#Like I should have noticed that dude what the hell

[ghostbite0]

hi friends! big rant incoming— i want to clarify this isnt targeted at anyone, im just noticing a pattern and im getting a little upset with some of the requests im being sent ):

something that really bothers me is the babyfication of giyuu tomioka. the fandom infantilizes the dude way too much. and its even worse when you throw shinobu into the mix and have her being a maternal figure to him when she herself is an eighteen year old who has worked as a hashira since she was a teenager. she does not need to be put into these situations where she’s taking care of her older peers all the time

i see this happen a lot and i feel its rooted in misogyny whether people recognize it or not. almost always the male characters are thrown into positions where the female character has to take care of them and its really frustrating

shinobu isnt a maternal character at all. to inosuke and the younger ones, it’s different, but if i keep seeing her being a mom to giyuu im actually going to lose my mind. giyuu isnt some uwu depressed baby who cant stand up for himself. he is just as mean as sanemi and obanai. he trained to survive and operate in horrible situations and fight for his life for years. hes a grown man and a hashira. he would not be babied by anyone, especially not someone who he has known since she was around fourteen years old

you may say “well ghostbite dont you do this with mitsuri and obanai”… sure. perhaps i am a hypocrite. but you must remember mitsuri is just sort of like that. she loves cute things and she loves fawning over everyone and everything. her scenes with nezuko. her introduction scene in the hashira meeting with her gushing over everyone. she hand feeds tanjiro pancakes in the recent season. she refers to people as “cutie.” etc etc etc

the difference with obanai and giyuu is obanai is often characterized as a yandere simp who is a huge bully to giyuu and tanjiro. he’s not. i like to put him in deaging situations a lot because unlike everyone else, he’s been through hell since birth. he’s never, not once, had a moment of peace. he had no siblings growing up to protect him— he had no loving parents, etc. he never felt love and he believes he is undeserving of it and should never reciprocate it. so here comes mitsuri, the epitome of love. he takes care of her. he watches after her. he is devoted to her. if something happens to him, especially if it’s a situation where he’s much smaller and weaker and in need of care, mitsuri would drop everything to help him. if it were mitsuri, obanai would do the same for her. it’s in both of their characters to do this. them being in these situations makes sense

i love shinobu. she would not. she does what a doctor does, looks for a cure, checks in here and there, and leaves it at that. she is not giyuu’s “mama.” she is an eighteen year old girl who has her own bucketload of issues. if you need her in a maternal role then use inosuke or literally any of the butterfly girls— the kids she actually takes in and takes care of. not her 21 year old coworker who is more than capable

if anything i think shinobu should be put in deaging situations. have giyuu take care of her instead. mix it up a little. but people are so attached to the idea of having every single caregiver role go to the woman that it’s unlikely we’ll see that

this is not a criticism on giyuu. i love giyuu. but i need people to stop treating him like a defenseless baby, and for people to quit seeing shinobu as responsible for him as a caregiver or a mother

tdlr: please stop asking me to draw or write deaged giyuu stuff. someone else can do that. i dont like deaged giyuu. tiny 21 trio is essentially on hold because of this ): i keep getting nonstop requests for deaged giyuu and im so tired, especially because people are framing it in a “you should replace obanai with giyuu” lens, or adding “mama shinobu doing x with baby giyuu”

it’s tiresome and frustrating. i love to make content for you guys, and i love when its something that appeals to you in a comforting way, but if you want specific content with giyuu— you’re very much in the wrong place. i hate the fandomification of him and shinobu— it makes me uncomfy and sad.

other people are deaging giyuu and putting him in situations— go ask them instead of me. i would rather highlight misunderstood and underrated characters like obanai and gyomei or my own personal faves (muichiro) then constantly loop the same exact character over and over again

all this to say im doubling down on the babybu and babynai and pintsized pillars aus. if you keep asking for baby giyuu and maternal figure shinobu my spite makes me stronger. hashtag let shinobu be taken care of for once. she’s already the doctor for an entire organization give my girl a break

[darthfrodophantom]

Death Is My Gift

Summary: When Danny becomes the personification of Death, his new powers are the least of his problems. Summoned as the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, Danny tries to sabotage it from the inside while also contending with the other three horsemen, the one who summoned him, and the knowledge that if he fails, he may have to help bring about the end of the world.

AO3: Link

Chapter 1: Still Dead - Thanks for Checking

“What the hell is that on your phone?” Sam asked, her tone dripping with derision. 

Danny looked up from his screen and cocked his eyebrow. “What?” How could she see what was on his screen when she was on the other side of the table? Not that he had anything embarrassing on there, but look it wasn’t his fault that he messed up his Insta algorithm because he watched one video about large superheated copper balls melting through a telescope lens and now he couldn’t stop watching more of them. But still, how could she see it?

She gestured toward the back of his phone. “That sticker - what the hell is it?”

Understanding dawned on the usually clueless boy and his face brightened. “Oh, it’s my new sticker! Isn’t it great?” he preened as he moved his hand to the side so they could see the sticker in its full glory. He had been waiting for them to notice it, and somehow it took all the way until lunch for them to comment on it. 

Tucker craned his neck around to see the purple coffin-shaped sticker plastered onto the back of Danny’s phone case. In white letters it read: “Still Dead. Thanks for checking.” Tucker snorted before he devolved into cackles. “Dude, that’s great!”

Danny grinned even wider. “Right? I thought it was too funny.”

“No, it’s stupid,” Sam argued, and her harsh attitude completely ruined the mood. “Danny, the less people associate you with death, the better.”

“Oh come on Sam, if they haven’t figured out that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton are the same person by now when they have the exact same hairstyle, then a sticker is not going to phase anyone,” Tucker argued, ever in defense of his friend.

“Exactly!” Danny seconded.

“Or it’s exactly the last piece that helps people make that connection because there’s already so little separating you!” Sam exclaimed, though she did try to keep her voice down so no one else would overhear.

“Or maybe they’ll just think I’m a moody Gen Z kid that says this kind of dramatic stuff all the time. Which is why you should have let me keep that shirt.” He still thought that “Dead Inside” shirt was ironic and iconic, but Sam conveniently spilled black ink from her fancy new quill set  on it and refused to give it back for this very same reason.

“Yeah, he could just make it his brand,” Tucker agreed. The two of them always seemed to be on the same page.

Sam reached out like she was about to rip the sticker off his phone, but decided against it and shook her head. “Fine. You want to keep the sticker on your phone? Fine, but don’t cry to me when people start putting the pieces together,” she huffed.

“Well since that’s not gonna happen, you’re gonna be waiting a long time,” Danny grinned. He struck an overly exaggerated victory pose with his neck cocked slightly to the side while he tilted his chin up to the sky. 

Sam jerked back as the color drained from her face. “Danny what the—“ she cried out, so loudly and so suddenly that it caught the attention of other people in the lunchroom. 

Danny immediately looked behind him, assuming that whatever caused Sam’s sudden reaction had to be behind him. His need to protect his friends from whatever threat caused such a startled response rose up and hammered in his throat as his mind spun with the possible horrors he would see behind him. 

But he saw…nothing. Well, not nothing. He saw other students eating their lunches at other tables throughout the room. Students drifted in and out of the cafeteria as they finished their lunches. No ghost. No threat. Nothing that should cause Sam to turn as white as she did.

He turned back to face Sam, concern etched deep into his brow as he studied her face. “Sam? What’s wrong?” he asked in quiet urgency. If she truly saw some danger that he couldn’t, then he needed to know.

Sam studied Danny for a long moment, far too long for Danny’s liking. She wasn’t looking past him, she was looking at…him. “...Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing. I think I’m just seeing things. I thought I saw…nevermind. It’s nothing,” she assured them. 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because something freaked you out.”

She shook her head and plastered a forced smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m sure. Too little sleep and too much caffeine has just got me jumpy. I’m fine, really. Besides, we need to act like we’re having a normal conversation: too many people are watching.”

“Well yeah, you practically jumped out of your seat,” Danny pointed out. 

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a half smile before she reached across the table and grabbed his abandoned phone. “It did let me get your phone though.”

“Wait hey!” Danny protested as he reached across the table to recover his phone from her clutches, but she deftly moved around his grasping hands. 

“Now let’s see about that sticker,” she teased. Danny immediately doubled his efforts to retrieve his phone. Not being able to rely on ghost powers made it a little more difficult than it should have been to win it back (was he maybe relying on those too much? That felt like too much of a Jazz question for him to think about it too long), but he did save the phone and his ironic sticker. He was so preoccupied saving his sticker that he didn’t notice that Tucker had gone quiet and regarded Sam with a very significant and curious stare.

Lunch wrapped up shortly after the scuffle over the phone, and the three of them rushed off to their lockers and then off to class. Just outside the door to the classroom, Tucker held a hand out to stop Sam and waited for Danny to get a few feet inside before he spoke up in a whisper.

“Did you see the skull?”

Sam blinked and her face grew pale again, just like it had in the lunchroom. “The what?” she asked with a slightly shaky voice.

“The skull? Over Danny’s face?”

“What? Yes! Yes I thought I was going insane!” she exclaimed, though still in a whisper to not catch any more attention. The briefest moment of relief washed over her, but it immediately washed away into even more worry.

“No, I saw it this morning,” Tucker admitted. “Thought it was just some trick of the light or something. It was there one moment and then–”

“--Gone the next,” Sam finished. “And when I saw it I just felt…off. Like this moment of dread. Like I was–”

“--Looking at something I shouldn’t have seen,” Tucker validated as he nodded his head. “Yeah, same here. It was a weird feeling to have looking at my best friend.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea,” Tucker sighed as he looked towards Danny pouring over his textbook in the hope that he’d be able to at least pretend that he did the reading before class. “But knowing Danny, it’s probably nothing good.”

Danny noticed odd glances from his friends a few more times that day. He worried maybe he had something on his face, but then again Sam would have said something. Tucker would have stayed quiet to have a good laugh about it later, but he’d have clued him into the joke by now. Maybe he was doing something ghostly without knowing it? But if that was the case they would have definitely let him know. In the end, he chalked it up to his friends being weird and went about his strangely quiet day.

There weren’t any ghost attacks. He couldn’t remember the last time he went through a school day without being interrupted by ghosts. It felt…nice, but unnerving at the same time, like he missed something. Like he was supposed to clue into something happening in the Ghost Zone. But in the end he decided not to worry about that either, especially once school ended and he could just hang out with his best friends ghost free.

By the time they hit up the game store (Tucker was still trying to get them into tabletop games) and the record store (Sam wanted to browse the LPs), Danny had forgotten all about his previous warnings…until he hit the Boba shop. Second up to bat, he placed his order with the barista, a smiling young woman who wore fun earrings that looked like watermelon slices. He paid for his drink and left a decent tip, but when he looked back up from the pin pad, her haunted expression caught him by surprise.

No longer kind and smiling, her unfocused gaze stared beyond him with eyes opened so wide her eyelids disappeared. Her pale, gaunt face looked hollow and lifeless. Her mouth fell open unnaturally.

“Fifty-seven years, one hundred and thirteen days, seven hours.”

Her flat, emotionless voice echoed within the sudden silence of the rest of the room. Chills shot along his body as the hair on his arms stood on end. His gut twisted uncomfortably as the presence of something…wrong and haunting fell over him. The silence of the world pressed in around him and left him only with that eerie voice thrumming though the void.

“What?” he finally stammered out.

“Do you want a receipt?” she repeated in her normal voice. Suddenly the whole world came back around him. The noise and the commotion of the busy Boba shop almost felt overwhelming after the sheer absolute silence.

“Oh uh…no,” he answered lamely.

“He’s good,” Sam spoke up quickly from behind. She pushed him to the side and took over the situation, but concern etched deep lines into her forehead. “But I’ll have a…”

What Sam ordered was lost on him as Tucker pulled him over to the drink pick-up counter. “Dude, what happened?” he asked in an urgent whisper. “You just froze.”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I heard something totally different…” The eerie tone of her voice, the chill that shot like livewire up his spine (like the accident, but he really didn’t want to think about that), it all stuck with him and wouldn’t leave him. His memory was absolute trash at the best of times, but he could still remember every number she quoted to him like it had been etched into his very core.

“What did you hear?” Tucker asked as Sam joined them. Those concerned lines across her brow still made him feel like something more was going on here, because Sam usually only worried when there was actually something to worry about.

