#ethan dulles

[brischaoticdreams]

ETHAN!! and the rest of my wall :3 (don't look too close 🫣)

[chez-sad]

6 fan arts from twitter prompts (in which I draw too much jason schwartzman)

[onomajopoeia]

“Hear me out” and he’s absolutely vile

[kucka-g]

Jasons shower scene from Slackers

[clovers-n-computers]

I cried drawing him

He scares me so bad

[potionsprefect]

Ethan’s colour scheme in his apartment definitely changed when MC moved in

[fuckyeahjasonschwartzman]

i think the world would be a better place if cool ethan x reader existed in it

SEE THIS IS WHAT I'M SAYING

[webslingingslasher]

Frat Peter and he's all cocky, but he gets really shy when you're around and his friends keep teasing him about his little crush and how he's putty in your hands and you don't even know?

god i love him so much

“Your girls here, parker.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, as much as he denies no one believes him. You’re not his girl, not by a long shot but god does he wish you were. The jab still couldn’t stop him from swiveling his neck, sure enough you were laughing with friends, your wide smile made him smile too. You looked so pretty, he’s never seen someone fill out clothes the way you do. 

He needs to find a way to talk to you, it started as group partners and he may have played a little dumb to get you to study with him, just for some one on one time. Since then you’ve gotten closer, and everyday he feels more and more like a lovesick puppy. He’d do anything you ask, just so he can prove he could make you happy. 

“Pong, let’s go, parker.” 

Peter wants to whine like a toddler, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you. Not that he needs to, and definitely not to scare off a potential suitor, he just wants to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. He looks you over again, you’re with friends and he thinks you’ll be alright. 

Right before he can turn back to his brothers your eyes flicker up, meeting his you send a grin. Peter’s been caught, he’s been looking over you for a minute and that smile said ‘caught you,’ it made his cheeks warm, a faint blush coats his cheeks and you can’t help but watch as his friends hoop and shake his shoulders, causing him to nearly run to the garage for a game of beer pong. 

Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been playing. He knows it’s been about three games, and he’s trying to act the perfect amount of buzzed. What he does know is that time stopped when you came looking for him, his ears picking up on your fluttery soft voice pushing for apologies.

“Do you know where peter is?” 

Wasted white girl looks appalled you asked, “who the fuck is peter?” 

“Oh. Um, parker?” 

Wasted white girl drags out an ‘oh,’ then points in his general direction, you raise on tiptoes, looking over the shoulders in the cramped room, catching sight of his snapback, turned backwards. You started to make your decent, politely excusing yourself and apologizing when you rub up against someone. 

You think about tapping his shoulder, but you’re a menace. You tug at his hat, pulling it off his head, before you can complete the task his hand grips your wrist, a dull tone comes from his mouth. 

“Don’t do that.” 

Your hand drops, you didn’t know there was a boundary there. 

“I’m sorry!” 

His head whips to yours, wide eyed and flushed. 

“I didn’t know it was you! You can do that, you have my permission.” 

His teammate, Ethan, if you remember correctly, coughed into his hand, one word slipping from his mouth made Peter jerk his shoulder into his. “Simp.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “peter’s not a simp, that’s mean. You should say sorry.” 

Ethan is having fun, “oh trust me, if you knew what I know, you would call him a simp too.” Peter, in a panic, rips his hat off his head and throws it on yours, it falls over your eyes, you fix it with enough time to watch Peter mumble out “watch it,” before directing all his attention on you. 

“Looking good.” 

You do a spin for him, “think I can pledge next year?” 

“You have my vote.” 

Ethan had to bite back another simp comment. 

“Can you do me a favor?” 

Rushed, “anything.” 

Ethan can’t help his snort, he tries to hide it behind clearing his throat. 

Peter wants to kill his friend. 

“I’ve been ditched and I really have to pee, so would you mind watching my drink?” 

Peter holds out a hand to take it, his palm covering the open mouth. “It would be my honor.” 

You smile at him, “thanks, be right back.” 

“Five minutes and I come looking.” 

That was new, it was protective. It made you feel warm and safe inside, he was a really good friend. You promised you would be back, but the line was longer than you expected and you were unable to complete the task in just a few minutes. 

