#but it really depends on these two assholes

[moldy-flowers]

I love the scene in naruto shippuden where Kakashi says "I'm really starting to take a liking to you" not because naruto freaks the hell out but because this implies that for the other like 3 and a half years Naruro knew Kakashi and the 16 years Kakshi knew of Naruto Kakshi just did not like Naruto at all.

[genshin-projection]

had a dream last night that Sunday became playable and i managed to pull him but he hated my ideology and portrayal of him so much that at the last second, instead of joining my character roster, he jumped out of the character splash art and into the void of space, erasing himself from existence forever. what on earth was that

[recents]

idk i think what is interesting about astarion to me is the fact that you have a guy who started out an asshole (normal type) and then spent two hundred years in a very carefully and specifically crafted (by the writers of the game) Become A Terrible Person Or Die nexus. like it wasn’t just a Torment Nexus, he wasn’t just in hell, i feel like this is very important not to forget, he was in hell but it was specifically a hell designed to, over time, kill the empathy of anyone trapped in it, kill their brain’s ability to prioritize other peoples’ survival, to numb one’s conscience.

and then he gets yanked directly out of that nexus and despite that the fact that he spent, again, two hundred years in a situation that was sort of a rock tumbler for the human soul, there’s still a pebble left in there. and it’s a pebble that can be grown if placed in the right environment and provided with a support network.

so i think it becomes interesting because it really does i think force you to start thinking about the limits of free will even on as basic a level as the human personality. i think the fact that he becomes such a different character based on player choice, that his end morality is so hugely dependent on player choice, is uhhh. a big part of what the devs were going for probably.

it makes a lot of people really uncomfortable to acknowledge some bad people would be good people if literally nothing changed except they had a good support network and different circumstances. especially because it means the opposite is also true. which is even more uncomfortable.

you know that part in the beginning of fellowship of the ring where gandalf is talking about how gollum is ultimately only like that because of the ring and gandalf thinks his story is sad? astarion is kinda like if they sexualized gollum.

[just-a-little-unionoid]

When I saw the first post I immediately thought "oh yes we have that in France this is so stupid I'm gonna comment on it" and then the post was literally about it

And yeah a few months back when I was in argument with people about it I did a quick addition to show that it would cost too much for the government to pay for it itself, and look at that, I was right 🙄

Btw in France we don't have freedom of religion anyway (not at school at least, we theoretically have it outside) so don't worry, Muslim girls already doesn't have the right to exist wear a hijab at school

Im so sorry if this is controversial but wanting school uniforms in a country without school uniforms is a reactionary and conservative thing no matter how much progressive paintjob you put on it. You gotta be stupid as hell to think it’s a progressive thing.

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[grapejuicebrat]

“I miss you, I’m sorry”

PAIRING: rafe cameron x reader

SYNOPSIS: everywhere i go leads me back to you.

SUMMARY: this is how rafe sees your break up. here he is the same old rafe but for you he changed. for you he is more soft and he isn’t afraid to talk about his feelings. but that was before your break up. what’s going on with rafe now? that’s what this story is about (:

WARNINGS: heavy angst, ending might be happy, that’s for you to decide, swearing.

NOTES: rafe is such a babygirl

Maybe that’s what he deserves. Being alone. Being without you. At the end of the day, he is a scary Rafe Cameron. The same guy who is ready to beat the shit out of anybody. The same guy who tried to killed fucking pogues. The same guy who tried to fuck you at the party. The same guy who asked you out a month later. The same guy who fell in love with you. The same guy who changed for you. And the same guy who fucked everything up.

He tried to be better, he really tried. Rafe still thinks that everything could be better if just he tried better. Maybe you two could have a family later. Two kids, who’d have your colour of hair and his eyes. Maybe, just maybe he could see you in a white dress with a ring on your finger. Maybe he could say that you’re his wife. But you’re not. You’re his ex. The love of his live. Still. Even after a month after your break up. You’re still his lover and his soulmate.

The girl who tried to lead me, to help him to be better. The girl who loved him and believed in him when nobody did.

Maybe that’s what he deserves. Watching how you move on. Your smile makes his day. He is ready to sit in a Country Club for days just to see you sitting happily with your friends. This is the most important thing for Rafe. He doesn’t care about his happiness, he cares about your happiness.

Rafe doesn’t want to think about your future boyfriend. You shouldn’t wait for Rafe, that’s for sure. Obviously, you need to move on. You should forget about Rafe and go out with some guy who will treat you like a princess. Like a queen. Like on this depends his life.

Of course Rafe will keep an eye on you. If this asshole dare to break your heart or even try to make you cry, Rafe will kill him. He’ll forget that he used to be the one who made you cry every night. He used to be the one who listened to your cries. He used to be the one who asked if you’re okay. And of course you always said that you’re okay.

You both knew that everything isn’t okay.

Rafe continued to sell weed and you wanted to live a happy life without this shit. Rafe lied to your face but in fact he just wanted you to never worry about the money thing. He didn’t want you to be like this pogues, that’s all what he wanted. He didn’t think about your feelings. He didn’t think that one day you’ll be full of his lie and one day you’ll just go.

That’s what you did a month ago.

That’s what Rafe thinks about for a month.

How you looked at him silently but he didn’t need you to talk. He looked in your eyes and understood everything. You’re done. Your eyes are full of disappointment and sadness. Maybe a little bit of love but that was not enough for you anymore. You were tired of this relationship where you’re trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be safe.

You silently looked at Rafe, holding a suitcase in your hands. You didn’t know if you should say something. Should you say something about trying to be friends? This is a bullshit. Exes can’t be friends. Not with Rafe.

Rafe wanted to say that he will try to be better but he didn’t want to lie again. At the end of the day that’s why you’re leaving. Because you’re sick of this bullshit. Maybe you’re even sick of Rafe.

“We’re done” you said quietly, looking right into Rafes eyes.

“I know” Rafe whispers. He doesn’t want to cry right now. Not when you are looking at him. Rafe doesn’t want you to think that he is a weak poor boy.

“Take care of yourself, Rafe” And you leave, never turning back to look at him one last time.

Then Rafe remembered. You never called him Rafe. He was your baby. But now he is not. Now he is just Rafe Cameron.

Rafe got a feeling that you’ll never need him again. He takes your t-shirt in his hands, gripping the material tightly. Rafe looks around himself as if somebody will catch him. Nobody is here. Not even you. Before he realises, his hands are pressing a t-shirt to his nose. Rafe breathes in your scent. He feels your perfume. And your shampoo. And your shower gel. He misses you so fucking much. That’s what he realises now.

Everything reminds him of you. His house is full of memories. The bedroom where you could watch movies all night and eat popcorn. In kitchen you used to cook together. You taught him how to cook pasta. In bathroom he used to watch how you wipe your make up off and maybe later he let you make him a mask.

Country Club. A place where he met you and his first thought was about a quick fuck. God, did he know that later you’ll be the love of his life?

Rafe is looking at you right now but not in a creepy way. He wants to see you smile one more time. Just to make sure that you’ll be okay without him. He wants to let you move on.

A click. Someone sends him a message. At first Rafe doesn’t want to answer but when he reads the name of a sender…quickly opens his phone and starts to read.

“you will always be my first love. not like the first guy i liked, or the one who took my breath away, or the first kiss, but my first strong feeling. i knew from the moment i first saw you that my heart would belong to you. you got the best of me, i will never regret loving you. even if we can't be together i will love you in this life and in another one”

And suddenly Rafe realised why he wasn't moving on; why he didn't want to move on.

Because moving on means accepting a future without you, and maybe that's something he is not ready to do yet. Not when you possibly gave him a chance to make everything right this time.

please if you like it please reblog too!

[janitorhutcherson]

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt

surprise, bitches!!! im giving yall a lil taste of some more writing. im not really on hiatus (obvi, i post every 5 minutes) but i've been sooooo busy that i haven't been able to post half as much. with that being said, here are some more in depth headcanons ab yandere!mike. :p could not have done this without @futturmand literally helping me (coming up w/) most of these. thank u bae.

