loud, throwing your head back—dying in the mist of it.

Tossing the game to the side—you began to move your hips. "＿＿, fucking stop." But you didn't, instead you started to move faster. You felt the knot in your stomach, signaling that you were about to cum—felix could tell, "don't cum."

But it was too late—you came, clenching tightly around him. "S-shit." You heard the sound of felix dying on the game. "You made me lose." he breathed. "I'm sorry." you came down from your high.

"Be grateful you came, because you aren't for the rest of the night."

—｛🍰｝... SEUNGMIN ! ⋮

If you interrupt him while he's playing a game, he's gonna ignore you. If you continue to rile him up while he's playing, he's gonna be mean.

Your continuous sighing was really starting to annoy the boy sitting next to you. "Keep sighing, im not changing my mind, i told you to give me a hour." Your boyfriend didn't even spare you a glance. "You said that an hour ago." You mumbled under your breath. "Stop being a brat." He scoffed at your behavior. You were about to show him how much a brat you really could be—with a mischievous smile, you put your hand on his thigh.

Seungmin could feel your hand moving up thigh towards his hardening cock, but he wanted to see how far you were going to take it before he inevitably put you back in your place.

He wasn't surprised that you put your hand on his cock, squeezing it—you're a brat, he's used to it. What set him off the little giggle you let out, He knew you were taunting him.

Before you could even pull your hand away, he threw the game to the side, grabbing the side of your face, your mouth forming a pout.

"You couldn't just wait could you? you just had to be a cockwhore right, constantly needing something to fill you up." He used his other hand to pull his cock from his shorts.

"Since you couldn't wait patiently, you don't get to cum at all, i'm gonna fuck your mouth, and your gonna swallow my cum like a good cocksleeve." He grabbed your hair, lowering your face to his now rock hard cock.

"Now fucking suck."

—｛🍰｝... JEONGIN ! ⋮

Jeongin has straight tunnel vision, so you'd have to take matters into your own hands if you want any sort of attention.

You straddled jeongin's lap, trying to get a ounce of attention from him. "what are you doing—babe, the game, you're gonna make me lose." He stressed as you got comfortable. "I just want to be near you, I won't bother you, I promise."

You thought you could do it—but between you being extremely needy, and your boyfriends neck being at your disposal... you couldn't help but leave little kisses down his neck.

"Babe." He warned.

Unfortunately for him, you really weren't listening to anything he was saying. "Baby, you promised." You began to grind your hip directly on his hardening cock.

"Fuck me" he moaned.

"You couldn't wait could you? " he held your hips, moving at his pace. "You just had to get yourself off like a bitch in heat, huh? He growled in your ear.

"J-jeongin, please I need more, please do something." You tried to move your hips, he slapped your ass. "I didn't tell you to fucking move."

"I'm gonna make you cum like this, then you're gonna be a good girl and let me play the game, and maybe I'll fuck you full when I'm finished if you're good."

©️LUVYENI

[captain-mj]

Superhero au

I got inspired and made a little superhero x antihero au, hope you guys like it <3 Part 2 should be out soon

Ghost was good at what he did. Very good. He got up, he killed villains that the heroes were too pussy to deal with and he went home. Today had been easy. One freak that liked to hurt animals to try to make some weird chimera that he found great joy in murdering.

Ghost had been nice. He had left his face and teeth intact so he could easily be identified. The police were fucking useless and he didn’t want them trying to insist he killed an innocent again. The amount of civilian deaths pinned on him (all later redacted because they were never true) was ridiculous. 

As he slowly went around his living room, considering what he’d do with his night, he heard a creak of his floorboard. Ghost threw one of his knives at that area, seeing… 

“Soap.” He recognized the stupid superhero in his stupid get up. Too much spandex and gold for him personally. 

“Ghost.” Soap smiled at him brightly. “I finally found out where you lived!” Already his smoky tendrils, ones that were so commonly associated with him You couldn’t have one without the other, had wrapped tight around his wrists. Soap tries to break free but they didn’t budge despite his super strength. His smile faltered as he was lifted until his toes were barely touching the ground but he quickly put it back up. 

Ghost hated him so much. His smile was so bright. Literally, there was a light around him that kinda hurt Ghost’s eyes. He was happy he still had his mask on and that Soap did not see his face. 

“How dare you.”

Soap wiggled one hand so Ghost freed it and he pulled out a flier. “So Ghost. I believe that we can find an advantageous alliance for all of us if you were to join th-”

“No. I’m not joining shit. Get lost.” 

Soap smiled tighter, an almost grimace. “Well, ya see. We could pardon you of all crimes.”

“I’ve committed no crimes.”

“You’ve murdered many people.”

Ghost glared at him, the tendrils dancing around him. They felt like nothing against his skin but judging by how Soap was reacting, they must be unpleasant. He was a being of smoke and darkness rather than human. It was for the best that no one knew how human he was under everything. “I murdered monsters. It’s your fault they roam free. I’m just cleaning up the trash.”

Soap tsked. “Such messy morals.”

“Morals? Morals? Are you serious? You let these freaks get back out and hurt more people. Children. Animals. Innocent people. And you think it’s better to let them out? They prove time and time again they won’t change and you insist they will.” 

Soap stared at him blankly and Ghost wondered if he had just tuned him out entirely. “So our lea-”

“I will not be joining any leagues or organizations. I’m already going to have to move thanks to you.”

Soap tapped his fingers against each other for a moment. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But can you just consider it? I think you’d be a good fit.”

“You just said my morals were messy.”

“I did. But a lot of these people can be rehabilitated.”

“How many people have to die while we wait for one of them to heal?” Ghost asked as he started to make himself tea. 

Soap didn’t answer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. But… even if you won’t join the league, I see no reason we can’t be friends, ya know?”

Ghost glared at him hard. “Get fucked. I won’t help you. I don’t need your help. I work alone.”

Soap smiled. “Well…” He pulled out a business card and put it on the table. “Just in case.”