“Just…some numbers, like years and months,” he shrugged, trying to pass it off as normal, even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Like a countdown?” Sam pressed.

Danny’s eyes grew wide. Exactly like a countdown. Down to the hour.

He didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know she was on to something. “So what was she counting down to?”

“You think I know?” Danny rebuffed as he pointed at himself. “But you guys heard it right? How…creepy she sounded? How hollow?”

“No, we didn’t man,” Tucker responded, strangely serious. “We heard her ask if you wanted a receipt and then you just froze.”

He looked between both of his friends, hoping for some kind of alternate answer or for someone to say they were pulling his leg, but they weren’t. “So you…you didn’t hear it?” he implored, desperate for someone to agree with him.

“No Danny, we didn’t,” Sam confirmed. “But Danny, we need to–”

“Pomegranate boba,” another barista announced. Danny automatically turned towards her, only to see the same lifeless stare directed his way.

“Twenty years, two hundred and twelve days, two hours.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes as the pressure of the void threatened to swallow him again, but then like before, everything opened up and the noise of the world rushed back to him.

“Danny?” Sam fretted as she stepped closer to him. 

He opened his eyes and looked out on the brightly lit boba shop. “Sorry I…it happened again,” he admitted.

Tucker and Sam exchanged significant glances behind Danny’s back before making an executive decision. Tucker grabbed their drink orders while Sam gently placed a hand on Danny’s back. “I think we should get out of here,” Sam suggested.

Danny could see the sense in that. The last thing they needed was to make a scene, and he could feel the eyes of both the people behind the counter and the ones standing in line. Best to beat a hasty retreat and figure this out somewhere a little quieter.

He scooted around the line of customers, hoping he could make a quiet exit. He caught the gaze of a young boy in line, but he only saw the vacant stare on his young face.

“Eighty three years, three hundred and two days, eleven hours.”

Danny spun quickly away from the boy and placed his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help as he locked eyes with a college student at a table who happened to look up from her laptop.

“Three years, thirty days, seven hours.”

And then the gaze of a well-dressed woman striding through the door.

“Forty years, eighty-eight days, nineteen hours.”

And the older man sitting with his grandchildren at a table.

“Ten years, one hundred and fifty days, three hours.”

Macabre countdowns from various shop patrons echoed around him. Anyone who met his gaze morphed their faces into the gaunt masks and intoned their countdown in that same hollow voice.

“Stop! Stop!” Danny cried as he curled in on himself. Tucker and Sam immediately pushed him through the doors and outside of the shop full of curious onlookers, but if they thought ushering him outside of the shop would be better, they were terribly wrong as Danny confronted more people on the street. The constant chorus of lifeless laments descended upon him in a deafening whirlwind.

“Ninety-eight days, twenty hours.”

“Sixty-eight years, two days, one hour.”

“Seventeen years, two hundred and ninety days, eight hours.”

Until they finally culminated in a chilling “Thirteen seconds.”

A morbid curiosity came over him as his gaze lingered on the older man who intoned the foreboding knell, just before the man clutched at his chest and dropped to the ground. Everyone around him rushed to his side and barked out orders to call an ambulance, but Danny knew deep, deep down in his core that it wouldn’t do any good. 

The man was dead. 

Dead, exactly thirteen seconds later.

Realizing this area was about to get a lot more attention, Tucker and Sam pushed Danny into a nearby alley and shrouded him from view. “Danny what the hell is happening?” Sam practically yelled.

Danny dropped to the ground as he clutched at his core that ached with the pain of what he just witnessed, and the horror of what he’d come to realize. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or to the world as a whole, but he had a horrifying feeling he knew what the times meant.

They were a countdown to death.

“I don’t…I don’t know why, but people keep telling me how long…how long they have…left,” Danny squeaked out between shallow breaths. The world swam around him and he clenched his jaw to try not to be sick.

“Left to what?” Tucker asked.

“To live you idiot!” Sam chastised. “Danny, are you sure?”

“What else could it be?” he exclaimed as he gripped at the hair on the sides of his head. “Someone said thirteen seconds, and then thirteen seconds later he…he…” His breath quickened in his chest. His heart thrummed too fast against his ribs. Sweat beaded on his brow as he shivered. This…this was a panic attack. Oh god, he was having a panic attack. But could anyone really blame him? He heard a man was going to die and just…just…watched it happen and couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything!

“Danny…Danny just look at me,” Sam pressed delicately as she knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

His eyes reached her chin before he remembered - as soon as he met someone’s gaze, even from afar, they told him how long they had. He couldn’t know that about his best friend. He couldn’t. What if it was a small number? What would he even consider to be a small number? Would any number ever be large enough?

He slapped her away in a panic and retreated into himself as he buried his head into his arms. “No!” he screamed. “No, any time I look at someone they tell me how much time they have left and I can’t…I don’t want to know that. I can’t know that!” he practically screeched.

Sam and Tucker exchanged worried but uncertain looks. They’d dealt with a lot since the accident, but this was certainly a new complication where their very presence seemed to add more stress. 

“Okay Danny, okay. We don’t know if that’s what’s happening.” She paused as she felt him tense beside her. “But if you think that’s what’s happening, then we won’t look at you.”

Danny grabbed his hair tight in his hands as he shook in a huddle on the floor. How was he going to do this? Never look at anyone he ever cared about again? Make sure they never looked at him? What kind of life would that be? He couldn’t live like that, with that paranoia that some day one of them would mess up and they’d meet his gaze and then he would know how much longer he had left to spend with them. His breathing quickened again as he found himself spiraling further down into his panic, down into a depth of foreboding terror that he didn’t know if he could climb out of again.

“Okay but Danny, even if you aren’t looking at anyone, I need you to breathe okay?” Sam pleaded. “Just breathe with me. In and out slowly. In and out.”

He did as he was told because he didn’t really have it in him to argue. In and out, in and out. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth like Jazz taught him. It probably didn’t help that he was still curled up in a ball and didn’t have great air circulation, but he didn’t dare uncurl.

“Okay, good,” Sam praised as she finished sending an urgent text. “Now let’s figure out what’s going on, because we will figure it out.”

“You mean figure out why I can tell when people are going to die?” Danny snapped.

“Yes,” Sam replied, voice calm despite Danny’s barbed tone. 

“...I don’t know if this is the right time, but there probably isn’t a right time so I’m just gonna say it,” Tucker sighed. “Danny, we noticed something weird earlier. It would only happen for a second, but it was like your face was covered by…like a translucent skull.”

Danny looked up but immediately thought better of it and ducked his head back down again. “A what?!”

“A skull. We didn’t know what it meant at the time–”

“We still don’t know what it means,” Sam added.

“--but it has to be related,” Tucker finished.

“This has to be more than a new ghost power,” Sam brainstormed. “This feels like something more significant.”

“More significant? What the hell does that mean?” Danny rebuked. He knew they were just trying to help, but honestly without an answer it was just making him feel more anxious and overwhelmed. He didn’t know if he could handle something more significant than being a half-dead, ghost-fighting freak.

“We don’t know,” Sam said, controlled and patient. “But we’ll figure this out Danny, we promise, just like we’ve figured out everything else.”

Everything else. Because there was always something. There was always some other side effect of the accident that all of them had to keep dealing with. Ghost powers, ghost fighting, his parents, new powers, a secret identity, ice powers, and now this. When was he done? When would he finally stop having more and more piled on top of his already overflowing mind? How much was a teenager expected to shoulder before he finally just buckled under the crushing weight of it all?

Apparently it would be one more thing.

He gasped as the cold breath escaped from his throat. He deflated a bit into his self hug. He knew the quiet afternoon was too good to be true. He knew it.

“Danny, you don’t have to go,” Sam mentioned, almost pleading.

“You know I have to,” he sighed with hollow defeat.

“No, you don’t. Let your parents get it, or Valerie. It doesn’t have to be you right now,” she begged.

“They never handle it well,” Danny argued as he stood but kept his gaze on the floor.

Sam shook her head, prepared to put her foot down. “But Danny, you literally just stopped having a panic attack, do you think now is the right time to do this? Maybe you just need to think about yourself for a bit!”

“When do I ever get to think about myself?” he barbed as he transformed. “Besides, a ghost can’t tell me how long they have to live, right? Sounds like I’m safer with one of them.”

Before they could argue with him he shot off into the sky, leaving a cloud of dread behind him. Tucker and Sam exchanged meaningful glances. 

“Follow him?” Tucker checked.

“Absolutely follow him.”

~*~

As yet another ectoblast grazed Danny’s side, he realized Tucker and Sam had maybe been right about letting someone else handle this. His head was not in the game. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that swirled around him and it made the fight against the ghostly crow that much harder to focus on. His newfound popularity also proved to be a complication as it led to more onlookers watching the fight. He couldn’t help but meet the eyes of people in the crowd, and every time he listened to their own voices toll their own death knell, he found himself wide open to a hit from the annoying ghost that honestly wouldn’t have been that much of a challenge otherwise. 

"Three hundred and twenty-one days, thirteen hours.”

He squeezed his eyes tight as he tried not to internalize how little time the concerned woman who looked his way had left, but closing his eyes during a fight was never a good idea.

“Danny!” he heard Sam yell, her voice distant but urgent.

He opened his eyes and saw the crow barreling in to charge with glowing talons ready to claw out his eyes. He immediately acted on instinct and threw out his hands to maybe summon a shield or take the talons to his arms or something.

He felt something cold and heavy fall into his hands, and he swung it without even looking at it too closely. A thin line of green slashed across the ghost and then it vanished. His overzealous slash continued through the brick of a nearby building that weathered and aged as decay seeped out from the fine line in the brick. When the arc of his swing stopped, he finally looked at what he held in his hands.

A scythe. Long and slender, the curved blade made a full crescent as it tapered into a neat, sharp point. The edge of the blade glowed with a faint green light, but it almost hurt to register: like its presence cut through the very existence of what his mind could accept as real. It looked so simple in his arms, and yet it felt dangerous. Deadly.

He stared dumbfounded at the blade in his hands. It felt heavy in his arms, but not because of its actual weight. It actually felt too easy and natural to swing. His fingers gripped around the shaft like he was meant to hold it. It felt so right and natural in his arms, and that scared him even more.

He immediately dropped it, but instead of hearing it clatter to the ground, it vanished into shadows as the absolute black swallowed it.

With panic etched all over his face, he looked desperately towards Sam’s voice, but only after he remembered that he didn’t dare look towards his friends. He dropped his gaze, but they understood his intent and rushed over to him.

“Danny, Danny are you okay?” Sam asked as she grabbed her friend’s arm.

“No…no I don’t think so,” he admitted. As hard as it felt to admit, he wasn’t well. He had no idea what the hell was happening, but he just knew none of this could be good. A sense of dread lingered around him that he couldn’t shake. A whisper of an answer tickled at the edges of his mind, but it was so cloaked in fear and terror that he didn’t dare even acknowledge its presence.

Sam nodded morosely and squeezed his arm. “That’s okay. We’ve got this Danny. C’mon, let’s get to my house. I think I know what’s going on.”

~*~

Danny sat in his favorite chair in the Manson library. Most of the room felt like something out of a middle-aged woman’s Pinterest page: a million shades of beige accented by a few plants or vines. Some books even had their spines facing the wall because their binding was too colorful. Sam managed to carve out a corner for herself. She separated this corner out with deep red curtains and inside its sanctuary she kept all her books (spines proudly out, thank you very much) on black shelves. Gothic sconces of wrought iron glowed with just enough mood lighting to read by and plush wine red chairs provided the perfect getaway to crawl into with a book. 

One of those chairs sucked him up inside its cushions and he let the weight of the fabric surround him. Sitting here with the dark mood lighting while Sam read aloud some new book or poem always felt like a comfortable space. Maybe Sam hoped the familiarity would bring some comfort to him right now, but even its power couldn’t counteract the horrible twisting in the pit of his stomach.

His friends swore they wouldn’t look at his face and would focus on his chest instead, but he still didn’t feel comfortable looking anywhere but at his wringing hands in his lap, just in case. He’d heard about too much death already today: too many times that seemed far too short for the nice faces that seemed burned into his mind. He had no idea who these people were and probably would never see them again, but he would forever remember their faces and would never be free of the knowledge of their death.