warnings: drugging, violence, sex, daddy kink, abusive tendencies

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

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt was kinda an asshole. to his coworkers, random customers at the mall, anybody who came too close to you, and yes, even sometimes to you. he was the kind of guy who had a semi-permanent grimace on his face. the corners of his mouth would turn into smiles typically only when he was with abby or you two were alone and he could let his guard down. of course, even then, the moment you caught an attitude, that grimace would appear right back on his face. his demeanor was typically gruff. he was the kind of guy most people didn't want to mess with. this meant any male coworkers around you would be tested their fate to even glance at you the wrong way and god forbid mike saw one of them brush something off of your shoulder. that would truly be the end of them.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is very obsessive over safety. after losing garrett, he has this urge to do nothing but to protect. this means that mike is the type of guy to want your location at all times. not only that, but he wants to know what you're doing, who you're with, and what time you'll be home. he expects a text when you leave, a text when you get there, an hourly check-in, then a text on your way home. it brings him a sense of peace, knowing where you are. he watches life360 obsessively when you're not in his sight, watching your little bubble move through wherever you may be. he's constantly checking the speed of the car you're in, occasionally stalking your friend's instagram stories to see where you are. he's overprotective to the extent that it can be overbearing, but at the end of the day it's endearing knowing he cares that much.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt uses the fact that you're younger than him to manipulate you. he's less about violence or anything physical and instead uses his words. he will constantly remind you how helpless you are without him, how he has so much more life experience than you. he'll point out randomly when you mention not knowing how to do something, saying something like, "see, babydoll, where would you be without me? that's right, nowhere. you need me to take care of you." he's also the kind of guy to eventually make you financially dependent on him if he could ever afford it. he would never put you in that spot until he was comfortable enough to do so, though, meaning it might be a loooong time before that ever happened.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt treats you less like a partner and more like a little sibling, kinda like he treats abby. as strange as it is, he also feels a paternal instinct to protect you. it comes from his deep-rooted feelings of abandonment. he lost garrett, his mom, his dad, and sometimes he feels like abby hates him. he loves that you listen to him, that he can command you to do something and you'd be so good for him. he absolutely adores being able to control different aspects of your life, making you completely reliant on him. it makes him feel special and needed, which he hasn't felt in a very long time. he loves nothing more than when he gets to scold you almost like a parent, your eyes falling to the ground, that adorable wounded puppy look he loves so much taking over your face.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is incredibly clingy and touch starved. he wants to have a hand on you 24/7. forget having personal space, because you are not getting it with him. he'd follow you around, watching you everywhere you'd go. his hands would grip onto your hips so tightly sometimes it'd feel like they were glued to them. he'd always have his arms around you, kissing at your neck, nipping in a way you felt shouldn't be shown in public. mike didn't care, he wanted everyone to know you belonged to him in every single way. he controlled you, and if he wanted to embarrass you and turn your face red by leaving purple marks on your neck in the middle of a shopping plaza, then so be it. you would take it or be punished.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt who of course uses his sleeping pills on you when you're being a little brat. he isn't violent with you for the most part except for the rare occasion when he will hold you down onto the bed until you'll listen, but otherwise he opts for something simpler. when you're being a little too frustrating for him, going against his every command or you're not feeling like being held, mike will simply crush up his sleeping pills, slip them into your water. he's careful with you once you doze off, never abusing you in any way. all he will do is tuck you into your shared bed and hold your body in his arms, whispering sweet nothings as you're off in your own sweetly drugged up world.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt would most definitely have a thing for being called daddy. sorry guys, it had to be said. hot take, i guess. considering he did want to protect you so thoroughly, he loved when you'd call him daddy. it made him feel like your protector, like you knew he was the one that did everything for you. it was so crazy how such a simple word could change his whole day. he loved hearing it fall out of your lips as he'd brush through your hair or wash your body off in the shower. "thank you, daddy," you'd hum and he'd grin ear to ear. "you're welcome, babydoll," he'd always say, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[nymph-ette111]

What if Jeff, EJ, Toby, Masky, Hoodie, and Ben (separately) found Y/N silently crying? Would they help or try to calm down Y/N?

That's it, sorry if I chose too many creepypastas ❤

I hope you have a great day/night!!

(I love your writing style aaaaah! Luv ya >< )

Sorry if I sounded cringe ;)

WARNINGS; JEFF BEING AN ASSHOLE LIKE USUAL/TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MENTIONS OF A DECAPITATED BODY

AUTHOR'S NOTE; NO ONE HERE IS CRINGE!! and I love you too <3 was giggling and kicking my feet writing masky and hoodie's part LOL

TOBY;

-the first thought that comes to his mind is that somebody caused this.

-may be a bit rough when asking what's wrong, because like I mentioned before, he just jumps into the conclusion that it's someone else's fault.

-Toby is a little... impulsive when it comes to solving his problems, always going the aggressive route.

-basically what I'm trying to say is that he is willing to chop up someone's body if they did something bad enough to make you cry.

-he will pry the information out of you, whether you want to or not.

-he doesn't realize that this makes things worse for you :( let's be realistic, imagine crying to your boyfriend because someone bothered you just for him to leave and come back covered in blood holding the head from said person's decapitated body.

-he'll even try to hug you, not caring if he is covered head to toe in blood, not caring if the smell was overwhelming your senses. he'll get upset if you refuse his "affection" and "comfort". sometimes Toby's thinking is... hard to understand.

-99% chance you're going to throw up from the sight alone. what I'm trying to say here is Toby's attempt at making you feel better is nowhere near what it's supposed to be.

-but if that wasn't the case and your crying was because of something else like an insecurity, just the overall stress of your day, basically anything that doesn't involve another person he'd be less aggressive.

-wouldn't really know what to say so he'd just go for physical affection and hope that it works.

-now this part depends on you since not everyone likes physical touch when upset. if you don't mind it then he's going to hold you until you feel better. if you don't he'd respect your wishes but he won't leave, even if you ask him to.

-would kiss away your tears one hundred percent.

-i'd give him about... 7/10 less if he brings back a corpse with him but the physical affection is nice :)

JEFFREY:

-love how your relationship is hanging on by a thread.

-it's surviving off of hopes and prayers bro.

-Jeff believes that he should be the only one who can make you upset in any way shape or form. I'd say he doesn't take the idea of someone else making you feel bad very lightly.

-not even in a "oh, someone made my partner upset! not on my watch!" he's just offended because it feels like someone took his place or something.

-yeah did I mention he's toxic as fuck.

-i honestly don't know how he'd react... contrary to popular belief I don't think he'd go out of his way to kill somebody because they made his partner upset like Toby would. in Toby's case it's out of pure love obsession and the need to please you. in Jeff's case he'd probably kill for his own benefit which I mentioned before, someone taking his place.

-fuck it he'd probably kill the person just to torment you, he enjoys that shit.

-however if it's your own feelings regardless of what it is, he'd pretend to not care.

-i think I somewhat implied it in my "stretch marks" post that he doesn't know how to handle his partner's emotions. insecurities or not, big chance he won't do anything, probably throw an insult or two just to make you feel pathetic.

-damn I don't think any fluff post with Jeff would work.

-how can this motherfucker even be nice.

-and if you're asking, no he would never break up with you. you boost his ego a little too much and he doesn't want to lose that.

-he doesn't want to admit it but he's attached to you to a certain degree.

-i'd give it... why are you even reading this it's an obvious 0/10

EYELESS JACK;

-im torn between making EJ the feral demon he is or making him more... human.

-i think I lean towards the more human side when writing for Jack but that might change in the future. expect all of my headcanons to change since I'm still trying to figure this out. even for his personality.

-i should make a poll for that... ANYWAYS

-regardless of the reason, he'd react pretty much the same way.

-he's so sweet and comforting it's actually insane :(

-he's naturally awkward but the voice, the way he weighs and genuinely considers his words before speaking, trying to find the best way to make you feel better can make anyone instantly fold I'm TELLING YOU.

-bro sounds smart and is smart just the way he talk to you is enough to make you move on from whatever had happened.

-intelligent men are so

-head scratches after he's done giving you his advice and point of view of the situation.

-my husband<3

-tries to get you out of your room after that, or just include you in whatever so you wouldn't think about it again. like offering to invite you to the infirmary, there's always an extra seat for you there :)

-i might be biased but 9/10

BEN;

-i've said this before and I'll say it again, does not know how to comfort people. especially ones he cares about.

-he just... stands at the doorway (or floats, whatever you like)

-if it was another person he laugh at them right away, but considering you're his partner he'd fight the urge for your sake.

-actually he might laugh a bit but if he notices that you're clearly serious about what upset you he'd drop it.

-would download a virus on the other person's devices.

-he thinks it's funny.

-he genuinely tries to make you feel better tho, just doesn't know how :(

-if you're insecure about something then he'd react similarly to my "stretch marks" post and try to convince you that whatever it is about you, it's beautiful.

-might come off as corny tho.

-either way... I'd give him a 5/10 maybe even 6/10 if bullying kids on roblox cheers you up.

MASKY;

-regardless of the reason, he'll ask what's wrong but secretly hopes you don't want to talk about it.

-he is a teen tiny bit awkward.

-kind of like Toby, he goes for physical affection and hopes it's enough to take your mind off of it somehow.

-but the hugs this man gives...

-might as well stay there forever.

-just imagine him holding you tight to his chest, one hand rubbing your back while the other plays with your hair. a cig hanging loosely from between his lips UGH

-can you tell I'm listening to lana del rey while writing this.

-again he might not offer much in terms of... actually saying something to comfort you but his hugs are enough and if they aren't then girl what the fuck is wrong with you.

-i need him.

-i give 8/10

HOODIE;

-another one who relies on the physical affection only because he's a selective mute.

-unless you know sign language.

-unlike masky, instead of a hug you're sitting on this man's lap.

-his mask up to the bridge of his nose, scruff facial hair grown from years of not taking proper care of himself rubbing against your flush cheeks, strong arms holding you tightly against him.

-i genuinely cannot continue writing this so I'm ending it here because another word of describing this man will have me tweaking out 9/10

[dinogoofymutated]

Omg I love your headcanons/fics!! I really need to ask if you'd be willing to write an addendum for the jealousy headcanons for Wolverine? Of course no pressure if you can't/don't feel like, just thought I'd try to ask! :) Hope you have a nice day/night, and keep up the good work! 💗💗💗

Jealousy Headcannons!- Multi/GN!Reader - Wolverine, Morph, Angel, Sabretooth. You got it man!! Had a version of this requested for Logan so many times lol. I went ahead and added more characters to round it off into a full multi character hcs. Logan doesn't explicitly punch anyone in this one, so sorry if anyone was looking forward to that! (Sorry though, his is pretty similar to cable's) I'm also testing the waters while writing for Morph. I know everyone is starving for fics with them, but I'm not really used to writing for they/them characters (despite the fact that I try to avoid pronouns for the reader, weird I know, but its mostly due to me using you/your.) forgive me if I slip up with their pronouns, and let me know if I do so I can fix it! TWs: Violence (not towards reader, but some pretty mean names are called tho) Men can be creeps/harassment. Unnecessary changing scene with Warren bc I love non-sexual intimacy like that. Flirting, Barfights again but this time it's a little bloody (sabertooth) Drinking mentioned.