Ghost waited until Soap disappeared to look at the business card. He faltered when he actually looked at it. 

All of the heroes had business cards. It included their names, a small rundown of their powers and what league they were a part of if they were a part of any. 

This was not that. 

“John MacTavish”

His actual name. 

Along with his contact information and his address. 

Ghost was a little stunned but he decided to keep the card. He doubted he’d ever need it, but if Soap ever revealed his little flat to anyone, he could spread his information just as fast.

———

Soap was making himself coffee a few weeks later. He had been keeping tabs on Ghost. It was his job. His team even encouraged it. 

After the first week though, he didn’t bother to kid himself. He knew this wasn’t because of duty. Soap did not spend over an hour watching Ghost grocery shop for the greater good. 

Soap didn’t call it stalking. Stalking implied he watched him constantly and he really didn’t. Just when he had a little spare time, he’d use a tiny tiny bit of his reality bending powers to watch what Ghost was doing. He’d usually use mirrors or his phone and it felt almost like a tv show. 

Soap never saw his face. Not just because Ghost constantly wore a mask, but he blurred it. Don’t get him wrong, he’d look in an instant if it was almost anyone else. There’s a reason most super villians never kept their secret identities for long. But with Ghost… it felt wrong. It felt like cheating. 

Ghost was funny. He’d rescue kittens from trees, buy little kids balloons, and seemed to have a thing for gardenias but he never bought them. Just looked at them. 

Soap had been trying to stop. Besides the ethics, his team was starting to notice how much he watched Ghost and he knew if they saw the depth of it, they’d figure it out. Plus Ghost hadn’t done anything bad recently. As far as they could tell, he was laying low. Possibly moving. 

As if he knew Soap was no longer watching, Ghost appeared in his dreams. Usually the dreams were… Soap didn’t know how to describe them. They weren’t nightmares. Certainly not wet dreams despite Gaz’s teasing. Too fragmented and they always left him empty and sometimes… sad. 

Soap had never met a material he couldn’t rip through. Except Ghost. Whatever that living smoke was made of, it had to be indestructible.

He sighed and drank more coffee, trying to tell himself not to watch his favorite tv show. He had managed all week. Just a few more hours and he’d hit it. 

Something hit his door. It sounded… weirdly wet. He sighed and opened it. He wasn’t dressed as a superhero luckily and no one besides his team should know where he lived. 

And there he was. His object of obsession. 

Ghost looked at him, blood dripping down from a wound on his stomach. Soap couldn’t really see it, the smoke was wrapped so tight around him and it hit him suddenly that he was holding the wound together. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Soap quickly ushered him inside and sat him down on his couch. “Why aren’t you healing?”

Ghost frowned. “I don’t have super healing. Sorry to disappoint.”

“So when Captain Price threw you off that building last week you were actually hurt?” Soap asked sarcastically. That made no sense. No one without super healing would fight them so regularly. 

“Yes. That’s why i was taking it easy this week. He bruised my ribs. I nearly fractured some bones in my legs apparently. I thought i was good to go though…” Ghost adjusted himself. “Look, if you can’t help, maybe i should go. I can leave.”3

[magicfootballstuff]

Derby Day - ona batlle x reader

You don’t talk to each other before the game on derby day. That’s the rule you put in place two seasons ago after a Manchester derby that ended up with a pre-match argument, a reckless challenge mid-game that earned you a yellow card, and a week of making Ona breakfast in bed to apologise for taking out your frustration on her on the pitch.

Since then, the no talking rule has been effective. No more arguments, no more stupid tackles, no more letting the Manchester rivalry cross the threshold into the apartment you share with your girlfriend.

Another unspoken rule of the derby day is that the player on the away side stays with a friend the night before the match, mostly to aid the 'no talking before the game' rule, so you crash in Leila’s spare bedroom the night before this one and catch a lift with her and Laia to meet the team bus that’ll take you to Leigh Sports Village. You’re strangely blissful as you board the coach with a coffee in a paper cup, and though thoughts of Ona cross your mind, you’re mostly focused on the game ahead. It’s a must-win for both teams in the fight for trophies and Champions League places, but you don’t allow yourself to stress about the what ifs and the knowledge that either you or Ona will end the day bitterly disappointed with the outcome.

Before the game, when both teams are out on the pitch inside a still empty stadium, you pretend that you don’t know Ona. There’s a bit of mingling between the two teams, some of the Lionesses chat with each other and Lucia says a quick hi to you. But when Leila and Laia approach Ona, you hang back and talk to some of your other teammates instead.

The no-talking rule, no matter how tempting it is to break when Ona looks so good in United’s brand new white training kit, is in place for a reason.

You don’t make eye contact with her during the warm ups, nor in the tunnel before the game. Especially not when you go down the line to fist bump each member of the United team. She’s not your girlfriend for the next two hours, just another red opponent on the pitch.

After three years of playing against Ona instead of by her side, as you did at Levante and Barcelona before that, you’ve reached the point where you can compartmentalise your relationship fairly easily. It helps that the match is so intense - an early goal, a late goal, a red card, and plenty of drama between all that - that you completely forget you’re competing against your girlfriend for large parts of the game. There are only a couple of moments where you get caught off guard, accidentally making eye contact with Ona after forgetting she’s there, and getting distracted for the briefest moment by how fucking good she looks with her hair tied back in a braid and her shirt hanging open at the collar.

When the final whistle blows, you’re gutted about the result. You left everything out on the pitch and to lose it right at the end after going down to ten players and equalising from behind. But the overwhelming feeling is one of relief. You no longer have to pretend that Ona is just another opponent, no longer have to pretend that you’re not head over heels in love with her after ninety minutes of fighting against her.

After the team huddles are over and Ona finishes giving an interview for the television cameras, you find your way to each other, desperate to return to the normality of talking, of even being able to acknowledge each other. She’s clutching a Player of the Match trophy in her hand, and despite the on-pitch rivalry and your disappointment with the result, you can’t stop the pride that swells within you and you have to admit that she’s earned it.

