#especially when I was looking for those balloons

[game-on-comics]

[iloveglomp]

You're Huge

You’re huge. I mean, you were always a little on the chubbier side, but now, you’re absolutely massive. Your belly hangs lower every day, slowly piling down your legs, covering your fupa, and pushing outward. Those once chunky, adorable legs of yours are covered in cellulite and wider than my waist, rolls and stretch marks all over your juicy thick lower belly and ballooning heart shaped ass leading to those meaty, overflowing love handles I love to grab while fucking you. You’ll probably end up immobile, but you and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

When I first met you, you were a short barista at my local coffee house, your messy, deep red hair folded into a bun, and your soft brown eyes twinkling with attraction behind those nerdy glasses you had on. I left you a tip with my number written on it, and you pocketed the cash, messaging me later that day. I never thought that would work, and landing such a good-looking girl like you was beyond luck. We were meant to be, and I would make sure to enjoy every ounce of you. We texted back and forth constantly, flirting and feeling out who we really were. We hit it off over the phone, and I planned a date for us, just a picnic and some snacks in the park. The weather was wonderful, so why not? I met you in the parking lot, your red hair flowing behind you as your beautifully red lips formed an adorable smile. I brought you flowers and champagne, and you got a picnic basket full of sweets and salty snacks, your favorite. I lay out the blanket and pop us the champagne, you set up the snacks, and take a seat next to me. Your slightly chubby thighs wobble as you bounce your legs nervously about our date, but I can tell you’re into me. I soak in every detail about you now that we’re so close.. Your dimples when you smile, the way your teeth have the slightest gap in the middle, your golden septum piercing, always slightly crooked. I admire how your body fills out for such a low weight, probably around 140lbs at 5’0”, short but thick, and I’m into it. Your backside and legs curve beautifully, leading to a hint of a belly and a more slender upper body with small B-cups. You have a tattoo of a bumble bee on your right shoulder with a sleeve of wild flowers underneath it, which looks cute on you, fitting your aesthetic nicely. As we talk and drink more champagne, I can tell you’re a lightweight as you get touchier and giggle often, showcasing your bubbly personality and tendency for playful banter. As the sun sets, our conversation grows more intimate, and I steal a kiss. You melt into my arms as we fall deeper into each other's embrace. The spark lit between us was strong and fiery, I knew I would be seeing way more of you in more than one way soon enough. 

We went on several more dates, always centered around lounging about and snacking or going to dinner and a movie. You would overindulge, then lie back in the theatre chair, resting your belly as you zoned out. You were never physically active, and it was already having its side effects. I started picking you up from work, taking you on surprise dates, and going out to eat with you more often than not. You loved the attention and couldn’t get enough food and drinks when we went out, the alcohol causing you to overeat late into the night. I had you falling head over heels after a few more weeks of romantic outings. I decided it was time to ask you out, so I booked us at an especially nice restaurant, telling you to wear your best dress. When I picked you up, I walked to your studio apartment door, but you opened it before I could even knock. I was in awe of your looks that night, your dress clung so tightly to your slowly expanding frame. Every detail of how much weight you had put on was showing in all the right places. Your thighs and ass tight against the fabric as your pooch stuck out noticeably. Even your boobs were looking extra swollen as your arms and shoulders appeared softer and less defined. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you and your infectious smile. Everything about that night was perfect; we had a large dinner, with you ordering steak and lobster, mashed potatoes, risotto, and scallops. It was way more than you could eat, but I let you try to at the very least, encouraging you to take bite after bite as I fed you more. We can’t afford to come here all the time, so make sure you get your fill, baby. I would top off your glass of wine and watch as you forced another bite down your throat. By the end of our date, you were packed to the brim, drunk, and ecstatic that I asked you to be my girlfriend. I took you home, and you pulled me into your bedroom, itching to get out of that tight dress that once fit so comfortably. You unbuttoned my shirt and practically ripped my pants off ravenously, hungry for a treat only I could give you. My muscular frame towered over you as I took my strong arms and peeled the delicate dress off of you. Your stomach was so full and tender, I could tell I needed to be gentle with you because of how much you ate. You lay down, letting out a huge sigh of relief as you lock eyes with me, begging for something more. I grab your juicy legs and pull you to the edge of the bed, resting them on my shoulders and I grab my pulsing, girthy dick and begin to tease you with it. Rubbing it around your clit and slowly entering and exiting just the beginning of your hole. You beg me for more, telling me you want to be filled to the max as your tight gut and growing tits sway back and forth from my hips bumping into you. I slowly insert myself all the way to the end of my shaft, your eyes closing as you let out a sharp moan and cry in pleasure. Your warm thighs and soft ass slap against my strong core as I thrust in and out of you methodically, gentle but intense. As I near climax, you tighten around my shaft, begging me to release my seed inside of you. I cum hard, emptying my load as I grab your meaty thighs and stare at the tight drum of a belly that turns me on so much. I couldn’t wait to fatten you up into my prized piggy. 

You’re finally six hundred pounds, you’ve been so good for me, piggy. You’re so complacent, so enthusiastic about your gain. You can’t slow down, even on days you’re sleeping more than eating, the number continues to climb. You’re permanently filled with calories your body struggles to metabolize and store somewhere on your massively overgrown body. Your huge stomach is now three rolls, each heavier and flabbier than the last. I can’t even lift it up without using equipment. Your tits are so huge, round and swollen. They weigh so heavily on you, I know it’s getting harder to breathe under all this luscious fat you have piled on. You make noises like a good little piggy, too. A squeal for pleasure or a whine for attention. I make sure you get whatever you want; you deserve it for being so good to me. We can only have sex in doggy now, your huge gut won’t allow it any other way, and you get too hungry to stop eating during sex. You get lifted up, propped on pillows and eat your fill of rich calorie dense foods as I take you from behind, pulling that huge jiggly mountain of an ass you grew for me apart as I insert myself into you, throbbing and ravenous to feel you. It’s so warm and jaw-droppingly wet, the weight of your body making it so tight and pleasurable. You love it when I tease you for being so huge. Even if I just tell you how fag you are and how much of an immobile obese cow you are you go wild with lust. You probably orgasm multiple times a day, even from the slightest hint of pleasure. I can tell when your breath quickens and you squirm and writhe, begging me for release, you rely on me for everything now, and I wouldn’t want it any other way for my beautiful goddess and her hundreds of pounds of fat engulfing her. 

When you hit seven hundred pounds, your poor body struggling to keep up with your voracious appetite, you’ve become a truly transformed woman. You were just a huge, dumb cow now. You barely spoke besides simple demands. Food, sex, bathroom, TV, etc. You loved being such an obedient, helpless blob. Every calorie you consumed you knew would make us both happy, so you shoveled them down relentlessly, eager for more pleasure and soft fat to admire. You could barely move at all. Propped up on pillows and pampered 24/7 as you grew to larger sizes. I had you naked now, clothes were no use. Cleaned and lotioned, baby powder and scented oils rubbed all over you as you enjoyed your fluffy body and how it jiggled and quaked at every touch. You could barely use your arms at all; they were too heavy and caused you to struggle so much, leaving you breathless and sweating after a few minutes. I hand-fed you now, encouraging and enabling you to continue ballooning up for me. You obeyed and opened wide, happy for another delicious bite of fat, greasy food to go down your throat. I installed a mirror over the bed so you could see how you continued to swell up. You didn’t know who you were anymore; all you could see was rolls of flesh and piles of lard flowing out in every direction. Everything was so massive and soft, so heavy and jiggly. You wanted more, your appetite insatiable. You wanted to be at least 1,000 lbs before your arteries finally clogged and you gave out. I think we can make it work, probably get you even bigger than that, don’t you think, piggy? Will you be a good girl for me and take another bite? 

[jlheon]

𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇

(𝓹airing) — psh x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓯renemies to lovers ; fluff, profanity, & lots of kissing (𝔀ordcount) one-thousand five-hundred forty 𝓹eng's note. these pics. #iWantThat 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon

“you’re late,” sunghoon says in the most agitating voice possible as you walk through the classroom door.

“i wouldn’t be late if you did your job,” you huff, walking right up to the desk he sat at and dropping the bags of decorations you had picked up from the party supplies store.

“hey! i said i would pick those up!” he says annoyed, sifting through everything you brought.

“mrs. kim said we needed them by today! why the fuck were you just sitting around?” 

“geez, loosen up,” the boy gets up from his seat, his tall body looming over yours. “let’s just go decorate the gym.”

the two of you split up the bags of party supplies and headed towards the gym where the rest of the council and student volunteers were waiting. 

setting up for the fundraiser was easy until you and sunghoon started yelling at each other over which color streamers should be used over the doorway. 

jake had to drag you away by the shoulders to come to help him with the balloons. sunghoon felt a bitter taste when he saw jake with his arm around your shoulder but decided to ignore it. 

“hoon,” jungwon calls out. “we’re out of balloons!”

“that’s why i should have bought the decorations…” sunghoon mutters under his breath before walking up to where you and jake were giggling. 

sunghoon walks up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. “we have to go back to the store.” he whispers in your ear. 

you freeze at his touch but nod and say goodbye to jake. he lets go of you and the two of you walk out the exit leading to the parking lot.

the two of you get into sunghoon’s car and he drives off to the mall. 

there’s an awkward silence between the both of you, which you can’t decide if you like bantering with him over it. there’s so much tension due to sunghoon’s lingering touch from earlier.

once inside the mall, you quietly walked side by side into the automatic doors. 

only a few feet from the party supplies stores you halt. spotting your ex-boyfriend and old friend seemingly on a date.

“sunghoon,” you whisper, tapping on his shoulder. “do you see what i see?”

he rolls his eyes at you finally breaking the silence but then looks up to see for himself. once he does that the two seem to have had the same idea, making eye contact with the other.

“oh shit they saw us,” he panics, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the photo booth you were conveniently standing next to.   

the photo booth is small. way too small. sunghoon is already sitting as you uncomfortably sit on the ledge with your legs peeking out from the curtain. 

“get up,” he instructs. 

“what?” you raise an eyebrow. “i’m not letting them see me again! especially not with you!”

“i meant like come here,” sunghoon grabs you and settles you on his lap, so the both of you fit into the small space.

“oh my god, what if they come over here!” you panic resting your hands on his shoulders. “this is bad! especially since i’m with you of all people-”

“with me?” sunghoon questions. 

“well, like when we were dating, he always thought you had a crush on me, which isn’t impossible! i had to keep reassuring him but he never believed me! like me and you are barely even friends-” you ramble, balling sunghoon’s shirt in your fists as you freak out. 

“woah, calm down,” he tells you, prying your hands from his uniform so you don’t wrinkle it. “it’s not like they’ll come to talk to us.”

just as the words left his mouth the sound of two sets of footsteps were picked up by your ears. you started to become overwhelmingly nervous. it was the first time seeing your ex-boyfriend since the split and the fact your childhood best friend was on a date with him. 

even if you drifted, shouldn’t she have some sense of girl code?

“you’re shaking,” sunghoon stares at you. 

“no i’m not!” you shake your head, your heartbeat being undeniably fast. “but like i haven’t had a date since him and that’s kind of sad for me-”

“i swear i saw her,” the familiar voice of your old friend says, sounding so close. “it could have been anyone though.”

“no, i saw her and that motherfucker,” your ex hisses. 

“wow, i’m ‘motherfucker’,” sunghoon whispers, rolling his eyes.

“if he made a move on her i swear.”

“hey, i have an idea,” he says in your ear. 

sunghoon reaches for his phone out of his pocket, holding you close as he leans over slightly to pay the machine for a photo. the screen activates after processing his card and he selects a random frame. 

the camera starts going and you sit confused as sunghoon starts posing. you can’t help but watch him. he always looks pretty but you must admit he knows how to pose. 

you peek over to the curtain to see two pairs of legs standing outside the photo booth. you can only assume it’s them. 

“you weren’t looking in any of them,” sunghoon recalls, pressing print on the screen. 

“oh, sorry,” you turn your attention back to him. 

“it’s fine, let's do another one,” he says nonchalantly as he pays for another photo strip.

this time sunghoon shifts in his spot, making it so that your face can be seen on the screen without having to turn you around in his lap.

you awkwardly copy sunghoon’s poses until by the second to last picture you hear him again.

“that fucker is in the photo booth,” the male voice outside says, seeing as he drops the photo strip back into where it fell from. 

“come closer,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“fine,” you lean onto him. “but don’t show my face too much. i’m not wearing concealer today.”

“you look just as pretty,” sunghoon leans closer so your lips barely brush the others. “maybe even prettier than usual.”

he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, gently stroking it before closing the gap. 

you hate to admit it but kissing sunghoon was everything you expected and more. you’ve caught yourself daydreaming about his lips on yours during one-on-one meetings in the conference room. when his hair is still damp from his after-shower practice and his face is still slightly flushed.

park sunghoon can make you mad, especially when he got secretary over you in freshman year. but you cannot deny that even when bitter about the council's choice you wanted to kiss that proud smile on his face. 

he made you mad when he stole your posters when you were running for secretary again the next year. but after he found you crying in the far stairwell he explained he only did that because he thinks you should run for president instead. sunghoon even pulled out another stack of flyers he made for you that he spent the whole night doing.

the sunghoon that got you both kicked out of a council meeting for arguing with each other is the same sunghoon with his lips molded perfectly against yours. 

the same boy that had you studying your ass off when class ranks came out, since he’s your only competition, is the same boy in front of you now with his lips locked on yours.

you start to feel dizzy by the decreased amount of air in your lungs by the minute but you can’t bring yourself to let go just yet. when you start seeing black specs dotting your vision you finally pull away to see a heavily panting sunghoon with a flushed face. 

“sorry,” sunghoon apologizes as he catches his breath.

your heart sinks. he only kissed you to distract you and probably so your ex will see the photos when they print.

“oh,” you fight the frown threatening to appear on your face. “it’s okay. he’s probably gone now.”

“i would have asked for your permission but you looked really stressed and i thought it would help you get your mind off your asshole ex.”

“thanks,” you say with a pout sunghoon finds adorable.

“you still seem sad,” he pokes at your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “maybe another kiss?”

“maybe,” you say shyly. 

sunghoon is out forty dollars by the time you and he are done kissing in the photo booth. he kept mindlessly swiping his card as his lips stayed on yours to prevent anyone from kicking you two out since you were there for a considerable amount of time.

you’re interrupted by sunghoon’s phone ringing profusely. 

“where are you two?” jungwon asks in a panic. “we need those balloons.”

“traffic,” sunghoon says as you plant a line of kisses down his neck, hands tangled in the hair at his nape.

“hurry up,” jungwon advises him.

you and sunghoon return to school an hour and a half after you originally left. with a bag of balloons and a stack of photo strips. most of them capturing purely just of you two making out.

when stepping foot in the gym and you go over to hand jungwon the balloons he so desperately needed. he quickly notices the matching hickeys forming on both your necks and how disheveled your uniforms and hair appear.

“traffic huh?” jungwon asks as his eyes flicker between both of you.

"lots," you nod as you walk away to help minjeong tie balloons.

[goldengirlgalaxy]

The Bedazzler

After a very hazy night that... may or may not have been caused by something he found in the Ghost Zone, Danny ends up discovering in his haze he bought an absolutely outrageous amount of various craft supplies, especially shiny things like those little plastic rimstones.

Good news, everything was bought from a going out of business sale, so he didn't drain all of his funds. Bad news, everything was bought from a going out of business sale, which means he can't return them. And, frankly, he doesn't want to just throw away a bunch of stuff he paid for. But he still doesn't know what to do with it all.

At least until Clockwork decides to give Danny a small boon that lets him stop time. Then he gets some ideas.

It first starts off with Superman. He's doing his regular hero thing, when he suddenly feels his cape pulled to one side. He brushes it off as the wind, until people start pointing at his back. Clark nearly panics when he finds a bunch of green crystals on his cape, only to calm when he realizes they're plastic and attached with glue. That of course begs the question, who was able to glue gemstones to his back without him noticing?

Later that same day he's both amused and even more confused when Luthor appears again, only for a bunch of gem stickers to appear on top of his bald head, clearly arranged to spell out 'I Heart Superman' in icons.

Captain Marvel suddenly feels something appear on his head, only to discover it's some kind of cardboard crown. He's confused, but ultimately decides to wear it the rest of the day, thinking it might be from some meta fan of his.

Martian Manhunter finds a necklace appearing on him. When he pulls it off, he finds it's one of those Shrinky Dink plastics, designed to look like a medal that says '#1 Hero' on it, also with some extra plastic gems for extra bling. He wears it proudly for the rest of the day.

The Gotham Bats all get hit at the same time. Fake flowers, various colors of ribbons, Red Robin had a helium balloon attached to him for an hour, and of course plenty of shiny fake gems.

At first, everyone thought the funniest part of the mysterious crafts was Red Hood appearing with several rimstones attached to his hood where he mouth would be, several gold ones arranged in such a way that it looked like he was flashing a bunch of yellow teeth.

Then the Joker showed up. And was promptly doused in several pounds of glitter. Even better, it got into his eyes, effectively blinding him and giving the Bats a chance to capture him (after they were done laughing).

Of course, as more Leaguers get trolled, the more the stories start to paint a picture of someone running around pranking them. And many of them want to know just who this Bedazzler is.

Meanwhile, Danny is laughing his ass off and is planning on giving his friends a chance to have their own fun.

[mashtatosworld]

number 1

summary: it's your baby's first birthday

You found him at 2am again, perched on the windowsill in the soft glow of the city lights, his iPad balanced on his knee, stylus tapping rhythmically against the screen. His hair stuck up in every direction, the product of stress, perfectionism, and love.

“She’s turning one, Ji,” you murmured from the bed, eyes glued to your show on the tv. “She’s not debuting."

Jiyong’s gaze flicked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s her first birthday.”

He said it like that was answer enough.