Wolverine

Okay, so Logan here is a bit of a mixed bag when it comes to jealousy. I really feel like it depends on the situation? In general, he trusts you more than just about anyone. When someone flirts with you, he's generally just very grouchy and most of the time, quiet. He glares a lot, and if you meet his gaze he'll raise an eyebrow, basically asking if you need an out, and then he'd act accordingly.

Buuuttt. If he's in a bad mood or has had a tough day, he's more likely to resort to threats and intimidation to handle any romantic attention you might receive. He gets more physically protective and will usually have an arm slung around you at all times.

That's not to say he only gets jealous of romantic attention though. I feel like he also get jealous of anything and anyone taking up your time, really. he'd probably stay quiet until he just kinda snaps and drags you away from whatever has your attention for smooches and cuddles. Don't let him fool you by telling you he's not cuddly, he totally is.

"Back. Up. Bub." Logan's rumbling voice is venomous, a growl of warning as he bows up on the man in front of you. The two of you had been out on a mission together, which normally would have gone perfectly fine. Unfortunately, you'd ended up running into some old acquaintances of his. Both of you were bristiling at the contact, but you knew that coaxing Logan into a fight was just what he wanted. The man had been making moves on you the entire time- and although you were practically an expert in ignoring the flirtation from asshole guys, you were beginning to get more and more uncomfortable with it. It was when the man had started to make sexual comments about your body that Logan snapped.

"Who you callin' bub, pipsqueak?" The man smirks, looking down on Logan with arrogance. Anxiety had begun to worm it's way into your stomach.

"You better learn to watch your mouth." Logan growls. His fists flex as his claws unsheath, the adamantium practically itching to dig into the guy's skin. This was escalating fast, and you needed to stop it now. You both needed to complete the mission without any complications, extra fights included.

"Logan, Please, can we just go?" You say, grabbing his wrist and tugging before he can launch himself at the man. Logan's angry face remains intact, but you can see the way his shoulders slightly loosen. He glances at you, before backing off from the man with a snarl. You sigh in relief as Logan turns to follow you as you drag him away, just thankful you've avoided a problem at that point.

" 'bitch's got you on a hellava tight leash. Who knew the wolverine would be so whipped over some cheap whore." Logan stops abruptly at the words, sighing deeply as he looks at you, rage burning in his eyes. Whatever reserved attitude you had about this fight was basically gone, evaporating at the insults. You let out a long sigh, before you pull your hands away from him and shrug your shoulders. Logan grins at you wickedly.

So what if he came home with a few more bruises than normal? His knuckles would heal- but the ass whooping he gave out would damage that guy's ego forever.

Angel

Warren is the silently jealous type. No matter how bad he's being cooked with jealousy, he's really just going to keep an eye on you from afar. Growing up as a rich kid, I feel like his dad was very strict on manners and how not to make a public scene, which has kinda carried over into his adulthood.

If someone just won't give it a rest and keeps trying to pursue you, Warren will be not low-key about it. He'll come over and set his hand on your back, or sling his arm around your shoulder, or if he's feeling really cocky, Shake the person's hand and introduce himself as your boyfriend/husband. He'll only outright tell them to back off if they start to get out of hand and he knows you're getting really uncomfortable.

"I just don't like him." Warren says, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. He's still in his suit from before, the red and bright white standing out starkly compared to the muted warm tones of your shared bedroom. You laugh at him as you begin to change.

"What? Why? I think Pietro is kinda funny." You ask, beginning to take off your shirt. Warren sighs in a petty way.

"Yeah, exactly." He mumbles under his breath, walking over to help you when your head gets stuck in the neckline like it always does. You give him a kiss on his cheek when you're free, not quite having heard him.

"Can't I dislike him just to dislike him? I don't need a reason." Warren speaks up this time, and you can't seem to hold back your amused smile as he digs his hole deeper. "-but, if I did, I'd say he's just too friendly with you. I don't like it." You can't help but laugh at that as you finish changing into more comfortable clothes. He turns around on autopilot, letting you unzip him from his suit- careful not to catch his blonde hair with the zipper.

"It's not like he's taking me away from you, Warren." You say, pressing a kisses to his exposed neck and back as you help him navigate his wings through. Warren huffs a little, his wings twitching as his voice goes soft.

"I never said that. I know he's not. I trust you enough to know so. I just..." He trails off, stepping out of his suit and left in his boxers. He lets you pull his shirt over him, stretching his wings in the confined space of the bathroom when its on correctly. You cock an eyebrow at him now that you're facing him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't, simply looking away from you to avoid your knowing gaze. You let out an amused chuff before closing in on him.

"It's okay to be jealous, Warren, but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." You say confidently, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He sighs again, but smiles as he looks at you with a soft and loving gaze. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as the two of you begin to sway a little.

"Yeah, I know."

Morph

I really think that Morph is more of an insecure jealous type, but they're more likely to hide it behind humor. If you're being flirted and don't seem to be overly uncomfortable, they're probably going to fade into the background. They know that you love them, and they trust you, but they're so used to being second best for everyone they know that they just feel like they're bothering you. Later on, when whoever is flirting with you leaves, Morph will shift into them and start joking about it. Don't let the humor fool you, they're hurting right now. Just give Morph some extra love and kisses and reassurance and they'll feel better eventually.

Now, if it's clear that someone is bothering you, Morph won't be afraid to roast the everloving shit out of them. They take the moment to really embarrass the person, and if you're in a bar he'd totattally shift into the dude just to offer a drink to everyone and then dip, sticking the asshole with the bill.

You really didn't like clubs. They were busy and loud, but you had a friend celebrating her birthday in one, so who were you to turn down the invite? You certainly couldn't go without your favorite shapeshifter by your side either. The only problem was that Morph wasn't the only one who had eyes for you that night. Morph hadn't said anything in the moment, but you knew stuff like this bothered them. Even while walking home from the club, they still seemed to be trying to brush it off.

"Hey, Good-lookin. You interested?" Morph says, having shifted into the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. They're leaning against the side of the payphone like a goofball, having waited there as you called the school to let the others know you were finally on the way home, tipsy, but still hoping the fresh air would sober the both of you up. You roll your eyes as you giggle at them, shoving their shoulder and sending them stubiling.

"In that guy? No way!" You laugh, walking past Morph before they quickly catch up to you.

"You gotta admit, he was pretty handsome for a POS." They joke, puckering their lips and making kissy faces at you.

"Mmhm. suuureeee." You hum, pushing their face away from yours as they laugh.

"Come on, you saying' that tall dark and handsome isn't your type?" Morph shifts from the man at the club, and into the blonde, blue-eyed Warren worthington, wings hidden underneath the supposed coat. "-Or maybe you'd prefer blondes. I hear Warren's quite at catch." You huff at them, and shake your head again. Something in their tone of voice just seems to set off alarms in your brain, and they doesn't seem to be acting as genuine with you anymore, a vulnerability creeping into their voice no matter how hard they were trying to hide it. This goes on for a rather solid minute, Morph shifting into different people you know and asking who you prefer with a laugh and a fake smile. You shake your head every time, but it's starting to become more than just a bit. You begin to lose your patience, your own hurt seeping through the cracks.

"You're into the gruff, muscly, Logan, right? Hafta' be if you're still-"

"Kevin." You finally cut them off with a stern tone of voice, grabbing their wrist as you abruptly stop walking. They flinch at the name, eyes blowing wide with concern as they shift from logan, then to the dark haired version of themselves- before then settling on the form you know so well.

"... Not the government name." They mumble, more caught up in the strict way you said their name rather than the words themselves. You grab them by the collar of their leather jacket, pulling them close to you as you look into their eyes.

"How many times to I have to tell you I love you for you to believe me?" You whisper after a moment, voice coming out a little broken. Morph's seems to panic a little, making a concerned face as their hands catch hold of your wrists gently.

"I- no, that's not what I..." Morph says, trying their best to fix the situation. They can't seem to come up with the right words, their eyes avoiding your gaze as their mouth opens and closes with no luck. You cup the side of their face, bringing them back to face you.

"I. Love. You." You say purposefully. "Not some guy at the club- you, Morph. Any part of you that you want to give me, Any form you want to take. As long as it's you, I don't care." Morph relaxes at your words, sighing as you bring them closer to you, resting their forehead against your own.

"Yeah?" They ask, eyes fluttering closed.

"Yeah." You reply, finally leaning in to kiss them lovingly. They return the kiss softly, only separating from you when you begin to drag them down the sidewalk with you once again, hand in hand.

Sabertooth

He does not handle jealousy well at all. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to put someone in the hospital. It doesn't matter if they're just flirting, or if they're actually bothering you, he's going to start some shit. The man loves to start fights, and he couldn't care less what the reason is for. I will say though, he's gonna be a lot less smiley if the person insults either of you. He may be a shitstarter, but he doesn't take disrespect, especially not disrespect towards his S/O.

He's never mad at you for it. If anything, he's glad you gave him the chance to take some anger out. He'll encourage you to wear sexy and revealing outfits because he wants to see you wear them, and also because he's gonna beat the shit out of the first guy (and every guy, honestly) to look at you the wrong way. ESPECIALLY if you have boobs. Those are his boobs. He wants them to be popping out of your clothes 24/7 but no one else is allowed to look at them. Did he just see someone glance at you? Say goodbye to your teeth, motherfucker. (and your balls too.)