“I hate derby day,” you say, as Ona’s arms wrap around you and you nuzzle your face into her neck.

“Last one,” she replies, referencing your imminent transfers.

Manchester has been your home with Ona for three years, and the Manchester derby, as much as you don’t like having to play against your girlfriend, has been a part of your relationship for those three years. You don’t know if you’ll be sad to see the back of this particular fixture when you return to Spain with Ona to play on the same team next season, but you’ll definitely be sad to say goodbye to this team and this city.

“Never again,” you tell her, as you pull out of the embrace. “Same team for life now. I might even let you put this up in our new apartment.”

You gesture at the trophy in her hand, and she grins back at you as she asks, “So that you never forget that Manchester is red?”

“Okay, you’re sleeping at Lucia’s tonight.”

“No,” Ona protests, her free hand snaking around your back and squeezing your waist. “One night apart was already too much.”

She blinks at you with pleading brown eyes, a dirty yet entirely successful tactic to win you over, though you can’t deny the absolute truth to her words.

“Derby day always makes you clingy,” you tease her.

“I hate playing against you. I hate beating you.”

“Shut up,” you wriggle free from the arm around your waist and give her a playful shove. “This is the first time you’ve beaten us in the league. And the last time you’ll beat me.”

“Can’t beat you again when we play for the same team,” Ona points out. “Maybe I should sign for Madrid…”

“No,” you’re quick to protest, forgetting your faux annoyance as it’s now your turn to pull Ona closer. “Same team from now on, we agreed.”

Ona presses her lips to your temple, then murmurs in a low voice, “And you said I was clingy.”

“Stop it!”

You’re certain that even though you won’t be playing on opposite teams from next season, you and Ona will continue to find other things than the colour of Manchester to bicker and tease each other about when you move to Barcelona.

[braimin]

Law has the autism rizz, but that's nothing compared to Zoro's autism And ADHD rizz. Bro is unstoppable, Sanji took one look at this sword obsessed weirdo and went like "alright fine whatever I'll love this bitch for the rest of my fucking life"

Bestie you are correct ✨

Law will like, hear about the stuff you like and will be able to recite crazy shit that's somehow connected to it right off the top of his head. When he makes eye contact it's like you're the only person he's seeing (which is really because no one told him it's okay to look away when you talk to someone so he take eye contact very literally lol). He's the type to be vaugely unsettling when you first meet him and then when you get to know him he's got a very nice vibe to him. Also Law surprisingly has game when he hits on people, like he could really pull some hotties if he wanted to lol. (He doesn't, he hates people.)

Zoro, like Law, is wholly uninterested in most people. But I feel like Zoro's rizz is really niche, it takes a specific type of person to really get into him. Sanji is, unfortunately, one of those people. Which really just means he's a morosexual. Because Zoro is somehow simultaneously one of the smartest and dumbest people alive. He's so reckless he's borderline suicidal and yet he's one of their best strategists, he has never picked up a book in the entire time he's been with the crew and yet he is their human calculator.

Sanji has found himself on more than one occasion saying stuff like 'That's so fucking stupid, tell me more.' There's just something about the way Zoro says dumb shit. And it's always after saying the most profound and wise things.

He's also the perfect amount of bouncing off the walls kind of feral, like Law is, for the most part, a fairly monotone guy (unless he's around Luffy and Kid). But Zoro is ready to fight or fuck at the drop of a hat. When they first met Sanji saw him go crazy for a fight with a man who was so obviously out of his league, then almost die over it and was like 'Uh oh why was that attractive?' Every time he sees that feral smile before a fight it's like the 'oh no, he's hot!' meme plays in his head on repeat.

He's mostly hyper fixated on his swords but after spending so much time with Sanji, Zoro has accidentally learned a bunch of shit about food and the kitchen so he's incredibly helpful when it comes to shopping and cleaning. Because Zoro knows all his systems and follows them to a T (He complains every step of the way though and that pisses Sanji off.) He fits really well in his kitchen, Sanji has almost forgotten what it felt like to not have him there and he's not entirely sure he could go back to how it was before.

So yeah, Sanji goes from 'Damn, why am I into this little weirdo?' to 'Fuck, I'm in love with this freak aren't I?'

[certifiedredhoodlover]

I hate that I love you

Damian Wayne x fem!reader

TW:enemies to lovers trope, kinda mean Damian, insults, fight scene, a bit of angst at the end, happy ending.

Everyone on your league's knew you hated each other. You both knew you did. Or did you? It was complicated really. It was pure chaos when you were around each other.

Ra's al Ghul was an old friend of your grandparents. He and your grandpa made the league's together. Now his granddaughter and your mother continue the legacy.

Talia al Ghul was a strong women, powerful even. You liked her. Her son? Not so much. There are a lot of names you could address Damian with. One of them is spoiled. He was such a spoiled little brat and treated you like you were no one.

Your league was one of the best. It trained you to be one of the best. And you were, you knew you were. Damian didn't seem to think so though.

That's how you ended up here. Standing in front of each other, katana in hand, ready to strike. Your rage has been building up slowly ever since he came to the league alongside with his mother. It was time to let it out.

"Let's see how much of a nobody you truly are." His constant insults had stopped bothering you long time ago. Striking first was never your move but you couldn't help it. The sound of your katanas meeting each other filled the room. You gazes were stuck on each other. The tension between you was noticeable.

Tearing your gaze away from his, you quickly striked again trying to catch him off guard. And you did. Letting out,a not so silent, gasp he tripped from the impact and hit the floor. As quickly as you could you kicked his katana away and pinned his hands above his head.

"Guess I'm not as bad as you thought I was Wayne." You snapped at him and kept eye contact, eventhough the tension was still there. His shoulders slumped, his hands seemed to lose strength and his features softened. You were confused. Was he giving up that easily? He never did.

Standing up, not bearing to look at him anymore. As you picked your katana up and got ready to leave, a hand on your shoulder stopped you from doing so. Turning around you looked at Damian with a blank stare, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being interested in what he has to say.