You sighed, but the truth was - you loved it. The way he loved her with every obsessive, over-the-top fibre of his being. The way his genius, the same brilliance that had made him so adored, now poured into balloon colour palettes and custom hanbok sketches.

Meanwhile, your contribution sat quietly on the kitchen counter - a lopsided, homemade cake, decorated with flowers and uneven piping. It was imperfect, but it was made by your hands, the same hands that had cradled her when she was only minutes old.

“I’ll handle the cake,” you had told him the day before, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he stood over his table-sized blueprint of the living room transformation. “You handle... everything else.”

He grinned, eyes still pinned to the papers. “Deal.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The first thing you noticed when you woke up that morning wasn’t the sound of Diva calling for her morning rescue from her crib - it was the empty side of the bed.

A rarity, especially on mornings like this, when Jiyong usually snuggled closer, soaking in every second of sleep until his daughter’s demands pulled him away.

The soft rustle of paper drew you out of bed, padding down the hall until you found him.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, barefoot and in his stripy red pyjamas, his legs crossed beneath him. All around him were photo albums, some open, some stacked haphazardly, and in his lap lay Diva’s first baby book - the one you filled with trembling hands in those first newborn weeks, when everything felt so fragile and new.

His thumb was tracing over a photo - when she was only hours old, a tiny burrito in a hospital blanket, her dark hair already thick, her hand gripping his finger like she knew exactly who he was.

“She was just born,” he said quietly, not even looking up. His voice was rough, words thick with the kind of disbelief only parents truly understand.

You stepped closer, lowering yourself beside him until your knee brushed his. “She still is, kinda. One’s still a baby.”

He finally looked at you, and your heart clenched at the shine in his eyes. “It’s going too fast.”

You could’ve said something comforting - that you understood, that you felt it too - but you knew he wasn’t looking for reassurances. He just needed to sit in it, to hold the weight of time in his hands for a minute before letting it go.

“I thought if I planned everything perfectly, maybe I wouldn’t have to think about it,” he admitted, his smile small and self-deprecating. “If I controlled all of today, I wouldn’t feel so…”

“So helpless?” you offered gently.

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Yeah.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting silence settle between you for a beat. “She’s not going anywhere, Ji.”

His arm came around you automatically, fingers tracing absent patterns on your thigh. “But she’s already so different. She used to fit right here.” He held out his hand, palm up, like he could still feel the ghost of her newborn weight. “Now she’s… walking and talking... and bossing me around.”

“Yeah... she’s got her Appa wrapped around her little finger.”

“From day one.” His voice wobbled, just slightly, and you turned to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the tension there.

“She’s going to have the best day today,” you promised. “Because you made it that way.”

“She deserves it,” he whispered. “She deserves everything.”

Before you could respond, a tiny, familiar voice broke through the air, travelling through door with painted flowers, sweet and insistent.

“Appa,” Diva’s call rang out, followed by the sound of her hands slapping the crib rail. “Appa!”

Jiyong’s breath caught - the crack of emotion smoothing into something warmer, something softer. “Okay,” he whispered, like he was answering her and himself at the same time. “Okay. I’m ready.”

You smiled, tugging his hand until you were both on your feet. “Let’s go throw her the party of the year.”

He pulled you into a quick hug, arms tight around your middle, before he kissed your temple and headed down the hall. And just before he disappeared into her room, you heard him - voice bright and sweet and full of love.

“Happy birthday, my baby.”

And that was all he needed to say.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

By mid-morning, the penthouse was unrecognisable - a floral wonderland of soft pink, gold, and ivory. Fairy lights draped from the ceiling like stars caught in a net, and sheer fabric cascaded down the windows, diffusing the light so the whole place looked like a dream sequence come to life.

The long, low table that stretched across the center was covered in silk runners and overflowing with tiny desserts: macarons, baby-sized cupcakes, delicate fruit tarts - each one the size of Diva’s fist. And at the very end of the table, your cake stood proudly on a simple white stand, a little crooked, a little messy, but yours.

Jiyong, dressed in vintage Chanel that matched your dress, hovered nearby, stylus still in hand as he made last-minute adjustments to… something. Probably the custom playlist.

“Don’t touch the cake,” you warned, catching him side-eyeing it.

“I wasn’t going to.” His face betrayed him - a flash of worry, his designer heart twitching at the sight of the imperfect frosting and wonky flowers.

You smacked his shoulder gently. “It’s made with love.”

“Just like our baby.” He smiled, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your lips.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva hadn’t touched the ground once all day.

From the moment Taeyang and Hyorin walked in, bearing gifts wrapped so perfectly they could’ve been art, Diva had been handed off from one loving pair of arms to the next.

“Look at this hanbok,” Hyorin cooed, adjusting the soft pink fabric. “She looks like a little princess.”

“She is a princess,” Jiyong corrected from across the room, where he was rearranging a floral centrepiece for the third time.

Daesung arrived with a helium balloon tied to his wrist and a mission to make her giggle, which was usually a very hard task - if you weren't her uncle Dae. He flashed her goofy smiles accompanied by loud singing, earning himself a half-smile in seconds. She was in hysterics by the end of his balloon dance.

Seunghyun stood awkwardly nearby, waiting for his turn, holding a suspiciously heavy box that if you were to guess, contained some sort of avant-garde sculpture.

“She’s been held all day,” you said as Jiyong came up beside you, his hand finding the small of your back. “She probably forgot what the floor feels like.”

“She’s training,” Jiyong teased, watching your baby clutch Taeyang’s chain necklace like a prized treasure. “VIP baby life.”

But when she spotted her Appa, her tiny hands immediately reached for him, her whole body leaning toward him with unmistakable need.

“Sorry, hyungs.” Jiyong scooped her up, tucking her perfectly into his side like they were two puzzle pieces made to fit. “She plays favourites.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

When it came time for the cake, everyone gathered around the low table - your homemade masterpiece glowing in the candlelight.

“My talented wife made it,” Jiyong announced, louder than necessary.

“Really?” Taeyang’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “It looks...”

“Charming,” Seunghyun offered, which was probably the closest thing to a compliment he’d ever given.

Jiyong leaned down over your shoulder, cheek pressed to yours, “It’s perfect.”

Diva was then placed in her high chair between you and Jiyong, staring at the cake with wide eyes. When you guided her tiny hand to the frosting, she gasped - delighted at the sticky sweetness.

In seconds, her whole face was covered, her tiny fingers grabbing fistfuls of cake and smashing it into her mouth, her hair, her hanbok. The whole room erupted into laughter, cameras flashing.

“You’re just like your Appa,” you giggled. “All or nothing.”

“We know what we like.” Jiyong kissed the frosting off her cheek, laughing when she smacked a sticky hand against his face.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Finally, it was time for the doljabi - the traditional fortune-telling ritual.

On the table lay a small selection of carefully curated items: a paintbrush, a book, a tiny gold crown, a camera, and a microphone. All symbols of different futures.

The microphone, however, stood out - sparkly, bedazzled, and unmistakably Jiyong’s.

“Ji,” you deadpanned. “That’s your mic.”

“Oh, is it?” he shrugged, feigning innocence as if he hadn't set the items down himself. He knew she always whined to touch it, hands out-stretched to the mantelpiece where it was usually displayed.

“She’s gonna pick it,” you muttered. “Of course she is.”

As soon as she was set down, Diva's tiny fingers wasted no time reaching for the glittering item placed in the centre of objects. She raised it to her mouth as if it was a teething ring and Jiyong quickly intercepted with a laugh when she began to smack the table with it.

“She’s our daughter,” Jiyong grinned, lifting her high above his head. “Born to perform.”

“Let's hope she's not as much of a diva as you then.” you teased as your baby held the mic in your direction, offering you the item covered in drool.

But you couldn’t deny the pride swelling in your chest at the sight of your little family. Music had been what brought you together, and it was clear, that was something that wouldn't change.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The birthday party slowly developed into a YG family reunion and you shook your head at the performance your husband and his bandmates were currently putting on.

Diva was falling asleep in your arms, completely unaware of the embarrassment she was serenaded with as Daesung belted out her name whilst the party-goers crowded around the mini stage Jiyong had insisted upon.

Now you knew why.

You held your baby closer to your chest, feeling a pulse of love weave through you. One year ago, as your labour pains started, you'd been terrified to birth a child into the world. You worried for your career, your love life, your friendships... fearing they would all unravel at such a big change.

But in the end, she'd been the stitch that pulled everything together.

Fantastic Baby started playing and Diva's head raised just slightly as all the boys pointed at her, the so-called 'fantastic baby' in sight.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Hours later, after the final guest left and the last balloon drifted to the ceiling, you found yourselves curled up on the couch - just the three of you.

Your baby, now in a soft and warm onesie, lay between you and Jiyong, her hands still occasionally grabbing for his hair.

The penthouse was a mess - an overwhelmingly large pile of presents, crumpled wrapping paper, half-eaten desserts scattered across the table - but none of it mattered.

“We did good,” you whispered.

“We always do,” Jiyong replied, his voice soft, his fingers trailing over Diva’s tiny hand.

“But… you were right.”

“About what?” he asked with a soft smile.

“Everything,” you said, carefully laying your head atop your baby's as she eventually settled. “Today... It was perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, dropping his own to rest on yours, exhausted from months of planning and a full day of entertaining.

And in the quiet that followed, with your daughter asleep between you, and your husband wrapped around you both, you realised - this was the real party. Just the three of you.

The most perfect gift of all.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

as requested! loving the diva requests, writing them makes me melt <3

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

[wakeup01]

Theft Of A Bro

Uffh. Yeah, that’s good. Just like I thought…tight. We’ll see how long that lasts. No need to talk bro, I know what you want to say. You’re sorry for reacting that way, that me being gay shouldn’t have changed anything. That you shouldn’t have used that slur, or called me a bitch.

Hindsight is 20/20 though, especially when you’re getting fucked by a bro who’s stealing your muscles. Dude, don’t look away. Look me in the eyes, I want you to watch your legs dangle hopelessly above you as I take your masculinity. Take the body you worked so hard for. And I want to see your expression when you begin to love it.

I can already see your arms deflating down there, becoming dainty twigs. You won’t be able to lift a thing with those. That’s okay bro, you can give that bulk to me. I’ll put it to good use. Fuck. See them balloon, so fucking good man. Rrrrww! My biceps feel so much stronger, check out these guns. Check out YOUR guns on my body. Haha. What? Come on bro, you can forgive me for a bit of flexing. Okay maybe a lot of flexing, but I can’t help it. You were always such a egocentric showoff - puffing out your chest like a territorial beast. A textbook, self obsessed fuckboy, now I understand why.

And just look at my expanding pecs. So fucking thick and juicy. Bouncing in time with my th—thrusts! Those used to be yours. You always hated how guys used to eye them up, but now you’ll be the one salivating at them. No need to try and deny it my dude, soon enough your body will have new…needs. Wow bro, you’re already looking real flat down there. Those endless hours spent at the gym to boost your fragile ego, only for me to steal it within seconds. All that definition just fading into your tiny, slimming stomach. Those grab-able hips. Fuck, me on the other hand, I’ve never felt stronger. You could break rocks on here! I’ll take good care of these abs, they look better on me anyway.

Aww, your square jaw is rounding out to a cute little pouty face. Squirm all you want. You look so adorable when trying to seem angry bro. Hard to take you seriously when you’re blushing so intensely. You did always tease my boyish features and now my head is like chiselled marble. And you? That button nose and those freckles, guys are just gonna love you. Say goodbye to being a manly jock. Hello twinky boitoi! I think your waist is now thinner than your girlfriend… or is that ex girlfriend now? That’s a body designed to be fucked brah. So just let me fuck it. Take it like a BITCH! Like the BITCH you thought I was.

Uff. I can feel my cock expanding inside you. The veins pulsing, flowing with blood. Can you feel it too bitch? Yeah, by your expression I know you can. Stretching your hole wide, filling you to the limit. Feels good, doesn’t it. Don’t look now but your dick is shrinking. I’m stealing all that length, all that girth; pushing mine deeper and deeper inside you. Pounding that prostate. There you go. A tiny nub. My churning balls are dropping lower and swelling as yours shrivel up. Mmmff. Fuck that’s sick bro.

Yeah, it’s okay to moan. Your breathy voice getting higher and higher, as mine gets deeper. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s normal for slutty bitches in heat like you. It’s in your nature. Especially when in the presence of an alpha god like me. Whew, my pits are sweating like mad, just smell that intense musk. Smells just like you used to, bet that fact makes you real hard. Smelling your scent dripping from another man as it’s stolen from you.. Sniff and moan. Sniff, moan and give everything to me.

Holy shit, even your skinny legs are hairless now bro. Just like the rest of your smooth, svelte physique. How does it feel? How does it feel to be the ideal gay bottom slut, the very thing you abhorred.

Why so quiet broski? Oh that’s right, we’re trading that pigheaded ego for an eagerness to please. You had enough confidence to share, so I’m taking it. Taking all of it. Fuck. Yes. Your outspoken nature is draining into me, leaving a timid little mouse in it’s place. A stark difference from that rude, puffed-up dick you prided yourself on being. Even now I bet part of you wants to talk back, be a brat. Hm, but that shy smile betrays what you really are. A well behaved boy who knows his manners. Isn’t that fucking right? Heh, good boy.

Look at me and see what you used to be. Marvel at me, marvel at what you’ve lost. Starstruck at your own well deserved comeuppance. Feel your nub twitch at the sight of the perfect man fucking your jock-hood into nothingness. That strength being sapped away. It makes you feel so small and weak. But you can’t tear your eyes away.

Your head? Sorry bro, I got bored of being the dumb one, so yeah, I’m taking your smarts too. Even if you did waste it and let your cock make most of the decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t held it over me, looked down at me. Well…who’s looking down now? Don’t worry, being air-headed has it’s benefits. That empty look in your eyes, the open drooling mouth. Blissful ignorance. The cute way you’ll get confused at the simplest of things. The ‘ummms’ and ‘huhs’ as you bite your lip and push out your rear. Talking like the complete basic bitch gay you once hated. The constant state of mind melting hornyiness. Dumb as a rock. A complete ditz. You’ll get by doing ‘favours’.

I’m not a jackass though. Not like you were. It’s only fair you get something of mine bro, you can have what’s left of my body fat. Unf. Straight to your rear. Let it plump up your butt to a perfect round bubble. A wobbly shelf. A big bouncy booty. Woof. Yeah just like that. The perfect entrance to your endlessly usable fuck hole. Damn, it’s tight. Let’s conquer it.

Bruh, your masculinity is truly delicious, surrender the rest up to me. To my new hulking, godlike form. Purge every trace of manliness from your puny effeminate body with abject glee. Lisp, smile and giggle like a silly little girl. Like the Femboy you were destined to become.

Like a BITCH.

Say again? Bthweed? Oh, you want me to BREED you. Way ahead of you bro. When I cum with my monster cock, your pretty little head will become stuffed with thick, cummy cotton candy. And bro, it’s never gonna clear up again. I have a new adorable outfit already picked out for you. Thigh high socks, booty shorts, a tiny thong and a nice thick collar with your name on the tag. BITCH.

I’m gonna enjoy parading you out in front of all our fraternity bros. You’ll pretend to be all timid and ashamed but I’ll know you’re actually loving the sense of humiliation. Loving your new place as my emasculated gay fucktoy. If you beg enough I might even let the rest of the frat borrow you. I’ll be sure to let ‘your’ girl know that you were a good hole after being passed around. Maybe she’ll even give you tips, you’ll be besties in no time.

Hm? That’s ‘thank you sir’ to you. That’s better. Let’s be clear, we’re not ‘bros’ anymore. I’m a fuckmachine and you’re a glorified fleshlight. We need to make sure you don’t forget your role. A simple tag will suffice. I’ll even let you choose where your ‘BITCH’ tattoo goes. Forehead or rear, it’s up to you. Yeah boi, I think it’ll look good there too.

Now open wide BITCH and be ready to swallow. I’m about to fucking blow.

———-

Whew! That was a good fuck. Clean up boy, the other bros will be here soon and I…woah. Damn, I feel lightheaded. It’s like my brain is overstuffed. With…stuff. And my cock, uughhh. It won’t soften. Maybe I took a bit too much from you, but fuck, I couldn’t help myself. You deserved it after all. But bruh, I need to lift! Huhuh! Oh shit. I don’t want to be exactly like you were! But dude. Like bruh! My head! Gotta lift! Gotta flex! Gotta get to the gym and be the blockheaded fuckboy muscle jock this body deserves!

Pass me your old jockstrap, yerhh, my huge cock gonna do the thinking for the both of us brooo!

[boyfhee]

LOVE IN BLOOMㅤ───────ㅤ엔하이픈

✶ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍ㅤ｡⠀bf ! enha, fluff >< f2l in riki's, fake dating in sunoo's .. that's a lot of tropes :0

alternatively, celebrating valentine's day with the love of their lives. ( 2306 )

╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯ㅤ..ㅤ happy valentines my lovies :D happy reading !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⭑ rbs&feedback ♡

HEESEUNG ｡⠀

heeseung tapped his fingers impatiently on the mattress, hesitant to wake you up, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers behind him. he contemplates before shaking your shoulders gently, anxious as he watches you stir up.

“it's 7 am,” his heart skips a beat when you finally open your eyes, a little grumpy, but looking pretty as always.

he knows you're not a morning person, he can see remnants of sleep in your eyes. he lets out a soft laugh at the way your hair is sticking up in almost all directions, the annoyed pout of your face making you look cuter than you already are.

“it's valentine's,” he says, words accompanied with a chuckle as he reaches out to fix your hair before holding the bouquet in front of you. “happy valentine's day, angel,”

he watches in contentment as your expression changes to surprise, then morphing to one of pure bliss and admiration.

his eyes hold onto your sight eagerly, trying to gauge your reaction as you look at the pink and white balloons on the floor, tied up with matching ribbons. there are a few gift boxes on the bed and you can definitely smell a delicious breakfast in the air. “did you really get up early for this?”