Would it be quick? Slow? Painful? Could he stop it? Could he save them? If he remembered their faces could he hunt them down and try to save them? Maybe not the ones in decades, but the ones who would be dying in the next few months? Could he help them so they didn’t end up like the old man on the street who died before his eyes while he was powerless to stop it?

The thump of a large book on a table shook him out of his thoughts as Sam stood near the small round table. “You’re not gonna like this, but I think I found the answer.”

That certainly caught his attention and he looked towards the book. Whether he’d like the answer or not, he needed to know. The heavy old tome looked like every Victorian book that Sam loved to collect, with a dark binding, embossed edges, and thick block lettering for the title.

The Tome of Record for the Myths and Legends of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

No. 

No, that couldn’t be the right book. That was not the answer.

He shook his head and backed up in his chair as far away from the book as he could physically get. “No. That’s not the right book.”

Sam approached both Danny and the book gently, like any sudden movement would spook him. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I know I’m right about this.”

Tucker leaned in from his chair and his eyes grew wide. “Wait, apocalypse? Sam you’re serious?”

“No, she’s not serious because she’s wrong!” Danny insisted.

Sam slowly opened the book and turned to a page marked with a dark black ribbon. “Just look at it Danny. It explains a lot.”

Against his better judgment he peeked at the new chapter: “The Fourth Horseman: Death.” He didn’t let himself read any more, but the haunting image of a black-cloaked figure atop a skeletal horse with a skull for a face and a very familiar looking scythe froze him in his seat.

The death knells. The skull. The scythe. 

No, just because it made sense, that didn’t mean anything. Lots of things in this world made sense without actually being right, and this was just another one of those things. It didn’t mean that he– He couldn’t possibly be–

Tucker trailed a finger along the text of the book as he read, his mouth and eyes falling agape. “Wait Sam are you…are you trying to say that Danny is…Death? Like the Death?”

He felt an irrational anger towards Tucker for putting into physical words what his mind refused to acknowledge. Because it was crazy…right? Some crazy, wacky theory. This couldn’t be reality, it just…it couldn’t be.

Sam nodded solemnly. “I am. I don’t know why, but Danny has somehow become the personification of Death.”

For some reason the finality in Sam’s voice forced him to really hear it. As much as he wanted to deny it, the nagging whisper always there on the periphery of his mind had been trying to tell him the whole time. He knew it from the first countdown, but refused to see it. He knew what the symbolism of the scythe meant, but he refused to connect it. And he knew that all of these pieces only added up to one possible explanation. Just like Sam, he’d already reached the same conclusion, but he just refused to see it. He couldn’t avoid it anymore.

He was Death.

He needed to get away from the book, the picture, the proof. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He fell through the chair, momentarily grateful to have some kind of physical barrier between him and the book, but the piercing, empty eyes of the skull on the page followed him even through the chair. He scrambled back along the floor until he hit the bookcase behind him. 

“No no no I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” he screamed in ever increasing levels of panic. He looked at his shaking hands, almost expecting to see bony hands stretching out instead of his normal skin. He grabbed at his face, his arms, anything to make sure that he hadn’t turned into some skeleton. “I can’t–I don’t want to be Death!”

Sam and Tucker rushed over to his side and pulled his trembling body into a hug. They tried to bestow him with whatever comfort they could, but they knew it wouldn’t be enough. Just like they did when Danny first emerged from the portal, they were at a loss for what they could do and they just tried to be a physical support for him.

Danny grabbed onto his friends desperately as he shook in their arms. He didn’t know how much he needed their reassuring strength and strong hug until he found himself in their arms. Maybe he relied on them too much for emotional stability, but something about their presence served as a grounding force for him and he needed that now more than ever.

“We’ll figure it out Danny,” Sam tried to assure him. “We always do.”

They did always figure it out. The accident, the ghost powers, the ghost fighting, the secret identity, Pariah Dark, Vlad, his horrifying potential future - they’d found a way to make it through everything that his strange life had thrown at him. It stood to reason they could make it through this too, but for some reason this seemed so much more imposing than all those other obstacles.

The personification of death. What did that even mean? Did he have to reap souls? Was he actually the one responsible for killing people? Was he now to blame for everyone’s deaths? Did he have to help people cross over or find peace or meaning in their lives? Could he still live his normal human life? He’d already been neglecting it so much because of ghost fighting, but would this completely eclipse everything else? It felt like such a huge burden to throw onto his already overburdened shoulders, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep it all up.

But even more than a burden, being Death pushed him even closer to the dark stench of death that always seemed to swirl around him. He already straddled a very fine line between life and death, and while he didn’t always know where he found himself on either side of it, he cherished the balance. He liked being reminded that he was still alive. He died, and he was a ghost, but he was so much more than that too. His heart beat, he kept growing - he still had a life. He needed those reminders to stay sane. But being Death…it pushed him so much further towards that darker side. It disrupted that balance that he held onto so desperately. Those reminders of life seemed so much further away, like they could be snatched away from him at any moment, and he didn’t want to think where that constant focus on death and loss would take him.

He couldn’t keep dwelling on this. He was a boy of action, and he never did well just thinking through things. Maybe that helped Jazz, but he needed to do something. Figure this out, get rid of it, something. So he pulled away from the hug slightly, enough of a signal for his friends to release the warm group hug. He missed that comfort immediately, but he couldn’t stay huddled up against the bookshelf forever.

“How did this happen?” he croaked. Trying to find a reason meant that he had to accept it as the truth, and that hurt, but he’d already accepted it. Now he just had to get rid of it.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But Danny, we have a much more pressing issue than how.”

“More pressing than this?” Danny questioned, almost hurt that his internal turmoil and need to solve this wasn’t considered a pressing issue.

“Yeah, because it gets worse.”

Panic clenched around his heart again. How could it possibly get worse? This already seemed like a destitute situation with no possible solution on the horizon.

“Worse than Danny having death powers?” Tucker inquired. Well at least Tucker was on the same wavelength.

She nodded morosely. She took a deep breath, but as she slowly breathed out she straightened up, her brow resolute. “The summoning of the fourth horseman…it’s the final sign. The apocalypse is coming, and Danny’s going to be forced to make it happen.”

~*~

I hope you all enjoyed this! It's a little late of a submission for Ectober's Day 17 Gothic Horror prompt, but apparently world-building a multi-chapter longfic took a lot longer than I expected. But I'm excited to share some of my lore behind this ghostly version of the four horsemen over the next two chapters!

[themintman]

Either of these 🙏 they are so funny to me

peepaw's first time seeing light in 20 years give him a sec-

And a photo taken moments before disaster

[batcastlesociety]

Me when I have to bear witness to N!Trevor's 17-year-long mewing streak jawline once again:

But really why does he look like that. is he okay

Jesus fucking Christ my guy that jawline could do better damage then your morningstar

(original tumblr post here btw. didn't reblog it becauase i only wanted that first paragraph. idk man)

[bongo-clash]

Jason 'Died and didn't even get the T-shirt' Todd, seeing an Entire Glowing, Lazarus-Eyed, Hazmat-Suited Child casually going about their day at a Starbucks like absolutely nothing is out of the ordinary: "Why is Nobody saying anything about that guy over there"

Duke 'Ghost Vision' Thomas, head whipping around at the speed of light: "YOU CAN SEE HIM TOO?????"

Short DPXDC Prompts #472

Lazarus pit people view Halfas in reverse. Example: In Ghost form they view the halfa as a normal person and in their human form they look like a spooky ghost. Jason is quite confused seeing a regular ass teen just flying around the high buildings of Gotham.

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ ʙᴏʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan magical boy who lived within a enchanted, magical forests with his parents, and siblings. He was a prodigy, overpowered and everything. He learned how to work with his magic at the age of 8.

yan magical boy who was youngest student to ever be admitted to the prestigious Arcane Academy, he was hailed as a prodigy, gifted with magic far beyond his years. His peers admired him, his teachers pushed him toward greatness, but none of that ever mattered to him. He didn't care about all that, all he cared about was being better than everyone.

yan magical boy who was a annoying bitch, he would bump into you on purpose, and giggled at your irritated expression. He noticed the way your eyes narrowed at him and he would blush. He needed to be near you, like a spell that only worked if he was within a certain distance of your presence. He clung and followed you like you were the very source of his magic.

"The hell's your problem dude?" You said to him, looking down at him since he was shorter than you. He innocently blinked up at you, titling his head. "What are u talking about, n/n?" He said with that soft voice he always did when talking to you. You rolled your eyes and walked past him, not noticing him sniffing you as u walked past.

yan magical boy who was used to getting what he wanted, so imagine his surprise when the first ever person he wanted, doesn't want him!

yan magical boy who began using his magic in subtle ways to keep you close. At first, it was harmless. A slight enchantment to ensure they ended up paired together for projects, a simple spell to lead her path toward his in the hallways. But, he was an impantient fuck, he couldn't stand seeing you laugh with someone else, talk with someone else, even breath near someone else!

yan magical boy who made a love spell, and while sparring, he acted as if was going to block her strike, but as he did, he “accidentally” brushed his hand against your skin, dabbing the potion on you. He grinned, waiting for you to drop on your knees and propose to him or sum

But, nothing happened, and you still kept trying to fight with him, your expression stoic like always. He blinked, his mind racing. Surely, the potion should have worked by now? He had calculated every ingredient, every step—there was no way it could have failed?

yan magical boy who failed.. LMAOOOAOA

yan magical boy who after that, became even more clingy, pouting and becoming whiny whenever the love spells wouldn't work. (he kept tryna put love spells on u HE DOES NOT CARE)

“Y/N!” he called, running towards you like an excited puppy. “I was looking for you! Here, I made you a lunch! Don't mind the white cream in your sandwich okay? Its..ranch! Yup! Ranch! And the goey yogurt is definitely not a love potion!"

yan magical boy who whimpers when you congratulate him, feeling his pants tightening, and knowing hes gonna need to use his delusionals to imagine your the one fisting him off.

yan magical boy who is ur magical freak who loves you so sooooo much! <3

SEND REQUESTTSSSTSSTSY

GUYS PLS MAKE YAN BLLKS BOOKS OMGGOGMGOGM

[mey-rin-is-fabulous]

I feel like ranting again cause I'm annoyed. So my cat went to the vet, he's fine just needed his ear drained because of hematoma I think.

Anyway my mom's idiot boyfriend while I was petting said cat says to me "I paid 980 for that cat to go to the vet"

No the hell he didn't. The actual price is like between 600-700 and me and my mom paid, I gave my mom an envelope full of cash that I had on hand

The money for the goddang cat is coming out of my mom's check not his(he actually doesn't even have a check because he doesn't work right now, counting the days until he does and he wants to go on about me not working)

And its my mom's cat, she paid to have him fixed, she paid when her boyfriend's idiot nephews dog attacked said cat and she's paying now and he wants to call the cat his just because he buys the litter and food

I am just so sick of all his bullcrap and while my mom was making the appointment for the cat he was going on about how they would need to amputate his ear, like dude you do not joke about stuff like that

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter

|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

______________________________________________________________

After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.

Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking.    Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock.  Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!”  Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression.  “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up.  Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.

As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression. 

Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together.    “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there.  Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”.    Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.”  Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!” 

Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.”  Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.”  Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days.    After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation.  “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.”  Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.”  Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face.  Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter.    Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now”  Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.

Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it.    Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow.  Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.

Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”.  Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?”    Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.”  Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.”  Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy) 

Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.  

Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.

_____________________________________________________________

Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good

[germposting]

sorry heavy stuff in the tags again

[queenie-avenue]

Live fast, die young, bad boys do it well.

💌 ⤻ CLARKE MEADOWS, THE HOCKEY PLAYER

—> he's loved the ice since he was a kid, but maybe he can love you too.

⤻ reader is female, yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, thoughts of killing, small gore, obsessive behaviour, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol, set in a university (all 18+), identity crisis moment lolol, [h/n] is hobby name

The first time he met you was at a party. He couldn't exactly remember what you were doing, you were one of those people that were irrelevant to him. Whether you were dancing with your friends and screaming to the music of the party or slumped in a corner, restless and alone, he didn't know. All he knew was that some people talked about you and he registered your name into one of those in his mind.

He was an asshole like that, he supposed. Or maybe he didn't care. He didn't care because his only care in the world, should be Hockey.

His Father was a hockey player and he wanted to live up to that expectation. He wanted to surpass him in both fame and skill and that was his whole identity. His identity was tied to this sport.

His friends? People from his hockey team.

His girlfriends? Didn't really have any, but his requirement for being his girlfriend was that she needed to always come to watch his games.