Looking at you deep in the eyes he took a deep breath and said. "This is not how it was supposed to go. I never intended to make you hate me. But.. you were and still are so stubborn! It irritates me so much..." Before he could finish you interrupted him. "I didn't stay just to listen to your insults." You snarled and turned to walk out the door again.

Calming his breathing, Damian took a step forward turning you around and pinning you to the wall. "I love you. I do. So much that it hurts." Looking at him with your mouth agape in shock, you couldn't believe what he was saying. Laughing bitterly you pushed him back harshly. "Is this some kind of a sick joke? Are you fucking playing with me?"

Damian stood there looking at you, eyes filled with tears. Not only because you didn't believe him but because of anger as well. How could you think that he would joke about something like that? Do you think so lowly of him?

"I would never lie about something like that. Do you desire me as much as I desire you? Or do you actually feel pure hatred towards me?" He asked looking at you with a hopeful look on his face. Oh how he wished you felt the same. He begged the gods inside of him. He never wanted anything as much as he wanted you to be his.

Seeing his genuine look, you wondered. Was he actually telling the truth? Does he actually love you? Taking a shaky breath, you risked it. Pulling him towards you, you kissed him passionately. Wrapping yours arms around his neck you pulled him as close as possible. The kiss was magical. Both of relaxing in each others embrace. Finally realizing how stupid you both were.

Pulling away from each other, a dazed smile graced both of your faces. The love in your eyes was visible. Finally, the tension was no longer there. Only love and adoration.

[OKAYY IT'S DONE ANON!! This made me feel so many things while writing it I swear. ]

[sinningforrory]

stupid // stan uris smut

a/n: hey everyone! it's been so long since i've posted and a lot of people have been sending me requests but since my first and only fic i've uploaded on here has gained 1,000 notes i thought i'd gift you guys this fic as a thank you. i'm gonna try and upload a lot more now because i appreciate so much the love my writing gets fr thank you guys so much. hope you enjoy and as always, reblogging really helps me out so if u enjoy, pls don't hesitate!

WARNINGS: dom!stan, submissive!bratty!reader, slight choking, mention of drugs (if you squint) SMUT, majorly NSFW minors please dni, thank you!

WORD COUNT: OVER 6K

SUMMARY: Your parents best friends' son. The picture perfect grade A student of the perfect suburban family. And a cocky douchebag. You hated him. But, since you both got into the same college, Stan has been making it clear that he definitely does not hate you...

Stanley. Even his name irked you. I mean, who in their right mind births a beautiful baby boy and names him Stanley. What a stupid name. It fits him though, that’s for sure. Stupid Stan with his stupid family and his stupid friends and his stupid studying. He was just so stupid that you wanted to bash his brains in any time he so much as breathed around your presence. 

Of course, he hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant your intense hatred towards him. He just irritated you. You were Jewish too so you’d always see each other at the Synagogue and your parents were enamoured by Stan’s stupidness. They saw it as ‘perfection’ instead though. They were always bothering you about how you should ‘aim to be more like Stan’ or ‘Stan’s parents told me he got an A in this class. So why are you getting a D?’ He drove you insane. You weren’t Stan, you weren’t stupid like Stan so why couldn’t your parents just love you for you instead of comparing you to that stupid, stupid boy.

Due to your parents being very good friends with Stan’s family, you saw each other a lot more than you’d like. And every time you were there you took every opportunity to be nasty to Stan just to wear off some steam. But that made it even worse. It wouldn’t matter if he was a dick to you too. But no. He’s NICE to you. And you know he’s doing it on purpose to get on your nerves because every time he compliments your hair and sees you glaring knives into his eyes, he does a subtle smirk to himself as if he’s fucking won this silly little game you play. He knows he’s driving you insane and he’s proud of himself for it. What a fucking douche.  

It had always been this way. Stan irritates you, you’re a bitch to Stan, Stan eats it up, Stan irritates you, blah, blah, blah. It was an endless cycle of hate. 

However, something had flipped in Stan the summer before you both left for college. Luckily enough, you’d both managed to get into the exact same ivy league as each other so you would be stuck with Stan for the next four years. When you found out you immediately wanted to bash your head into a wall repeatedly until you woke up from this absolute nightmare that was Stanley Uris. 

The news that you had both gotten into an ivy league warranted a celebratory party for the both of you. The idea from your lovely mother, of course, and at said party, Stan was acting a lot stranger than normal. So strange to the point where you were currently hiding in the bathroom with your back against the door breathing heavily as if he was chasing after you and about to knock the door down with an axe.  

It started in the garden. You wore a white summer dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered among it. Stan was looking very punchable in cream khakis and a navy polo. Unbuttoned, of course, because he could never look TOO tidy. You stood by the refreshments, sipping a virgin pina colada when Stan strutted his way over with a teasing grin on his face, ready to ruin your relaxed mood. 

‘So, I guess we’re going to college together. It seems you really can’t escape me, can you, y/n?’ He leaned against the table next to you, taking a sip from his beer. You glared up at him, already infuriated by the fact that he was leaning down with you stood up straight next to him and he was still taller than you. 

‘Oh please, Stanley, don’t pretend to be so happy about this when we both know you are just as excited about this as me.’ 

He gasped in mock surprise before laughing softly at the frown on your face, ‘Oh, come on, princess, you know you love me. I guarantee that you would miss this adorable face as soon as you knew you couldn’t see me anymore.’ 

He smiled at you gently before moving his sunglasses up to rest on his curls and taking a sip of beer. 

You moved to stand in front of him, making a move to leave the refreshments and flee to your room (or anywhere away from Stan). ‘Bite me, Uris.’ 

‘If you insist, princess.’ He smirked at you and folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining under his polo. 

Your eyes widened slightly, shock evident on your face at his words. He had always been overly saccharine with you but he had never flirted with you so boldly. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you scoffed before walking off with your pina colada into your kitchen for some snacks. 