“this is not even all of it,” and it's true.

heeseung would never tell you how he barely got any sleep last night, too worried and anxious over planning for valentine's. despite his confidence, he could feel his palms sweating. all that practice in his room in front of the mirror couldn't keep him away from the nervousness— it's your first valentine's with him, afterall, and he wants it to be perfect.

gradually he settles next to you in bed, the soft glow of sunlight giving you an angelic touch. you can't take your eyes off the decoration in the room, and he can't take his eyes off you. “i've made plans for the whole day. you're all mine today,”

you can't help but laugh at his words, snuggling closer to him. a sigh escapes your lips as you relax against the sound of his heartbeat, your own finding solace in the gentle kiss he presses on top of your head.

“i'm all yours everyday,” you look up, losing yourself in his lovesick eyes— not that it's any different from yours. propping yourself up on your elbow, you lean in, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. “happy valentine's day to you too, my love.”

JONGSEONG ｡⠀

“you didn't have to do all this,” the words fall off your lips just a little above the comfortable silence in the kitchen as you take a seat at one of the stools in front of the kitchen island.

“i wanted to,” he replies with a chuckle, eyes admiring your expression. he thinks you look extra beautiful today, especially under those warm yellow lights. “you deserve it,”

it has only been a few months since you met jay and he has already managed to sweep you off your feet. you two aren't official, but the chemistry is brewing, and it's in everything around— the carefully curated flower bouquet that he picked for you, the half eaten cake you put in the fridge just a minute ago, the fragrance of your favourite food that he's cooking, and the way he's holding your hand.

“it's too much,” you mumble, fiddling with his fingers, the thought of pressing a kiss only crossing your mind before you shake it off. “i might assume you're in love with me,”

he wouldn't be opposed to that.

in fact, it sounds nice, dreamy, even. to call you his— he still wants to, except things aren't official and he doesn't want to force you into anything you're not ready for. he would've waited but god, the way you look at him makes it impossible for him to not be in love with you.

“what makes you think i'm not?” he flashes you a slight grin, enjoying the look of pure surprise in your eyes.

“huh?”

and he sighs, not even wasting a second to hold your face from across the counter, capturing your lips in a deep and slow kiss, gently tilting your head to the side for a better access.

“i love you,” he whispers amidst the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lower lip slightly. “and i've been in love with you—” a pause, he pulls back to, looking at you briefly before going back in. “— since the very first time i saw you.”

JAEYUN ｡⠀

“i thought you forgot,” you frown, and his heart almost drops at the disappointment in your tone that he almost dropped the bouquet to the pavement.

“there's no way that could happen,” he pulls you into a warm hug, one hand rubbing your back while the other held onto the bouquet that he hopes you won't reject.

he knew he wouldn't be able to keep the surprise to himself, so there was only one way— pretend to forget about it. he could see the anticipation on your face the entire day, his heart breaking a little more every time he had to act like it's not a special day today.

it was hard to hold back when all he wanted to do was shower you with affection and recite how much he loves you.

“i was about to argue with you over call,” you pull back, arms still around his torso.

“then i'm just on time, aren't i?” and he chuckles at the pout on your face, more so at the way you squint your eyes when he pokes your cheek gently. “sorry, darling, i just wanted this surprise to be perfect,”

“don't pull this again,”

“never again. i'd even beg you for an apology,” jake swears, fingers crossed, sealing his promise with a soft peck on your lips. “on my knees and all,”

you let out a quiet laugh, leaning in for another peck, or rather a kiss, making it last longer. “so dramatic,”

“you love me,” and looking back at the roses in his hands along with the gifts on the backseat of his car— how could you not?

SUNGHOON ｡⠀

despite his cocky demeanor, sunghoon's hands were getting sweaty as you leaned against the kitchen counter with a little gift box in your hand, untying the ribbon ever so carefully.

he knew you'd like the gift, of course you would, but a silver of doubt still haunting his thoughts. although, it goes away just as quickly when your lips curl into a smile at the sight of the necklace.

“do you like it?”

“it's so pretty,” your words come out as a soft whisper, eyes too busy admiring the dainty rose gold necklace adorned with a small heart shaped pendant.

“it reminded me of you so i had to get it,” his lips mirror your smile, heart fluttering at the sight of you looking so happy. “here, let me help you,”

he takes the necklace out of the box, gently pushing your hair to one side. he almost chuckles at the way you shiver as his fingers brush against your nape.

it takes him all his willpower to not press a kiss against your skin, you make him want to lose his control. he class the hook, fixing your hair again before putting his hands on your shoulder to turn you around.

your eyes sparkle as you stare down at the pendant, fiddling with it before chiming at him with an expectant voice. “how do i look?”

“beautiful,” he whispers softly, sunghoon swears he's falling for you all over again. the way you look at him with the sweetest smile and starry eyes, he feels like the luckiest man in the entire world. “just like you always do,”

you're too busy admiring his gift, a quiet thank you falling off your lips before you look up at him, tip toeing to press your lips against his in a soft peck. “i love it,”

the kiss almost leaves him dazed, he can already see you teasing him about it. but how could he not be surprised— it's you, your lips on his, your touch— it drives him crazy.

“that was a shitty thank you,” he scoffs, trying to hide the effect just a peck from you has on him, squinting his eyes at you. “could have been better,”

“well, what do you want me to do about it?”

and he doesn't wait to give an answer, immediately capturing your lips with his. he's kissing you slow & sweet, deep, and it barely takes you a second to melt into his arms, especially when he gently tugs at your waist, your body flushed against his.

he only pulls back to catch his breath, unable to hold a grin back at your swollen lips and flushed face. “that's better,”

SUNOO ｡⠀

“you should be my valentine,” sunoo speaks between sips of his strawberry milk, leaning against the pillar in the empty hallway.

“i thought that was a given?” you say as a matter of fact, bringing the straw of your own drink to your mouth and taking a long sip before turning towards him. “unless you want to call this o—”

“for real,”

and then it's quiet. the hallways feel quieter now except the sound of his words ringing in your ears. if you didn't know any better, you'd think he's joking, but his voice is purposeful and his eyes— they refuse to leave yours.

“what?”

he drops the empty box of flavoured milk in the nearby bin, taking a small step towards you that leaves your heart as a racing mess. “i said, be my valentine for real,”

“i thought you wanted to date yunseo,” and it's true. the entire of the grand scheme of things was for sunoo to get back with his ex— nevermind the centuries old trick— and you were merely a supporting character in the play.

“i want you,” he insists with desperation, affection dripping off every word that leaves his mouth. “i have wanted you for so long, it's making me lose my mind,”

you barely let him finish, yanking him towards yourself with his collar into a searing kiss. his hands find your waist, making it harder for you to think straight before you finally catch a hold of yourself.

“i'll be your valentine,” you whisper, resting your forehead against his. “for real,”

and sunoo plans to ask you to his girlfriend before the day ends, but he's too busy thinking about kissing you again for now.

JUNGWON ｡⠀

“wake up, doll,” he calls out softly, setting the breakfast tray on the bedside table, rubbing his hands nervously as he sits on the edge of the bed. after all, it's jungwon's first valentine's with you and he needs it to be perfect.

“hm, what is it?” his heart practically clenches at your sleepy mumbles, your adorable attempt to keep your eyes open melting him slowly.

“happy valentine's day,” he tucks your hair behind your ear, gently caressing your soft cheeks with his knuckles. “i tried making your favourites,”

you take your time, looking around the room. you eyes rest on the flower vase— he switched it to your favourite flowers— before finally settling on the breakfast.

it's everything you like— favourite dish, along with the pastries from the bakery down the street that you adore. a smile creeps up your face, one that makes him smile involuntarily as well. “you didn't have to,”

“why do you think i shouldn't do this for you, and even more?” he sighs at your response, fingers trailing down to your jaw, tracing soft and random patterns on your skin.

and you can't help but lean into his touch, shifting closer to him to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips on the corner of his lips. “you're the best boyfriend ever,”

“anything for the best girlfriend in the entire world,” he lets out a hearty laugh before planting a soft kiss on the top of your head before whispering quietly. “i'm so in love with you,”

NI-KI ｡⠀

“i thought you had plans for valentine's,” the words leave your mouth, absentmindedly so, just like your feet as you draw random patterns on the same with the tip of your shoes while sitting on a swing.

and riki passes you a perplexed look, his furrowed brows partially hidden behind the bangs falling over the corner of his eyes. “what made you think so?”

“just. . .” words trail off while you look at a distance to find an answer, only to be met with nothing and resorting to reply with a shrug. “i don't know, it felt like you'd be busy with your girlfriend or something,”

“my girlfriend?”

“do you not have one?” it comes off more as a surprise. nishimura riki, the most popular guy in your school, the guy with that face— everyone would expect him to have a girlfriend.

but looking over at him, his amusement is far replaced with a smug grin. “would you like to change that?”

you ask yourself if you heard that correctly, worried he might hear how loudly your heart started beating at his words.

it was like a dream, your crush was asking you out. you almost thought he was messing with you but before you could process, he was already crouching in front of you, looking up with the sweetest expression.

“i like you,” his words are soft and quiet, like a whisper in the wind, hands holding yours ever so gently. “so, would you like to be my girlfriend?”

and you didn't have it in you to reject him. “i'd love to,”

a few seconds pass by in silence, your hands in his, his eyes on you, and then as if on whim, your lips were on his cheeks, planting a soft kiss.

it catches him off guard, with you almost biting back a giggle at the slightest hint of red on his cheeks.

“you missed that,” he mumbles after a while before bringing his lips up to you in a chaste kiss, his hands ghosting up yours and finding solace on your cheek when he feels you smiling amidst the kiss.

[chuluoyi]

the birthday boy

- fushiguro megumi x reader

your boyfriend is indifferent towards his own special day, but with you, he actually finds it worth celebrating

genre/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff with a teeny weeny dash of angst

notes: loosely based on this fanart. pls just give my boi back gege you awful one-eyed cat how could you hold him hostage even on his birthday

listen to: sakura koi by mosawo don't mind me i just get all soft for this poor boy *sigh*

general masterlist

Megumi never really liked birthdays—his own birthdays, specifically.

"Come on, Megumi... just what is it that you want for your present?" you pleaded, pursing your lips together as you faced your boyfriend. "I don't want to give you a surprise only to find out it's not something you'd enjoy!"

However, ever since Gojo went and took him in, ever since he began attending Jujutsu High, and ever since he started dating you, to his chagrin, everyone started making a big fuss over it.

With the straightest face ever, he glanced at you and muttered, "I'm telling you, you can get me whatever."

"That's not an answer!"

"Seriously, you can pick anything. I'm good with anything."

You huffed in exasperation. "You're so unbelievably uncooperative, sheesh."

"On the contrary, I think I'm being quite amiable," he deadpanned. "You don't have to think about it that hard."

In a way, you should've expected this. Your boyfriend was never one who made a big deal over anything, and he probably meant it when he said that he was good with whatever. Your soft boy was just wired that way.

Meanwhile, to Megumi, his birthday was more of a remainder of good old days he spent with his kind sister and Gojo—when times were much more simpler. When Tsumiki was still alive and well. Call him an emo, but he was just feeling bittersweet.

Tsumiki would craft him this makeshift party hat, and Gojo would get him an overly sweet birthday cake with an even more over-the-top frostings. They'd join in singing him happy birthday, and Gojo's singing would be intentionally and especially awful while at it.

But now that he thought back to it, he kind of missed those times.

You threw him a narrowed-eyed look. "Forget it, I half-expected this anyway—" but then, suddenly struck by an idea, you exclaimed, "—oh! Wait, I know!"

Your enthusiastic exclamation caught his attention, and he silently observed as you furiously tapped away on your phone, scouring Google for standard gift ideas for boyfriends.

For the next half-hour, you continuously sought his feedback on each of suggestions. However, Megumi only nodded or agreed with evident disinterest, which didn't really answer your question at all.

“You’re seriously going to be like this, huh?” you sighed, frowning in total indignation, but in your boyfriend’s eyes, you were the height of absolute cuteness.

As you grumbled inwardly about how dull he was, Megumi wore a small smile. Truthfully, if asked, his ideal birthday would revolve around spending time with you. You didn't have to lose your head over this.

Needless to say, you were still trying to make it an event to remember. And Megumi knew, because you were so obvious it was giving him secondhand embarrassment.

"Itadori! I'm telling you—" you were rebuking a sheepish Yuji on broad daylight regarding which color for balloons to be placed in the class on the day of his birthday. Earlier, he saw you and Nobara huddled together, talking about cakes and pastries, then also animatedly discussing with Inumaki, Panda and Maki, pulling out all the stops for a celebration plan without missing a beat.

Megumi could only facepalm at your attempt to maintain secrecy—in which you were failing miserably, almost as if you hadn't really made an effort at all.

"Isn’t it nice, Megumi?" suddenly Gojo slid beside him, with a stupid grin on his face. "Someone who exclusively goes this far for you, hmm?"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Ha! Don't be shy," Gojo barked, leaving him with a friendly pat in the back before stalking away with a snicker, and Megumi wasn't the least bit amused. He was certain that at least, Yuji and Nobara would tease the heck out of him after all was said and done due to your antics.

Even so, he didn't have the heart to stop you, appreciating your well-meaning efforts. He felt somewhat soft too inside, as he didn't expect that there would be someone who cared about this way too much like you did. Just it felt strange—

—because last he remembered, the only person who was hellbent on making his birthday a nice memory was Tsumiki.

. . .

So you were organizing a surprise party for him alongside others. Megumi already knew that, he had anticipated it and frankly, he didn’t actually expect much, but when he actually stepped into the classroom and was greeted with a literal bang, confetti, colorful banners, balloons, and a crowd of well-wishers, he was floored.

“Fushiguro! Happy birthday!”

“Look happier a little, would you?!”

“Look! Look! We got you a cake!”

Yuji and Panda almost hugged him—but before he could, Megumi shoved them away, Nobara handed him a paper bag tied with a pretty bow with a cool smile—believing her gift to be the best, Inumaki gave his hand a shake, and Maki wished him only the best.

All of this was within his expectations. He knows, and yet…

"Hey, Megumi! Smile!" your voice stood out the most, along with your widest smile, beaming and gesturing towards the camera as you were about to take a group picture.

Megumi swore his heart skipped a beat. His pretty, sweet girlfriend. Your affections reached him, and it dampened the hardness that he always carried inside his heart. In that fleeting moment, he felt you were radiant, just like the sun.

Then he turned his gaze and found the person he knew he could never thank enough in this lifetime. Gojo, for the first time in a while, wasn't the clown he made himself to be for his sake. Standing with crossed arms, he quietly watched over him, nodding towards the camera as well with a meaningful smile.

Megumi felt warm, he felt loved, and he wouldn’t admit it, but this might be the best day of his life—surrounded by you and his friends like this. And he actually felt more than just that, but no words could do it justice, because nothing could have ever captured the overwhelming fullness inside his chest.

Tsumiki... You see... I'm doing well, you know?

Later, after all festivities are done, you managed to pull him into a secluded corner of the dorms to give him your one-of-a-kind gift, while fidgeting nervously.

"What is it?" he questioned, gaze squarely fixed on you. "At this point, there's no need for you to be this nervous. Nothing could've surprised me any more than Panda's giant panda earlier."

You laughed, recalling how he nearly got squashed by the life-sized stuffed panda earlier, but then you averted your gaze, feeling your face flush and turning into the cutest shade of pink.

"Well! To be fair, it was because you were so uncooperative when I asked what you wanted for your gift! And since I have gotten you the cake, I figured it'll be fun if you want to play this game..."

You huffed, and Megumi simply blinked in confusion when you handed him five pieces of papers—tickets? He turned them over to find the words "Free Pass" written on each one.

"Sooo you can use each ticket to ask me to do anything! Anything at all, be it me dancing to the worst song you can think of, or whatever!" your cheeks were burning so hard, but your resolute gaze kept him captivated as you continued, "So yeah, you get five free passes to make me do things I wouldn't normally do."

Lips pursed, eyes sparkling, cheeks ablaze. All in all, you were irresistibly adorable that Megumi had this overwhelming urge to scoop you up and put you inside his pocket if he could.

And really, free passes? Did you not consider the numerous exploitable loopholes he could subject you to?

"Okay, here, I want to use my first ticket."

"Huh! Already? What is it?"

He chuckled then, his lips tugging into the warmest of smiles, and you felt your heart soar, seeing that rare carefree expression on him.

"I want to kiss you."

[honeytonedhottie]

hotties habits⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰💕

this is a post about habits that i've adopted that u can also adopt to elevate ur mind, body, confidence and spirit…💬🎀

SERVE COMPLIMENTS ;

start getting comfortable with complimenting yourself often, so much so to the point where compliments from others isn’t that big of a deal because YOU compliment u so much. this builds self esteem and self image. knowing that u don’t have to rely on the compliments of others only means that ur more confident.

and not only giving urself compliments but also complimenting others is an amazing way to boost self esteem and confidence while doing the same for someone else.

CULTIVATE CREATIVITY ;

something that has helped to elevate not only my mind but my femininity has been cultivating my creativity. i started to do this through my blog and through my pinterest account.

like thinking of new content to make and learning how i express myself has been so amazing for not only my confidence but for my creativity and i feel so much more feminine when im creating. starting my blog has helped me with self expression, helped me to learn new things and meet new people, and ultimately share and document my growth etc.

STAYING IN MY GIRLY BUBBLE ;

i dont like to over consume media and especially media that gives of negative energy or just toxicity. such as those balloon popping romance videos like im NOT with that. being more careful and conscious of what i choose to consume has helped my health so i just usually stay on my pinterest and a few other social media apps but just, keep urself protected and be careful of what u watch.