Victor loved shitty dive bars, as gross and unsanitary they may be. He liked to bar hop a few of them every other night, and although you weren't necessarily the dive bar type, you did enjoy spending time with him. Normally you'd just wear casual clothes, but today you had wanted to dress up a little bit. Nothing too fancy, but your shirt was a little low cut compared to what you normally wear. Victor had been loving it, especially since he got to have you as his eye-candy. That was what you were going for, and you succeeded! The only problem was that he wasn't the only one appreciating the view.

You were sitting at the bar, watching Victor win another round of pool while sipping on your drink. A man had sat next to you earlier, but you didn't think anything of it at first. It was a busy saturday night, and there weren't that many seats open at the bar. At most, you had a uneasy tingling on the back of your neck, feeling that someone was watching you.

"What's a fine thing like you doing in this shitty place?" The man suddenly asks. You send him a questioning glance, almost baffled at the flirting. He must be new here, because every other regular of this place knew for a fact who you always come here with, and no other man is stupid enough to try their luck with you while he's lingering around.

"Who, me? Enjoying some peace and quiet, obviously." You say in a sarcastic tone. The man chuckles next to you.

"Aw, not interested, sweetheart? I swear I'll make it worth your while." You make an obviously disgusted face at that, beginning to wonder who this guy thinks he is. The tingling feeling you feel hasn't let up, in fact, it's only gotten stronger. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up, and you can't help but feel like something is seriously wrong here. You brushed it off on the alcohol, but Victor had always been a bit more perceptive than you. He barely glanced over in your direction before he was storming over. For a split second you think he's mad at you, until he violently grabs the man next to you by the collar, his claws scraping across his collarbones and causing him to yelp as he shallow cuts begin to bleed.

"Did I just see you staring?" Victor huffs, glaring so hard you swear the man shrinks underneath his gaze. Every bit of confidence he had a minute ago had vanished completely.

"W-what? I... Uh..." The man stutters, unable to say a complete sentence through his fear. Victor turns to you slightly, his grip not letting up for a second.

"He say something to you, Doll?" He asks, and you wonder if you should tell him the truth. You almost felt bad for the guy in his grip, knowing that he was probably just stupid and new to this bar. You shake your head in response, even though the stranger had been giving you off vibes since the moment he sat down. Victor grins at you, a loving excitement in his eyes as his grip only gets tighter.

"Aww, you don't have to lie, sweet thing." Victor chuckles, and you grimace when you realise that he totally saw that lie coming a mile away. Vic turns back to the man, his smile dropping instantly as his other hand slips the guy's phone out and slams it on the counter of the bar. "Open your camera." Vic snarls. The man starts to panic now, squirming to get out of his grip.

"N-no! Let go of me Man!" The man stutters. Vic only begins to grin again.

"Nuh-uh. I want you to show my baby the photos you've been taking all night." Photos? You didn't know anything about any photos. Your brows furrow as the man begins to whine and panic, squirming to no avail. Vic smirks at you as he send you a nodd, and you grab the phone and open the creep's gallery. There has to have been over thirty photos of you from just tonight, sitting at the bar, ordering your first drink, even one from when you had gotten up to use the restroom.

"Oh, gross!" You say, recoiling from the phone and wiping your hands on your shirt, not wanting to know where this guys hands had been all night. The man in Victor's grip has gone completely pale, freezing at the sight of Vic's terrifying smile. He reaches over towards the phone with his free hand, picking up the device before crushing it with his bare hand.

"Why don't you head outside, honeybee. I'll take out the trash while you're gone."

[restinslices]

Lin Kuei Bros: Play Fighting

Smoke so dramatic-. Anyway, don’t ask why I thought of this. The voices were loud

Bi-Han

Play fighting with any of them is bold as fuck but HIM? You don't like your life 

I'm not saying he's gonna straight up assault you but out of all the brothers, he has the highest chance of hitting you hard as shit on accident 

He probably wouldn't even like play fighting that much. He'd prefer sparring cause at least you're working on your skills. Why you just fucking around?

You gotta catch him on the right day. Some days he's busy and some days he's just legit not in the mood. 

“Imma start it off slow. Imma scope the scenery out-”

If you somehow get this man to cooperate, first of all good job. Second of all, y'all do not stop until you give up. 

The type to pin you down and not let go until you admit he won. If you refuse, you're legit not moving. 

This is a big guy so you're not moving him. You give up, he lets go and you manage to crack a smile out of him

We never see him smile in the game but listen bitch, I'm here for the fantasy-

If he's not in the mood, I can see him just saying “no” like you're a puppy or smth. 

You'd go to swing on him again and he'd either grab your hand or give you a look that tells you he's being serious 

Going back to him accidentally hitting you hard as shit, he's used to sparring with two other buff ass men. Imma guess you're not as buff as them, and some of y'all reading this ain't men. Accidents are bound to happen 

You'd think the Grandmaster would have more control but I just think it slips sometimes. He's stupidly prideful and he's used to sparring so sometimes that's where his mind goes. Also once again, he probably sometimes forgets a hit Kuai Liang could handle is a hit that'll take years off your life. 

I would love to say he gets on his knees and apologizes but this is the same man who betrayed his brothers and was like “why y'all tweaking?” so um… 

You're gasping for air and he's “see why I always say no?”

I feel like I'm making him sound abusive but as someone who's play fought with my older siblings, they hit you hard as shit then tell you you're a bitch when a tear slips out. Why the fuck are you hitting me this hard in my chest? You got 5+ years on me-

He's an older brother. He's gonna hit hard. I swear it's in their DNA 

And if he does apologize it's not really verbal. He checks to make sure your limbs are alright then offers to do something else. 

“Are you gonna say you're sorry?” “For?” “For almost breaking my damn lung” “You started this”

You'd expect that the next time you wanna play fight he'd decline cause he doesn't wanna hurt you again. Wrong. 

Remember he's an older brother. THE older brother. Y'all squaring up again. You don't care about your health so fuck it. 

Honestly would be super fun besides the limb you're gonna lose 

Kuai Liang

Would be more cooperative than Bi-Han but still isn't overly excited to play fight 

Bi-Han is the “tell mom. I don't care” older brother. Kuai Liang is the “wait wait wait, I'm sorry. You can hit me back. Calm down. You want some candy?” older brother 

Fully aware he could cause terrible injuries but as time passes on, he relaxes more 

Definitely play fought as a kid but after Tomas started jumping everytime he heard his voice, he thought “maybe I need new hobbies”.

You’ve interrupted his recovery

He actively focuses on holding back and being soft even if you tell him not to

“Hit me harder” “No❤”

Honestly a fun time though. He holds back when it comes to strength but still tussles with you. Also let's you get hits in even when he could easily dodge them. 

If he accidentally injured you frfr, he's checking up on you immediately and says y'all stopping for today. 

“No, I'm ok” “Can you even breathe right now?” “Uhhh… yes😀” “We're done”

For sure feels like an asshole depending on how bad you're hurt. He's not sliding down the wall in pain but he's like “damn, that was a little too hard”. 

“You can hit me back” “No. I've seen Twilight” “What?” “It's gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you. I'm not doing that”. (Now I wanna write you making them watch Twilight. I'm never gonna be rid of this addiction-)

You gotta hit him back so y'all can be even. It's the only way to move on

Y'all are not doing that shit again for at least another week or so. 

“We gotta scrap right here right now” “No”

Does the thing older siblings do when they put their hand on your head so when you swing at them, you're just hitting air. 

It's so infuriating so you gotta stop. 

The next time though, you swear you're gonna win. You will not. 

Tomas Vrbada

The most willing and having the most fun 

Tomas has two older brothers that probably jumped him on several occasions growing up and you're gonna try and convince me he doesn't have aggression to get out?

People would probably expect he's the softest but no. He's the youngest. As the youngest myself I can assure you, we are used to putting our all in these fights cause we gotta use all our strength to defeat these evil mfs we live with. Sometimes it's not enough-

You're not his older sibling so he's not scrapping like his life depends on it but I do think he's hitting somewhat hard 

Not as hard as Bi-Han, not as soft as Kuai Liang 

You feel his hits but it's not knocking the wind outta you 

Super fun cause he's also using the environment. Definitely is grabbing a pillow and starts swinging it at you. Definitely is running around the couch to chase you. Definitely has thrown you but made sure to aim at something soft. He's probably even turned off the lights then threw a folded blanket at you 

“Cheater” “Don't be upset you didn't think of it first”

You're fighting but laughing at the same time. There's no real tension. Just fucking around. 

Probably starts initiating it too

If he does injure you fr, for a split second he'd actually see it as a victory then he'd remember you're not his older brothers and is like “oh shit-”. 

Injuring those two would mean freedom (or a worse jumping. really depends), injuring you is not good. 

He knows how bad those hits can hurt so he makes sure you're alright. He's not watching you as much as Kuai Liang would but he'd still make sure you're not overly sore. 

He doesn't feel as bad as Kuai Liang would cause he kinda knows this shit happens. Kuai Liang kinda got a little bit of guilt cause Tomas gets into a fighting stance when he raises his hand up. Tomas hasn't victimized anyone so he's more chill about these situations 😭

Tells you random ass stories about when he used to play fight with his brothers. 

“One time Bi-Han threw me in the air and Kuai Liang jumped to catch me only to throw me against the wall”

“This reminds me of when Bi-Han swept my feet from under me and Kuai Liang jumped on me”

“What is it called when someone jumps on you elbow first?”