Even his popularity was all intrinsically tied to his sport. Everyone knew him as the guy who became Captain of the Hockey team in just one year of joining.

The guy who everyone knew would be in the big leagues, up there with Nathan MacKinnon and Seth Jones.

He was so close to being signed on with a team.

Everything was about hockey, before everything became about you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Sure, Clarke Meadows knew about you. But he didn't know about you.

Not until that day you stumbled on him inside one of the rooms of the frat house he was in. You had simply wanted to take a piss somewhere and since the toilets not connected to the bedrooms were all taken, probably from pent-up teenagers and people who were vomiting from all the alcohol and decided to take your luck and pray no one was inside blowing each other's backs out.

Even if they were, you honestly could overlook it for the sake of being able to finally relieve yourself.

That's when you stumbled upon his sad self.

He sprawled onto the bed, a spilled bottle of beer falling from his hands with a soft clink before rolling to the other bottles of miscellaneous alcohol strewn all over the floor. Your first instinct was to be worried because with the amount this dude was drinking, he could be suffering from food poisoning.

You made your way towards him and sat on the bed. "Hey, hey!" You called out, trying to wake him up by shaking him, worried that he had passed out or even worst, died.

He groaned and swatted your hands away like a baby being disturbed. "What the hell do you want?" He growled out, surprisingly hostile when he had always been somewhat polite to everyone around him. Just as he didn't know you, you didn't know him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, irregardless of his tone.

"Fuck... yes, I'm fine!" He snapped at you, covering his face as you noticed something sparkling in the dim lighting of the room. Tears? "Just quit being so loud." He told you. He must have drunk a lot for your whispers to be considered loud in his ears.

"No one drinks that much or starts crying when they're drunk because they're fine." You retorted as you watched him wipe away the tears on his face before sitting up. His drunk eyes focused on you, on your blurry figure and body. But your face seemed to be the clearest of them all. Your eyes, your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, everything shone as bright as the sun.

"You wouldn't get it." He said.

"Try me." You didn't know why you said that.

And perhaps out of drunken vulnerability, he replied, even when he didn't know why he did it. "Just... what am I supposed to do with my life?" He murmured.

You raised an eyebrow at his words. Wasn't he like some popular hockey dude? "Your hockey, I guess? I heard you like it." You said, completely forgetting about your need to pee.

"No, I don't- I don't know what I want. Besides my hockey, what else do I have?" He asked and your eyes widened at his words. What else did you know about Clarke Meadows beside his hockey skills? You tried to think. He liked hockey... he was popular and... yeah, you couldn't think, especially with all that alcohol stocked up in your mind.

"You have free will, you know." You reminded him.

"But then, my hockey." He slurred, like a baby.

"Is anyone holding you at gunpoint to only play hockey?" You asked.

"N-no." He murmured, as if his eyes have been opened.

"Then try new things, see where it takes you." You said as you dusted your skirt off and sighed. "No one can force you to do things you don't want to do."

"But I do like hockey." Oh my God, you wanted to just smack him over the head right now, he was acting like such a baby. "I love it. It's my whole life." You almost felt jealous of the sport. No one had ever said 'I love you' in such a way to you before.

"You can love different hobbies. We aren't like robots tuned into one thing. I like [h/n], but I also like [h/n]." You informed him. His dark blue eyes pierced into your [e/c] ones and you paused just to admire him. Gods, was he pretty. He was such a pretty boy it almost made you feel jealous that his face wasn't yours. "An- anyway," you felt embarrassed for imparting advice when you weren't even that smart, "just think about it. I'm not forcing you to try new stuff either. Ultimately, it's your choice." You flustered and eventually went to the bathroom after remembering your urges.

When you came out, he was already gone.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

For the next few days, you felt eyes on you. Dark blues one, but you didn't know that. You stopped going home alone every night after your later classes and you started carrying pepper spray with you as an extra precaution. Yet, every time you turned around, you couldn't see anyone following you.

You even felt it when you were resting in the university's courtyard.

Of course, as the readers of this fic knows, it was Clarke Meadows.

Sure, your words were cheesy and kind of cringe but you made him feel seen, outside of his talents. Maybe it was by accident, but in the world, there were no accidents, just fate. And he decided that it was fate to have met you and be comforted by you. You didn't need to do this but you did anyway, and he had grown completely smitten for you.

He collected a pen that fell from your bag, he bought perfumes, shampoos, body wash, conditioners that smelled like you just so he could wash himself with them and convince himself the scent was from his dreams of cuddling next to you. He collected the trash that you threw, putting them in a ziplog bag like a complete freak and dumpster diver. He followed you home to ensure no unsavoury people were stalking you... which was ironic. He even kept watch for you whenever he could during your lunch times.

When you talked to another person, he thought of all the different ways he could slam his hockey stick into their head or shins. He imagined how it would be like to be bloody and have you wipe away the red. He wanted to kiss you while he enveloped you in the blood of his rivals.

But for now, he'd be a silent protector, by your side.

"Don't worry, my saviour, I'll keep you safe."

[yameoto]

HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination���you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!” 

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student. 

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell. 

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away. 

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor. 

-

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care. 

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm. 

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time. 

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon. 

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always. 

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl. 

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes. 

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it. 

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing. 

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber— 

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it. 

you think jordan knows it, too.

-

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you? 

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets. 

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room. 

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

-

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body. 

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong. 

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that. 

-

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a  party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times. 

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see. 

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach. 

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!” 

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.” 

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can. 

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night. 

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised. 

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy. 

 before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing. 

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though. 

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso. 

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine. 

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm. 

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan. 

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan. 

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!” 

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit. 

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

[petew21-blog]

Love thy neighbor

Jerry:"Oh look he posted again. And look at the quote '

Instagram - Clark_779:'Luke 6:31: Do to others as you would have them do to you. We all have to remember to be kind to each other'

Harvey:"I can't stand him anymore. Such a fucking hypocrite. Pretending to be a good christian and at the same time making our lives at school a living hell."

Jerry:"Yeah, you're right. But he won't change. He'll be the same asshole as he is now"

Harvey:"Maybe not"

Jerry:"Yeah right. You're gonna give him a lesson on ethics and he's gonna be kind. How about Red Riding Hood. That's a good story too. Maybe you should tell me that one"

Harvey:"If you'd let me talk I would explain it to you. I have been visiting this bookstore that seels antique stuff"

Jerry:"Aaaaand you found a love option that's gonna make him fall in love with you. Great"

Harvey:"You know I'm not gay and no. Something better. I got these two rings to swap our bodies"

Jerry:"Sure. And you know they work?"

Harvey:"We could try it out right now"

Jerry:"What if we don't change back?"

Harvey:"The man said that it should be fully reversible as long as both of them are wearing the ring"

Jerry:"Ok, fine. It's not like I believe your. But why not"

The took the rings and put them on their fingers. But nothing happened

Jerry:"Look, man. I know you wanted to believe it, but you gotta learn that there are scammers in the world and they...."

"...just want to rob you." Jerry finished the sentence but now from Harvey's body

Jerry:"What?!?"

Harvey:"Told you:

Jerry:"Dude, thus changes everything. We could ne the most popular people in the entire school. No, we can be anybody"

Harvey:"Calm down. We got a lot of time ahead of us. But for now I think we should stick with low profile dudes like Clark"

Jerry:"Ok, let's see if we can swap back"

The exchanged the rings again and after a moment were looking back at the other person. Harvey noticed that his dick was now hard in his briefs, but decided not to comment on in so that he wouldn't leave embarassed and his plan would go to shit

Jerry:"Ok. So how do you wanna do it?"

Harvey:"I got a plan"

Jerry:"I don't want to get beat up"

Harvey:"Someone has to sacrifice. Now go and provoke him. I'll intervene as soon as he would start beating you"

Clark was talking with his bros near the lockers. Jerry didn't have to say a thing and Clark noticed his presence:"Hey, fag. Got my lunch money?"

Jerry sped up and went on as if he didn't say anything. Clark ran out to get him as his bros stood behind. He shoved Jerry against a locker, making him collapse on the ground. That was a big hit. Jerry felt his back aching

Clark:"I was talking to you, nerd. Give ne your money"

Jerry:"I don't have any money today"

Harvey came closer and offered him the ring. "You can sell this for a better price than just lunch". Clark grabbed Harvey's sweatshirt and lifted him up against the locker. "Who said you can talk to me?"

Harvey stayed calm:"Please, just take it and let us be". Clark took the ring and looked at it. It seemed manly. Not like one for woman. He liked it. "Fine. Only this time" he let go of Harvey.

Harvey was next to Jerry now. Jerry was aching. While Harvey looked surprisingly confident. Jerry:"So? What now? What if he sells it or throws it away." Harvey:"Now we wait"

They were sitting at the front of the class along with the rest of the seniors. Clark was with his bros at the back. Harvey was trying to observe him, but everytime he did some of his bros noticed.

Jerry:"He's playing with the ring" And he was. History class probably borec him so much that he had to take a look at it.

Harvey turned around and noticed as another jock took it from him. "Oh no" he noticed as he was about to slip it on his finger and immediately took off his. Jock looked how the ring fit. He said to Clark:"Can I keep it?". "NO, it's mine. Echoed silently through the class"

The teacher didn't care that they were shouting. He was in support of our school jock and was in their favour so he let a lot of things pass

Clark took the ring back from the other guy and put it on his finger. Jerry said:"Now Harvey!" Harvey slipped on the ring as well and waited

Few seconds later. Jerry looked at Harvey's face that changed expression. He even spoke out loud:"What're you looking at, fag?" Jerry was shocked. This was real. He looked back to see Clark smiling back at him. "Holy shit" Jerry said out loud

The teacher scolded him Jerry. Mister Barren. There will be no such talk in my class. Go visit the prinicipal right now and take your things. Jerry had a hard time trying not to smile

Clark was so dull that he still didn't notice yet. Jerry went to the principal where he got his detention. Message arrived to his phone from unkwon number:"Clark is really passed. He screamed out at the class. He made me look like a crazy person. Come to my NEW car"

Jerry was nervous. He was always scared to even get close to Clark's car and now he was about to go in. He opened the door and sat down. There He was. Clark, but not really Clark

"Sup, fag" Harvey said. They both laughed

Jerry:"Holy shit dude, this is crazy. I can't believe it"

Harvey:"No, this is crazy. Check these out" he said as he flexed Clark's arm right into Jerry's face

Jerry:"Holy shit. Dude? Can I...?

Harvey:"Sure thing. Go ahead"

Jerry squeezed Clark's biceps and let his fingers go along the lines of his muscles. "This is incredible"

Harvey:"So what now. Wanna get your new body?"

Jerry:"I think we should wait until the drama about your body is done. Your body looks crazy right now and if there were the two of us, It might be more suspicious. I say we go to your new place. We should check it out"

Harvey:"Right on, mister. Hold your glasses"

Harvey wasn't a really good driver and it showed. The ride was... a bit dangerous

They entered the house. It was completely empty

Now the boys inspected the modern kitchen with a fridge full of great food.

Jerry:"Dude, this is amazing. It must be crazy good to be this rich"

Harvey:"You know what's also amazing? Check it" he lifted up his shirt and swestshirt, pulling his jeans down a bit

Jerry:"Wow. Dude. Those are really hot. Can I touch them?"

Harvey:"Why are you even asking at this point? Haha"

Jerry went closer to give it a feel. He was so close to his tormentor/friends face now. He expected a hit from his body or that his body would betray him and he would start kissing him instead. "Ehm... wanna maybe go upstairs to see his room?"

Harvey:"Sure. I mean, we'll be spending a lot of time there. Playing video games and so on. So we should atleast check it out"

After an hour of playing Harvey let go of the controler. Jerry:"Anything wrong Harvey?"

Harvey:"I'm Clark now. And I'm sice of not appreciating this body" he started undressing

Jerry couldn't look away. He was so hard right now. " Harv... Clark? Maybe you should wait before I leave?"

Harvey:"Don't pretend like you don't wanna see these guns and the rest. I know you do"

Jerry:"Oh... you do?"

Harvey:"Sure. I know you're gay. I could even feel my dick hard when we swapped before. Can't really hide that"

"Now look at this beautiful big dick" Harvey said as he held it over his boxer briefs. "No wonder he keep fucking everyone at the entire school. If I had this body and dick I would too. Oh wait... now I do. Haha"

"Let's take a proper look at it. Oh wow. It's so thick. Wanna check it out?" Harvey said with a seductive look at Jerry

Harvey didn't wait and got over Jerry. Sliding down his boxer briefs.