Peter kept count, and like he said, went looking. Ethan’s pissed that they’ve now lost the game to a forfeit, all because Peter was head over heels in a gushy crush. You bound down the steps in time to see Peter getting aggravated by his friend, you couldn’t help but overhear.

“You know this is super entertaining, right?” 

“Shut up, Ethan.” 

“It’s adorable. The way you run after her, bending to her will. Who knew parker had a bitch in him.” 

In one quick motion Peter had him pinned to the wall. 

“Don’t ruin this for me. I’m gonna make a move, alright? She makes me nervous and I’m not used to this, okay?” 

“Ask her on a fucking date, I’d put a thousand on the line she’d say yes.” 

You wonder who he’s talking about, you have more than an inkling it’s you but Peter’s never seemed interested, just a good friend. It must have been someone else. 

“I’m not betting on Y/N, I like her too much.” 

Oh fuck. He is talking about you, and it makes you warm and fuzzy all over. 

Ethan is right, you would say yes. 

You duck your head down, pressing against the bars on the stairway. 

“I’m okay with you betting on me, take the grand and then take me out on a nice date.” 

Peter’s eyes blew up, he wanted to punch Ethan. He also wanted to thank him. 

“It’s not like that!” Peter feels his brain melt, stop talking, why are you talking?  

You frown, “it’s not?” 

Ethan tries to push his head against the wall, his chin poking up high to get a view of you crouched down. “It is like that, you heard him.” He gags when Peter presses his forearm against his throat, it’s not meant to hurt, just silence. 

“Well, if it is like that, and I make you nervous, there really isn’t a need cause I would say yes.” 

Peter’s arm drops, “come here.” 

Ethan takes this as his moment to escape, you watch the stairs as you follow them down, narrowly missing a spilled beer. Peter meets you at the bottom of the staircase, he hands you over the drink he’d been watching. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” 

You blinked at the boy, he stood there and looked at his hat on your head. You waited until it started to get awkward. 

“If you don’t ask, I will, then I’ll have ripped the rights from you. You’ll have to tell our grandkids you chickened out.” 

That doesn’t sound bad to him, but he thinks the least he can do is get the words out. 

“I would really, really like to take you out for dinner, is that okay?” 

You chew your cheek, “what’s your policy on kissing before the first date?” 

“It should be a thing.” 

You bite your lower lip to hide your smile, it didn’t work. 

“Wanna make it a thing?” 

[antidesire]

im willing to sacrifice all my limbs for you write leon putting reader in a mating press

woahhh woah ethan winters, let’s keep all our limbs in tact

disclaimer.. afab!reader x leon s. kennedy. 18+ only! p in v, mating press, dirty talk, praise, biting, pet names, size kink implied, creampie, don't be like them, use protection and practice safe sex. feel like my writing got sloppy at the end, i apologise.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated. requests are open

“mating press?” you heard your boyfriend repeat, acting oblivious. blood quickly flowed straight to your cheeks, making them burn red,

“yes, it’s like a position, in bed, y’know..” you tried to explain, rather coyly.

leon laughed, which only caused you further embarrassment, your arms crossing over your chest and lips pressed together firmly, “it’s not funny.”

“it’s not, i just think it’s cute you still get all shy. baby, if you wanted me to turn you into a damn pretzel or wanted me crawling around on my knees in circles, i’d do it for you.” he cooed, mockingly as he cupped your cheeks.

“ugh, shut up, you’re such an asshole.” you groaned, jabbing his chest and swatting away his arms, suppressing the laughter bubbling in your throat.

you both had managed to make and maintain trust and comfort with exploring and talking about your sexual life, it made things much more exciting- not that it was ever dull, to begin with, but something about this all had made you become much closer, feeling like you both knew each other more than your own selves.

which is how you both found yourselves on the bed, tangled limbs and tongues, your fingers clawing at his clothing until they found grip on his belt, “m-mh, get off.” you huffed, almost scolding the leather holding his pants up, hearing leon chuckle against your ear amidst open mouth, wet kisses he was adorning your neck with, teeth grazing along your skin.

he was making it hard for you to rid him of his clothes- which you found quite unfair considering you had barely blinked and you were left in nothing but your jewelry, slick bastard.

his hips were grinding down on you, rough denim pressing against your bare cunt which had your body reeling upwards against him, “leon, help me out here.” you whine pathetically as you tugged his belt from his loop holes, throwing it aside somewhere amongst your pile of clothes.

he grumbled something- probably grumpy he had to turn his attention away from you, pushing himself up he raised his arms to tug his shirt over his head, your eyes wasting no time darting to the expanse of his bare chest, next came off the rest of his clothes in a haste.