WEARING LOTS OF PINK ;

lastly, this is totally personal and its simply because its my favorite color and i look SO pretty in it. its just such a feminine color and its the best color (i dont make the rules). but in all seriousness having a specific element about my fashion that im consistent with is helpful for lots of reasons.

for example 99% of the things that i own are pink including my school supplies. i go to a school where we wear uniforms but i always make sure to accessories and highlight PINK. therefore everyone associates me with the color pink and things that are girly.

you can take this and do whatever u want with it. it doesnt have to be a color, it can be a specific style of dress or something that u like to wear often just have something distinct about you thats your SIGNATURE.

[limarkova]

Experimental Obsession

Part 11

Prev

Everyone was waiting anxiously in Jason's apartment for word on how (Name) was doing. Steph knew the PTSD was going to be bad from the little she learned. But total disassociation over the mere thought of the experiments. It was worse than anything they could have expected, especially since she was so much younger than Steph first thought.

Yes, she had heard stories and had seen (Name) in passing. That didn't change her mental perception of the girl. The stories made her sound older. At passing glance at what she was doing, taking notes and doing science experiments or lectures. Those were older kid activities, not seven- or eight-year-old activities. To think that no one was looking out for at the age. It made Steph feel guilty for not noticing. Why had she been so nervous? Cause she was previously a Robin and a Batgirl.

Shaking her head, Steph forced herself to continue reviewing the files. Well Barbara had decoded and read one of the files, there were dozens. So, they decided to start reviewing them while they waited. She sat reading through boring medical terminology she barely caught on to and horrifying descriptions of violence. (Name) was really just eight to nine going through this.

Steph paused as she began a new file. This one was dated two days before the escape. Her mind flashed back to her interrogation of Matthew Jenkins. If her math was right this would be the test that made Henry Duncan tap out. The one that made her chest look like a deflate balloon. Steph began to read the report when Tim spoke up.

"I have something."

"So, do I. I think." Steph held up her tablet gesturing to it, "You go first Tim. I still have to read through this."

"Okay so it would appear we've all misunderstood (Name)'s meta-abilities." Tim placed his tablet on the coffee table for anyone who wanted to look at it, "She's not a super healer. She produces a chemical in her blood stream that causes the effects of miraculous healing and potentially immortality."

"What? That should be impossible, there's no chemical capable of that. Even the Lazarus Pit has a limit" Damian snapped, setting his tablet aside.

"You're right it's technically not a chemical." Tim shrugged before looking towards the door to Jason's bedroom. (Name) and Jason were in there, as Jason attempted to calm her down. "It's a liquid metal, but it's still in her blood stream."

"You don't mean..." Dick started looking up from his tablet. Tim nodded causing Dick to swear, "Dionesium. What are the chances The Court of Owls is involved."

"It's unclear right now but we may need to explore that angle. Though the Court probably would have used Electrum. She, however, produces pure Dionesium in her bloodstream. Not Electrum." Tim looked down at his tablet again as Bruce picked it up. "At least that's my theory currently. They wrote it down as Concentrated Lazarus Pit Water they had found in a cave system somewhere beneath Gotham."

"I thought I destroyed the lake of Dionesium under Gotham after the Joker Virus incident?" Bruce looked up from the file. He gave Tim a quizzical look.

"Either it wasn't completely destroyed, or there's another one." Tim shrugged again, "Whatever the case they don't know what they found. That or I'm completely off base and were missing a file of how they treated actually Lazarus Pit Water to 'concentrate' it. However, they still got the Chemical they injected her with from a cave in Gotham. We're going to have to find that."

Bruce sighed, rubbing his temple. Steph focused back on her file and began to skim it for details, "On a different note. I found the log for the final experiment they perform before (Name) escape. The one that made Henry Duncan storm off."

"Really? What did they do?" Barbara asked. Throughout this whole ordeal everyone had shared horrifying revelations of what the experiments had done. Drowning, Burning, Shooting, Stabbing, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. Duke even found a file where it shows she no longer displayed any brain activity when hurt. All that to lead up to the final experiment in Steph's hands.

Steph began to read through the file. She paused in confusion reading through the beginning, "Well they started by sedating her and preparing her for surgery?"

"Surgery?" Cass asked looking towards the tablet in Steph's hands.

"Yeah. Apparently, the anesthesia didn't work properly so she was conscious throughout the whole ordeal." Steph continued to read through the file. Every word felt like falling further and further down a ravine with no clue where the end was. She could feel the color draining from her face as pieces started to click into place. Pressing on her chest, deflated balloon, something growing. No not growing, re-growing. Steph's voice was barely above a whisper, "Oh dear god."

She was ten. She was child and they did that to her, all well she was awake. Steph felt like she going to be sick. "Oh, dear god, she was awake through that. Shit she probably remembers it too."

Steph felt like vomiting. That are running into the room with (Name) and Jason to hug the girl.

"Stephanie!" Dick grabbed ahold of her. It shocked her enough to drop the tablet. It slid across the floor landing by the coffee table. "What did they do?"

"We've been looking for our suscepts in the wrong place. They're not Meta Traffickers." Steph looked towards where (Name) was. She was ten and they didn't even know she was in trouble. "They're Organ Traffickers, who just made an endless supply."

Dick let go of Steph. He blinked a few times before glancing at the door. Everyone looked towards the door. The room had gone deathly silent as pieces began to slide into place. It was Bruce who spoke first, "We change plans. Now."

Steph looked towards him to see a dark look she had never seen on Bruce's face before. Soon it was as if dark steel had crossed everyone's face. They would not let (Name) down again.

When you started to come back to reality, you could feel someone holding you and humming. It was a familiar tune; one you remember in blur dreams about the past. A goofy little song about axolotls and penguins. The person singing seemed to remember the lyric more clearly than you. Slowly you began to join in the silly song, holding just the melody without the words.

A blanket had been wrapped around you and someone's arm pressed you against their chest. The humming mixed with the steady beating of their heart acting like a lifeline to the present. There was a shout in the next room that had you jerking up. The person allowed you to move but was soon hushing you back towards their chest. It was so gentle you simply allowed the motion to happen.

"How you feeling, angel?" You looked up to see that you were wrapped in Jason's arms. Blinking up at him, you shook your head before leaning back down to listen to his heartbeat. He took a deep breath. Soon he was slowly stroking your head. You hummed before burying your face in his chest.

This was okay. You could pretend you were safe for right now. Just like the blurred memories of when you were a toddler. Leaning into Jason's arms after your reoccurring nightmare. He had changed physically since them. Taller, buffer, but the comfort factor remained the same. "Do you want me to tell you a story, like old times?"

"I don't remember those times very well." You murmured gripping onto his shirt. "I know you taught me to read."

"Yeah, I did." Jason mumbled. You didn't look up at his face, but you could tell he was sad. There was something haunted in his voice, "Your favorite storybook wasn't even a story. It was a meet the planets picture book."

"Each of the planets had a different voice." The laugh that bubbled out of you was small. A hazy memory of Jason as a teenager with voice cracks reading in different voices danced in your head.

Jason laughed too, "Later when we played you insisted on being a space exploring scientist princess and I was your space pilot knight."

"Why did we stop playing?" The atmosphere shifted but didn't entirely break. Jason shifted the blanket, so you were wrapped up just a little tighter.

Once satisfied he asked one question. "How about a story okay?" You nodded and Jason began.

"Once upon a time in a kingdom not too far away lived a family of brave knights. Each one was skilled trained personally by the King, a skilled knight in his own right. One day a Princess was born and the King assigned one of his closest knights to protect the young girl. This made the two grow very close, acting as brother and sister despite having no blood ties.

When the Princess was two, a threat arose. A Clown Prince threatened the kingdom and more specifically the Knight's mother. The Knight having believed his mother was dead, rushed to her aid, ignoring the King's warnings. He ended up being captured by the Clown Prince. Before the King could rescue him, the Knight was killed.

Yet it the story didn't end there. Two years later a skilled Necromancer and his daughter found the body of the Knight. Together the two raised him from the dead but when he came back, he was no longer a knight. His body no longer felt right, and he quickly discovered he had been made into a monster. The Necromancer had showed him the kingdom. The now reborn Monster had been replaced by someone else as the King's Closest Knight and Princess once adore was left alone with no one. The Monster couldn't tell if she was left alone for asking questions or for not accepting the new knight.

In a fit of rage, the Monster attacked the King and his Knights. The fighting lasted months before finally the Monster's rage subsided. In those battles however the Monster did many horrible things, still the family accepted him. Even with the acceptance the Monster was scared to approach the Princess. If couldn't bring himself to accept the possibility of accidently hurting her. So, he stayed away for years, watching from the shadows as she grew to be a brilliant and kind scholar. When he finally had the courage to explain to her what had happened all those years ago..."

Jason's voice caught in his throat as he tried to finish the story. You had pressed your face against his chest. Softly you whispered, "She disappeared."

"(Name)." Jason took a deep breath. "I know that you probably want revenge or to make sure what happened to you doesn't happen to anyone else."

Your breath caught in your chest when Jason said those words. Fear that he knew what you were planning shot through you. He continued, "But please promise me you won't become a vigilant. I swear I'll get your revenge for you and make sure whatever happen to you doesn't happen again. Just please don't become one of us."

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. One of your hands was under the blanket where he couldn't see it. You crossed your fingers slowly, "I promise."

The laboratory was quiet. Everyone involved had gone home for the day with the procedures completed. Isabella walked down the faux-hospital halls towards the office where her father worked. With Subject Origin lose somewhere in Gotham, the plan had changed. Subjects Alpha through Hotel were no longer allowed to leave during their recover phase. Just in case Batman got involved, he couldn't follow the subjects to the new location.

She knocked on the door to her father's office before slipping inside. The older man was sitting at his desk scribbling away on his journal. Isabella glared at the book, at least the notes in there were no longer about her. "All surgeries have been completed. We're monitoring the recipients now for any signs of rejection."

Her father hummed. There was long pause in which the only sounds that could be heard was the scratching of her father's pen. Finally, he sent the pen down looked at her, "Isabella what are the two results we are expecting?"

"Either all the recipient's bodies will accept the new organ, or they will all rejected." Isabella looked towards the ground. She intentionally didn't learn any of the kid's names. It made things easier for her; they were letters not children.

"Do you know why those are the two results?"

"No, I don't."

"Because" Her father stood walking towards the framed letter that revoked his medical license. Isabella didn't understand why he framed that of all things. "The experiments changed (Name)'s organs so they longer match any humans. She is a being that is truly unique now."

"Whose (Name)?" Isabella tilted her head to the side.

"Subject Origin, of course. Her name is (Name) Wayne." Isabella tried not to throw up. Wayne. Her mind flashed back to high school, to one of her friends that ended up dropping out to run Wayne Enterprises. It was easier to not know the names of her father's victims, because it made so she didn't know which of her friends was being reflected back to her.

Isabella began to silently pray Tim would never know what her father had done.

Prev

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[lady-luckk]

they’re just french

# pairings: yandere alien x reader

# synopsis: a weird alien comes to town but no one seems to mind. no matter what they absolutely no one minds. it’s like your the only one with common sense around here.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, possessiveness, and murder. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

morgan arrived in town on a fog-choked evening, dressed in a black coat too thick for the season, their accent lilting and strange.

"french?" people whispered.

"must be."

they spoke softly, moved elegantly, but something about them was off. their fingers lingered too long when they touched your hand. their eyes—too large, too dark—blinked too slow. but they were charming, hypnotic even. especially to you.

you never expected your life to go this way. one moment, you’re reading in your favorite bookstore, the next, morgan’s standing there like a weird french poet who didn’t quite read the “how to blend in with humans” manual.

“do you like baudelaire?” they ask randomly, like they just stepped out of a noir film, but their accent? definitely not french. probably not even earth.

you glance at them, considering the question. "he's cool, i like how his poems have a dark tone to them."

morgan grins. “darkness is the soul’s best friend.”

you’re pretty sure that’s not even a real quote. but hey, who’s judging? “right, right, darkness. got it. are you going through an emo phase. what the hell are you even talking about?"

talking with morgan makes you feel like you're trapped in some weird, alternate universe where nothing makes sense. it’s not just their bizarre behavior—it’s their presence. every time they speak, it feels like you’re being serenaded by an ancient, invisible force, like their voice is somehow filling the entire street with a weird, unspoken promise of things you don’t fully understand. honestly, you're too tired to be freaked out anymore. it’s late, you’re exhausted, and at this point, you’re just going along with it.

morgan stops suddenly, looking at you with those unnervingly large eyes. “can i walk you home?” they ask, their voice low and velvety, carrying a strange weight. it’s not the kind of question you expect from a random person you met in a bookstore. it’s more like the sort of offer someone makes when they already know where you live—and you’ve been unknowingly on their radar for much longer than you care to admit.

you blink, trying to shake off the feeling of impending doom. “sure, morgan. whatever. at this point, why not?” you say, though you’re already questioning your life choices. it’s not like you have a good reason to say no. you’ve heard worse offers in your life, and right now, morgan seems harmless enough. at least, that's what you keep telling yourself as they fall into step beside you, their odd, rhythmic gait making you wonder if they're in some kind of otherworldly trance. but hey, it’s just a walk home, right?

you’re convinced morgan’s going to do something absurd, like pop out a balloon animal out of nowhere. it's not that you think they’re really going to do it, but there's this weird vibe about them. they're dressed all dramatically, walking with way too much confidence, like they're auditioning for a role in a bad sci-fi film. every little gesture seems like it’s building up to some sort of grand reveal. you half expect them to pull a balloon out of their pocket and start twisting it into the shape of a dog, or maybe a giraffe, just to break the tension. but no, they just keep walking, looking completely serious about it.

you glance around at the other people on the street, who’re giving morgan that “what’s up with them?” look. maybe it’s the weird non-french accent, maybe it’s the fact that morgan looks like they stepped out of a supernatural horror movie. honestly, it’s probably both. you don’t know, but you’re starting to feel like you’re in a scene from a bad indie film, and you really wish you weren’t involved

as the days pass, weird things start happening. people vanish. a neighbor. a guy you met at the coffee shop. your cousin’s dog. no one seems to remember them, and you start to think, “okay, is this the part where i realize morgan’s a serial killer, or is this just alien abduction stuff?”

one night, you're jolted awake by a tapping on your window. it’s morgan, staring at you from the dark like they’re a vampire trying to get an invite inside. you sigh. “morgan, it’s 2 AM. i really need sleep.”

“i was drawn to you,” they say in that strange, hypnotic voice, stepping through the window like it’s a normal tuesday. “your soul… it sings.”

you blink. “so, you’re saying my soul is a musical? great. what’s the soundtrack? is it jazz?”

morgan tilts their head, clearly not getting the joke. “no, it’s more like… horrorcore rap.”

“ah,” you say, feeling oddly proud. “classy.”

then morgan does something truly weird. they hover in the middle of the room, skin shimmering like a bad 90s special effect. “i can’t stay away from you. your soul is mine now.”

you look at the weird shimmering creature. "is this what love is? because i gotta say, the whole 'hovering and glowing' thing? not exactly my vibe."

morgan grins, showing way too many teeth. “you’ll learn to love it.”

you back up. “i mean, i’m flattered, really. but could you take me out on coffee date first? you know, before the whole ‘taking over my soul’ thing?”

morgan looks confused, like they've never heard of a 'first date' before. “i don’t drink coffee.”

“oh,” you say, staring at their otherworldly figure. “so, we’re just skipping straight to the creepy alien stuff, huh? alright, cool.”

morgan has some very odd abilities, ones that should probably be a red flag, but honestly? you’re too tired to care at this point. when you mention them to anyone, they just shrug it off with some bizarre excuse that makes zero sense.

like the first time morgan disappears. one moment they’re standing next to you, the next, poof, gone. vanished. you’re standing in the middle of the street, blinking like you’ve just been hit by a low-budget magic trick.

you tell your friend jack about it the next day. “so, morgan… like, just vanished. like, completely disappeared. no trace.”

jack squints. “oh, yeah, they probably just walked behind one of those trees over there. you know, the ones that are definitely known for their, uh, time-bending properties.”

“time-bending properties? those trees?”

“yeah, didn’t you know? it's a thing. happens all the time around here. those trees… they’re ancient. very ancient.”

you stare at him for a good five seconds. “jack, there’s no way those trees are bending time. i think we’re dealing with an alien here.”

“nah, nah,” jack says, waving it off, “totally just the trees. trust me. my uncle once got stuck in a tree’s shade for six hours. time’s weird around here, man.”

you can’t even argue with that.

and then there's the time morgan made their eyes glow—glow, like some kind of radioactive glow-in-the-dark toy—and you're like, okay, this is definitely alien behavior. they tell you it’s because they’re feeling particularly passionate about whatever you’re talking about, but you’re not sure that explains the purple, pulsating light coming from their pupils.

so you go to the local bar and mention it to susan, the bartender. “morgan’s eyes were glowing. like… glowing. purple. i don’t think that’s normal.”

susan doesn’t even look up from her phone. “oh, sure, that's normal. you didn’t know? that happens when someone’s been, like, over-caffeinated. too much espresso. you get this weird glow in your eyes. totally a thing, happens to me all the time. probably nothing.”

“over-caffeinated? no. i’ve seen them drink like a gallon of water, and their eyes still looked like neon signs.”

“eh,” she shrugs, “people just have different reactions to caffeine. some people get shaky, some people turn into radioactive glow sticks.”

and when morgan does this thing where they lift off the ground—like, actually float, feet hovering a few inches above the floor—you don't even tell anyone anymore. what's the point? last time you did, your coworker brad, with all the seriousness in his voice, said, "well, yeah, everyone knows it’s the air pressure around here. it’s a thing. you’re floating, but in a way that makes it seem like you're floating. it’s hard to explain."