"Come on. Touch it. I know you want to"

Jerry hesitated, but Harvey put his dick into his face. Jerry took the dick into his hand. It really was big. "Oh wow, Harvey"

Harvey:"I told you, I'm Clark now. And you should suck it" he said and pushed his dick towards Jerry's mouth

He smiled:"I knew you'd like it you little, fag"

Jerry couldn't help it, but this talk. Pretending to be Clark and sucking him off was so amazing. He wanted this moment to last forever. Or atleast to be repeated several times

Jerry swallowed all of the cum. Harvey was now in the bathroom cleaning himself off and taking photos

Jerry at Harvey in the bathroom:"I think we should talk about it, Harv... Clark."

Harvey:"Talk about what? That you just sucked my dick?"

Jerry:"Yeah. You said you are straight and now you let me do this. Did you do it just to cheer me up or because of the attention"

Harvey was still around the corner in the bathroom:"Kinda both. But do you really think that I would be straight in a body like this. Especially when his body looks so good in this?"

He entered in a maid's dress. Showing off and flexing his muscles right at Jerry

Harvey:"I couldn't let this body be straight. I would just limit my options.

Jerry pushed down his hard on

Harvey;"And if you'd want we can pick you a nice girl's bldy and be a cute couple fucking around at home and at school. But I think you'd rather let me fuck another hot stud and get revenge on these hypocrites. Am i right?"

Jerry nodded in approval

Harvey:"Good. Then let's pick you a hot body. I can't wait to fuck you"

Anonymous request in inbox

Can you do a classic swap story between a nerd and a straight jock? I always find those to be super hot

[juniperdugong]

Relationship Quirks 96s ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Junhui

Avoids foods you don't like or are allergic to

You thought it was weird when after you had mentioned that you were allergic or didn't like a certain food that you would never encounter it when you were with Jun. Of course, you would always avoid it but you knew Jun to not be that picky, in fact, he's quite an adventurous eater. So it just struck you as odd.

That is until you overhear him on the phone with the restaurant you guys were having a date at later tonight asking about the ingredients used in certain dishes and if {insert food here} was used. When you talk to him about this he casually says that he just wants to make sure that you eat well and like what you eat. (THE SWEETEST BOY IN THE WORLD)

Little do you know that he's started to exclude those foods from his diet as well, especially if it's an allergy you have. If it's a food you don't like then he doesn't want you to avoid kissing him if he's eaten it. BUT IF IT'S AN ALLERGY, red alert red alert, he thinks you'll go into anaphylactic shock if he eats something you're allergic to and then he touches/kisses you.

If you're not by his side when he's making decisions then it feels like the balance of the universe is off. Could be halfway across the world from each other and dude is calling you at 3am to ask which magnet he should bring home as a souvenir.

Hoshi

Needs your input on almost every decision he makes

Ooh it's bad, like looking at your parents when the doctor asks what your age is type of bad. He will know exactly what he wants at a restaurant but as soon as the waiter comes he's looking at you like a sheep and you have to mouth what he said he wanted seconds ago as he repeats you blindly. Almost all his decisions must have you're input or else he doesn't know what to do. This might be annoying to some but he values what you have to say so much. And honestly, if you disagree with something he takes it into genuine consideration and thinks about it a lot before making the final call.

His mindset can be summed up like this, "If y/n doesn't think I'll like that pasta then I probably won't like it, they know me very well."

Dude is clingy but not in a physical way... just in the way that he follows you around like a cat that wants your attention but can't say it. He does it unconsciously and to be honest it takes a mutual friend or one of the boys to point it out for either of y'all to notice. Truly it feels like he has to stay within a 30ft. radius of you sometimes.

Wonwoo

Follows you everywhere

The reason this behavior even started was because he missed you so much after tours and arduous schedules that he just HAD to be near you but he never wanted to initiate physical contact. (Being near you is enough for him) It's gotten to the point though that he ASSUMES you're taking him everywhere with you. You're upset and need "space"? Good luck! You'll be in another room for max 5mins before he's in there sitting the farthest possible distance he can while keeping you in sight.

"I can't do this right now, Wonwoo." "Fine then." "I'm going to my mom's place for a while." *Magically has both your suitcases and bags packed* "When are we leaving?"

I know I know... it's unexpected but true! The thing that I don't think a ton of carats realize is that this man does not fear affection AT ALL. He just doesn't like it in public displays. So in the privacy of his studio or at either of your homes, he is clingy, 100%.

Woozi

Needs to feel your touch

Has a computer chair that is specifically for you to be next to him while he's in the studio. If you're in the same room as him or HELL even the same building and there are no cameras or minimal people and you're not next to him then what even is the point? Might as well tell him you hate him or something, at least that's how he treats it.

The crazy part is that he doesn't even ask you for affection! He'll just say things out loud and expect you to get the message or he'll say things directly towards you but won't look in your direction. His number one phrase is, "I miss you..." all while you're feet away from him on the couch in the studio. You can be sitting in your designated chair BUT YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR LEGS DRAPED OVER HIS???? Suddenly, you hear a constant loop of "Damn, I miss my partner sooooo much, right now.", like sir? They're right there?

A/N: I am clinically insane over the 96 line. ALSO EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO WONWOO!!!! (Even though it's literally 10pm and his day is nearly over) I'll try to have the next 2 parts out sometime tmrw. Stay sweet lovelies!! Reblogs and comments are like power surges for my writing so they are much appreciated!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish

[gassydumbjocks]

Virilite 1.1:

Boys will be boys

Training Liam to be the perfect manly dude he was meant to be was more fun than i thought, i kept trying a lil more commands on him, some even to humble him a bit making him do embarrasing stuff he'd NEVER do and he'd just obey without hesitation.

This was just getting better, and better, and again i thought of what Noah would think of this when he'd see Liam being no more than a puppet for the amusement of the commander.

After making him burp out the entire national anthem and laughing my ass off at him, i heard some steps from upstairs coming, Noah came at our weekly gathering to watch the game together while having some beers, i had to think of a good excuse for Liam, or maybe should i just tell him it was the best?

"Dave, where did ya put-... Oh, you're with... Liam?" he said scratching his neck, confused, Liam and i rarely interactued, let alone just the two of us, but this was going to be different from now on.

"Uh, yeah, we were just waiting for you here" i lie returning to the couch hoping he'd buy it .

"Sure, ok then" he simply shrugs it up "i was looking for him upstairs too, Liam, can you help me bring all the food and drinks?" he asks his son, and as he gets no response he raises an eyebrow "Son?"

I quickly intervene "Leave him, i can help you with that" i say but he ingnores it "No, i want him to do it besides... Why is he so, vacant?" He notices Liam is just sitting in a static position, no movement from him, and also his empty look "Liam you alright?" he asks again, and as expected, no response.

"What's with him all of a sudden?" he suddenly asks me, and i gasp a bit. He looks at him again, and then notices the bottle of Virilite pills that were still at the table "Virilite? What's that?" he says now focusing on them taking the container.

"Noah, i can explain this, those are some pills i bought, for Liam, you see?" i admit "They are meant to turn him into a real man, just as you and me always wanted, look, just let me show you" i try to explain him.

"Pills?! But, Dave- what the hell? What do you even mean?" he asks starting to frown a bit, i quickly take the container and show him the instructions.

"See? These have effects on the behavior and even actions of whoever that takes them, and even affects the increase of testosterone on him! He'll be in a trance-like state and you'll just need to command him do anything you want" i say, he still giving me a killer look.

"Noah, this can help you to finally lead him the right way and turn him into a good straight man, dont tell me you didn't seek for a miracle to change him so he'd finally like to bond with you" i say, and he just stays silent, proving my point.

"Even so, what can i "command" him to do?" he asks shrugging, and i smirk "anything brother, i already had a lot of fun at him, just watch this" i say and look at Liam, who letted out a goofy laugh again oblivious we were talking about him "Liam, i want you to make a cup fart with your own hand, and then you'll smell it" i smirk waiting for it.

We see Liam reaching his hand to his butt, and after some seconds, he grunted squinting an eye and dropping out a huge bomb of a bassy fart on hid own hand palm.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!

I burst into laughter while Noah still reacts to what just happened, dumbfounded "did he... did he just fart?" he asks, and to top things up, we then saw how Liam with that now eternal dumb expression in his face took his hand to his nose, and sniffed deeply, before laughing again, making me almost cry of how amusing this was for me.

"And that's not all, Liam, show Noah that trick i trained you to do" i command and Liam gets in action for his thing, first, i trained him to let out a loud burp with his hands cupped in his mouth, then he'd play as if he was juggling with it, he'd swallow the belch again, and when his stomach recieved the burped out gas again in his stomach...

BOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPPP!!

...

PPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTT!!!

I chuckle and go to him to give him some well-deserved pats in the back "good boy, very funny Liam" i praise him with a huge smile.

"Bro, what are you waiting for? Just try and make him do something you always wanted him to, any manly stuff works" i say again and he looks at his son, reflecting.

"I admit i always wanted a son i could call a real man... Ok, but just for a bit! I dont want my son to always be this...somehow extremely gassy zombie thing" he says waving his hand, the gas must have hitted him by now "Goddamn, did you fed him something to make him this gassy or what?" he asks coughing.

"Nothing, just pure pill effect, and I know right, its so potent, i even had to open a window earlier, but we'll get used" i joke "also i wouldn't worry, i readed in the website the trance state isn't permanent, they give you a certain amount of time so you can "program the person" as your like, then they'll come back to normal again, just with the new antics and persona you implanted on him, Liam will now love to join us in our belch offs or our protein farts competitions in our boys nights during the matches huh?" i giggle

"Guess this can work" Noah said, finally putting just a small, very slighty smirk on his lips, while patting his son's back, eager to finally enjoy the company of a son that could make guy stuff with him.

[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (ARMANDO X READER) PART NINE

After some time of being on the road, you finally made it to downtown Miami. It was now hitting night time, meaning that you were on the road all day. You watched as the world around you lit up with the Miami city lights, allowing your skin to turn different colors as you passed each building. You were so caught up with looking at each building that you didn’t even notice that the car came to a stop. 

“So are you going to keep daydreaming or are you going to get out the truck?”Armando said mockingly, turning his head around, to look at the buildings.

You stood up and walked towards the end of the truck, when Armando lifted his hands up to help you down. You looked at him then over at Marcus and Mike.

“Marcus and Mike can you help me, please.”, you smiled, giving your hands out for them to grab. You knew that you could get down by yourself and that you wanted Armando to help you, however you were still salty from earlier.

You watched as Marcus and Mike looked over to Armando as he walked away. You hated having to play games with him but you couldn’t help it. That’s just who you are, and you were finally accepting it.

“You know, you shouldn’t play with him like that. Being toxic isn’t cute, it’s immature.”, Mike sighed, grabbing you and setting you down softly. 

“Mike, I don’t think she’s being toxic. I think she just doesn’t know how to express her feelings for him.”, Marcus added, looking over at him. 

You knew that he was right and they knew it too so you stood there and watched as Marcus and Mike went up to Armando. Leading to you having to trail behind them. 

“Hey…”, multiple voices yelled near you. You turned around to see a group of guys heading towards you. You whipped your head back around and kept walking, you didn’t have time to be entertaining strangers. So you ignored them. 

“Oh so you’re one of those snobby bitches.”, one of the men yelled. By the sound of his voice he was pretty close to you so you decided to turn around.

ARMANDO’S POV

I was annoyed with y/n and with everything that’s going on. First, she played games with me and made me feel as if she wanted me but then said she doesn’t. Then she says something is wrong with me. ME. When she’s the one with psychological problems and now wants to give me the silent treatment. When I should be the one giving HER the silent treatment. Maybe it was because I called her a bitch? That was probably it. Damn, Armando. I didn’t mean to call her that, I've never called a woman that. She had gotten under my skin so well, it was an accident.

I looked back to see her turned around looking at a group of guys walking towards her. They were talking to her, maybe I should step in or just let her deal with them. Then again, I wouldn’t dare. I began to slow down my pace and started listening to what was going on behind me. I couldn’t help but to be intrigued. A group of guys on the streets of Miami, walking up to a woman. Nothing good was going to come from that. That’s when I noticed Y/n's voice, she sounded tense. Something was happening.