5 minutes later, you were still stood in front of your fridge, supposedly searching for food but instead, you found yourself staring off into space. You could not scratch that smug image of Stan out of your brain, his words engraving themselves into your memory, messing with your mind. 

Worst of all, you found yourself repeatedly wondering why you liked what he had said to you. Pulling yourself together, you closed the fridge door but immediately jumped as you saw Stan standing right where the fridge door had been resting. 

‘You look a little lost, princess, is everything okay?’ He was stood so close to you that your chests were half an inch away from touching. You gazed into his eyes for half a second before realising what you were doing and coughed before putting some distance between the two of you. 

‘Uh-uhm, I’m fine thank you, Stanley. Just couldn’t find what I was craving.’ 

He nodded his head understandingly before taking a step forward so you were nearly chest to chest once again. ‘What exactly are you craving, y/n?’ 

He hadn’t meant to sound so enticing, or maybe he had, but the way he said that with his gravelly voice and his tiny smirk made your thighs involuntarily clench together. 

‘E-erm, just some guacamole dip. My mom always hides it from me though because she knows I’ll eat it all before the other guests can have any.’ You fiddled with the hem of your dress, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. What had gotten into you, why was he making your confidence dissipate so easily and why were you suddenly acting like a nervous school-girl?

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed before an evil look took over his features. He was planning something, you could tell. And you didn’t like it. 

‘Oh, you mean.. this guacamole? The one on top of the fridge? That I can reach? But you can’t?’ 

Your eyes trailed along his veiny, muscular forearm before they met his slender, mocking hand where you found it gesturing towards... of course: the dip. 

Frustration filled you head to toe as you realised that Stan, once again, had the upper hand. Your jaw ticked as your eyes finally met Stan’s cocky, patronising eyes and you had to resist the urge to make those smug, brown orbs black and blue. 

‘It seems that you have something you need to ask me, darling. Because, let’s face it, we’re not gonna have a stare-off all day in front of this fridge. So, let’s hear it: “Oh, please, Stanley. I need you to get me that dip off the top of the fridge because I was born with incompetent height and I can’t do it without you, Stanley.”’ 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you listened, painfully, to Stan mock you with such arrogance you found it hard to resist whacking him with a frying pan. However, to Stan’s surprise, before he had the chance to continue making fun of you, there was no one standing in front of him anymore. 

Where had you gone? he thought. That’s unlike you, to admit defeat so easily. Where was your usual snarky bite back, attacking him on his ‘unusually long legs’? 

But before he could get too worried, there you were. Returning into the kitchen to fight back to Stan.... with a chair. 

Wordless and emotionless, you put the chair down in front of the fridge, stood on its seat and grabbed the dip, finally retreating from the kitchen, not before throwing Stan a victorious wink before you disappeared around the corner. 

Truth be told, you had no idea how to respond to Stan’s unusual behaviour so instead of arguing back like you would normally do, your mind blanked of insults completely and you did the next best thing that you could think of: beat him at his own game. 

It was obvious that something about Stan had changed since the last time you had spoken and Stan seemed to think he was one step ahead of you. What stupid Stan didn’t know was that you were nowhere near as Stupid as him and knew that the only way to irritate him like you used to was to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

Sure, you weren’t exactly completely against the idea of flirting with Stan for fun. He was obviously a good-looking guy; you knew because he would never let you forget it. And you would never pass up the opportunity to get a hot guy flustered. 

This was how Stan wanted to play? Fine. He’d better prepare to lose. 

It had been two weeks since this little game you and Stan were playing had begun and you couldn’t hold out much longer. The tension between the two of you had sky-rocketed and even the slightest twitch of a smirk in the corner of Stan’s mouth had your panties pooling with desire. 

You had an inkling that Stan was in the same boat as you were as your lingering caresses on his arm or leg when laughing with him and his family seemed to make him blush much easier than before. 

The point of why you were doing all of this was still vaguely swimming around in the back of your mind: do not be the first to give into your temptations. Don’t sleep with Stan. 

However, with Stan so perfectly positioned behind you so your butt met his bulge as he leaned over your petite frame to reach for a glass, you had to take deep breaths to remind yourself once again: don’t sleep with Stan. 

You gulped and took a deep breath of relief once he removed himself from his position behind you to lean on the counter next to you. His gaze burned into the side of your face and you met his eyes briefly just to find him with a cocky smirk plastered on him. 

Your blood boiled (with rage or desire, you didn’t know) but you looked away without giving even the slightest of a reaction. You could never let him know how much his actions affected you. 

It was that dreaded time of the week when you go over to the Uris family’s house for dinner and after eating a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Uris you did the routine of standing in the kitchen and drinking an iced tea with Stan whilst the adults got drunk in the living room. 

Usually, you and Stan would bicker pointlessly during this time of the evening, but tonight it was completely silent between the two of you with only lingering gazes and glares thrown from one to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife. 

However, your torment was put on pause as, suddenly, Mrs Uris appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Hello sweeties,’ she hiccoughed slightly, clearly tipsy. ‘I know that the kitchen is very beautiful but you are welcome to go up to Stan’s room if you want. Stan certainly won’t mind a beautiful girl like you to be up in his room, y/n.’ She winked as you blushed and Stan coughed out an embarrassed ‘Mom!’. 

She then made her departure, giggling to herself softly as she went. Stan then coughed to get your attention and gestured with a jerk of his head to the direction of his room, indirectly asking if you wanted to take up his mother on her offer. You shrugged before making your way up the stairs to Stan’s room. 

Stan’s room. What a place to behold. You hadn’t been up there since you were about 12 and had to work with Stan on a class project. It had changed a lot since then. Posters of bands that Stan listened to were plastered all over the walls and clothes were scattered all over the floor, and let’s not forget to mention the faint aroma of marijuana. 

Stan manoeuvred you out of the doorway, his fingers gracing your waist ever so slightly with his bulge pressed against your lower back as he shimmied past you. 