"oh. okay," you said. “right, brad, that makes perfect sense.”

and then there's that time when morgan just... opened a rift in space in front of you, like a glowing crack in the air, and you almost saw a different galaxy through it. it was kind of breathtaking, if you didn’t immediately pass out from sheer horror.

you tell your mom about it. “morgan... morgan opened a rift in the air. there was like... another world on the other side. it was so real.”

your mom, always the calm one, takes a long sip of her tea. “oh, sweetheart, that's just a trick of the light. you probably just ate something funny. remember when you thought the toaster was talking to you last year?”

“that was a different incident, mom.”

“sure, sure,” she says, patting you on the back like she’s comforting a child. “but listen, if morgan’s really an alien, why don’t you just invite them over for dinner? we’ll show them how we do things here. very normal, very human stuff.”

you stare at her. “you want me to invite an alien who can warp reality to dinner.”

“well, i’m sure they’d like mashed potatoes.”

you were sitting in a local café with morgan. you know, the one everyone talks about as “the place to be” because the coffee is terrible but the pastries are somehow life-changing. it’s also the place where everyone seems to know everyone else's business, so when morgan walks in, with their strange aura and unsettlingly calm demeanor, the entire room goes silent for a moment.

you brace yourself for the inevitable. morgan’s going to do something weird, you can feel it.

they glance around the café and then lean in to whisper to you in that almost-too-soft voice. “this place smells... like... oppression.”

you blink. “uh... what?”

“oppression. yes. the coffee beans are... shackled,” morgan says, their hand dramatically swiping through the air, like they’re conducting an orchestra.

you don’t even have the energy to respond. instead, you just sip your coffee and hope no one heard.

but, of course, they did. because the whole café has now gone quiet again, eyes glued to morgan. you're beginning to feel like you're in an art installation rather than a simple café visit. but then, without missing a beat, one of the regulars, todd (a guy who wears plaid shirts like they're a uniform), clears his throat and leans over to his friend.

“ah, it’s just the french thing, you know,” todd says, grinning and nodding knowingly. “they’re, uh, very in tune with the spirit of the place, right? super artistic.”

the friend, kelly, nods sagely, not even bothering to question why morgan’s hands are floating a few inches above the table. “yeah, totally. french people—so deep, right? it’s the whole... je ne sais quoi thing.”

you turn to morgan, who’s now staring at the sugar packets with the intensity of a psychic reading tea leaves. "you know, i think they're trying to feel the sugar’s essence," you say dryly, to no one in particular.

“oh, yes,” morgan replies, their voice dripping with theatrical gravitas. “sugar... must be free. unshackled.”

you stare. this is not how you imagined your afternoon would go.

someone else in the café—a woman with a nose ring and an overabundance of scarves—suddenly chimes in, offering the most unnecessary of explanations. “oh, don’t mind them,” she says with a laugh, waving her hand like it’s all perfectly normal. “they’re just being french. you know, that’s how they show they’re thinking deeply. it’s all a performance, really. totally avant-garde.”

morgan tilts their head, looking perplexed for a second before responding with a long, deliberate sigh. “it is not a performance. it is an awakening.”

“oh, right, right,” todd says, not missing a beat, “an awakening. yeah, that’s... super french.”

you give up. you really do. “morgan, are we... really going with this?"

but morgan just smiles and nods like this entire café is part of some grand cosmic plan. "yes. we shall all awaken."

“see?” todd says to his friend, tapping his temple. “awakening. they get it.”

the woman with the scarves chimes in again, her tone unbothered. “honestly, it’s just the french thing. i met this guy once who said the same thing about, like, a sandwich. called it ‘a metaphor for existential despair.’” she shrugs. “very french.”

“exactly,” says kelly. “don’t worry about it. it’s just... art.”

you glance at morgan, who is now staring at a croissant as though it holds the secrets of the universe. you wonder if anyone here even realizes how bizarre this is, or if they’ve all collectively decided that anything strange is just part of the charm.

“do you actually... eat?” you ask morgan, suddenly concerned they’re about to start chanting at the food.

“i consume... ideas,” they reply, taking a delicate sip of their coffee, which, honestly, looks like it’s made of existential dread. “the essence of being.”

the regulars? nodding. everyone is nodding like this is perfectly normal behavior. you start to think that maybe you’re the crazy one for questioning it.

“ahh, yes," todd sighs with satisfaction, "that’s definitely french."

you’re sitting in the café, trying to hold it together, but it's getting harder. morgan has been doing weird stuff this whole time, and everyone keeps making excuses for it. everyone. you start wondering if you’re the only one who can see how off they are. maybe you’re the one who's losing it.

the last straw? well, it happens as morgan calmly stands up, walks to the counter, and starts... gently caressing the espresso machine.

“what—what is happening?” you whisper to yourself, barely able to keep your voice from cracking. you look around. nobody seems to notice. the barista just gives morgan a polite smile. “hello! can i get you something?”

morgan doesn’t even respond. instead, they keep gently caressing the espresso machine like it's some ancient, sacred artifact.

“are you kidding me!” you want to scream, but you don’t. you’re frozen, your eyes glued to the sight in front of you. you look at the other people in the café, trying to gauge if they’re seeing what you're seeing.

there’s todd, sipping his coffee, completely unfazed. kelly’s typing something on her phone with one hand, casually flicking her scarf around with the other. no one seems to care.

“morgan,” you finally say, forcing the words out between clenched teeth, “are you—are you petting the espresso machine?”

“yes,” they say in a tone that’s so serene it’s almost alarming, “it is speaking to me.”

“IT’S SPEAKING TO YOU?!” you nearly shout, completely losing it. “IT’S A COFFEE MACHINE. IT DOESN’T TALK. WHY IS NO ONE ELSE QUESTIONING THIS”

kelly looks up from her phone, totally unbothered. “oh, don’t mind them,” she says, as if this kind of behavior happens all the time. “they’re just french. you know how it is. very... artsy.”

artsy?! ARTSY?!

“artsy?” you repeat, voice cracking. “they’re petting a coffee machine like it’s a puppy! and you’re sitting here telling me it’s artsy?”

“yeah, totally,” todd says, looking over at you like you’re the one who’s out of place. “it’s like, they’re probably just feeling the energy of the coffee, right? the espresso machine’s got vibes, man.”

VIBES? you can feel your sanity slipping, one comment at a time.

morgan, still caressing the espresso machine, looks over at you with an eerie smile. “the machine’s energy... it is vast. timeless.” they turn back to the espresso machine like they’re in some kind of ritualistic trance. “it will grant me... the knowledge of the perfect coffee.”

and everyone? they just nod. like this is perfectly normal. like you’ve walked into some kind of strange art house film where the actors are pretending to be normal, but everyone’s so deep that you can’t figure out if you’re on the set of an alien invasion movie or a bad dream.

at this point, you can’t take it anymore. you stand up, shaking, trying to maintain your composure. “this is not normal. this is insane! i’m losing it here, and you’re all just sitting there like—like nothing’s happening!”

todd shrugs. “nah, it’s just the french thing, man. don’t worry about it.”

“i swear to god,” you mutter, “if you say french one more time...”

“very french,” kelly adds, with a smug smile. “you’ll get used to it.”

you look at morgan, who’s now humming softly to the espresso machine, eyes closed. you can feel your brain slowly unraveling as the room starts to blur. it’s all slipping away. everyone here is pretending like this is totally fine. you’re the only one who’s actually losing it.

“okay,” you say, putting your hands on your temples, “okay, fine. it’s fine. i’m fine. i’m losing my mind, but i’m fine.”

morgan looks up from their sacred ritual and smiles at you, serene as ever. “it’s okay. you’re awakening to the truth.”

and that’s it. that’s where it breaks. you start to laugh. it’s a crazy, manic laugh, but it’s all you can do. you can’t stop it. you’re losing it.

todd raises an eyebrow, but still, he just shrugs. “yep, definitely french.”

after that, you decided you needed to get drunk. you couldn't deal with this shit anymore. and of course, morgan decided to follow you.

currently, you’re at the bar, sipping on your drink, trying to avoid making eye contact with the guy across from you. he’s been glancing at you every few seconds like he's in a slow-motion romantic comedy, and you’re starting to feel weird about it. morgan’s sitting next to you, but they’ve been unusually quiet, staring at the guy with an intensity that’s definitely not normal.

“i swear, if he looks at you one more time, i’m gonna have to do something,” morgan mutters under their breath. you barely hear it over the background chatter, but the way they say it makes you pause.

“what?” you ask, half thinking it’s a joke.

“you don’t understand,” morgan says, their tone dead serious. “he’s been staring at you—that’s my person. and no one gets to look at my person like that.”

you shrug, rolling your eyes. “he’s just being friendly. it’s harmless.”

morgan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at the guy like he’s the villain in their favorite horror movie. you don’t know if it’s because of the drink you had earlier or if something’s genuinely wrong, but the tension in the air is getting thicker by the second.

before you can even process what’s happening, morgan stands up and starts walking toward the guy. “morgan, what the hell are you—”

you don’t get to finish the sentence. morgan’s already standing in front of the guy, who’s still laughing with his friends, completely oblivious. there’s a moment of eerie silence, and you can see the poor guy’s smile falter as he realizes that morgan’s been standing there for a little too long.

“you’ve been staring at my person,” morgan says, their voice so calm that it shouldn’t be possible. “you think that’s acceptable?”

the guy blinks, obviously confused. “uh, what?”

“you’ve been staring at them. that’s mine,” morgan adds, tilting their head like they’re explaining the most basic concept in the world. “you don’t just get to look. not unless you want to join the club.”

the guy laughs nervously, thinking morgan’s joking. “uh, okay, dude. chill out.”

and then morgan grabs him by the throat. like, with no warning, no hesitation, just a firm, iron grip. the guy’s eyes bulge, his hands flailing, and he’s sputtering in a way that seems a little more... desperate than playful.

you stand up from your stool, but something’s wrong. morgan’s eyes are locked on the guy, and there’s an eerie stillness in the air. you’re starting to wonder if you’ve been stupidly underestimating morgan this whole time.

“morgan,” you say, trying to get their attention. “what are you doing?”

morgan doesn’t answer. instead, they look at you, still holding the guy up by his throat like he weighs nothing. “this is for you,” they say, voice sickeningly sweet, like they're gifting you a bouquet of dead roses. “he thought he could take you from me. but... no one takes my person.”

you start to speak, but morgan doesn’t even wait for your response. they twist the guy’s neck, a sound you can’t describe, not with words, just... a crack. he slumps to the ground.

you blink, trying to process what just happened, but before you can, morgan turns back to you, flashing a smile that’s so casual, it’s like they just helped you with your groceries. “that was for you,” they say, like they’re explaining how to make toast. “he didn’t understand the rules.”

the guy’s body is still twitching on the floor, but morgan just brushes their hands together, like they’re cleaning off some dust. “he was staring at you. my person. you don’t do that, right?”

you stare at morgan, utterly stunned. “did you just kill him? for looking at me? what the hell, morgan?!”

“what? it’s not that big of a deal,” morgan says, as if they’ve just told a joke. “besides, he was a total idiot. you saw the way he was looking at you. i mean, seriously—who stares at someone like that?”

you just stand there, blinking, trying to wrap your head around the fact that there’s now a dead body at your feet and morgan’s acting like they just set down a cup of coffee.

then, as if on cue, a random guy at the bar looks over, his eyes wide. “uh, is... is everything okay over there?”

morgan doesn’t miss a beat. “yeah, it’s just... you know, french stuff. we’re passionate. it’s complicated.”

the guy nods, like he’s just learned the most logical explanation in the world. “ah, yeah, of course. makes sense.”

you glance around. no one seems to care. no one’s even acknowledging the body. the bartender's wiping down the counter, like it's another tuesday. and the guy who was just staring at you? he’s being entirely ignored, like it’s all perfectly normal.

you take a deep breath. “this isn’t okay, morgan. this is beyond weird. this is insane.”

morgan smiles, their voice dripping with sweetness. “but i did it for you. don’t you see? I love you. i’d do anything to keep you safe.”

you stare at morgan, slowly realizing that there’s no escaping this. you are their world now. and they’ll kill anyone who threatens that.

“and that,” morgan continues, “is just how things work. we’re together now. no one else gets to look. no one else gets to want.”

you try to take a step back, but then you hear the bartender casually say to the guy next to him, “yeah, you know how it is with the french, right? gotta love that intensity.”

you roll your eyes. oh. yeah. of course.

[jaredwnch]

(₊˚💙⊹) ─ JUST YOU: AND ME, BIRTHDAY BOY─── SAM WINCHESTER (ft: DEAN WINCHESTER)

─── ₊˚ ⊹ ☆ b-day!sam winchester x gn!reader

summary.ᐟ.ᐟ ── Sam doesn't usually celebrate his birthday. But this year, you make sure it's quiet, warm, and filled with all the love he didn't know he needed. Just you, him a peaceful bunker morning─ and maybe a few kisses under a shared blanket.

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ ── no smut

₊˚ ⊹ ☆ word count: 1.1k

notes.ᐟ.ᐟ ── Pure Sam Winchester birthday fluff, because he deserves something soft after everything. Reader is gender-neutral. Dean makes a quick cameo to tease, but this is all about you and Sam. Set in the bunker, post-canon or anytime they’re safe and breathing.Inspired by the idea that Sam never really lets himself enjoy being celebrated—but would quietly fall apart in the best way if someone made the effort.

Sam doesn’t like making a big deal out of his birthday.

You learned that the hard way a few years ago when you tried to surprise him with a chocolate cake and balloons in the bunker’s kitchen—and he looked like you’d pulled a gun on him.

(Not because he wasn’t touched. Just… because it’s Sam.)

So this year, you kept it simple.

You wake up early. Make coffee the way he likes it. Bacon, eggs, even those stupid protein pancakes he only pretends not to like. And then you quietly creep back into the library, where Sam’s already at his laptop, typing away like he didn’t just turn another year older.

You set the plate down in front of him with a soft, “Happy birthday, Sam.”

He startles, then looks up. Sleep-tousled hair. Hoodie. Eyes still heavy. The kind of vulnerable Sam you only get to see when he trusts you.

A slow smile spreads on his face.

“You remembered.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Of course I remembered. I’m not Dean.”

“Hey!” Dean yells from down the hall. “I heard that!”

Sam snorts and finally closes his laptop. “Thanks. Really. This looks… nice.”

You nudge the mug toward him. “Sit. Eat. The monsters can wait.”

He does. He doesn’t even argue.

After a few minutes, he glances up at you over his coffee. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” you say softly. “That’s why I did.”

Sam’s quiet for a beat. His hand slides over the table until it brushes yours. His thumb runs along your knuckles. That gentle way he always touches you—like he’s afraid he’ll break something too good to be real.

“I’ve never really celebrated birthdays,” he admits, eyes still on your joined hands. “Not properly. Not like this. It always felt… I don’t know. Selfish.”

You lean in closer. “It’s not selfish to be loved.”

He meets your gaze then, and something in him shifts. Opens.

“…Thank you,” he murmurs. “For making me feel like I deserve this.”

Your heart squeezes, but you don’t let it show. You just lace your fingers with his and smile.

“You deserve the world, Sam. I’m just starting small.”

Later, when Dean finally comes in with a half-melted pie and a “You’re still a nerd” jab, Sam just laughs. Genuinely. Fully.

And you catch the look he gives you across the room—grateful, warm, a little awe-struck.

Like maybe, just maybe, this year doesn’t suck.

Not when he’s got you.

The bunker’s quiet again after Dean retreats to “do literally anything other than watch you two make heart eyes.”

You and Sam sit side by side on the couch, the movie paused, your legs tangled under the blanket. He looks at you like you hung the stars. Like maybe, somehow, he’s safe.

“I mean it,” he says quietly. “Today was perfect.”

You tilt your head, smiling. “Even with the pancakes?”

He laughs, then leans in, forehead brushing yours. “Especially with the pancakes.”

Then his hand cups your jaw, gentle and steady, and you melt into him as he kisses you—slow, tender, full of everything he’s too shy to say out loud.

The kind of kiss that says thank you. I love you. Stay.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Best birthday I’ve ever had,” he whispers.

“Good,” you murmur. “Because next year, I’m making cake.”

Sam smiles, lips brushing yours again.

“Only if you kiss me like that after.”

Happy Birthday, Sam Winchester.Loved. Kissed. Home.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆Thank you for reading𓂃 !

If this made your heart soft or your soul ache (in the best way), let me know in the tags or send an ask. Your feedback means the world—and yes, Dean knows he’s pretty. You don’t have to tell him again… but you totally can.