“Yo what the hell are you doing?!”, one of the guys yelled.

“Don’t touch me.”

I turned around to see a guy on the ground and y/n turned, looking at me while wiping her lips. I was livid, who the hell did these guys think were? So I sprinted towards him as hard as I could while he was on the sidewalk and started punching him. Punching him so hard that all you could see was blood across his face but I didn’t stop. I kept going, I wanted his whole face to be covered, his lips and nose to be broken and busted and for his eyes to look like a panda. 

“Armando!”, y/n yelled, pulling me off of the guy. I stood up to see the guy waving his hands out for me to not touch him anymore.

“Please, I'm sorry. I’m sorry.”, he cried, apologizing. I looked up to see y/n and the dudes looking at me.

“Yo, Armando?”Marcus whispered, looking down at the guy and then at me.

It wouldn’t have been me to stand there and watch y/n defend herself against all of those boys. I wouldn’t dare let her do that, ever. Her battles were mine, no matter how I felt about her right now.

I scanned over to y/n and grabbed her hand. I didn’t care if she didn’t want to hold it or be by me because right now, she had no choice. So I gently yanked  her over towards me and pulled her behind me.

“Leave, now or end up like him.”, Mike demanded, pointing at the group of guys and then at their friend that were on the ground. Observing as they scattered like roaches, I set free my hand that y/n was holding and turned to look at Marcus and Mike. She wasn’t going to get anything from me until we could actually talk.

“Where are we heading now?”I asked, looking down to my hands that were now bruised and covered with blood. I wiped them against my pants, hissing from the pain.

“Soooo….we’re not going to talk about what just—”

“Marcus…”, Mike interrupted, looking at him. “Listen…I have an old associate that owns that club right there. She should be able to get us some guns and supplies that’ll help us out.”, he continued looking at us and then pointing at the club down the street. 

“Well, let's go.”, I replied, stepping to the side to allow y/n to be in front of me. I watched as she stepped in front of me and then grabbed my hand to hold it. So now she wants to hold it.

“ You may not want to hold my hand but this is my way of saying thank you.”, she sighed looking at me. Her eyes twinkled like the city lights, making them stand out. I couldn’t allow myself to say no so I just held on to it.

Y/N POV

You held on to Armando’s hand, the whole time. The walk to the club was near you guys so it didn’t take forever to reach it. Once you guys made it, you were greeted by the loud noise of music and people being loud.

“Your friend must be famous or something the way this place is packed.”, Marcus yelled over the loud music.

“She’s just known, that’s all. Y’all stay behind me, you don’t want to get lost with all of these people in here.”, Mike explained, waving his hands towards you, Armando and Marcus.

You then pulled Armando closer to you as he kept his distance while holding your hand so he wouldn’t be behind.

You watched as Mike walked up to a section that was surrounded with heavy security. There were beads hanging from the walls indicating that it could be representing an entrance.

“I’m here to see Tabitha. It’s Mike.”, Mike said to the guards.

“She rolls like this Mike.”, Marcus whispered, pointing at how many people were guarding her area.

“She’s special.”

You observed as her security left and came back then started patting down each of you as you entered. First it was Mike, then Marcus and now you were next. A tall, curly hair, polynesian guy, holding a backpack came up to you and scanned your body. He was cute and you watched as he looked at you.

“Arms up.”, he demanded with a smile. He watched as you let go of Armando’s hand and raised your arms up so that you could be searched. “You two together?”He laughed, twirling his finger for you to turn around.

You stayed silent and looked at Armando as he stayed silent as well.

“So I guess that’s a no.”, he laughed.

You allowed the guy to finish his job by patting you down. You didn’t realize how close you pulled Armando to you until you looked up to see Armando near your chest. 

“Too close.”, he whispered, while hovering over you.

“Was he talking about the guy or me?”, you thought, looking off to the side while watching people dance.

“You’re good.”

You walked inside the section that Tabitha was in and sat down. There were a lot of half-naked strippers near her while some guards surrounded the furniture that you all were on. You were uncomfortable and alarmed. Tabitha’s mouth was like a motor and vulgar things were flying out of it. You watched as Armando finally walked in and sat on top of one of the chairs at the end, away from you, Mike and Marcus.

“I can most definitely help you out Mike but I’m going to need something in return baby.”, Tabitha replied, looking at Mike while rubbing the side of his neck.

You could tell that he felt awkward by the way she was carrying herself. You would’ve been too.

“And…what would that be?”Mike replied, clearing his throat.

“Eat my pussy.”, she replied, throwing her tongue around.

You watched as the women around you laughed, however you found it disgusting. Does receiving head sound good to you? Yeah, however you were more private when it came to anything sexual  and hearing it like that, grossed you out.

“Tabitha, you know I can’t do that…I’m married.”

“So? Head isn’t cheating, that’d be different if I asked you to fuck or for us all to have an orgy.”

“An orgy, Mike…just give the head.”, Marcus replied, inching his head towards Mike and Tabitha's conversation.

“MARCUS! I am not…giving her head. I’m sorry Tabitha but no, there has to be a different route.”, Marcus argued standing up.

“Well then I can’t help you…but you can help me.”, she responded, standing up and pulling a gun from her back and pointing towards Mike. Observing everyone else, the guards that were in the section followed her lead. Now you, Armando, Mike and Marcus had guns from all directions pointing at you. Damn.

You sat there and watched as Marcus, Mike and Armando stood up, you turned to look at Tabitha to see her staring at you.

“Get your ass up, I don’t know why you’re still sitting down. Y’all are about to make me some money.”, she laughed, motioning the gun up and down at you.

You stood up and turned to look at Mike to see him having a confused look on his face. We were all lost.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t know Mike? You four are wanted, and have  fifty million on your head. Everybody is after you guys.”, she smiled, taking quick glances at everyone in the room.

Those who were in the room were smiling and whispering. You knew it was going to be hard to find McGrath but now having fifty million over our head just made it difficult.

“I would hate for there to be a bloodbath in here, so walk towards the back.”, She continued, pointing towards the back of the section that had an exit door.

You went around the table that was in the middle of the room and followed Mike and Marcus while Armando followed behind you. You couldn’t help but to hear what Tabitha was saying behind you about Armando.

 “Hell, you could give me head too.. You’re fine as hell.”, Tabitha growled, walking towards Armando.

You turned around to see Armando giving her a side eye with a shocking expression. Who was this lady?

“What?”, he replied, confusingly.

“You can give me head, you and your daddy are fine. I’d take both of y’all.”

You were getting sick of her, of the disrespect and the way she was throwing herself at Armando. You got ready to turn around and say something until you felt Armando faintly shove you back around and wrapped  his hands around your waist, while walking. Instant butterflies.

“Don’t y/n”, he whispered. You could feel his hands caress your waistline as he was slowly removing his hands. The way he always calmly took control of your emotions, even if you didn’t want to comply, made you hot inside.

The door swung open and they made all four of you walk towards the middle of the open parking lot near a gray van to get on your knees.

You kept your attention on Mike as he tried to talk us out of whatever was about to happen.

“You know I can’t do that baby, I—”, before Tabitha could finish she was interrupted by a group of people walking towards us in a direction.

“MIKE LOWREY!!! YOU KNOW I DIDN’T FORGET ABOUT YOU SMASHING MY HAND IN LAST YEAR!!”, a short plus size man yelled walking towards us. There were a lot of people, different sizes and different races, dressed in different colors with guns in their hands. Had to be gangs.

“Sorry Tabitha but we’re going to have split this!”

“No, I got them so that money is mine!”Tabitha debated, pointing her gun at the plus sized man. 

All four of you were looking at each other now, you were surrounded by so many people who were hungry to have you guys. It didn’t help that they had guns and you guys didn’t.

You watched as they got so caught up about the money, that they didn’t even notice the police cars coming towards all of you.

“WATCH OUT!!”Mike yelled, getting up and running towards the van.

You watched as Marcus and Armando followed. You had no weapons, none of you did and you knew that it would be needed right now. So you ran towards one of the guards and fought him as hard as you could. He was strong but eventually you were able to knock him down and take his gun. You started shooting at every person that was in your line of vision, when something was thrown at you from the side.

You turned to see the guy who patted you down earlier, he was pointing at the bag near you. You watched as he blew you a kiss and then ran back inside. You gave him a quick smile in return, picked it up and then ran towards the van, jumping in.

“WHAT IS THAT!!!?”Armando yelled as we were being swung around due to Marcus’s driving, trying to leave the parking lot.

“THE GUY FROM EARLIER THREW IT TO ME!”, you replied, setting it down and opening it to see the bag filled with all kinds of handguns and passing them out.

  You watched as Armando grabbed the gun and then got up to open the back of the van. Marcus was speeding and turning the corners fast and deadly, making you and Armando lose your balance. Pulling the trigger, you started shooting at the people who were shooting at the police. You didn’t want to kill your own people, you considered them family.

“Y/N WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”Armando yelled while shooting.

“WHAT?”

“SHOOT AT THE COPS, THEY’RE THE ONES THAT WANTS US DEAD!” “EVERYONE WANTS US DEAD, ARMANDO!!!”, you argued back, so you kept shooting until every person that was at the back of the club was dead or was off the road and then you worked your way up.

“SHIT…KEEP SHOOTING, I'M OUT!”, 

You ran towards the front of the van and reached for the bag, when the van nearly flew and tipped over.

“MARCUS!!!”, Mike yelled

“Sorry, there were pedestrians.”

You ran back to help Armando when you noticed him looking at someone intensively, it was Judy, Howard’s daughter. She had her arms out of the window, trying to get a perfect shot at Armando. You remembered how a couple days ago she promised to kill Armando, therefore you knew that you had to do something about it. So you started shooting, holding down the trigger while allowing every bullet to aim at the car. You weren’t trying to kill Judy because you knew that she was just hurt but you knew you weren't going to allow her to kill him either.

You saw as the bullets went through the tires, making them turn and hit an electricity pole, causing a huge blowout to happen where you were. 

“Oh shit…”, you whispered, watching as the pole fell to the ground on top of other police cars leading to things flying while on fire. 

“WATCH OUT!”, before you could react, Armando flew into you, knocking you down towards the front of the van. You didn’t know what was going on until you noticed a door from a police car was on fire. So you kicked it out of the back of the van and shifted to Armando’s legs being on fire also.

“ARMANDO!”, you shockingly yelled, kneeling over to help Mike put the fire out before it could cause any damage to Armando’s leg. He was shocked as well, hitting it with his hands hoping that it would help. You noticed that it wasn’t doing it any good so you took off your t-shirt and started wildly slamming it against his leg. Once you noticed that the fire was gone, you threw your shirt to the side not caring about the fact that you weren’t covered. Only in your bra.

“Well…”, Armando croaked, while getting up. You could see him looking at you, his eyes now turning lustful. However you ignored him and watched as Marcus driving started getting out of control. We were heading straight towards a wall

“JUMP OUT NOW!”Marcus screamed, trying to avoid hitting cars but failing.

You observed as Mike climbed through the front and jumped out of the passenger door, while Marcus jumped out of the driver's side.

“C’MON!”, Armando commanded, grabbing your hand while running towards the back of the van. You knew that this was going to be painful but there was no other way out, so you jumped. Rolling onto the concrete, hands first, you could feel the wind being knocked  out of you. So you laid there, allowing yourself to catch your breath. You didn’t bother looking down because you knew that you may have scratches across your upper body.

“Shit…that hurt.”, you moaned, using half of your body to finally get up.

“Are you okay?”Armando asked, putting his hand on your butt to push you up. 

You were going to say something but you had secretly liked it so you ignored it.

“Yeah, just small scratches, that’s all.”, you laughed looking down at your stomach. You turned to see Mike and Marcus running over towards you and Armando. People were slowly coming up towards the crash and you knew at some point the police would be called so you decided to  examine the Miami streets to see what direction to go.

“Here y/n, cover yourself up okay.”, Mike said, handing over a flannel that he was wearing. Grabbing it and putting it on, the first thing you noticed was the smell that lingered on it. You couldn’t help but to sniff the collar of it.

“Do I stink?”, Mike worriedly asked turning towards you

“No, you smell really good.”, you laughed. “So…where are we going to go, the guns are in the van.Which are no good now.”, you continued looking towards the van that was now on fire.