He jumped on his bed, his arms and legs in a starfish position on either side of him, and closed his eyes with a big sigh. 

You carefully sat yourself down next to him on the bed, feeling too hesitant to lie yourself down next to him. He leaned up against the bed frame with his hands behind his head as he studied your appearance precariously as ever. 

‘Why do you hate me?’.

The question took you by surprise. It was so out of the blue and even more so out of character for Stan to be so straight-forward. You blinked delicately before shrugging your shoulders at him. 

‘Do you want the honest answer or the answer that you want to hear from me?’ You pressed, speaking so quiet that it was almost a whisper. 

He glanced swiftly over you for a second before responding, ‘Honest.’ 

It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting Stan to want that answer but the fact that you had to admit it to yourself now, let alone to Stan, was enough to make you faint from nerves. 

You looked away from Stan and fiddled with your fingers as you spoke in hushed tones. ‘I envy you. You have better grades, better looks, better charisma, better music taste, better style... a better life. You are better than me in every way. And I despise you for it.’ 

A masked look of shock ghosted over Stan’s face before it was replaced once again with a stony expression. He sat up straight so that your knees were touching and he placed a hand on the centre of your thigh. 

You looked up at him and connected with his gorgeous hazel eyes. He ran his tongue quickly over his lips before his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true.’

It was as if your body was moving with a mind of its own. Slowly, you were leaning in towards Stan as if you were magnetised to him and to be too far would hurt you in unimaginable ways. ‘How do you mean?’ You breathily responded, your heart pulsing rapidly.

He was so close to you now that you felt his breath against your lips. ‘Because I envy you ten times more.’ And with that closing sentence you felt his lips crash immediately into yours. 

All the tension from the last few days swarmed around you both like a storm of arousal and need. His kiss was passionate and rough as he pressed his lips into yours with so much want but his hand on your leg was gentle and sweet as he caressed your inner thigh gently with his thumb. 

The constant nagging of your brain screaming at you ‘Don’t sleep with Stan’ was shoved into the back of your mind falling to deaf ears as Stan moved his hand ever so slightly higher up your leg, falling to play with the hem of your dress as he detached his lips from yours to suck on your collarbone with the obvious attempt of planting a hickey. 

Stan skillfully moved you both up to the headboard so that he could deepen the passion of your kiss and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were now straddling his lap. 

His growing erection pressed into your centre as he trailed his smooth hands down to the flesh of your hips, his lips dragging down your jaw to find solace in the crook of your neck.

You felt like you were on fire, Stan’s touch was magnetic and no matter how you’d been trying to resist him, it was impossible. You were addicted to how he made you feel. 

Neediness began to bubble through your tummy and you could tell Stan was feeling the same way as his hands were digging into your hips harder than before. Then, his hands began to carefully drag your hips across his hardness, slowly at first. 

You could feel every bump of his length through his thin sweatpants and your hands moved down his toned body to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt. 

His hands began to move faster, dragging your thin panties over his hard, clothed dick. He detatched his lips from your neck when you began to let out tiny, little moans of pleasure, thankful for the little bits of stimulation Stan was feeding you. 

His eyes trailed down your body, admiring every single bump and curve: the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, your soaking panties rubbing against him as his hands moulded perfectly with the fat of your hips. They then fell on your face, growing darker at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows, messy hair and plump, red lips from you biting down too hard on them. 

Likewise, you were admiring Stan, his sharp jawline clenching and unclenching every time you dragged yourself over his most sensitive spots, his hair uncharacteristically messy from your hands tugging on his curls. He noticed your movements speeding up and he flashed you a dangerous grin; a grin that would make even the biggest prude on the planet drop her panties to her knees. 

Acknowledging your shaky hands still fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he slowed the movement of your hips with his strong hands and dragged you painfully slow now, refusing to let you continue with the rapid pace you’d set before. 

“You want this off, baby?” referring to his t-shirt. You nodded shyly, hands still fiddling with the hem. 

“Want me to take it off for you? Are you too dumb to do it yourself?” He stared up at you with a patronising look on his face. You groaned annoyedly, but deep down your cunt throbbed with anticipation.

“Just take it off Stan, don’t be a dick.” You glared down at him but your glare immediately switched to a look of shock as Stan’s hands had stopped your hips moving completely now, denying you any release that you were desperately craving. 

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he tutted at your lack of control. “Now, that’s no way to ask for what we want is it, sweetheart?” The corner of his lips tugged up satisfactorily as he took in your menacing glare, but also your glossed over eyes indicating your desperation for his cock. 

‘Oh, how cute,’ Stan thought pityingly. ‘The poor, little slut’s already gone dumb and I haven’t even fucked her yet.’

You breathed through your nostrils fiercely before succumbing to the begging of your aching clit and gave Stan your best doe eyes before tugging pathetically at the hem of Stan’s crumpled shirt. ‘Please take it off Stan, I’ll do anything, please..’ You pressed down on his length for extra measure just to make sure he would give you what you needed. 

A low hum of appreciation mixed with a strangled groan of pleasure escaped Stan’s throat and he mulled it over for a few seconds with that irritating smirk plastered on his face before nodding, clearly satisfied with your begging before he lifted his slender fingers to his collar and removed his shirt - finally. 

You took a moment to appreciate the art that was Stanley Uris' abs and sighed contentedly. It seemed your hands had a mind of their own as you wasted no time in rubbing your hands up and down his beautiful torso, gliding over the valleys and hills of his defined muscles.

"Enjoying yourself there, princess?" Stan chimed, clearly cocky that you'd spent about 30 seconds just groping him absentmindedly.

Tearing your eyes away, you glanced up at Stanley's face, adorned with a shit-eating smirk, one of his hands resting behind his head, the other still gripping the fat of your hip, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh.

Slightly embarrassed but, nevertheless, growing quite needy now, you rolled your eyes.