“god, you’re so handsome.” you spoke your thoughts aloud, fingertips reaching out to rub along his stomach, over the bumps of his physic that all his years of training rewarded him with.

if you weren’t so distracted with your own advances you would’ve noticed the warmth that reached his cheeks, and his throat bobbing.

“I want you so bad.” your fingers curled into the flesh of his hip, legs parting until they clasped around his back, pushing against him with all intents to have him as close as possible, to entice him.

he could’ve sworn he felt all the blood rush straight down to his cock, evident by the way it twitched and the way his pearly pre cum sat pretty at the tip, “you’re gonna drive me insane.” he sighed out.

you would’ve laughed but the way the head of his length was rubbing past your puffy warmth and nudging your clit made your head feel fuzzy. your fingertips trailed from his chest up until they reached his shoulders, squeezing onto them in an attempt to retain some composure.

“please..” you breathed out quietly, nails dragging down his back just to scratch back upwards, feeling the goosebumps form on his skin.

to leon, there was nothing prettier than your sweet pleas, the way your features softened but your body lurched towards him and your fingers gripped any inch of his body they could get ahold of.

“i know baby.” he hummed, lips pushing against yours, you leaned up a little, eager to kiss him back with just as much passion, the taste of him your favourite thing in the world.

leon's arms ducked under your legs, lifting them upwards a little before his hips pressed flush against the lower back of your thighs, sheathing his cock inside you easily thanks to how soaking wet you were, “oh, leon..” you mewled, hand tangling in the long lock of his hair, squeezing his body into you.

“so warm.” leon squeezed onto the pillow beside your head as he began rocking his hips, back and forth, steadily at first, feeling your tummy flutter, that deliciously stretching feeling of adjusting to his size, how your body has gotten used to him, shaped exactly to him, for him.

“feel good, hmm sweetheart?” he pushed himself up a little, propelling your legs until they folded on each other, squished to your chest before lifting your calves to rest over his shoulders, “comfortable?” a smile tugged at the corners of his lips which had your heart fluttering.

“mhm, comfortable.” you squeezed his arm reassuringly before glancing down, looking between where the both of you were connected, the way you could see the bulge of him pressed against your tummy, drifting your hand down to push against it, “keep going.” you encouraged him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

leon’s eyebrows were furrowed and his tongue dashed out to lick over his lips, watching you beneath him like this was making his cock twitch inside you and it took every ounce of his sanity to not lose it all. he eased his hips back before stuffing inside you once again, leaning down to push his weight against you, the back of your thighs against his chest as your feet bumped in the air with every bounce, the bed frame creaking in tandem.

the tight, confined feeling of his weight pushing against you felt delightful, your body filled with leon, your mind, thoughts and heart swelling with him. you couldn’t move the lower half of your body an inch, not even a squirm, as close as he already was your arms flew out to crush him further into you, hugging him as close as possible, feeling his breath on your cheek- your own breath turned into small heaves, the air feeling like it was knocked out of your chest as he fucked you into the mattress, pussy squelching around him.

“i’m not going anywhere baby, this pussy is all mine to use, you’re all mine.” he gushed out, his arm reaching past your head until it settled on the headboard, tight-fisted grip making the wood creak and with every thrust it obscenely crashed into the wall.

“this what you wanted sweetheart? you’re so fucking obsessed with me, just can’t get enough..” he grunted, every pump of his hips getting more and more erratic and you could barely even form a sentence in your own head let alone babble coherent words.

“too much? i can slow down?” he teases, drawing out his words, chuckling when your eyes flew open in a panic,

“no, n-no—“ you gasped when he pushed flush against you, cock pressed so deeply inside of you, a strained squeal sounding from your throat, “oh my god, leon.” you cried out, “i love it s’much.”

that’s all he needed to hear, hips continuously slamming into yours, not even giving you time to catch your breath, your body bounces shallowly beneath him, clutching on to his arm before you turned your head to bite down on his wrist, hearing him hiss through his teeth.