“This one time I woke up to them standing over me. I knew it was a wrap”

“One time Bi-Han slapped the back of my neck so hard, it was red for at least a week”

“One time Kuai Liang-” “Tomas… you need a therapist” “I don't think that's what it is”

Unlike Kuai Liang who makes you wait, he's cool with scrapping days later. 

Actually says “time out” when he wants a break. Also says “time in” fast as fuck though to catch you off guard 

Legit the most fun brother. I don't make the rules (except I do). 

I did not mean to write the least for Kuai Liang but I was really brain empty for him. Y’all should give me ideas, thanks bookie

[byeoltoyuki]

Try

↳ Pairing: Seungmin x reader

❧ Genre: rivals to lovers / romance / smut

❧ Words: +4k

❧ Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f)

❧Summary : Years ago, he used to be your enemy.

No. Enemy was too strong to describe what Kim Seungmin was to you. Your rival was a better term. He was everything you weren’t; friendly, funny and effortlessly brilliant. You loathed him for that. And yet, when you meet him again years later, you just can’t deny that there’s something else between you too.

❧ A/N : Honestly, this one comes out of nowhere. I just needed to write so here it comes ♥ Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ♥

***

‘Trust your guts’.

It was your motto in life. A simple rule. And you abided by this rule half of your short lived life. But not tonight and you regretted it. Deeply.

The annual gathering with people from your college was an event your closest friends adored just so they could show some idiots that they had succeeded in life. You? You avoided it. An event you hated with all your heart. You always found excuses not to go. Your life depended on it.

Okay. Not really. Not your life at least. But definitely your ego.

You hated half of the people who attended the event. Back in college, they were so quick to judge, to talk behind your back and yet they expected you to be nice to them. To them, you were just a cold, nerdy girl with no friends. Someone they could easily mock. They hated your attitude. They hated your looks. But they also hated how easily you beat them every single time.

They were wrong.

Yes, you were a little nerdy back then, but you weren’t a cold person, just shy. And you had friends. Not many, but you didn’t need many to feel good. To be happy. Those you had, stuck by your side and they also happened to be the reason you had finally agreed to come to the gathering. You just couldn’t say no to Hyunjin and Yeji, not when those two formed an alliance against you. You had no chance against them.

You sighed to yourself. Would it be rude to grab your purse and leave? One nasty look from Hyunjin, as if he could read your mind, and you gulped nervously. Apparently it was. You slumped further into your chair and tried to keep up with the conversation. Same boring conversation. ‘Where do you currently work?’ ‘Are you soon getting married?’ ‘I’ve bought a house!’ Why did it have to be a competition? Couldn't they just enjoy a nice gathering and the meal?

“Hyunjin, I heard you’re flying to Paris for the fashion week.” Seoah were almost drooling as she spoke to Hyunjin. You cringed. She couldn’t make it even more obvious that she wasn’t just admiring him. No, she had something else on mind. Too bad, Hyunjin was a taken man even if she didn’t know that.

He smiled into his drink. “Yes, tomorrow.” He put his glass back on the table and glanced smugly at a silently fuming Juwon who always hated Hyunjin’s popularity. “I was actually supposed to leave today, but I couldn’t miss our annual gathering! It’s good to see you guys.”

What a liar. You had to bite your lips not to laugh at his words.

Juwon cleared his throat and averted his attention on you. Hell no. “You look different.” For once, it didn’t sound like an insult but you were still weary of him. No nice words coming out of his mouth could make you forget what kind of asshole he was. And you had a hard time to believe that he had actually changed.

“Do I?” You did look different from the past. You used not to care about your looks. Who cared how you looked as long as you had good grades? You certainly didn’t. Neither did your friends. But it changed. Ever since you started working at your art gallery, you understood the importance of how others perceived you. You learnt to do your makeup right. You took care of your long hair. And you changed your whole wardrobe. You got classier. And maybe tonight you put an extra effort to look good. Not that you needed to impress anyone, but you did it anyway.

“It suits you!” Another woman commented, genuinely excited. You couldn’t remember her name but you thanked her with a smile.

Yeji eyed you from the other side of the big table, thumbs up, her eyes telling you silently ‘told you so’. You ignored her. Just because you could.

“I wonder with what kind of man you ended.” Juwon was too curious for his own good.

“Oh come on.” Seoah laughed as if the idea of you dating was ridiculous. “I bet she’s still single.”

How typical of her to assume. Not that she was wrong, but her comment still pissed you. Did she think you were still the same woman as back in college? Just because right at this moment, you were indeed single, didn’t mean you refused dating. You did and got tired of it. Every relationship you had, always started nice, romantic even, but always ended the same way: you breaking up with the guy. They were nice men who truly cared for you but there was just something missing.

However, before you could share a piece of your mind with Seoah, you were interrupted.

“Sorry guys, I’m late!”

That voice.

That stupidly, annoying voice. Your whole body reacted; you shuddered, unable to breath, unable to think properly.

Kim Seungmin.

Here came a man you wished you could avoid for the rest of your life. You knew, your hatred for him was irrational. Compare to others, he had never done anything to you. Seungmin never mocked you, never made any bad comments. But he was your rival. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how many hours you spent in the library, studying, he still beat you every single time. It drove you crazy. But what made everything tenths time worse was the fact that Seungmin quickly caught on your little game and it amused him. You hated him for that too.

“You’re right on time!” Juwon pushed a chair for him. “We’ve been discussing Y/N’s love life!” His gaze slid to you and smirked. “Or lack of it.” Yep. Still an asshole, you were right.

Seungmin quirked a brow at Juwon’s words. You felt his eyes on you. On your face, on your neck, on your arms. Your skin burned under his gaze but you refused to acknowledge his presence for the sake of your sanity.

Maybe a tiny part of you expected Seungmin to comment Juwon’s words, maybe even laugh at it. But he did none of that. Instead you felt him only closer to you which made your unease grow with every passing seconds.

“Do you mind if we switch places?” Seungmin asked the girl beside you, taking the two of you completely off guard.

You opened your mouth, a protest on the tip of your tongue but the girl beside you was faster. She hurried to leave her spot. Seungmin flashed her a pretty smile and sat right next to you. Despite you wanting to avoid him, now that he sat so close to you, your arm brushing his, there was no escape. Now that you were staring right into his pretty, annoying, eyes, you knew: you were fucked.

“As for what you said Juwon. Lack of love life?” Seungmin repeated his words. He moved a little closer to you and before you could push him away, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you against him. “How come you didn’t tell them about us, babe?”

Loud gasps followed by whispers.

What.

What the actual fuck?!

If from outside you looked perfectly composed, at least to those who didn’t know you well enough, inside you were completely freaking out. His words made no sense. His body, his warmth that should have repelled you, felt actually nice.

Kim Seungmin was trying to help you. You heard him. You understood what he was saying but you didn’t understand why. You weren’t friends, not even close and you hadn’t seen each other for so long. I’ll deal with you later.

Something was wrong with you too because instead of pushing him away, you leant into him and accepted his help. “Because they wouldn’t have believed me. Should I remind you that we used to hate each other?” You reminded him and playfully poked his side.

Seungmin leaned closer, his lips so close to yours – you gulped but didn’t avert your eyes from his face. How annoyingly pretty he looked with his eyes shining brightly with mischief. Fine, he was helping you but he was clearly having fun too.

“Wrong.” He said and kissed the corner of your lips.

Gasps again.

Your heart skipped a beat. The corner of your lips tingled and you found yourself wishing his lips had stayed longer. What the actual fuck, Y/N. This whole night was a terrible idea and you kept making bad decisions. Getting drunk and hoping to forget everything seemed like a good idea right now.

“I never hated you.” He added and pulled back to face the others as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb at them. And at you. “What’s up?”

And just like that they started talking again. But you heard none of that. All you could hear was the sound of your roaring heart. All you could feel was the lingering feeling of his lips. All you could think about was Seungmin and this thing going on between the two of you tonight. ‘I never hated you.’ Fine. Maybe he never did but you weren’t on best terms either. You wanted to take him outside and talk to him. Was it his attempt at messing with you? Or was he really just being genuinely nice?

You noticed Hyunjin and Yeji staring at you, questions in their eyes. You didn’t blame them. They had to know none of it was real, they were your best friends. You wouldn’t have hidden something as big as dating Kim Seungmin from them.

“And you Yeji?” Seungmin’s voice brought you back from your reverie. “I heard your new song, it’s really nice.” You wanted to concentrate on what he was saying since he was talking about your friend. You couldn’t. Not when he put his hand on your thigh. Not when he made it look so natural. Not when, despite it happening under the table, it attracted attention on the two of you again.

It should feel wrong. In fact, you should be appalled by his boldness. You didn’t. It felt awfully nice. And right. Instead of pushing him away, you simply watch him talking. You didn’t want to admire his face but it was hard not to. Even if you weren’t fond of him, you weren’t blind. Kim Seungmin was handsome. Pretty eyes, pretty nose and even prettier mouth. Without realizing it, you licked your lips, wondering how it would feel against yours. Or at any other part of your body.

Oh my god. Did they put something in my drink? There’s no way I’m thinking about him. But you were.

Seungmin squeezed your thigh, the palm of his hand feeling suddenly too hot against your skin. He forgot all about his friends and leant closer. “If you keep staring at me like that we might have a problem.” He warned you.

Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t ignore how your face flushed. “When did you get so bold?” You whispered in return.