Eyes narrowing at the evil spawn, you thought 'The ego of this man is absolutely atrocious. How dare he try and make fun of me for admiring his physique when if I decided to strip naked right now, his reaction would probably beat mine.'

And then it clicked.

Focusing back on Stanley's disgustingly smug face, you did something you'd never done for Stanley Uris in your entire life.

You gave him a real genuine smile.

The apples of your cheeks beamed down at him and your eyes sparkled lovingly at the boy who was now slightly confused and, albeit, a little bit scared.

Slowly, you leaned down over Stan so your breath tickled his nose and your lips brushed gently against his, just in time to see his cheeks tinge red and his eyes flutter closed, like a naïve teenage girl who was experiencing her first kiss.

Aw, how cute.

Finally, you pressed your lips to Stanley's, so softly Stan thought he might've been kissing a cloud, and just left them there, in a gentle peck, before sitting up again to admire the look of bliss on Stan's face.

His eyes were fluttering open again and his breathing was shallow but fast.

This was the real face of Stan; he had finally taken off his mask for you.

He was so pretty, obviously you knew that already, but you couldn't get lost in his beauty again or your plan wouldn't work.

Then, when he dazedly smiled up at you and made to pull your head down so he could kiss you again, you teasingly began to lift up the hem of your dress until it had been lifted over your head and discarded somewhere on Stan's bedroom floor.

There you sat, on Stanley's clothed, throbbing cock, in just your white silk panties, the little bow just oh so enticing, and your bare, perky breasts on display for Stanley's greedy eyes.

His lips parted ever so slightly as he not-so-discreetly took in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed chest, and you knew you had him when his needy little hands reached up to thumb your erect nipples.

Arrogantly, you smirked down at him, your sweet, loving smile erased. However, Stan failed to notice, too enamoured by your naked body, like a toddler in a candy store.

"Aw, you're like a needy, little puppy, aren't you Stanny?" Your heart beat fast as you finally dropped the sentence you'd been waiting to release since Stan's cocky demeanour had surfaced.

Stan froze as he realised what you had done and his jaw clenched automatically, clearly embarrassed that he had let you entice him just how he had you not even a few minutes ago.

Narrowed eyes were glaring into yours and your confident façade faltered slightly as you realised how deep in shit you were now.

He was gonna ruin you.

However, Stan didn't flip you over dominantly so he was on top of you, or rip your panties off in anger like you had expected him to.

Gradually, he eased himself up his headboard so his back was resting comfortably against it and so the two of you were eye-level, 'innocent' doe-eyes levelled with furious, narrowed eyes.

His hands gently gripped you hips and moved you a little further up his chest, so he could remove his sweatpants, so slow and so patient you were so confused.

He looked deadly, that's for sure. But you'd expected him to be rough with you, teach you a lesson for being so naughty. All in all, other than being clearly vexed, he was treating you like you were a china doll.

As soon as his sweatpants and boxers were discarded, he moved you back to your old spot on his lap and carefully caressed your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your thong and pulling at the sides, fiddling with them gently while intently drilling into your eyes with his own.

"You wanna be in control, huh, sweetheart?" He muttered so quiet you could barely hear but so full of malice your heart immediately sped up.

You had no idea what to say. No, you didn't wanna be in control. You wanted Stan to bend and contort you into any position he wanted, you wanted him to fuck your cunt until you couldn't even form a coherent word, you wanted him to paint the canvas of your body purple, pink and black, in the form of hickeys, bruises and mascara stains.

And you knew he knew that.

You knew by the look on his face, the restraint in his jaw, the rage in his eyes that he definitely did not want that either.

So why was he doing this?

Just as your brows started to furrow in confusion, Stan's thumb had started to rub harsh but deliberate circles over your clothed clit and you let out a gasp.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, furrowing his brows in faux confusion. "Is that... not what you want, baby? You see, I'm just a needy little puppy, right?" He spat at you, evidently fuming but clearly enjoying seeing you in such a state.

You shook your head and dropped your it onto Stan's shoulder, moaning softly as he used one hand to hook your panties to the side while the other found your soaking wet hole and gently inserted two very long fingers.

But, immediately he removed them.

Your head shot up in irritation but you relaxed and hummed contentedly as you realised that Stan was finally lining himself up with your entrance.

You lifted yourself up slightly to make room for his 'oh my god that's scarily big why am i only just noticing this' cock, fluttered your eyelashes closed, and waited for the stretch of him pushing up into you... but it never came.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Stan's eyes, still level with yours, looking bored and his hands, once again, behind his head, biceps flexed and causing a big distraction for you.

He looked at you pointedly, but, realising you still didn't get it, rolled his eyes and motioned for you to sit on his cock.

At this point, you would've jumped off a cliff if Stan asked you to if it meant he would grant you some form of release, so you carefully began to lower yourself down onto his tree-trunk of a dick, the stretch of it stinging slightly but the depth of it stimulating you in all the right ways.

You let out a guttural moan as you sat on the base, his cock bottomed out inside of you. You gripped Stan's toned shoulders with force and wiggled about slightly, trying to adjust to this new, amazing feeling and, as you wiggled, you noticed a slight tremor in his mask as his jaw clenched and his eyebrows briefly furrowed in pleasure.

But, as quickly as it faltered, it reappeared and Stan's stoic, unimpressed gaze fell on you once again.

"Well?" He rasped, as if what he wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're in control, right, babe? I'm not moving a muscle."

You knew immediately that he was not kidding, so you bottled up the impatience you had for this stupid, stubborn man and put your game face on.

You could get off without help from Stan, of course you could. You didn't need his touch when you could do a perfectly good job with your hips and your hands.

'Fine.' You thought, glaring at Stan with pure hatred in your eyes. 'Suit yourself.'

So you began to move up and down on Stanley's cock, feeling every vein and twitch as you dragged your walls all over his length, coating it in your slick.