“fuck!” he groaned, “i can feel you sucking me back in every time i’m not deep in your guts.” he chuckled out in bliss, finding the feeling out of this world, something he’ll never get enough of.

teeth marks were imprinted on his wrist when you let up, salvia glistening on your lips, eyes squeezed shut as you concentrated on that bubbling feeling at the pit of your stomach, “m’ so- oh!” you squealed when he changed the angle of his hips, somehow drilling his cock even deeper inside you, “leon!” you cried, legs over his shoulders spasming and your soppy, abused pussy was clenching around him as you climaxed, arousal coating his length, leon not letting up in his relentless pace, knowing you could take it.

he got whinier, higher pitched as he got even closer and closer to release, his pleasured sounds were oh so heavenly to you, especially in the state you were in, even though your ears were ringing and oversensitivity was kicking in, he was the most gorgeous precense.

his thrusts became sloppy, messy, and he buried his head against your neck, taking the opportunity to weakly reach up to his head, tangling your fingers through his hair and dragging your nails along his scalp, “cum baby, i want it so badly, please.” you pressed gentle kisses to his cheek.

“baby, you feel.. so, so good.” he muffled against your neck, feeling the way his hips stuttered before his hot release spurted out, filling you up. breathlessly gasping out at the feeling, you let him push into you over and over again to ride out his high, your nails still dancing along his scalp, occasional tug of his hair.

“mmh..” he panted out, eyes fluttering back open as he fell on top of you, wincing at the way your muscles ached, but you struggled to tell him to move yet, he was like a tired puppy all of a sudden, nose nuzzled into your neck and soft warm breaths fluttering along your skin, his arms maneuvered to around your waist in a strong hug.

“baby, as much as i love you so much, can we do this with my legs, not in the air.” you heard him muffle a laugh against you before pushing himself up, letting your legs relax back down on the bed.

“if i clean you up can we cuddle and take a nap?” he stretched his arms upwards before rolling his shoulders back.

“how could i ever say no to you?” you giggled, leaning up on your elbows and pressing kisses to his face.

“i don’t know, guess i’m just the best boyfriend ever- not to brag or anything.” he shrugged his shoulders, followed by a dumb wink.

[prettybabybaby]

Dark!Ethan x reader with Ethan having his way with drunk reader in a dark alley with his ghost face costume on. He’s had a crush on her for a long time but she rejected him. She’s also apart of the Woodsboro group.

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: noncon, dark!ethan, fem!reader, public sex

¡ scream masterlist !

you were lost, ending up on an unfamiliar street as you searched for ethan. you were drunk and nauseous, vision muddled from the alcohol and exasperation as you swiveled your head from side to side too quickly. you groaned, feeling tears fill your waterline.

you felt terrible, regretting the drunken words as soon as they left your mouth. you were used to playing into his little crush enough to keep him close, unable to bare losing his friendship. but after all this time, he had finally confessed and the atmosphere on top of being intoxicated had you revealing your true feelings, a little harsher than you would without the drunken confidence. he had rushed off, an unfamiliar look gracing his features that had guilt falling into the pit of your stomach. you followed after him seconds later when your legs caught up to your compromised brains demands.

your mission was to find the ghostface, ethans last minute costume change but ghostface was everywhere. the masked killer was the most popular costume of the year and the streets were crawling with replicas. you dropped your head into your hands, sighing as your palm caught your dwindling tears.

you picked up your head as they stopped, determination overtaking the sadness as you glanced around again.

your gaze skipped past a shadow in the alley, mind barely registering the slight wave. you looked again, using your full attention follow the movement of the masked killer but his hand didn't raise itself again. you furrowed your brows, confident steps propelling you towards him as he stood perfectly still.

"e! there you are," you stood before the shadowy figure. "i was looking everywhere for you," you slur. "look... im sorry about what i said... i didn't," you sighed and lifted a hand to rest it on the stranger's arm, swallowing, "i just don't feel the same way."

moments of stillness followed, breathing from the man even but labored. he was tall, broad and intimidating. you stared into the empty eyes of the mask, slow thoughts of discomfort making your brows cinch again and your muscles tense as you kept your hand in its place. they alley suddenly felt darker.