Seungmin smiled in response. A smile so beautiful, so bright, you wanted to keep it for yourself.

“Growing up does that to a person.” He whispered, his lips brushed your ear. “And also, you look really pretty tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from spreading all over your face even if you tried.

Kim Seungmin was a menace. But a very beautiful and annoying one.

“Okay, that’s enough.” One of the guy groaned. “Get a room. Some of us are sadly single and you two are just disgusting.”

Seungmin laughed heartily and unfortunately for you pulled away from you. A tiny part of you was relieved for the space, but another part of you almost whined at the loss of his warmth. Yeah, there was something wrong with you.

****

Somehow you managed to survive through the whole meal without a fight, without people trying to mess with you. In fact, you even managed to laugh a few times and it wasn’t just because of your friends’ jokes. And maybe it had everything to do with Seungmin.

“Should I drive you home?” Hyunjin whispered to your ear, making sure that nobody heard you.

It was the plan. You came with them and you were supposed to leave with them. You glanced at Seungmin and you couldn’t believe yourself: you were hesitating. You could leave with your friends but then you wouldn’t be able to talk to him and have a chance to thank him for his help.

Seungmin was faster to react. “I’ll take her home. Right babe?” He grabbed your jacket from your chair and waited for you.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at his words, tempted to pull you back against him. You patted his back. “I should go with Seungmin.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, surprised with your answer. You gave him a small smile and promised to text him and Yeji later.

Seungmin waited for you. Your body moved on its own accord. When you were close enough, Seungmin helped you to put your jacket on. You were thankful he couldn’t see your flushed face.

“There. All good.” He told you. “Are you ready?”

You were not.

***

You didn’t want the drive to your place to be awkward but it was. You didn’t know how to start the conversation with him. You knew nothing about this Kim Seungmin or how to deal with him.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said awkwardly without looking at him.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him glance at you. You expected him to make a comment, to make it easier for you but he didn’t. He returned his attention to the road. Damn him.

You sighed and slumped further into your seat. “I still don’t understand why you helped me.” This time, you looked at him.

Seungmin shrugged. “They were being dicks for no good reason.”

True, they were but it wasn’t anything new. Seungmin never stood up for you before so why now? “You didn’t need to pretend though.” He could have said anything but no, he chose to play your fake boyfriend instead.

Seungmin parked the car by the entrance of your building and then fully faced you. His eyes sparked with delight and something else. “I admit; it wasn’t my plan. But then, I had one look at you and couldn’t help myself.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “So you were messing with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

So damn infuriating. You hurried to unbuckle your seatbelt and opened the door.

“I wasn’t joking you know.” Seungmin stopped you with his words, realizing that if he wanted for you to talk to him, he needed to be genuine. “I never hated you.” He sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “I loved how competitive you were. When I realized how clever you were, it pushed me to work harder, to make sure I stayed on the top. And maybe to annoy you a little too. I remember how you used to scrunch your nose whether you saw I got a better grade than you. So adorable.” He smiled at the memory.

Seungmin left you speechless. Why was he making it sound like he was actually fond of you? And why the hell did his words melted you on the spot? You needed to hurry up; grab your purse and leave this car before you did something unthinkable. But as you stepped outside of his car, your body froze, refusing to leave. I’m losing my mind, that’s it.

“Give me your phone.” You turned back and outstretched your hand. It was a bad idea. Terrible idea. But then again, it was just another one to add to the list of bad ideas. Who cared?

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. You refused to delve on the matter as you quickly saved your number in his phone. “Call me when you want.”

‘And maybe soon.’ But you didn’t say it.

***

You barely made it inside your flat – your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at your phone, your heart skipping a beat. You didn’t want to think it could be Seungmin. But were you hoping? Maybe.

“Hi.” You instantly recognized his gentle voice.

You couldn’t help it. You chuckled at his eagerness. “You know, usually people wait few days to call back.”

“Open your door.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Too taken aback, you did as he asked without thinking. And here he was. “Did you follow me?!”

Seungmin smiled sheepishly and put his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry. I-“

Was he nervous? “What are you doing, Seungmin?”

Seungmin took a deep breath and took a step inside your flat. The right thing to do would be to tell him to leave. It was too soon and you weren’t in the right mind. You did none of that.

“I’m desperate.” He admitted.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer to you. You knew that if you let him get too close to you, something could happen. And you didn’t completely dislike the idea. Seungmin halted right before you. His eyes blazed with so much intensity, you gulped nervously.

Gently, Seungmin took your hand and pulled it toward him to press against his chest. You jolted, surprised to feel his heartbeat. Wild. Strong. And his hand so warm. “I was a coward in college and missed my chance. I can’t do it a second time, Y/N. I can’t let you slip between my fingers again.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between your hand against his chest and his eyes. “Are you confessing, Seungmin?”

“What if I am?” He dared you, his grip on your hand tightened. Maybe a little part of him was actually scared of rejection. But he held strong.

You could pull away from him and forget his words.

You could, but you didn’t.

His words stirred something inside you. It made you curious. What if instead of looking for a guy that was nice, you went for the guy who loved to compete with you? A guy who, without you even realizing it, pushed you to be the best version of yourself? You had nothing to lose. So you did something completely out of your character. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, feeling all of him against you. His body strong and firm against you.

“I’d say you need to show me just how much you like me.”

Seungmin growled at your words and instead of answering you, he claimed your mouth. So eager. So desperate. There was nothing sweet about this kiss and you didn’t mind. Seungmin poured years of frustration and need into the kiss. Poured all his feelings, his longing and you gladly took it all.

You moved through the room without breaking the kiss until your thighs met the edge of your table. You didn’t think twice as you sat on top of it, spreading your legs for him to settle against you. You felt it then, how hard he was, how much he wanted you. You would be lying if you said you weren’t wet and excited for what he could do to you.

Seungmin broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

You thought it was sweet that he still tried to control himself. That he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable with him touching you. If only he knew how bad you needed him right now. “Hundred per cent sure.” You confirmed and pecked his nose.

“Well then,” Seungmin’s lips moved from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, to your jaw. “I think I want a dessert.” He kissed your shoulder and gently slid the straps of your dress exposing your aching breasts. “So beautiful.” He licked his way from one breast to another – he took one of your breasts in his mouth, playing with you, teasing you.

You moaned softly, your hand nestled in his hair, you pushed his head against your chest. You were right, his mouth felt perfect against your skin and you thought it would be so easy to get addicted. “Touch me.” You begged, the throbbing between your legs getting too much.

“I’m touching you.” He teased, knowing damn well where you needed him the most.

“Seungmin.” You groaned and tug at his hair.

He groaned and bit playfully on your nipple. “Be nice.” With that he hiked your dress higher. He grabbed your panties and tore them off you.

You gasped loudly. “Did you just tear my panties?!”

He chuckled. “Sorry.” He was definitely not sorry judging by his smirk. You took note to make him pay later for it.

Seungmin spread your legs wider and licked his lips at your exposed pussy glistening with your wetness. “Look at that. Already so wet and I barely touched you.” He teased your sweet pussy by dragging a finger from your clit to your entrance, loving how you shivered at this simple touch.

“Seungmin, please.” You begged shamelessly and pushed your hips, needing to feel more.

“Do you want that?” He pushed his fingers deep inside you. So easily. In and out. Slower at first and then faster, watching as you threw your head back, your lips parted. Your soft moans filled the room and it was the sweetest melody to his ears.

Slowly, Seungmin dropped to his knees. Your dizzy mind barely registered what he was doing – he gently scraped his teeth over your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing. The moment he wrapped his lips around your clit, you lost it.  A loud moan escaped your lips. He feasted on you eagerly; his mouth, his fingers, he was slowly driving you crazy and you could only beg for more.

“Oh my god, Seungmin.” You mewled and ground against his face.

He was good. Too good. His mouth was divine. He worked his magic so well, you could feel your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“I’m so close. Please.”

Seungmin hummed against your pussy. “Come then.”

And you did. Your whole body trembled as your orgasm washed over you. But he didn’t stop. Seungmin kept sucking on your clit, enjoying how you writhed and tried to pull him away from you, too sensitive from your orgasm.

Seungmin straightened up and slowly pulled out his fingers from your pussy. He watched you, smiling lazily as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

“Shit.” You clenched around nothing at the sight. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so sinful.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into another bruising kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “I need you inside me right now.”

“So bossy.” He chuckled, “What if I want to play more with you?”

You considered it for a moment. You wouldn’t mind him playing with you. But right now, you wanted him buried deep inside you. You wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember why in the hell you considered him as your enemy for so long. Wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember your name.

You reached between your bodies and started working on his belt and then his zipper. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to play with me later.”

Seungmin arched a brow, amused with your confession. “Will I?”

“Hell yeah.” You grabbed his cock. He was hard and angry and dripping pre-cum. You salivated at the sight. Kim Seungmin was perfect and you were dying to find out how hard he could ruin you. “Please, wreck me?” You asked as nicely as you could manage.

Seungmin shook his head, laughing fondly. “How can I say no to you?”

Seungmin drove into you. One deep thrust that made you grab his arms, holding for your dear life.

“Fuck.” You moaned and tried to compose yourself. He felt perfect, stretching you, filling you just like you needed.

Seungmin dragged his cock slowly at first, letting you time to adjust and maybe also trying to compose himself. Despite all his talk about playing, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted to lose control and drive you mad. “You were made for me, Y/N.” He grunted, his control slipping little by little. “Fuck.”

“Don’t hold back, please.” Who cared if he ruined you? Who cared if you couldn’t walk tomorrow? You didn’t.