You gripped Stan's flexed biceps, his arms unmoving from behind his head as his eyes flickered between watching your face slowly morph into a dreamy, fucked-out expression, soft, pretty moans escaping from your parted lips every time the tip of his cock would prod at your g-spot, and watching your glistening, stretched out cunt swallow up his length, each time producing more and more slick so every time you slammed back down on his base, you could hear a squelching noise.

The only sign Stan was giving away of him holding any emotion was the twitch of his jaw and brow growing more frequent as the speed of your bounces grew quicker and harsher.

Soon, your bounces grew erratic as you craved your release, the only noises in his room being your desperate whimpers of pleasure, the sound of your wetness, and skin slapping on skin, along with the occasional grunt of approval from Stan.

However, you started to grow tired and out of breath as it had been nearly 5 minutes of you bouncing up and down on Stan's length, with no help from him and your determination to beat Stan at his own game was overwhelmed by your desperation to cum, and you knew you had to admit defeat because you were never gonna cum if you carried on like this.

Reluctantly, you sank down onto Stan and stilled with him deep inside you as you breathed heavily and whimpered with the desperation to cum deep in your tummy, your clit throbbing, begging for release.

Stan's furrowed face quickly changed to that of faux sympathy as he moved his hands to rest on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. "Oh baby, are you tired? Do you need my help?" He asked, patronising you just a little bit further by stretching out 'need' just to annoy you.

You had no time to be annoyed, however, because you could feel your release creeping just that little bit further away from the loss of stimulation, so you nodded your head frantically, practically begging Stanley to help you with your pathetic little doe eyes, glossy and desperate.

"Please, Stanny, please I need it, I need you, just please make me cum." You whined, your lips ghosting his ear, and gently kissing his cheek just for good measure.

That was all Stan needed to hear as he grabbed your neck, squeezing gently as he brought your face back to his and kissed you harshly, bruising your lips with his teeth as he dragged your lip with him, pulling away, and then releasing it.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it!" He smiled gently at you, pecking your plump, red lips and squeezing your neck in approval, before he moved his hands back to your waist, his grip turning nasty and he lifted you up right to his tip, then plunging his hips upwards into yours.

You choked on your moan from the sheer force of his thrust but soon gained your voice back as he continued his rough, rapid thrusting up into your eager pussy, practically dripping, begging for a long overdue orgasm.

You collapsed your tired aching body on top of Stan, your head buried in his neck, muffling your high-pitched moans from the ears of your drunk parents downstairs.

Stan moved his hands down to your ass and gripped the flesh harshly and his thrusts were slamming repeatedly into a spot that made you clench fiercely down on him and shriek with overwhelming pleasure.

Stan groaned into your ear as you continually clenched around him, whispering filthy praises into your ear making your legs tremble and your stomach flip as your impending orgasm was getting closer and closer.

"Can you hear yourself, princess? Can you hear the noises your pretty pussy is making?" The squelching of your wetness was embarrassing to say the least and you could feel Stan smirking without even having to look at him.

As he kept hitting that same spot, you could feel yourself so close to the edge as your legs trembled and your moans grew louder and higher.

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Stanny." You managed to babble out through your whimpers as you felt that overwhelming rush of pleasure build up deep inside you.

Stan lifted your head up and grabbed it with both of his hands whilst still thrusting repeatedly in and out of your sopping cunt, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He had a look of pure concentration adorning his face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and hair messy, letting out little breathy moans of his own every now and then.

"That's it princess, I wanna see that pretty face when you come all over my cock." And the coil snapped.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body jolted, your orgasm washing over you, your toes clenching and your pussy spasming around Stan's length.

You collapsed onto Stan once again, letting out tiny moans, clearly exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm Stanley had given you, and the spasming of your cunt had clearly not been lost on him as his relentless thrusting had begun to grow sloppy.

Stan was moaning quite loudly in your ear now, a death-grip on your ass cheeks as he fucked up into you, chasing his own high.

You knew he needed a little push so you sat up slightly so you could whisper in his ear breathy and raspy like someone who was recovering from one of the best orgasms they'd ever had in their life, "I want you to come inside me."

The words that make every man orgasm on the spot did not lose their effect on Stan as he let out a loud groan of ecstasy and his thrusts slowed until they came to a stop, clearly having done what you asked.

He dropped his forehead to yours and grabbed your hands, fiddling with them as you both caught your breath.

Holy shit.

You didn't know what to do as you both just lay there gathering your thoughts, attempting to comprehend what just happened.

However, you knew you couldn't stay in this post-orgasmic bubble forever so you gently lifted yourself off of Stan's softening dick and got up to look for your dress.

You were halted, however by a hand closing around your wrist.

Turning around, Stan was lazily grinning up at you with a look of victory on his face as he was dragging you to lie back down on the bed with him and you couldn't help but smile back at him, full of a mysterious feeling for the boy who was just so beautiful.

How could you say no?

Climbing back into bed with him, you both turned to face each other, him still grinning at you, and you studying each and every freckle and blemish on his skin, realising that you loved each and every one of them.

You loved them.

Oh my god.

You loved Stan.

Suddenly, you burst out laughing and Stan jumped slightly before a grin erupted back onto his face as he asked what was so funny.

You managed to get through your laughter, barely, the words that you never thought you'd say in your life. "I- I'm in love - with - with you." Before you immediately started giggling again uncontrollably.

Stan joined in on your laughter, his shoulders moving up and down from the force of his laughs as he breathed out "I'm in love with you too."

You both laid there giggling uncontrollably like a pair of middle schoolers, laughing at your own stupidity.

Once the laughter died down you smiled up at Stan and nuzzled yourself into his chest, planting a few soft kisses there as he pulled you in closer and buried his nose into your hair.

You were drawing shapes on his arms, daydreaming in the comfortable silence when you heard Stan mutter into your hair something inaudible.

You sat up gently looking at him quizzically for a second until you noticed the look of pure adoration on his face that was directed to you before he said gravelly and clearly exhausted, "I hate you so much." before he buries his face into your neck and peppered you with kisses.

You giggled and whispered, "I love you too, stupid."