˖ ⸝⸝ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! 𖦁ׅ ࣪ ׂ library

requests!: open ! ۪ ୧

[xoxomilesteller]

just between us

playboy bunny!reader x soldier boy | MDNI

cw: payback era, unprotected p in v (no balloon no goon), cursing, soldier boy, smoking, slight sexual harassment (it’s soldier boy), sir kink, guys im still bad at this

not proofread and def has grammar mistakes!

wc: 2.3k

soldier boy is best friends with the one and only hugh hefner. it’s not uncommon for his self absorbed ass to come into the clubs, demanding for drinks. all the bunnies would be on him, posing and taking pictures with him.

you didn’t mind soldier boy. you just wanted to get your job done. but truth be told, soldier boy is hot. anyone with eyes can see that. and for some reason, you love cocky men. he has every right to be cocky, look at him. he’s one of the world’s first superheroes and is insanely rich.

you were just starting at this brand new job in new york, you were a bit shy. especially around soldier boy. you didn’t want to disrespect or offend him, since he is very generous with his tips— how you get by.

he particularly likes you though. you’re shy, well mannered, and he loves the way you look in that corset and bunny tail.

after being checked by the bunny mother, you went to work. contrary to popular belief, the playboy club is insanely classy. your uniform had to be perfect, you had to look perfect, you have to be perfect. you’re not allowed to date any customers either, if you do, you’re fired. and honestly, it is a very fun job. the club was six stories, tons of famous men come by, soldier boy is here. maybe you developed a tiny little crush on him, but you know the rules, so does he.

soldier boy was obviously in the vip room, where you were staffed to wait. whenever you walk into the room, his eyes traveled hungrily up and down your body, taking his time to savor your body like he hasn’t seen you in this uniform at least 10 times now. hugh gave him special treatment. any other gentleman, after it gets to a certain point of flirting, they get kicked out. soldier boy however, kept on making comments whenever you did the signature lean.

his eyes would carelessly drop down to your tits and he’d lick his lips, imagining what it would be like to titty fuck you and coat them in his cum.

he’d whistle at you, lowly, only the people at his table could hear and of course, you.

he says things like: “lets see you shake that tail doll face”, “the ears will stay on when i fuck you”, “i bet you’re tighter than that bodysuit you have on, aren’t you?”

you didn’t mind. you knew better than to entertain him because of your job. the tips are so good, especially when he comes by. besides, you know you look good. sure soldier boy is a bit too forward, but every single woman in this club looks phenomenal in their uniform, you’re not that special.

soldier boy was joined by black noir, mindstorm, one of those twins you don’t know the name of and the wasp guy, waspo or something like that.

you don’t really care enough for the rest of their names.

when you finish your shift, you place your black fuzzy trench coat over your uniform. you spent way too much money on it, but most of the money came from soldier boy, so you have him to thank for that. you walk out of the club, the cold air nipping at the small areas of exposed skin. you walk over to a spot you recently discovered, it’s just a rooftop but it has one of the most beautiful views of the city.

when you make it all the way up, you see the supe in his green suit. he heard you coming. he heard your heartbeat, your footsteps, but he knew it was you because he had been watching you after work for some days now.

he was just curious is what he told himself when he found himself wanting to know what you did after work, who you did.

”oh sorry-“ you softly say, “thought i had this place to myself,” you turn around to descend the steps.

”come on doll face,” he smirks to himself when he hears your heartbeat quicken at the pet name, “it’s public property, don’t belong to anyone”

you hesitate, but you find your legs walking towards him before you can even think. he untucks the joint he had behind his ear and searches for a lighter, “nice coat you got on there, shame it covers you up,” he looks at you up and down, sizing you up for the millionth time and inhales his joint, “you get off around this time, doll face?”

you nod, “yeah but it depends on the day, thankfully today wasn’t as packed as it usually it”

he nods, “any plans for the night?”

”not that i know of,” you bite the inside of your cheek

”i’m gonna fuck you”

you laugh, not taking him seriously, “what?”

his face remains serious, “you got anywhere you have to be?”

you look around, as if this is a joke, “no not really..“

”then you’re coming back to the vought tower with me”

you scoff, “that’s against the rules, i’m a bunny, you’re a gentleman-”

he laughs in your face, ”i’m everything but a gentleman. i don’t give a fuck ‘bout the damn rules, not when your tits look that good in that tiny uniform. take that coat off, let me get a better look doll face”

”i was talking about you being a gentleman at the club like gentleman’s club..”

”do as you’re told,” his voice is commanding and impatient.

you did as you were told, since he’s so hot. you slipped off your trench coat, goosebumps rising on your arms as the warmth left them. he takes a few steps closer, the smell of weed and leather filling your nostrils. he places the joint in between your lips and drags his big hands over the cups of the corset, keeping them there, “don’t waste my joint”

you inhale and remove it from your lips to let the weed hit your lungs better. right as you exhale, he starts shaking your upper half side to side, shamelessly watching your tits jiggle with a giant half smirk plastered on his face.

as insane as it sounds, that act alone, was the hottest thing that has ever happened to you. the way he doesn’t care. he’s eye-fucking you like you’re an object, the things he’s said about you are borderline sexual harassment, but he looked damn good while doing it.

”like water,” he mutters, “yeah you’re coming home with me doll face,” he wets his lips with his tongue, “these all yours?”

”yes,” you whisper

he slides his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a smack, making you wince, “even fuckin’ better, y’know what?” he looks around, “this a hotel right?”

”yeah,” you nod

he nods, “then let’s fucking go,” he gives your ass a squeeze and your tits one final look for now.

soldier boy practically fights with the poor receptionist to get their best room available and had her kick out a couple that were in the room. the second you two are alone in the room, he pushes you against the wall, the kiss being all teeth and built up desire. he needs to fuck you so bad. his cock strains against his suit at the feeling of you being pressed up against him, of your tits.

God he loves your tits.

he unsnaps the corset and you sigh in relief, his hands immediately massage your breasts, “fuck,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “now these are what i’m talking about”

”sold-“

”sir”

you gulp, “sir,” you step out of the teddy, “how may i help you?”

”lay down on that bed, flat on your back doll face, keep your legs spread”

each step you take closer to the bed, your heart rate quickens and your legs glide easily, with no friction at all.

his cock twitches at the way you delicately lay on the bed, completely the opposite of what he’s about to do to you. he starts imagining what other positions he can have you in but right now, he needs his fix. and right now, he is staring at the wet patch that is growing on your tights. he hovers over you, placing wet kisses on your neck.

you lift up your arms but he quickly pins them down, “don’t touch me doll face”

”yes sir”

”keep those hands to yourself and keep all of this..” he tugs on the waistband of your tights, pulling them up and hitting your clit as you mewl, “on. Cuffs, ears, everything”

you whimper, “yes sir”

”good fuckin’ girl. knew you’d be a sweet thing,” he winks.

his hands slide down to your core and he rips the all fabric apart, making you gasp. hugh does not mess around, he needs his bunnies looking sharp at all times and now you have to pay for new pairs, since as bunnies, you were required to wear two sets of tights.

“sir i have to-“ you cut yourself off when he inserts two of his thick fingers into you.

”fuck me,” he cockily smiles, “so fuckin’ wet and tight, yeah move those hips doll face” he pats the side of your hip, encouraging you to keep fucking yourself on his fingers, “desperate bitch,” he shakes his head, finding you so pathetic but amusing at the same time.

your jaw falls open and his fingers curl up, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your vision go white, “sir-“

he withdraws his fingers, shoving them into your mouth before you can react, “suck them, don’t wanna hear you bitching that i didn’t let you cum”

he places pressure on your tongue until you start actually sucking on his fingers, tasting yourself on his fingers. he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue while you arch your back into his mouth, moaning around his fingers. he grinds his bulge onto your thigh, “next time i’m fucking you in that uniform, don’t know how yet, but you’re gonna look like a banged up bunny doll face,” he deeply mutters against your warm skin and switches nipples.

he groans when you swirl your tongue on his fingers, imagining what it would feel like to have his throbbing cock in your warm, obedient mouth. he can’t take it anymore, he needs to be inside of you.

he removes his fingers from your mouth, wiping them dry on your face and unbuckles his leather belt hastily. when his cock springs out, you look down and see soldier boy in all his glory. his cock is huge and has pre-cum beading at the tip. with his thumb he smears it all over the bright pink head, dropping his jaw slightly at the sensation.

”sir,” you say softly, “please”

his eyes pan down, to your dripping wet cunt, watching it desperately clench around nothing.

in one, painful thrust, he sheaths himself fully inside of you. your head rolls back at his tip hitting your cervix.

”sir,” you pant

”take it,” he grits out.

he places his hands under your tits, his grip so hard it will leave bruises. each thrust of his hips, he pulls your body down with ease, making you take him deeper. your hands grip onto the sheets, tugging at them as he pounds into you mercilessly.

your mind can only think of him and his cock. he feels so good deep inside of you. you feel full, stretched. tears prickle your eyes and your throat is so sore from moaning, that you’re just babbling.

he huskily laughs, “not even trying and i got you cock drunk, i feel that good doll face? hm?” he taunts you

he will never admit when a woman makes him feel good unless she’s on her knees. praising is not his thing, he doesn’t even moan, it’s fucking embarrassing. he can’t even make eye contact with you, so he’s been watching your tits jiggle with every forceful thrust he feeds you. he has never had trouble biting back a moan, but inside of you?

if he weren’t a supe, his lip would be torn open. his brows are scrunched up, twitching at every thrust. his fingernails are digging into your flesh.

you’re so damn tight he feel likes he just might explode. so fucking wet that every time he retracts his hips, he might slip out.

he’d lose his shit if he slipped out mid fuck with you.

he brings a hand down, rubbing your clit vigorously.

”s-sir”

”take it,” he repeats, “fuckin take it”

”please”

the pleasure is too much. the coil in your lower belly is about to snap. you’re sweating, you can’t stay still, you can hardly even moan. each thrust knocks the air out of you. your walls are sealed tight around his cock, causing friction.

”cum doll face,” he nods

at his command, you come undone. you scream and tears come rolling down your face, giving you the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had. he rides out your orgasm and he pulls out.

he yanks you up by tugging at the hair on the crown of your head and he strokes himself with the same force he was fucking you with. your mouth is open, not to catch his cum, but at the scene in front of you.

the soldier boy is sweating in front of you, jacking off his massive, Godsend cock, with his head tilted back. you watch his cock twitch and shoot out his thick, creamy cum all over your tits. his load is also massive. it came out nonstop.

when he finishes, he is staring up at the ceiling, trying to control his breath.

but you?

you dart your tongue out to clean up the small amount of cum on his tip.

and he— for the first time— moans.

AN: ANOTHER SOLDIER BOY SMUTTTT i hope you enjoyed!

banner by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

tags: @shadowhunterdownworlderhybrid

[anothermaletfwriter]

Dark Macademia Masculinity

(First story yay, I'll post a companion story to this soon)

Jonathan and Jeremy were your typical gay couple. Jeremy worked as a hairdresser in the local mall and Jonathan was a flight attendant. When the both of them were home, which was rare due to Jonathan’s job, they would usually play a cozy soft fantasy-themed farm dating simulator on their bright pink Switch, or crochet colorful plushies of bees. Jeremy was the bookish nerd of the two. Obsessed with tropes and romances, he would info dump about his favorite graphic novels and fanfiction to Jonathan. While Jonathan loved Jeremy for his softness and approachability, he sometimes wished he himself was a bit more masculine. Less flamboyant looking. No matter how hard he worked out or how many protein powders he bought, he could never see any progress at the gym. But Jeremy loved him for the soft twink he was, so he typically kept those thoughts to himself.

Today was an exciting day for Jeremy. There was a promotional event in the local bookstore. Jonathan reluctantly went with him, only there to support his ever loving boyfriend.

In the brightly lit modern store, a large bright pink banner with black bold lettering above said “Try An Extrasensory Novel today.”

“Babe, I’ll be at the Graphic Novels section. They have the newest book of the CardiacPauser series,” Jeremy wrapped his arms around Jonathan, his white hoodie drapping over his.

“I’ll stay. Something tells me I’ll find a book I like here.”

Jeremy kissed him on the cheek, before traversing to his section. “Okay babe.”

Truthfully, Jonathan wanted to be left alone, knowing that if he had gone with his boyfriend, he would just be standing there as he read the graphic novels. He peeked at some of the bold and brash covers of the books but none stood out to him. Some boring modern day issues and thrillers. None of that was interesting.

A strong nutty scent of macadamia nuts interrupted his picky process. It was delicious. He was enamored by it since it was his favorite syrup in his boba order. But where was it coming from? There were no bubble tea places or even a coffee shop nearby. Hopefully no one had spilled anything, it would be a hot mess to clean. All the residue would attract ants and no one wants that, especially at a book store.

The scent grew stronger as he knelt down on the floor but there were no stains or spills on the dark green carpet. Not even a droplet of liquid. His nose led him to a specific book. The cover was a simplistic black text in front of a gray to white gradient background. An amateur with a dream and MS paint must have made it. It read: “Absolute Maximum: Understanding Yourself”. The blurb revealed it was a self-help men’s book. MAXIMIZE YOUR GAINS. MAXIMIZE YOUR ALPHA. MAXIMIZE YOUR MASCULINITY. Finally, a book that appealed to him. While he read the acknowledgments to alpha males and the pinnacles of masculinity, an aggressive warmth developed in his chest but he wasn’t sweating. The book was smaller and lighter in his now larger hands.

Chapter 1: ASSERTING YOURSELF. The simple prose asserted him to realize his true self. He was a man’s man, not a flamboyant twink. He felt the glow in his body starting to spread. Jonathan failed to notice his limbs stretching and growing to fit his muscular frame. His baggy clothes were tiny on his taller frame. While he remembered being at eye level with the middle shelf, he towered over it in the present.

He speedread the first and last paragraphs of the rest of the chapters, after all everything in between was filler. His once faint abs exploded into rock, hard canyons on his stomach. Adonis belt defined enough to go skiing on them. The flat soft joke of a chest ballooned into firm pecs. He owed it from his strict dieting routine and gym sessions with the bros. But what about Jeremy? Wait who was that? His memories of his boyfriend shifted into memories at extensive frat parties and going home with hot chicks afterwards.

The rest of the pages flew by from his intense skimping. His twig arm exploded with bulging biceps and triceps. He rolled up his small hoodie and flexed the peaks of mountains that were on his arms. He felt a glowing pleasure as testosterone fueled throughout his body. He thirsted for a protein shake. His face hardened into a mature shape, his hands gliding across a chiseled jawline. His traps and shoulders spiked up, bulging out of the jacket close to bursting out. The more words he read, the more of his memories transmuted. All the times he cuddled with Jeremy with hot cocoa under a pink blanket were replaced by his new memories of flattering women in his own apartment with a bookshelf of books he curated solely from their color schemes. He hardly read anything in them besides the blurb on the cover and the first chapter. He wasn’t a fuckboy, per se. He had a more academic approach, aiming to get into women’s pants through the seductive language of surface-level literature discussion.

Jonathan Johnny exhaled a deep breath as his tight top, which constricted his chiseled pecs, turned into a loose black shirt underneath a dark beige open jacket. He outgrew his sweatpants into a dark pair of jeans, which he tightened using a studded black belt. He felt god-like but his heart started to race. A quiet part internally knew this wasn’t him— but it was. This was the real him. None of this should be surprising.

Thoughts of his boyfriend, Jeremy, dissipated into the air. He didn’t have a boyfriend. He wasn’t into men. He was Johnny, the straightest man ever known. He had been straight his whole life, recalling his first time with a hot book nerd girl in the unisex bathroom of a bookstore back in his small town. In his time as a flight attendant, he often slept with the foreign women around the airport, sneaking into his overseas hotel rooms.

The book was unnecessary, so he returned it. It no longer smelled of macadamia nuts. He didn’t need it. He already was the most alpha he had been. His once kind and feminine personality turned into a more manipulative, masculine one. He used the charms of academic aesthetics to sleep with woman, often pretending to know the novels they loved. He surveyed the store for any hotties to bang, as a red head with glasses catching his eye.

Johnny walked up to the girl, feeling like a titan over her, with a book he had picked up that was a modern retelling of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. He didn’t really care about the contents of it since it was a lure for the woman he wanted to conquer. He peeked down on her, and felt his underwear being restrictive.

He leaned on the shelf opposite to her, opening his book one-handed while squeezing his chest with the other hand. He glanced at her to elevate his mysterious nature.

“Oh hi,” The red head squeaked, rearranging her glasses. Her fingers that held her fantasy romance novel were shaking.

Turning the book down, he revealed his square jaw, “What are you reading?” He walked closer to the girl, subtly flexing his bicep.

“Nothing. It’s just a romcom. Dark broody male love interest. Strangers to lovers. Heh.”

Johnny kneeled down to her height. He whispered in his deep voice seductively to her ears, extending a hand out, “Hope it has a happy ending.”

The red head took his hand with no hesitation. Her face red from the blushing, dropping the book on the floor. She was utterly lovestruck. While walking out the store, they passed by a gay couple who apologized for bumping into him. No worries, he said. He enjoyed gay men’s existence since they took out potential competition for his women.

On the drive home on his motorcycle, the red head noted that Johnny had fit every criteria of her dream love interest: well traveled, dresses in a dark academia style, tall, muscular and drives a motorcycle.

He fucked her brains out while she felt his defined physique with the crevices between his chest and bulging six pack. Her moans were a common sound in his dimly lit apartment. After he finished his seed in her, the remnants of Jonathan and his homosexuality were shot out as well. He went to his bathroom and snapped a mirror selfie to put on his social media profiles. This was the real Johnny. No more Jonathan. He admired himself of the man he was before returning to round two.

[hyewka]

choi yeonjun. | c.yj

PAIRING ▸ bsf!yeonjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, smut, a bit of angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ in which getting your male friend prettied up for a party goes weirdly left.

WARNINGS ▸ sub!jjun, femdom, grinding, protected, dacryphilia 

NOTES ▸ parenthesis around an event refers to the past!! anyway its been like, a hundred years since ive gone ghost but i promised to come back with a fic and here i am!! its a silly best friends fic lol nothing more to it but i always enjoy any semblance of feedback, it'll motivate me greatly <3 enjoy this meal hehe.

tags: @soobhns (hope you enjoy it babes ^^)

"THE HELL'S YEONJUN DOING?"

You swirl your cup, tilting your head as you watch the new topic of your conversation touch up his hair a little too much, running a hand through his unruly strands as his legs barely work to have him stand up straight when a girl approaches him.

Mark looks concerned as he adds in, “And who the fuck got him in those bunny ears? Is it easter or something, geez”

You snort, your drink sputtering out of your mouth, spraying some of it on Taehyun. “Oh my god, Y/N, gross!” he groans loudly, jumping back as if he’s been hit by a water balloon.

“Sorry,” you giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes still glued to Yeonjun. He’s fumbling awkwardly, trying to maintain a conversation with a girl who’s very clearly interested if the finger trail down his bicep was anything to go by. The rooftop air is especially chilly today, and you wonder if Yeonjun’s goosebumps are any visible to her. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, completely out of his element.

“It’s probably some stupid hazing shit, he never backs down from those.” Hyejoon mutters, scrolling away on her phone.

“But bunny ears? For hazing that seems weak as shit.” Mark responds, seemingly as interested on the train wreck thats about to ensue as you are. Then suddenly, he turns to you, eyes still trained on Yeonjun and the pretty girl. “Dude you’re practically his twin sister—why’s he acting like that?”