And he didn’t. Seungmin slammed back into you. His thrusts hard. Deep. Reaching all the right spots. Making you cry out his name. Making you whimper. “You are so fucking perfect.” He hissed as you clenched around him.

“Please, please, please.” You didn’t know what you begged for anymore. Was for him to go harder? To go deeper? To slow down? You couldn’t tell. Your mind was overwhelmed. Your body was burning.

Seungmin kept a brutal rhythm, his thrusts vicious, his grip on your body strong, fingers digging into your skin. It would leave marks and you could only wish for more. Let the world see that someone made you feel so good. Let the world see that you belonged to him.

His hand reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit. There was no escape. You came in a loud cry, wildly, explosively, your body shaking. Seungmin fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts getting sloppier, his grunts louder, seeking his own release.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and claimed his mouth, swallowing his groan as he came deep inside you, trembling against you.

Seungmin rested his head in the crook of your head, panting. For a moment, you didn’t talk and savored just the moment and the press of your sweaty bodies. It felt nice. It felt good. Perfect.

With your orgasm came clarity. “Why haven’t we done it sooner?” You laughed.

Seungmin bit on your collarbone in response. “Because we had other priorities in college.”

That you did. “What a shame.” You sighed dramatically. “Guess we have some serious catch up to do, don’t you think?”

[eggroll-sama]

Accidental Kiss with Spiderman

You are working for the Spider Society and you have a platonic relationship with your crush (for now). When both of you were distracted, you collide and accidentally lock lips. How would they react???

Characters: Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Miguel O’Hara || SFW

Miles

Even if he likes you or not, he’s going to put some distance between the two of you. He won’t try to take advantage of you like that. If he doesn’t reciprocate, he’d sweep it under the rug. If he likes you, he’d feel disappointed that his first time kissing you was an accident. Not that he didn’t like kissing you, he did! But in his head his first time kissing you was super smooth, charming, and relaxed. No, instead he’s super bashful, scratching the back of his head and apologizing to you.

Since he can be self-conscious, he’d probably think you didn’t like it and is afraid you think he was creepy. If you chicken out on confessing to him, he’d look back on the kiss every single night and cringe to himself. That’s why for both of your sanity, telling him that you liked the kiss straight afterwards is the best course of action.

“Gosh, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to you know, do that. I wasn’t looking, I mean I have spider senses, we both do, why doesn’t it work when you need it haha- ……You liked it? Really? Wait, so you like me like that? Then do you want to… try again? I promise I won’t push you away this time.”

Hobie

If you accidentally kiss anybody, then Hobie Brown is the guy. His lips are very soft and warm and he doesn’t push you away in an offensive manner. Overall a very pleasant accidental kiss. There’s a 99% chance that he knew you liked him, so that’s why he will treat the kiss casually but in a detached manner. Even if he doesn’t like you back, he’d be nice about it and talk to you later like nothing happened. He still wants to continue being your friend.

The only disadvantage to this is that it’s possible you’d be pining even more after the kiss. In that case, you’d have to bring it up to him and tell him how you feel. And he might accept your confession! He believes so long as you feel there’s a possibility that you’d fall for the person, it’s alright to not have feelings for them when you start dating.

In the case that he does like you, he will tease you a lot, making comments like you probably did it on purpose for him to kiss you. Even after you shut him up with a kiss he’d be laughing to himself. He’s enjoying himself a little too much seeing you irritated at him asshole. Biting him will probably shut him up.

Pavitr

The first thing that comes to his mind is, ‘This is exactly how it plays out in that one tv show!’ Yeah, he initially gets distracted, fanboying to himself, but then he pulls himself together.

He’d try to act super smooth with you. Oh yeah, he’s Spiderman, an accidental kiss is nothing to him, pshhhh. Probably the only one out of the four that would miss his chance of confessing his feelings because he’s trying too hard to seem unbothered. Later on, he regrets not telling you how he felt.

Ahhh how could I let go of my chance like that! I should’ve just confessed instead of trying to play it cool! Stupid Pavitr!

The next time he sees you, he pulls you to a private place and tells you how he feels. He’s elated when he finds out you like him back and hugs you tightly. Then he’s on flirting mode.

“Considering our first kiss didn’t go as planned, want to try it a second time :)))?”

Miguel

His reaction depends: if he doesn’t have feelings for you, his arms shoot out instinctively and gently puts distance between the two of you. The kiss lasts less than a second. As the leader of the Spider Society he feels that it is unprofessional to kiss a coworker. He’d apologize and make it crystal clear that he didn’t mean anything by it. Yes it would be awkward the next times you see each other, but it’ll eventually be normal.

If he does like you back but it was during a mission or in a public area, he would also push you away, but moreso out of embarrassment of people seeing him. But when he is all by himself, his mind wanders. He replays the scene on his projector, proceeds to feel like a pervert and closes the tab, ten minutes later he opens it again and groans in frustration, leaning on his desk, one of his hands on his burning face. Lyla teases him, “You’re such a pervert.” He’s going to avoid you as long as he can, giving excuses of being busy. It’s up to you to break the awkwardness.

If he does like you back and you guys kiss in a private setting, then it’s a completely different story. When he sees that you’re not pulling away, he’d wrap his hands around your waist and pull you close, indulging in a sensual kiss. He’d push you against the nearest hard surface and won’t pull away until he’s out of breath. For a guy that hasn’t been in a relationship for years, he’s still a very good kisser and your satisfied expression confirms it.

[frogchiro]

have you done ghost giving a rookie a headlock, or how would ghost treat a rookie? love ur work 🫶🫶🩷

hello love and thank you for the kind words <33

And answering your question no, I haven't written about Ghost giving a headlock but I've done something that's close enough for 09 Soap here! Actually I've never written for rookie!reader so maybe you confused me with someone?

fem!reader, suggestive, Si is a perverted dick, he's horny and has a big crush your honor but would sooner swim in radioactive waste rather than actually do something

But nevertheless, I think it kinda depends?? Let's say that rookie is more in the 'brain' field like a hacker. I think Ghost would kinda intrigued and terribly horny especially since he met you and instead of an overconfident basement-dweller dick he saw your sweet smile and doe eyes that greeted him with a 'Nice to meet you lieutenant!', but would rather die than admit it.

That being said, he'd conceal his attraction and horniness for you by being kind of an asshole himself, nowhere near abusive or really hard stuff but when you're talking to him chattering about your day instead of answering you, Simon would just huff or grunt and leave it at that or during a sparing session between you two (which he insisted on) he'd be extra mean to you, putting you in a ruthless headlock, huffing and growling into your ear about 'who's better now huh girl?'

Ignore the hot and heavy erection that's straining against his pants when he has you pinned to the ground in said headlock, your chest and belly pressed against the hard training mat and your delicious bottom pressed against his cock, and don't even try to wiggle away! Simon would just growl and grunt and thrust his strong hips 'to make you stay still', while tightening the strong muscles of his arm around you until you whine as him to please stop :<

Ghost swears one more whimper from you and he'll cum in his boxers like some fucking teenager.

Also ignore the fact that suddenly there's way less soldiers try and make small talk with you or even barely look at you; Simon's possessive ass made sure to drill that very hard into their thick skulls that you're marked by him.

[rottenblur]

Shades of cool|A.Anderson

Summary: You haven’t seen Abby in three days, completely ghosted you confront her and well it seems she won this time.

Warnings: Abby being a stoner, weed consumption(not reader), oral sex, hickeys, dirty talk, smut, fingering, abby being asshole sort of, face riding, praise (good girl), lowkey degradation.

College football! Abby x fem reader 1.8k

Part two to national anthem

It had been three days, no show to class nor practice. You had one option, you really didn’t wanna do it.

If you didn’t figure out what was going on with her you would go crazy, starting to regret not asking for her number before shoving your tongue down her throat and drinking in her wound.

You slide your feet into crocs, looking in the mirror, you look decent enough. You open your door making your way down the hallway to make a pitstop at your best friend's dorm.

You knock on the door, you hear rustling then a bang and the door knob turning. She opens the door rubbing her eyes.

“What’s up?” She asks, looking around.

“Abby been in?” You hold your elbow with your other arm knowing it’s an out of the blue question. You’ve never cared about her before now so why would you care now?

She furrows her brows in confusion. “Uhhh? I wouldn't know.” She points to the dark room, those blackout curtains were her life she could sleep through anything. Unfortunately.

She tilts her head waiting for an explanation. “Oh, I found one of her rings after the game, need to return it.” she laughs, you know she would have just pocketed that shit, except the ring didn’t exist. You needed to see her.

You wave her goodbye then walk next door to Abby’s knocking then waiting. The light peaks under the door, you knock again. “It’s me.” You say, you don’t know why, it’s not like she knows your voice by heart. She makes this clear when she asks who from behind the door, you hear her get up then come to the door.

She opens the door, the air moving her loose hair, her cheeks flushed and damp. It looked like she just worked out. “Is this a bad time?” You ask her, she leans on the doorway looking at you. “Depends what you’re here for.” Looking you up and down, tucking her now scabbed lip into her mouth.

You look into her eyes, and oh she really did get a black eye, you’d think you would notice it quicker but no. It was purple and black, it weirdly suited her. You point to it. “That hurt?” She furrows her brows at you trying to decipher what you meant then she figures it out. “Nah, ‘m good.” You roll your eyes at her, she sits at her desk and man spreads her legs on the seat.