“Hold on.”, Mike replied, leaving and walking up to one of the strangers on the street. You guys watched as he talked to them and then grabbed the phone that the stranger handed him.

“Smooth talker I see.”, you smiled looking at Armando and then back at Mike. You couldn’t help but to try and make him jealous, that was something that you knew you were good at. And it worked. Armando was now standing in front of you, blocking Mike from your vision.

“You never answered my question, are you okay?”, Armando repeated, looking down at you.

“Yeah, I am. You?”, you replied looking up at him. You noticed a small bruise on the side of his cheek, must've happened when you guys landed.

“Yeah… I know those scratches probably hurt tho.”

You looked down at your stomach and shrugged your shoulders. There was a more uncomfortable feeling rather than pain. Luckily they were small so the healing process will be fast.

“Kelly and Dorn are going to pick us up so we can go over to the public patio that’s about three blocks away from here and they can meet us there.”, Mike explained, grabbing Armando on the shoulder.

The four of you began running, just to get as far away from the scene as possible before the cops came. Once you guys felt that you were far enough, you walked the rest of the way. Eventually you guys made it to where the patio was when you noticed a dock a couple feet away from it.

“I’m going to go sit over there… just to clear my head.”, you pointed, showing them the dock. You watched as they nodded and then left to go and sit down. There was something about being near water and listening to it, although you couldn’t swim, it brought you peace and you felt it being a bonus with it being night and the stars and moon shining across the waves.

Taking your socks and shoes off, and setting them behind you. You allowed the water to gently touch your toes. It was cold and had a sharp feeling to it. You were so lost into how the water felt against your feet, that you didn’t even notice Armando standing beside you.

“Can I sit next to you?”, he gently asked, pointing to the open space beside you.

You stared at it and then back at the water in front of you, not sure what you wanted to say.

“Sure.”, you sighed, scooting over to allow him to sit next to you.

You watched as he took off his shoes and sat them next to yours, when you noticed how big his feet were. 

“Yeah, I have big feet.”, he sighed, noticing that you were looking at his shoes.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. Some men have big feet for a reason, at least that’s what my grandmother used to say.”, you chuckled, watching the waves hug each other.

“Well, your grandmother was a freak..if she said that.”, he laughed, turning to look at you. You slightly turned your head with a bewildered look on your face.

“What do you mean?”you asked, genuinely confused. You always thought that meant some men's feet just being bigger than others, because that’s basically what she would always say.

“You don’t get it?”, he replied looking at you shockingly

You shook your head no and watched as he turned his face back towards the body of water.

“You’ll understand later.”, he smirked, leaning his hands back to lean his weight onto his forearms.

“You’re weird.”, you sighed, shaking your head in disappointment.

There was silence between the two of you however, the sound of the waves made up for it. You shifted your head over to Armando, not being able to stop yourself from looking at how he was sitting. He kept moving his hips forward so that he could get comfortable. The way he controlled his body, throwing it up and down made your heart race. Think of something y/n, take control.

“So..what made you come over here, I thought you were mad at me.”, you said, interrupting the silence that was happening between the two of you.

“Honestly, I don’t know…I just felt like it.”, he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head however you never turned around. You feel him shifting again, this time he was sitting up and was closer to you.

“Can I ask you a question…”, he asked bringing his hands closer to him

You turned to see him fidgeting his fingers with his shoulders hovered over. You looked up at him and then shook your head, yes. You weren’t sure what he was about to ask you; however, you were happy that he was talking to you. Even if you didn’t know how to show it.

“My dad…Mike. Said that you said that you, “Needed Me”. What did you mean about that?”, he continued looking out at the water.

You couldn’t help but to remain silent, you weren’t sure what you meant by it. You were freaked out after LadyBug was killed and was bruised up so you were saying anything that was crossing your mind.

“It’s okay if you don’t—”

“When I first saw you at the prison, there was something about you. I don’t know exactly what it was…if it’s just how you looked or the heavy energy that you carry but I couldn’t stop looking at you. Even when I left, I kept visioning you and thinking about you.”, you halted. You were finally being honest to him.

“And to be completely honest with you, I still feel this way.”, you finally said it. You were finally honest with yourself and became aligned with your emotions. A thousand bricks felt like it was lifted off of your chest. Like you weren’t suffocating anymore. You could see Armando looking at you from your peripheral vision however you kept your eyes focused on the water.

“So why did you tell Mike that you didn’t care about me then the next day? Why have you been so cold towards me y/n?”he asked, leaning his head towards you. At this point, he was in your face but you continued to ignore his stare and he knew it.

“Y/n, why did you say those things ... .there had to be a reason.”, he continued scooting closer to you. Now you guys thighs were rubbing against each other and you knew that he was growing impatient with you so you looked over to where Armando wasn’t sitting , trying to avoid his eye-contact when you felt his finger on your chin. Forcing your head to turn and for you to look at him.

“Armando”, you sighed, gently taking his finger off of your chin. You weren’t sure whether or not to tell him what McGrath said. 

“Tell me y/n, is there something I should know? Are you seeing someone?”, he replied, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“No Armando, I am not and I had a reason okay. It has to do with McGrath, that’s all.”, you sighed, worriedly. McGrath had a hold on you, and you knew it. So did the boys and everytime you talk to them, you’re reminded of what he said the night that he was in your home.

“Okay, well what happened the night before you randomly came to the plane. Mike told me you weren’t coming, why weren’t you on the bus?”he asked, stopping you from playing with your fingers and holding your hands in his hands. They were warm and gave you a soothing feeling.

You turned to look at it and then at him. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me love, what happened?”

“McGrath had been coming over to my house while I was asleep. Had to be for a while because everytime I would wake up and get ready to leave. I always saw my window slightly lifted in the living room. However I never paid it any mind since I used to leave it open myself sometimes.”, you explained, at this point in the conversation, the both of you were playing with each other's fingers without even realizing it.

“Okay, but who was LadyBug?”he asked intensively. He was looking at you, trying to search for answers and help you at the same time.

“LadyBug was a little kid who would come over and pick up ladybug’s in my yard. He had these thick black glasses that would make his eyes bigger than what they were. He was so adorable and was around six or seven, maybe five. I don’t know, I never bothered to ask. McGrath had to be watching every time he would come over because when I got home after chasing him on the highway for killing Fletcher, he was in my home and had LadyBug tied up in my room. I didn’t know..”, you answered, looking at him. 

“Him and his people. They hit me across my head, punched me and threw me onto my couch, as soon as I walked in. I tried fighting back but couldn’t so I stopped. And the whole time McGrath and I talked, it was nothing but about him hating me and saving me for last. He then went to my room and brought out LadyBug, I don’t have anything in remembrance of him…”, you continued, swallowing the bricks that were now in your throat. You couldn’t help but to picture LadyBug’s face. You continued to tell Armando about that night and could feel his energy shift.

“And before he left, he told me that I had a decision to make, and that he wants all of us, especially you. I’m tired of losing people, Armando, especially those who are close to me. You’re important to me and so are the boys and now McGrath is threatening me.”, you explained, watching the water throw itself across your feet.

“I have to protect you guys, especially you.”, you sighed. “I don’t need anything to happen, Armando, I am tired.”

 You could hear him grunt in frustration as he sat next to you. Before you knew it, he quickly but gently grabbed your face, keeping it between the palms of his hands and kissed you on your lips. You were stunned…they were soft and you could feel his goatee mustache against your face. You looked up to see that his eyes were closed, he was in the moment so you closed yours. You wanted to get deeper into it, until he stopped and pulled away.

“This is what I need you to understand y/n. It is not your job to protect me. it's my job to protect you and I need you to get that through that beautiful head of yours”, he replied, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed, while his lips were pressed firmly together. He was being serious.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, me or those donkey’s behind us. I’ll make sure of that, okay love..”, he laughed, letting go of your head and giving you a slight push.

Shockness was still slapped on your face, you didn’t have anything to say so you just stared at him.

“I guess you liked that.”, he smiled, slapping you on your thigh.

You couldn’t help but to blush, forgetting everything that you had just said. 

“Oh and I like you too, even though you never said it so I will. You’re mine now so I need you to act like it… okay, even around other people. Let us boys, deal with McGrath because that’s our job as men.”, he continued throwing his arm around your shoulders.

You were hesitant but you decided to give him a chance, you leaned over towards him and placed your head onto his shoulders. You felt protected being in his arms and the way his heart rhythm slowed down and matched yours, it gave you peace. Which has always been important to you.

“I’m not trying to break the silence but…I need confirmation y/n, I want to hear you say ”I’m Yours”...loud and proud, he continued looking down at you. 

You looked up at him and then down at his legs, you know what they like to say…thick thighs, saves lives.

“I’ll think about it Armando, I need you to be patient with me.”, you replied rubbing his thigh, it must’ve been making him feel some kind of way because you spotted something trying to peek through his pants. 

“I got you excited.”, you laughed, quickly sitting up, and pointing over towards his dick.

He quickly pushed you off of him and you watched as he fastly put on his socks and shoes  and stood up. Was he embarrassed because you accidentally turned him on?

“Y’ALL LET'S GO!!”Mike yelled. You turned to see Kelly and Dorn pulling up. Mike and Marcus were already walking towards the car so you quickly bent over to get your shoes, when Armando grabbed them and ran off.

“ARMANDO, WHAT THE HELL?!”, you yelled getting up.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT, CLOCK IS TICKING!!”, he screamed back, flinging your shoes around. You couldn’t be mad because you were secretly enjoying it, so you laughed and ran towards the car. Allowing time to be in control.

[warping-realities]

Where Would You Rather Be? (Redux)

A collaboration with the amazing @johnbrand

“You know I love you, right?” Malcolm reaffirmed to his boyfriend. “And I’m here for you, babe.”

It had been a hell of a week for Shane. He had been living in the city for almost ten years now, moving there for college and then sticking around after graduation. It was a scary transition, but thanks to the quick friends he made, the ride was a bit easier. One of them, Shane’s freshman roommate—who he had lived with and then kept close since they met—got an eviction notice the week before. Shane had been as supportive as he could through the whole mess, but watching his buddy pack up and leave was a real kick in the gut. His friend would now be living hours away, no longer right next door.

Shane nodded his head, followed by a quick “Thanks, babe.”

“I’m happy to be the shoulder you can cry on, I know this sucks” Malcolm sympathized. “Still wanna grab dinner tonight? We can bail on the plans if you need some time.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Shane said with a slight smile. “Plus, it’s our third anniversary—you’ve done more than your fair share, and I’m super grateful for that.”

Malcolm chuckled, quickly snatching Shane from behind. “Then maybe you’ll have to show some gratitude later tonight.”

Rolling his eyes, Shane still returned the passionate kiss from his boyfriend.

That night, he found himself back in his own home. After climbing a few flights of stairs, he was surprised to find his buddy’s old apartment door wide open. Curious, Shane peeked in, and without thinking twice, he stepped into the familiar space, now filled with unknown furniture, boxes, and other random junk scattered around.

Before he could snoop around, a voice from behind barked at him to move aside. “Get outta the way, bro!”

The rich baritone caught Shane so off guard that he jumped a bit, scurrying as a big dude stomped through the doorway before dropping a few boxes. At least six feet tall, the buff, masculine intruder immediately intimidated Shane. Shirtless, barefoot, and rocking some tiny shorts that could easily be mistaken for underwear. Probably due to the effort of hauling all those boxes, the muscular man gave off a strong, manly odor that quickly overwhelmed Shane’s senses. In fact, all of his senses, although he didn’t really realize it. The stranger smiled cockily, sizing Shane up with eyes glinting with mischief before speaking.

“Mind being useful and helping me organize the rest of my stuff?” the man asked. Shane, a bit freaked out by the pure masculinity in front of him, didn’t say a word. The guy didn’t need his response, though, knowing Shane would help him out no matter what. Shane couldn’t explain what came over him; his mouth was just hanging open while cardboard boxes were dumped into his waiting arms.

In minutes, he was soaked in sweat, having to peel off layer after layer of clothing as he helped the stranger organize the apartment. His mind screamed at the absurdity of the situation, yet he kept doing what the man asked him to do like a robot. After an hour of relentless work, the guy, noticing Shane’s drenched clothes, pulled out a change of clothes from one of the boxes still piled in a corner.

“Put these on, thank goodness I wear extra-large, bro, so they should fit your chubby ass!” he said, flexing his muscles and releasing another wave of that masculine musk from his armpits.