You cringe internally at that, smacking Mark’s arm. “Ow! The fuck?” he hisses, rubbing his arm. Twin sister? Oh god, you do not like that one bit.

Not at all. “Shut up Mark.” He only grumbles as he backs away.

You would rather shower in spoiled milk than be referred to as Yeonjun’s sister in any capacity—and it has absolutely nothing to do with what happened a few hours ago.

...It does add on to the grossness of it all though.

—4 hours ago …[5:21 PM]

The moment you step into his flat, you dash down the narrow hallway and into his room, launching yourself onto the bed with a triumphant yell. The plush mattress bounces slightly under your weight giving you a fleeting second of bliss before Yeonjun bursts in, diving towards you. "Not with your outside clothes!" he whines, trying to wrestle you off. "You're contaminating my sacred space!" he adds with mock seriousness, his efforts both frantic and hilarious.

You stick out your tongue childishly, and it serves the job to tick him off. “Man, you’re such a pain,” he groans.

“What should I do anyway? Change into PJ’s I haven’t brought along? Besides!” you retort, struggling to pull your makeup bag out from your tote while Yeonjun��s weight presses down on you. With a triumphant grin, you finally free it and wave it in front of his face. “Where are we supposed to do this then?”

He snorts. “The couch, duh.”

The mere thought of that dark green monstrosity, old and beat-up, sends a shiver down your spine. The last time you sat on it, its worn fabric had felt like sandpaper against your skin, and the patches of stuffing poking through made it seem like you were sitting on a nest of lumpy scars. You couldn't even sit through twenty minutes of the movie with Yeonjun before you had decided to move to the floor.

Your upper lip curls in distaste. “No chance. You need to switch that thing out ASAP.”

Yeonjun shrugs nonchalantly, clearly not as repulsed as you are. “What’s wrong with it? I mean, yeah, it’s seen better days, but it has character.”

“Character? More like a biohazard waiting to happen,” you say, grimacing. “I’m not risking sitting on that thing again. Also, get off, you're killing me.”

Yeonjun lets out a long, resigned sigh, knowing that arguing any further would be a losing battle. "Fine," he mutters, shifting his weight off you. "But at least take your shoes off. You're genuinely a psychopath," he adds.

You relent, rolling off the bed and kicking off your shoes with exaggerated care, just to appease him. Yeonjun narrows his eyes, silently watching you with a playful glint in his gaze, his arms crossed over his chest. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he observes your antics. "What?" you finally ask, catching him off guard.

He blinks, momentarily flustered, then quickly averts his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just counting down how many more years I have to deal with this," he says, gesturing vaguely at your exaggerated movements.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "You know you love me."

"Keep telling yourself that," he replies, but his tone is light, the grumble fading away. You click your tongue, making sure to stick out a solid finger behind his back when he stands up to head to the bathroom. Prick.

But you can't keep up the act much longer when you look down at your outfit. It's not overly complicated but you still haven’t thanked him for helping you feel a lot more confident in it than you would've if he wasn't by your side ranting about silhouettes and all his other (not-so) stupid fashion advice.

With a sigh, you allow yourself to flop back onto his bed, your fingers sinking into the soft duvet. As you lay there, you take in the new decorations he's put up on his wall. He only recently moved here, and it's already looking a lot more like him than the last time you paid him a visit. The posters of his favorite bands, the quirky art pieces, and the sleek record player that sits atop a vintage-looking stand, surrounded by stacks of vinyl records—everything screams Yeonjun. Even the smell your brain finally registers as his signature scent subtly creeps up your nostrils; sandalwood, fresh linen and hints of citrus. It calms your nerves—like your body's trained to associate anything about Yeonjun with feeling safe.

You reach out for a familiar-looking photo strip on his desk, your finger stretching as far as it can until you manage to snatch it.

It's a sequence of three pictures of you and Yeonjun back in... high school? Freshman year considering you're sporting a terrible bowl cut that looks like it was done with a soup bowl and a pair of dull scissors. Yeonjun, on the other hand, smiles big with his braces, the metal gleaming under the photo booth's flash.

And just like that, you're suddenly reminded one thing; Yeonjun's always been there with you, for you.

("She's a total bitch anyway."

You gasp, hitting his arm. "What?!" he exclaims, affronted. "I'm starting to think you really enjoy abusing me."

"You just- you can't say that about women!" You try to sniff back the snot running down your nose, but it's futile.

He rolls his eyes. "She slept with Heeseung behind your back. Shes’ earned the title."

You shut your mouth and turn from him, not believing you're seriously trying to defend the ex-friend that had taken enough of a liking of your crush to sleep with him. It isn't the worst offense in the world but considering she's done it behind your back instead of telling you upfront...it leaves a bitter enough taste in your mouth to end the friendship altogether.

"I...really liked her, and I really liked him," you mutter, the admission feeling heavier than you'd expected. "Do you think I'm being childish? It's not like I was dating him or anything."

Yeonjun wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in as he taps his hand rhythmically against your arm.

The summer heat lingers in the air, the warmth from the sun-baked concrete seeping through your clothes. You can feel the rough texture of the sidewalk under your palms, gritty and familiar. "Nope. Feelings are valid."

A silence overtakes you both as you watch the fifth car drive by you. Distant chirping of crickets mingle with the occasional rustle of leaves in the slight breeze. The neighborhood is alive with the soft, ambient sounds of summer nights: a dog barking in the distance, the faint laughter of kids playing a few houses down, the low murmur of a television through an open window.

Suddenly, he tightens his arm around you, providing a comforting squeeze. You lean into him, finding comfort in his presence.

"You know I'd never do that to you, right?" he says softly, breaking the silence.

You look up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully, "Sleep with my male crush? I've always questioned, I don't know."

He gives you a betrayed look and you burst out laughing.)

It's weird how often you reminisce about the past...especially these past few months; sappy and overly sentimental shit that you try not to dwell on every time you hang out. Is this how old people feel?

There's always a time and place, it's just not when he farts into a pillow and practically Dutch ovens you with it. Now, that memory you'd rather attempt to forget as you close your eyes, throwing the photo strip back on his desk exhaustingly.

You don't notice that he's out until you feel water dripping onto your skin. Your eyes shoot open in horror, seeing his face inches from yours, freshly washed and hair slightly damp. He's leaning over you with a look of resignation mixed with amusement, a towel slung over his shoulder. "Enjoy your nap?" he asks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face before he shakes his head vigorously, sending a shower of water droplets from his hair onto your face.

You yelp and scramble up, swatting at the water droplets. "Yeonjun, seriously?" you sputter, wiping your face. "You're such a child!"

"That's ironic because you're even more of a child!" he rebuts with a pout, mimicking a petulant toddler. Talk about ironic. You narrow your eyes at him before exhaling sharply out of your nose, sitting up to make room for him on the bed.

He plops down beside you and it takes you a second to take your eyes off his face—freshly scrubbed and still slightly damp—before remembering why you're here in the first place. Makeup.

Right, makeup.

—3 hours and 12 minutes ago …[6:09 PM]

It was over seven months ago when you and Choi Yeonjun, slightly drunk off soju and beer, were giggling uncontrollably over the dumbest jokes in the dead of night with Beomgyu, his (now ex-) roommate, passed out on the floor. Turns out, shaky hands proved to be absolute dog shit when it came to drawing a straight line. You had silently panicked as you attempted to clean up the eyeliner that you've horrendously drawn on. You had really, really wanted him to like it.

Originally, it started off as a way to tease him, begging to apply eyeliner and some eyeshadow on his lids because you think he’d look gorgeous with them, to which his lips quirked up to, whining about how no man wants to be called ‘gorgeous’ and oh how emasculating it was. Plus, Yeonjun had an inkling your intentions were far less innocent than you let on.

When he finally surrendered around... the sixth time you bring the whole thing up, you admit that your idea of making him look like a clown and getting a good laugh out of his reaction moves itself out of your thoughts the moment he ushers you to scoot next to him and work your magic... whatever that meant.

But hey, it all worked itself out. Oddly enough, from that day on, you think putting makeup on Yeonjun quickly became one of your favorite pastimes beating your recent liking to duck herding (yes, it's a real thing you've spent way too much of your time investing in).

You like to think he enjoys it to some extent too, given the number of times he's let you practice on him, even if he would never admit it outright. But regardless of how relaxing you think it might be for him, he seems to go out of his way to make it as tedious as possible for you.

Every time you start working on his makeup, he fidgets and squirms like a restless child. He'll make funny faces just as you're about to apply eyeliner, or he'll suddenly sneeze, causing a puff of powder to explode into the air. Thankfully it doesn't last long, he either tires himself out or feels too bad to continue torturing your patience. Either way, you appreciate doing this for him a lot more when he's half asleep and relatively still.

Like now for example.

You're like, 99% sure he's dozed off. Considering he's spent the week cooped up in his apartment studying his ass off for two exams, it's not very surprising the all-nighters are catching up to him. Which is exactly why you're wondering the reason hes' chosen to go out to this party anyway.

His breathing is slow and steady, and his head lolls slightly to the side.

Just as you start to apply a touch of blush, his voice breaks the silence. "Don't make it look too obvious."

You’re caught off guard that he's in fact not asleep. "I won't."

"And no crazy blue tint."

You groan, pulling away from his face. Not this again. "C'mon, I only did that once and you've been holding it over my head for three months dude."

He cracks open one eye, peering at you with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "You made me look like a smurf."

"It was artistic!" you splutter, not believing you're back to arguing about this again. "And you looked good!"

Suddenly, his mouth closes and he cocks his brow. Then his lips twitch into a suppressed smile.

He closes his eyes fully, trying to hide his amusement. "There's absolutely no way you just let that get into your head." you whisper, truly astonished at who you've chosen to be acquainted with for more than half of your life.

"Blah, blah, blah," he mutters, waving a hand dismissively before settling back into the pillow, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know I'm handsome, thank you for the reminder."

You open your mouth to retort, then close it…open it again…and close it once more, dumbfounded. Yeonjun's insufferable when it comes to anything that has to do with his face. His ego is practically impossible to pop.

But if you had to be completely honest with yourself, you don't blame him. You especially don't now as you try to ignore the fact that he's staring you down while you apply tint to his infuriatingly perfect shaped lips. You would never admit that one out loud.

Or the fact that you've thought about kissing Yeonjun a dozen times in the past. You seem to have some weird fixation on them. You would even go as far as to replace thought with imagine. Hell, you’ve been friends for ten years, it would’ve been odd if you hadn’t at least once...right?

It's normal.

("You're weird."

You snap your head around to him, frankly offended, "What?" Is there even a chance of enjoying a party with this nuisance by your side?

"Don't act dumb, you've been staring at my lips the entire night." Yeonjun tilts his head, puckering his lips, "Trying to kiss?"

You're horrified as you blink rapidly, your cheeks burning red, completely caught off guard. "N-no? How drunk are you?"

"That was a no with a question mark. We can try it out if you want." He shrugged, leaning in closer to you, of course with his lips annoyingly puckered and his eyes closed.

You're standing in the cramped kitchen of a typical frat house, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and cheap cologne. The counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and discarded food wrappers.

Without thinking, you had grabbed the nearest drink and thrown it at him. The cold liquid had splashed across his chest, soaking his second favorite shirt. You know it's his second favorite because he's managed to pester you about it two years after this incident.)

You don’t necessarily like Yeonjun; hell no, you just absolutely appreciatively despise how well he's grown. He’s always looked cute—you distinctly remember the countless girls who handed you notes for him in elementary school or some who've befriended you in high school to try and get his number. You just never reckoned you’d be one of the girls checking him out.

As you finish applying the clear gloss to his lips, you can’t help but let your gaze linger. His eyes are closed and his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks, and those lips— god damn it are they stupidly inviting.

You gulp down the irrational thoughts bubbling up, trying to focus on anything but the quickening of the beating in your chest. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who didn’t fall for his charms like everyone else. Is this a side effect of being under a dry spell for longer than a month? Being stuck in the unfavorable position of lusting over your long time best friend?

That must be it because when he flutters his eyes open, the world seems to pause. Just for a second, all that fills your thoughts is just how absolutely gorgeous he looks. It hurts.

“Done,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. "Went with the au naturelle look, per request."

“Thanks,” he replies softly, his smile warm and genuine. But then you're sitting there longer than you intend to and the silence stretches out longer than appropriate, and he snorts lightly. "What?"

You blink out of your daze, shaking your head, laughing airily. “Nothing." You clear your throat, awkward. "You just look... pretty.”

But then his reaction to that pulls you right back in your trance. For the first time, a cheeky reply doesn’t leave his lips. Instead, he’s silent and he looks…shy. That's new.

“Gorgeous,” you correct yourself, nodding. “You look pretty gorgeous.” Can you say that? You don't have a clue.

“Aren’t you just complimenting your makeup skills?” He teases, though it doesn’t nearly have the same effect as it usually does when his eyes are so doe-like, giving him a weirdly innocent look. 

You would never describe Yeonjun as a puppy, but if you had to before this, he'd be more like an annoying chihuahua. Right now, he's anything but. He looks innocent. Innocent and beautiful, like a hybrid mix of an angelic, golden retriever. "Besides, maybe not the ideal impression I want to make tonight. Does that whole pretty boy thing work with women? We're probably not that advanced into the world yet. Hey! You're a woman so you should know; do you think it's going to be a little threatening or—"

His rambling fades out by like, the first word— you think you might as well just be under a spell. Because once again, you find your gaze's zeroing in on his plump, pink lips.

Fuck... should you just go for it?

Your heart races, pounding in your ears, and every rational thought slowly slips away to go knows where, leaving behind only the burning desire to close the distance between you.

Just as you lean in, a phone dings, shattering the moment. Yeonjun’s eyes flicker towards the sound, subtly breaking the spell.

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with a slight frown. “Taehyun said in the group chat that he’d pick us up.” He whispers. “Meaning I don’t have to drive or anything, yay.”

You smile in response, or try to as you try to gather your scattered thoughts.

“When’s he coming?”

“Uh, hold on. Let me ask.” You should move away, just a little further—you really, really should. Take your chance now and go to the bathroom to calm yourself down. It's the combination of Yeonjun being unfairly attractive, the fact that you haven't had sex in ages, and the proximity. If you eliminate one of those factors, you won't make the huge mistake you're so, so close to making.

But…you don’t want to. You don't want to ignore the burning desire of jumping his bones right this moment...for lack of better words.

“He hasn't even showered yet, Jesus christ.” Yeonjun snickers, looking down at his phone then back up at you. His squeaky laugh dies down pretty quickly when he notices you aren't sharing the humor, silently putting his phone face down on the bedside table. “What?” he says again. The shy expression’s back, his eyebrows tilt up and he looks like a damn kicked puppy…exactly your type.

Your eyes twitch and narrow with hesitation as you bite the inside of your cheeks; this feels wrong. You could stop it from going any further, keep your juvenile attraction from altering anything between you and Yeonjun. But when his tongue flicks out to wet his pink lips, you curse the gods for making the forbidden apple irresistibly tempting.

"Your teeth are pretty."

He furrows his brows, clearly taken aback. "That's an odd thing to—"

"I like it when you smile," you blurt out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"...Th...ank you?" He stammers, confusion mixed with curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, then out. "Yeonjun. Can I fuck you?"

He blinks. It’s silent as his eyes dart around like this is some elaborate prank, expecting a group of people to pop out with a camera in his face. You can see the visible gulp in his throat, his fingers hesitantly toying with the hem of your shorts, showing that he absolutely knew jack shit what to do with his hands. “Can you what?” He laughs nervously.

You've always imagined how it'd be like to kiss Choi Yeonjun.

And now that you’re experiencing it, all thoughts about this being a silly little thing you’ve entertained ever so rarely, hits the fan.

He feels against you like everything you imagined and more; the pillowy softness of his plump lips that feels so comfortable as they open slightly more each time it could lull you to sleep. His breathing that comes out in short gasps the harder you press yourself against him, having you dig your nails further into his face. His pitched whines drowned out by your feverish lips as you kiss him over and over again, feeling yourself get hooked by the minute.

You should stop. You should.

That’s what you plan to do when you finally pull away from the kiss, wipe your lips of any remnants of him, get off the bed and sprint the hell out of his house, then preferably find a way to blame it on female hormones or whatever. College guys never question that, do they?

But for the second time tonight, your mind draws blank and your eyes are stuck to his face, the slight smudge of the tint you applied and his heavy lidded eyes, his rising chest, the print of your nails showing up red on his cheeks…God, you’ve got absolutely no self control. “Um, do... that?” You breathe out.

You haven't entertained the idea that he might reject your advances, until now that is. And then what you've just done would probably be counted as assault. And it'd be too awkward to speak ever again and oh god, what the fuck have you done—

Your reverie's broken when Yeonjun suddenly leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer before he finally moves you to straddle his lap, the initial hesitation gone. The intensity of his response takes you by surprise, but you quickly melt into it, your body responding to him with an urgency that matches his own. The makeup kit gets knocked off the bed in your fervor, and neither of you care.

“Yeonjun. We—we won’t do this again right?” You ask, breathless, as you start to roll your hips slightly into him in an attempt of reliving that incessant need at your core.

“Yeah…yeah.” he sighs out, seemingly a goner when you increase even just a bit of friction.

“This is like, totally a one time thing that we’d just randomly bring up in a game of truth or dare as a fun anecdote and—and we’d be like those cool best friends with a cool little platonic relationship that’ve hooked up once. Totally normal.” you ramble, your resolve breaking as you grind against his rapidly growing boner. “Right?”

“Mm, totally.” he whines, his eyes heavy with lust. He looks completely consumed by the sensation he’s feeling and it fuels your desire for him tenfold. You kiss him again, your noses bumping against each other as you take his pretty lips in yours over and over again. You pull away slightly enough to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, glistening in the dim light. Your faces are only inches apart, so close you can hear the gulp he takes, his breath warm and ragged against your skin.