“That’s what you said last time, still let me patch you up though.” You say walking in to sit on her bed. Her room was what you expected, sports posters, a playboy magazine collection not so secretly stashed in a drawer, looks like the classics too. She had her shoes all lined up in a corner, it was clean and way tidier than you thought it would be.

She looks at you, scuffing at your comment. “Whatcha looking at?” She asks, pulling your attention to her. “I came here for a reason by the way.” She looks at you opening up a drawer, pulling out a baggie, grinder and papers.

“Shoot.” She plucks a bud from the baggie putting it into the metal grinder, twisting it as she turns to face you. “Where have you been?” You ask, tucking your legs beneath you. She sighs, taking the top of the grinder off and sprinkling crumbs into the folded rolling paper. “Around.” She says looking up at you. She’s starting to piss you off.

Maybe she was exactly who you thought she was, privileged, aggressive and rude.

You pinch your nose bridge between your fingers, rubbing it delicately. “You haven’t been to class, or practice, it's not like I have your number.”

She rolls the joint, licking the adhesive to seal it off, she opens her window. “Didn’t know you cared.” She huffed out lighting the joint, taking a drag and looking at you. You needed that fucking joint more than her right now.

You stand up, in front of her as she leans against the window seal puffing on some weed that stank up the whole room, making you want to take a breath of fresh air.

“Of course i fucking care Abby.” You look at her lungs full of smoke.

“I get it.” She exhales, all over your face.

“Do you?” You look at her now low eyes, it’s hard to feel in power when she towers over you. “Do you though? Seems like you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.” You continue, she bites her lip and walks closer to you. Oh god.

“I’m sorry darlin’ wasn’t ignoring you just had to figure some things out. Missed ya.” It was the weed talking and you knew it. You roll your eyes, she cages you in with her body against the wall, you missed her hands, her touch, her lips so you didn’t stop her.

“Missed you Abby.” You say as she kisses your neck, you know it’s wrong but what can you do?

You’ve seen her vulnerable, you’ve seen her enraged it’s impossible to know who the real Abby is. Is Abby kissing your neck while intoxicated the real Abby, or is it the one who needs someone to bandage her up the real one?

It’s impossible to break through her barriers, her strong appearance, was she strong inside? Was this a cover to hide her true feelings? Did she miss her ex? Were you a rebound?

Your thoughts are clouded by her lifting up your top, kneeling in front of you and kissing your hip bones. From one side to the other, leaving splotches of red behind. Reaching up to grab your chest as she looks up at you. Those fucking eyes. “Abby.” She keeps kissing, moving up your stomach to your chest marking purple bruises. “Yeah?” She responds, you know you should tell her to stop, she ignored you now she wants you.

But you don’t, unfortunately you want her too. “Keep going, please.” You huff out as she moves down again, grabbing at your waist band and pulling it down to your ankles. You step out of it, she kisses up your legs to your inner thighs. Marking them graciously, she kisses on your clothed cunt sending shivers down your spine.

“God you’re wet, so fucking easy.” She rubs from your slit to your clit, you wetting them through your panties. You watch as she rubs your clit slowly and brutally, tucking her hair behind her ear, those freckles make her look like an angel. She pulls her hand away, kissing your thigh one more time before stripping off your panties and throwing them aside. “I told you I’d be back darling.” She spreads your legs and sticks her head between them.

She teases your clit, licking it with a distance and only with the tip of her tongue. You grip onto her hair, keeping her right where you want her. Where you need her. She lets you put her mouth straight on you. She licks from your clit down to your slit up and down, up and down slowly. She was making you work for what you wanted.

You started riding her face, mouth wide open, her tongue hitting all the right spots, she took your ass into her hands engulfing the entirety, your hips uncontrollably grinding on her face.Your thighs clench around her head, as you come close to cumming all over her face. She moves her hands from tightly gripping your ass to your hips pushing them flat against the wall, away from her face.

“Not yet, be good for me yeah?” She says as she looks up at you, your juices dripping down her chin with a shit eating grin on her face, her hair messed up from you gripping it so hard. She puts one of your legs on her shoulder, pulling your hips back to her and diving back in. She sucks your clit into her mouth, drawing quick circles on it. She holds your thigh, mirroring her tongue with her thumb.

She reaches up rubbing her fingertips at your entrance, then prodding them into you, her thick long fingers don’t compare to your own, they split you apart as she pumps them into you curving them at just the right spot. You were holding your moans in before, as well your best friend was next door and she knew you were here. Fucking risky.

But you couldn’t any longer, your quiet moans from before were now near screams god you wanted to scream her name for the whole world to hear. She pumps them in and out, her tongue working magic on your clit, your thoughts fading away you couldn’t think of any logic, not that you could before. If you could, you wouldn’t have Abby’s fingers deep inside you right now.

You look down at her, she looks back up removing her fingers, you lock your fingers back into her blonde locks. She teases your hole again but with three fingers, as if you could handle that. “Abby, I can’t, won’t fit.” She looks at you as if you insulted her, pulling away from your clit slightly just to mumble. “I’ll make it fit darling.” And she does. She shoves her fingers back into you, introducing a fullness you didn’t know could exist.

Her mouth speeds up and so does her fingers, the consistent hitting of such a special spot inside you pulled you over the edge. You let out your last breathy moan of her name as your walls pulse on her. She pulls her mouth away, watching as her fingers struggle to move any longer inside. She pulls them out, a string of slick connecting you to her.

“God damn, never hear anyone say my name like that.” She removes your leg from her shoulder and stands up, shoving her fingers into your mouth as you suck on them, Abby watching intensely.

“Good girl, love to see you suck on something else sometime.” She kisses your cheek, pulling down your top and sitting you into the bed. “You were really good darling.” She reaches behind her, grabbing your pants, pulling them back onto your body, you lift your hips to assist her.

You’re never going to see those panties ever again and you know it.

You reach into your pants pocket, pulling out your phone to check the time. You’ve only been here for fifteen minutes, god damn. You could go for round two if it wasn’t for all the mind games she plays.

“Gimme your number.” She says holding out her phone. You nod and take it into your hands, typing in your number and saving it as a contact.

“Thanks.” You say back.

“For what? You should have come earlier, would have had more time to play with you but I have to study.” She says, playing an innocent look at you.

You stand up, walking towards the door she follows. She gives you a hug and a kiss then opens the door. “I'll text you, promise.”

You can’t fix her, she’s unfixable.

You have to tell yourself that.

A/n! I know this isnt a popular fic but ive been listening to shades of cool SOOOO MUCH i had to and she was the perfect fit. Asshole abby has my heart

Comment to be added to tag list :)

[tossawary]

It's very ironic to get comments on "Scum Villain" fics that are essentially revenge fantasies against certain characters, given... uh... everything about "Proud Immortal Demon Way" and how the story of SVSSS interacts with that in-universe story.

Sometimes, it's mildly amusing. Sometimes, it's a little disturbing, depending on how violent and disproportionate the fantasy is, because even if I've written some villain as a real asshole, I don't want to open my inbox to people wishing death and gory violence on anyone. A couple times, it took me a hot second to figure out that the violent fantasy wasn't directed at ME specifically.

Thankfully, that extremism is quite rare, so it's more often people wishing milder physical pains or, uh, complete social humiliation on certain characters, sometimes just for the "crime" of being mild inconveniences or slightly unfriendly to the fic's protagonist. Most of the time, I assume this is some form of playful exaggeration on the commenter's part, a reader exorcising mild annoyance at a fictional antagonist and expressing some sympathy or compassion for the hurt protagonist. A reader mentioning they kind of want to see a character grovel pathetically for forgiveness only to get kicked in the face is not necessarily a reader who wants that revenge fantasy to actually happen in the story.

Sometimes, though, it is hard to tell if someone genuinely thinks that all of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect should be destroyed because Luo Binghe was abused or Shang Qinghua was overworked. Like, I sure hope this is just hyperbole! I sure hope that you don't honestly think that "an eye for an eye" or "I take two of your eyes and also your tongue because you took one of my eyes" are, like, reasonable justice policies! I sure hope that you don't sincerely think that collective punishment is in any way a good thing and that a random junior disciple on the tenth peak (who probably doesn't even know who Luo Binghe is) deserves to suffer because the original Shen Qingqiu was a really shitty person.

But revenge fantasies like "Proud Immortal Demon Way" are popular for a reason, so I can never quite be sure! In every fandom, you have Peerless Cucumbers demanding that villain characters be castrated or killed for being abusive pricks, who cheer on the fictional revenge fantasy of hurting someone ten times as much as they hurt you, and some fans would be absolutely horrified by that kind of "retribution" in real life and others would... cheer that real life "punishment" on as well.

I don't really have a strong point to make with this post! This post is too long to be a casual reminder: "Hey, I hope you're always keeping in mind that messages you send on the internet are being directly received by real people who 1) can't read your tone and 2) don't know your 'real life' opinions to immediately know if you're joking." And I'm focused more here on how amusingly ironic this type of commenting is in regards to SVSSS and PIDW specifically.

Like, it's fun sometimes to get a little "Peerless Cucumber" about our favorite protagonists! (Shen Yuan said a lot of shit on the internet about PIDW but apparently generally doesn't really want people in SVSSS to suffer.) But once your revenge fantasy starts getting a little too detailed in regards to public humiliation and social ruin, torture and dismemberment, arson and leaving someone to get eaten alive by fire ants, making everyone who ever mildly slighted you beg for their life at your feet... It's like, "Bro, I don't think this comment is even Peerless Cucumber levels anymore. You are straight-up getting into original Luo Binghe territory here."