Drowsy Shane picked up the clearly unwashed tank top and gym shorts, reeking of that same animal musk but concentrated from days of use. That scent almost made him hurl.

“What are you waiting for, man? Put these on already. We still got work to do.”

Once again, not understanding why, Shane felt compelled to obey, stripping down in front of his new neighbor until he was left only in his underwear. He was already putting on his shorts when the man interrupted him.

“No, man, you gotta let the jewels breathe. Not that they take up much space, from what I can see, but there’s no reason to squeeze the poor things,” he quipped, bursting into laughter, and Shane, even without getting the joke, found himself laughing along. When he was finally dressed in the provided clothes, completely engulfed by the animalistic smell, the man approached him with a grin.

“Back to work, man, a little more exercise and maybe you’ll fill out those clothes just right,” he said with a smirk. Shane just nodded and kept working.

Before he knew it, another two hours had flown by, and the apartment now had a minimally organized look, unlike the previous chaos. The night fully enveloped the dimly lit room.

“Martin,” the mysterious man finally offered his name, alongside a giant meaty hand that crushed Shane’s. “Are you my new neighbor?”

“Uh... yeah,” Shane finally spoke, pointing to the wall their apartments would share.

“Cool, bro,” Martin replied. “Wanna chill on the balcony with me for a bit?”

Shane checked his watch, noting that there was still some time before he had to get ready for his dinner date. “Sure.” Following the muscular alpha outside, Shane took a seat on the wicker couch while waiting for Martin. He did his best to plan out the remaining time he had. Not realizing that the tight outfit now seemed to hang off his body, which in the last few hours had shed a good amount of fat while gaining a little muscle, revealing a face that was somewhere between cute and handsome.

“Sit over there,” Martin directed as he stepped onto the balcony. Shane didn’t think twice about getting up and moving aside so Martin could sit on the couch. It wasn’t until he moved to the other side of the coffee table that Shane realized Martin wanted him to sit on the deck.

“That’s right, faggot. Sit in front of my feet,” Martin said, the friendly smile fading from his face as he propped his giant, smelly feet up on the table.

Shane was shocked, offended by his neighbor’s sudden bigotry. The lame joke about the size of his dick was one thing, but this vocabulary was degrading and... the smell of a full day’s work was coming off those giant boards Martin called feet. And Shane train of thought completely derailed. So he did as he was told, taking his seat in front of the two massive soles placed before him. Somewhat exasperated by the incomprehensible actions he had taken up until that point and anxious not to miss his meeting with his boyfriend, Shane shifted uncomfortably in the awkward spot, to the point that Martin himself noticed.

“You got any plans tonight, fag?” Martin questioned.

In a flustered, embarrassed, and strangely lustful state, Shane answered, “Yeah, I have an anniversary dinner with my boyfriend.”

Martin snickered. “And when is that?”

“I should start getting ready in 10 minutes,” Shane’s response was robotic. “I’ve gotta shower, get dressed, wrap my present, and then travel.”

Martin mulled this over for a bit, relishing the fact that Shane would wait for his next prompt. He was completely overtaken by the scent that wafted from the other man. Martin’s natural musk and body odor held an authority over him like nothing else ever had.

“Let me make you a deal, faggot,” Martin finally said. “You can bounce now, get ready, and have a great night with your loving boyfriend. Or you can stay seated right where you are, at the feet of a straight man, waiting for my next command and finally discover what it’s like to be a real man!”

Shane didn’t reply, shocked by what Martin was insinuating. With casual indifference, Martin wiggled his toes in front of Shane, knowing the silence was already his answer. But in true alpha fashion, Martin made sure to hammer his superiority home.

“Where would you rather be, faggot?” he asked, with his feet releasing another wave of potent funk towards an already completely subdued prey.

They stayed there without saying a word: Martin laid-back, comfortable, and minding his own business, and Shane at his feet. Neither got up as time ticked by. In his head, Shane’s plans slowly morphed. He didn’t need to wrap Malcolm’s present, he didn’t need to shower, he didn’t even need to change. Eventually, the anniversary dinner came and went, and Shane was still at the feet of the straight man.

“Well, now that you’ve made your choice I gotta keep my promise, right, sissy boy? But to be my bro, you gotta become a real man, don’t you, Shotgun?”

“My name is…”

“Shut up, sissy boy. You’ll be able to talk when you’re a man and have a place to sit by my side, not at my feet!”

Imbued by Martin’s potent scent and words of dominance, Shane fell silent.

“I don’t give a damn what you were known for, Shotgun,” Martin retorted, making the smaller man shiver at the sound of that nickname. “I don’t care about your art degree or the lame job you do or the degenerate things you do with your fag boyfriend. And that doesn’t matter to you either, Shotgun, because it’s not real, but what I’m gonna tell you now is that it is real, and your jelly brain is gonna do its best to make it happen.” The man concluded, lifting both arms and releasing the most powerful wave of musk yet, taking Shane... or Shotgun?... what kind of name is that? That didn’t matter, only the wave of nauseating smell that invaded him.

“Take it like a man, Shotgun,” Martin ordered, and he obeyed. “What you’re gonna do is very simple, I want you to think about all the jocks who humiliated you in school, the fraternity brothers who often give each other nicknames just like yours, Shotgun, which you certainly mocked but deep down envied. I want you to think about all the real men you and your faggot friends called toxic behind their backs without having the guts to face them. I want you to picture yourself as one of them, with all the stereotypes of white cis straight men, yada yada yada bullshit that your liberal faggot mind has stored. I want you to take all their traits and slap them on yourself. Habits, behavior, conduct, appearance, desires, thoughts, everything! Yeah, everything you think about guys like me applied to you. When you’re done, Shotgun, then we’ll talk man to man, and only then I’ll wanna know more about my new bro. A bro who scored this awesome apartment for a fellow frat brother moving across the country as soon as he heard someone just like him was moving here, just for the spirit of brotherhood that exists between real men that your old self would never have been able to grasp! Do it now!

The wave of nausea hit its peak; Shane felt the vomit rising in his throat but held it back, swallowing it down again, while another sensation took over his head, a feeling of being invaded and violated, his mind dominated by a relentless buzz, his vision flooded with a myriad of colors, while his whole body itched as if a million ants were crawling over him. The whole situation was overwhelming. And it got worse when his memories and recollections started to twist and reform, everything he was being tangled up in a whirlwind of misinformation. He found himself facing several traumatic situations from his life, but in reverse roles; the bullying he suffered turning into the bullying he practiced, the sports activities observed from afar being felt and lived, the toxic behavior going from being judged to being experienced and appreciated. And with that, new memories surfacing, time in the gym sculpting his body to perfection, nights of sex with various women whose names he didn’t even remember, his work at the art gallery replaced by a finance job earned not through talent but through connections made via his fraternity brothers. At last the image of Malcolm, the great love of his life, being erased. In an internal scream of despair, he tried to cling to that safe harbor, but that ship had already sailed to new waters, taking with it his humility, knowledge, empathy, and kindness. Leaving only inflated self-confidence, privilege, and respect only for those he considers equal or superior.

As the night wore on and Shane’s inner turmoil reached its peak, his exterior was undergoing its own transformation. His muscles were going into overdrive. They just kept contracting and expanding. Over and over. Lost in jumbled thoughts, he couldn’t feel his bones stretching longer. But each one was stretching out to its new length, growing denser to support his new weight. His average build quickly disappeared as muscle packed onto his recent lean frame. Little by little, he felt constricted by Martin’s clothing. The shirt pulled at his chest and shoulders while the shorts barely contained his thick, muscular ass, with his thighs growing like tree trunks, stretching the fabric to its limit. His shoulders broadened, turning into large round orbs jutting from his sides. Two mighty pecs pushed a bit in front of him while a firm set of abs grew more defined right underneath. His biceps bulged out of his arms while his forearms widened to support the new strength building within him. Amid the chaos of conflicting memories, his average-sized dick, the butt of Martin’s jokes, quickly grew to new heights. What had been his maximum hard was now his flaccid member. His calves grew to the size of most men thighs. Meanwhile, his feet grew well beyond the previous size 8, increasing to the point of competing with Martin’s stinky paws, which had to be at least size 13. The changes also hit his face, which took on a more squared-off, rugged look, with his button nose growing and turning into an aquiline nose that could’ve easily been broken in a fight, which only reinforced the raw masculinity taking over from his previous cuteness.

Finally, a smile formed on his chiseled face, oozing confidence and displaying his internal arrogance for all to see.

Seeing that smile appear, Martin knew his work was nearly done. And when that new Shane let out a fart and a burp, he knew it was all over. Feeling that new putrid smell mix with his own musk, he turned to the other man.

“Damn, Shotgun, you’re rank!”

“I didn’t get the name Shotgun Shane for nothing, man; it was for the shots I could take back in college, but I almost got called Stinkbomb for what I let out. Now, if you’re gonna complain about the smell, you better get those damn feet outta my face!” Shane shot back, his arrogant smile widening. This made Martin lift his feet off Shane’s face while cracking up.

“I knew we’d be best bros the moment we met, Shotgun,” he said, admiring the result of his handiwork.

“Me too, bro; way better having you as a neighbor than that faggot who lived here before.”

“If you compare me to some queer again, I’m gonna mess you up.”

“You can try!” Shane replied, flexing one of his powerful arms before continuing. “But you’re right, there’s no comparison, dude. To make it up to you, how about I take you to check out the hottest club in town? Celebrate the move by picking up some chicks?”

“Now you’re speaking my language, bro!”

….

Martin hated waiting on others, even though he himself had no problem showing up late. Apparently, Shane inherited that same trait during his transformation. The other man had gone home, took forever in the shower, and then posted some pretty provocative videos on his social media. The first one showed off his well-developed muscles while he seductively invited all the girls interested in him to meet him and his best bro at a city club.

In the second video, he just slid the camera down, revealing the huge package he had stuck in his underwear. All of this under the suggestive caption, “You really gonna miss this?”

Martin was super stoked with the results of his actions. Moving to a new city was tricky, but having a bro made it a whole lot easier, no matter that bro had been crafted by him. Still, he wondered if he hadn’t put too much of himself into the other man while he waited for him with a frown and his arms crossed. After a reasonable amount of waiting, he saw the gigantic figure strutting toward him down the first-floor corridor and was sure he had indeed put too much of himself into the other man, which could lead to some friction in the future when they had to sort out their power dynamics, but at that moment, that didn’t matter; he just wanted to have a good time, and there wouldn’t be better company than someone who was practically him in another body.

That became even clearer when Shane stopped in front of his irritated face and flexed his muscles playfully.

“What’s with the ugly mug, dude? You wanna throw down?”

“The ugly mug is because you took your sweet time, Shotgun! And you can joke all you want, but you can’t compete with this,” he replied, flexing one of his powerful arms. “Now let’s go after some hot chicks, or what?”

….

Malcolm didn’t quite know why he was in that dump of bigotry and toxicity. He just felt like something was missing and couldn’t quite put his finger on what. His trip to the place was the result of an Instagram video where one of the typical patrons invited all the interested bitches to come on down. Malcolm didn’t consider himself a bitch and usually would’ve laughed if someone said he might be into a dude like that, yet here he was. Knowing he had no chance of getting close to that man radiating toxicity. But only when he saw that self-proclaimed Shotgun Shane chatting up a hot young woman did something stir within him, a memory of a passionate kiss shared just that morning.

“S-Shane…?” he murmured, though he didn’t know exactly who this man was, he felt something deeply wrong was going on. While he stood there, dumbfounded, the man made his move and kissed the woman, which made him decide to leave the place as he was hit by another wave of strangeness and sadness mixed together.

However, he wasn’t the only one watching the scene; on the other side of the club, Martin saw his supposed wingman score before he did.

“Damn, I really put too much of myself in that dude,” he muttered as he weaved through the crowd. That’s when he saw Malcolm hurrying along with a look of confusion.

Well, if his wingman bailed on him, he could just make another one, right? It’s not like there was a shortage of material to work with, as that other faggot’s presence left abundantly clear. He just needed to be a bit more careful not to overdo it again, although he didn’t really have that refined of a control over the final result, and the most likely outcome would be ending up with another bro exactly like him. But he didn’t care that much; to him, there wouldn’t be better company than his own, and if someone asked him where and with whom he rather be, the answer would always be the same, he thought, smiling as he approached his future bro.