"Whatever you say." he murmurs, his voice husky.

Oh. Oh.

This is totally unfair.

You brush your thumb gently across his bottom lip, savoring the way he shivers under your touch. "Whatever I say, huh?”

He nods slightly, “Yeah.”

You bite your lip before deciding to trail kisses down his jawline, your breath hot against his skin. You can feel his pulse quickening beneath your touch, the small gasp escaping his lips as you press a lingering kiss just below his ear is something you can only describe as maddening to your state. “You’re sensitive,” you note lightly before continuing your journey down his neck. 

You gulp when he decides on finally gripping your ass, taking a bit of control on your pace. He rolls his head back slightly, chuckling, “Fuck, gonna make me nut in my pants if you keep goin’ like that.”

You need to hear more of the whining, more of his cute noises and more of his pathetic display. You want to hear him beg.

“Hands off.”

Clarity washes over his eyes a little more as he falters, his hands lessening its grip, blinking perplexed. The innocent looks back almost immediately and it drives you insane. “Keep them above your head, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell you to.”

You don’t wait for a reply before immediately sinking down to nip at his neck again, soothing the spot with your tongue, and he gasps. Yeonjun whines like earlier and it’s so …primal. Actually you don’t even think he would’ve protested in the first place because he seems entirely fine like this, completely at your disposal as his moans start to pick up intensity way quicker than you anticipated. 

"Holy shit," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper. "You’re driving me crazy."

You smile against his skin, leaving one last kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes, which he visibly pouts at. You cup his cheeks. "I know. But don’t get too excited just yet.”

He lightly scoffs, “Way to stroke your ego.”

“Learned from the best.” you retort, your hands moving quickly to unbuckle his jeans.

His breath hitches as he watches you. “Are we really going... all the way?”

You pause, raising a brow, searching his eyes for any hesitation. “...Do you not want to?”

“Condoms in second drawer.”

—2 hours and 1 minute ago …[7:20 PM]

“P-please...please. Please. Move. Just a little." he hiccups the last plea, his tear stained face buried in your neck. "You're s-so fucking cruel," he says, his voice muffled.

"Sorry, I kinda like it when you're crying."

His breath shudders against your skin; you can feel his desperation, his need, and it sends a thrilling rush through you. You gently pull back, just enough to see his face, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his lips parted in a silent plea.

Slowly, deliberately, you let your hands trace the lines of his body, feeling the tension and desire coiled tightly beneath his skin. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the soft gasp that escapes him. "My jjunie's such a good boy," you drawl.

He trembles under your touch, his hands gripping you tighter, silently begging for more. You move your hips up slightly, just enough to elicit a strangled moan from him, the sound raw and needy.

"Do you like it when I make you cry?" you murmur against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper.

He nods frantically, unable to form words, his breath hot and ragged. The sight of him so vulnerable, so utterly at your mercy, ignites a fierce desire within you. You bite your lip, relishing the power you hold over him, the way his body responds to your every touch, every whisper.

"Are you usually like this?" you suddenly muster to ask, finding too much enjoyment playing with this poor boy.

He only whines as a response and you laugh, increasing your pace on his cock as you go up and down. "Y'know...so pliable."

Yeonjun bites back a sob of pain, feeling like he's going to die from the power he’s exerting to hold back. He grips onto the sheets, his fingers turning white from the strain. "Aw, look at you, poor baby. Am I going too slow?"

He nods again, more vigorously this time, drool seeping out the edge of his lips as his mouth hangs open, thinking you're going to spare him just a bit.

If you're going to do this once with him, you'd rather do anything but.

His face falls when you suddenly stop, his eyes blown wide, hair a disheveled mess; he looks absolutely debauched. This time more closely resembling a fallen angel. "Fuck me on your own if I'm so bad at this."

"I didn't- you're not bad at-" even when he tries to respond, he doesn't hesitate to try and switch positions, but you immediately put a stop to it, pressing him back down firmly. "No. I'll still be on top."

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, eyes wide. "Then... how?"

You shrug, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Figure it out."

You gasp when he starts massaging your breasts, not expecting the sudden touch. "You're the worst," he moans against your tit once he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, suckling rather roughly while simultaneously raising his hips off the bed, struggling to slam his cock in a fitting pace.

His bangs fall over his eyes, and his lips are swollenly red from how hard he's bitten them. You would label his determination adorable if it wasn't for the fact that you currently had him stretching your pussy out.

"Yeah— but probably the best fuck you've had in a while." you manage to grit out.

"You humor yourself."

You can't take him too seriously when his words are so slurred and barely coherent with how eager he is to bury himself between your tits and lather them with his spit.

"You're such a dog," you purr, "C'mon, don't give up on me doggy. I can tell you're just desperate to let it all out."

He groans, sucking harder as he starts up again, frantically fucking up into you. You can tell hes already a goner when his eyes start to roll to the back of his head, the moans of your name short and incessant.

"Don't get dumb on me already."

He whispers sorry's over and over again, nodding his head.

"Fuck--f-fuck, why're you doing this to me?” his breath hitches, whining like a baby. What you're completely unaware of as you get lost in your pleasure— the last thing Choi Yeonjun wants is to get out of this looking like a desperate bitch. Especially to you.

But he simply can't help it.

Hes' never been under these circumstance. Hes never sounded like this for any girl, hes never let himself get this vulnerable. And for it to be during sex? It's the closest thing to a nightmare.

But he can't dwell on those thoughts when you lean over to his ear, showering him with praises on how pretty he looks and oh how well he's doing. That he's just getting you so fucking close.

When you pull away again, the only thing that's on his mind is just how...pretty you look.

“B-bet you tell other guys that all the time,” his smirk twitches at that, getting himself worked up.

You tilt your head. “Calling them pretty?” you implore, rolling his nipples between your fingers just to elicit that perfect reaction from him; he gives you just as much, half gasping half moaning against his better will, “A few, yeah” you tease.

That doesn't seem to be the right thing to say because his face immediately falls and your intention of having light banter goes to the back burner as you slightly panic, feeling bad and kissing him in attempt of making it up to him non verbally. But that doesn't do the job because the moment you pull away, he's still frowning.

You sigh, rubbing your thumb on his cheek affectionately, "But you're the one I'm most honest about."

He doesn't hesitate to lean into the familiar touch, and you can't help but coo at how cute he's acting. "You mean that?"

You press your forehead to his, your breath mingling with his, and nod. "Mhm, the prettiest."

That does it.

Slowly, he starts to thrust upward, trying to match the rhythm he had previously set. You can feel his desperation, his need to please you, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"That's it," you purr, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Show me how badly you want it baby."

He groans, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside you with each thrust. His hands find their way to your hips, guiding you to move with him. You can feel the tension in his body, every muscle working to bring you both closer to the edge. You purposefully clench around his swollen cock and he buries his head against you again. You let him as you thread through his hair.

"You feel so good, you smell so good, you—" he breathes, his voice trembling with the effort. "Please, let me—fuck, cum please—c-can't hold it any longer."

You press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly as you murmur, "Not yet, baby. I want to feel you beg for it."

His thrusts become more frantic under you, the sound of skin slapping against skin being proof, his breath coming out hot and ragged against your skin. "Please," he begs sweetly, his voice a desperate whisper. "I need it so bad. Please, let me cum. I'll do anything."

Your own desire reaches a fever pitch as you watch him unravel beneath you. "Anything?" you tease.

"Anything," he repeats, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with a mixture of desperation and adoration.

With a wicked smile, you finally relent, moving your hips in sync with his thrusts, the friction building to an unbearable intensity. "Cum for me," you command, your voice low and sultry. "Now."

His body tenses, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finally lets go, the release hitting him with shuddering force. The sight of him coming undone beneath you pushes you over the edge, your own climax ripping through you, leaving you both breathless and trembling.

"Holy shit."

You chuckle, collapsing to his side, both of you now staring at the ceiling. But slowly, the realization starts to set in.

You just...had sex with Choi Yeonjun. Whatever bliss you were stuck in, dissipates as nut clarity takes over. You just fucked your best friend. And even worse, you dirty talked. Suddenly, you feel shame and embarrassment course through your bloodstream, making your cheeks burn and your stomach twist.

"D-did you... like, cum?"

You avoid eye contact, preferring the staring contest you're having with his stupid ceiling as you wrap your naked body with his sheets. "Yep."

An awkward silence hangs between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, counting the imperfections in the paint.

"Splendid," he finally says, the word hanging in the air.

Splendid...splendid?

You burst out in a fit of giggles, unable to hold it back. The look of disbelief on your face is mirrored by the amusement in his eyes. "Splendid? Really?" you manage to say between giggles, your body shaking with laughter.

He blushes, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "What? I use big words when I'm nervous."

"Splendid's a big word to you?"

"Okay, low blow."

"Man, just pass me my clothes," you laugh, shifting to sit up on the bed. The blanket is draped over your chest, and you look at him expectantly as he fetches the ones that got on the floor.

He watches you, a slight smile playing on his lips, but confusion clouds your eyes. What's he expecting? "Turn around."

He looks even more puzzled as he says, "But we just had sex. Like penis in vagina sex. I saw it all."

"Yeah, and never again, Yeonjun," you retort, still giggling as you reach out for your clothes. "Just turn around."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. "Fine, fine. I’m turning around."

You quickly gather your clothes, slipping into them while keeping an eye on his back. "Damn, so that really was just a one-time thing."

"Mhm," you hum, then get off his bed fully dressed to go to his bathroom and at least make your hair look presentable. As you run a brush through your hair, you glance at your reflection, shaking your head at the state you're currently in.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun is still in bed, naked and absolutely spent, watching you as you step out of the bathroom, heading to his closet to fetch him some pants since ...there's a big wet spot on the ones he was going to wear to the party. As you rummage through the closet, something catches your eye, and you pull out a pair of familiar bunny ears.

Your bunny ears from high school.

You come out of the closet, holding the ears up with a look of surprise. "You still have this?"

Yeonjun glances over, his eyes widening in recognition before he breaks into a sheepish grin. "Oh, those. Yeah, I found them a while back and couldn't bring myself to throw them away."

You break into a grin, walking over to the bed, playfully placing the bunny ears on his head. "You look ridiculous," you laugh, pulling out your phone to take pictures of him.

He groans but doesn’t stop you, knowing it's futile. "Great, now you're going to have blackmail material for life."

You snap a few photos, giggling at how silly he looks. "Oh, absolutely. These are going to come in handy."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as the ears flop around. "Just promise you won't show them to anyone. My reputation can't handle it."

You laugh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. "Don't worry, these are just for me."

See?

You and Yeonjun are just fine. Was it a little awkward the first few seconds? Sure. But there's absolutely nothing in the world that can get in the between of you two.

—present …[9:24 PM]

Noticing how much more comfortable he seems now, everything else fades into background noise— he’s almost right back to his usual self. Something about that bothers you as you take a big gulp of your drink, feeling the burn as it slides down your throat. Suddenly, you stand up, blinking away the dizziness. “I need to sober up. Hyejoon, come with me to the bathroom.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.”

It’s a hassle to find the bathroom, but when you do, you quickly lock the door behind you and your friend. You rush to the mirror, staring at your reflection before turning on the water to wash your face.

What’s wrong with you? Is there something wrong with you? It must be the alcohol.

“You feeling alright?” she whispers, her brows furrowing in concern.

You splash your face with freezing water over and over again, trying to snap out of it. The one question that plagues your thoughts over and over again feels dooming; did you make a mistake?

“Hey,” she pulls you back to face her. “Are you okay?”

You stare at her in silence for a bit until you end up cracking a firm smile, “Yeah, just needed to get my head out of the gutter.”

[burstinn]

Male reader with absolutely Fucking Huge Tits.

(headcanons!)

People shown: Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Price, Keegan, König, Horangi, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy

I felt silly I was high and it's funny jwjsjsnsw ew endnsndndnd.

Didn't think my first post would get that much attention but.. Anyways.. Yay?

You have fucking big moobs.. Huge male tits.. Fucking succulent ass Cherries

You are a guy. And lucky for you, You have the most plump, ungodly monumental tremendous tits ever. Ofcourse you had the build to support your huge tits.. But your tits were the most eye catching.

When you first joined 141 or Kortac or whateevveer....Man holy shit they went fuckin wild. Like they weren't even trying to hide that they were blatantly looking at your capacious boobs.

Soap

- he was the first to yell like some Scottish words for Holy shit when you landed out from the Heli showing off your stupendous balloons

- he would be the first to be staring with no shame

-he would also be the first to ask if he could squeeze them.

-he would ask you how the hell you got your mighty melons. And he would ask you if it's possible for you to lactate.

- idk he'd bark..

- if you were to sex. He would lick, slurp your hoo Haas

-Would see if he can make you lactate

-makes you wear a bra. Freaky

- continues to play with your dongdongs after your very amazing activity gently

Gaz

- His eyes went wide.. Probably did the shocked guy face with hands on his head when he saw you

- face red no eye contact trying to not look at your mammoth sized Quadruple D breasts

- secretly staring but it's so obvious he's staring especially when your running laps.. Yknow yknow boobie flaps go up and down Fr fr

- one day when you guys were alone together he probably went down on his knees.. Begging to let him touch and squeeze your boobies.

-If you were to do the devils tango.. Also bite marks.. And licks.. More gently but desperately.

Ghost

- eyes wide under mask. Is confused how a dude could get those unwieldy lofty ass TITTS.

- also secretly staring. Less to zero obviousness.

- wants to ask as well to touch your bazongas but he's to scared.

- you caught him staring once and he immediately looks away. So like the amazing man you are you asked him if he wants to hold your tatas.

-he nodded obviously.

-you doing the nasty? He's rough. No mercy to idk your whole body. Especially your gazongals.

-boob fucking.

-bruises hickeys bites everywhere. Mostly on your GadonkGadonks.

- he would bury his head on the middle of your Tits... It's like a pillow.

Price

- Suprised and impressed. Idk why he's still shocked everytime he sees you walking around

- looking sometimes. But more respectful

-you need too ask him first if he wants to hold your beach balls.

- if you do wrestling in bed. Loving duhh. Lovingly and softly suckling your Rounder Pounders.

- also buries his head on your moob boobs

- Would probably just call you in his office sometimes just so he can use your Boobs as a pillow.

-His beard tickles.. Hmm.

Keegan

- Awooga

-Pointing at it then looks back at someone then looking back at you then looking back at someone.. Then back and forth

-Takes pictures

- you were standing in front of him talking then he just suddenly.. Grabbed your Bazonkers.

-Takes more pictures. Has its own folder just for your mountainous front moons.

- Roleplay sex that involves fucking your boobs Intensity varies

König

- Blushing under mask

-is also a proud owner of plump tits. But he's afraid of yours.

-Also YOU need to be the one to ask as well if he wants a squeeze.

- compare boob sizes.

- rough but gentle RAAAAA. Would ask before doing anything to you doingloings

-Rubs your tats together

- ask before taking pictures.. Shows it to Horangi

- Sometimes he would just stare blankly at you before he just.. Squeezes your knockers..

-He immediately gets red and apologizes red faced from shame and embarrassment.

-When you told him you don't mind and it's okay.. He gets relaxed.

-Now he would just pull you into closets just so he could ask you to caress your man tiddies even though he doesn't need to.

-You caress his too. It's like a ritual.

Horangi

- starts laughing in shock and interest and is also impressed

- Also Staring no shame. But it's less obvious because of his shades

-Asks if your tits are implants..

- Would ask König for pics of your Cupcakes.

- Constant slapping of your boobers.

- jokes about your Honkers..

-Loves Your Honkers but also jealous. He wants big buggers as well :((

- Starts drawing on them. Non permanent colorful markers

-would dress it up as well. Putting glasses.. His sunglasses a mustache..

-would purposely smudge food on your Clonkers and He would say some shit like

'Sorry let me clean that up' and starts licking fr

Graves

- Soldier what the fuck he would say or something.

- Don't get distracted.. Gets distracted.

-Makes you purposefully fight/ train/ spar with him.. Make him discreetly hit or touch your award winning rounders

-If you confront him about it. He will probably say a half assed sorry. Look at you like some pissy bitch for forgiveness.

-Forgiveness being you let him do the bed rolling sweat inducing activity with you.

- Please PLEAASE let him picture it during your seeexx

- Shows it off. Of course he will. Who?

His shadows duh

-compliments your hooters frequently

Also makes jokes with his shadows

-Got sad once and dragged you away from whatever you were doing. And just used you as a pillow and cried.

- If most or all His Shadows are stressed or frustrated from a mission they all gettin in a single file line. And they get to caress touch YOUR FUCKING GARGANTUAN GAZOONKAS one minute each.

-Graves is last because.. He's doing more than just caressing your boobs...

Alejandro

- any Spanish nicknames to refer to your boobs that you don't know of

- Flirting.

- Conspicuous staring..Starts ranting to Rudy about how much he wants to hold your teacups. He's passionate about it to.

- Manages to get the balls with the help of Rudy.. To ask to hold your chest footballs.

- is gentle at first before he looses it and starts squeezing it and roughly touching. Until you made a very audible noise of hurt or discomfort

-Apologizes.. Buys you literally everything just so you can forgive him. On his knees saying sorry in Spanish.

- Praises your body

Rudy

- Just as thirsty as Alejandro. Just more shy and respectful.

- When Alejandro starts confessing to him how much he wants to touch your chests.. He reciprocated and also tell Ale how much he likes your Moobies.

- Sharing. Both sharing. Alejandro touching your left Rudy on the right.

- If Rudy is touching you. If you even shift on what he thinks is a sign of uncomfortability.. Will say sorry.. For weeks.. Even months.

- Will never forget it. Even though you probably did and assured him that it wasn't a sign of anything. Avoided you for a few days out shame.

-Also apologizes for avoiding you.

- Also Praises your body.