"you're not ethan," you whispered, taking your warm hand off the cooled cloth-covered bicep. "sorry," you murmured.

he caught your wrist, slow steps pushing you towards the bricked wall. it was cold against your bare back, briefly clearing your mind and letting a dull panic sink in. "i need to find my friend," you said, pushing against the body that only seemed to get closer.

you could feel his heartbeat that thumped almost as harshly as yours. you shifted your shoulders as his touch ghosted up the sides, a slim finger trailed up the side of your neck until it reached your face. his gloved hand slit around your chin, strong grip squeezing your cheeks together. you stared at the menacing mask with wide eyes as a knee forced itself between your thighs and the empty hand on your side slithered to the apex of them. you jolted and turned your head, a strained protest forcing itself out.

the cloth pushed at the lace of your skimpy underwear, tugging it down until the strain stretched the fabric enough to dig painfully into the flesh of your thighs. you felt dizzy, tears working their way to the corners of your eyes again. your arms pushed but it has no effect, your nails tried to puncture the costume but you were no match. the rough feel of the gloves added to the sensation on your sensitive mound, making slick leak from your hole.

"stop," you mumbled, "i need to find, ethan."

you couldn't hold back the moans at his ministrations that grew rougher and quicker as your knees tried to close around his. your eyes were shut tight, hips rolling against his palm. you stiffened when a warm, hard, probing replaced his moistened glove.

you were shoved back forcefully as he slammed into you, his hips pushing against yours as if he wanted to be deeper. you hissed, sliding your hand up to his shoulder, "no, wait."

he didn't, harsh, desperate thrusts colliding with your throbbing cunt. you whined, tears slipping as you shoved his shoulder. the mask stared blankly at you, erratic grunts and groans distorted by the barrier.

your panties snapped when he lifted your knee to adjust his angle. your legs felt like jelly and you couldn't help but lean against him, "need to find..."

"are you looking for me? huh?" you whimpered as he sped up. "you're looking for me to break my heart again? no, i won't let you."

you were stunned, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to squirm away. "e, w-what are you doing?" you slur, tightening around his persistent movements. how could ethan do this?

"you'd let some random guy fuck you in the middle of an alley after you broke my heart? you'd whore yourself out like this?"

even you weren't drunk enough to think this encounter was anywhere near consensual. you whimper, "no, no, i didn't. was looking for you..."

"yeah, for what? to make me feel better?" he pulled the mask off, his hard, eyes boring into yours. the head of his cock hit a spot that had your eyes rolling, a shiver running up your spine and your walls clenching, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me."

[brischaoticdreams]

these two stickers i designed for max and ethan :3

[mrsaltieri-real]

The Next Stop (Ethan Landry x AFAB!Reader)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: slight langauge, AFAB!Reader, (no pronouns specified) vaginal fingering, clit rubbing, smut, public smut, slight dub-con, strangers, slight exhibitionist/voyeurism kink, shame kink, masturbation, (vibrator) mentions of Ethan being Ghostface and the killings.

A/N: I’ve been thinking about the gif below a LOT as of late, he looks so fucking hot and this just sprang to mind last night and I whacked it all together. It’s hot, I think. Getting fingered by Ethan on a train but you have no idea who the fuck he is??? Uhhh yeah, this plays into my exhibitionist kink nicely.

The subway was oddly quiet, granted it was coming up to three in the morning, but still. You’d stayed at college late, cramming for your upcoming finals until you’d noticed just how late it really was and decided it was time to race home, get a few hours of nyquil induced sleep before having to relive the same day again tomorrow. You could say you were a bit of an overachiever. You texted your roommate quickly once you flopped down in a free seat, utterly exhausted, telling her you were on the way home but didn’t receive a response.

You sighed, leaning your head back against your seat and mindlessly played around on your phone, flipping from app to app absently when you suddenly felt the uneasy feeling that somebody was watching you.

The subway car only had about fourteen people inside, some were asleep, others were hunched over their own devices, working from a laptop or texting from their cell as you had been. Everyone except a tall, lean curly haired guy who stood with his hand gripping the pole beside him so tightly his knuckles were completely white, his dark brown eyes shamelessly staring at you with an endearingly intense glint shining in them.

You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from his fervid and observing gaze, focusing your consciousness back onto your phone. He was pretty, no doubt about that, the way he was staring at you made a dull flutter cascade through your core and inflame your stomach. The coach came to an abrupt stop, your hand flying out to catch yourself on the pole beside you to stop yourself falling out of the seat and the automated woman on the speaker announced that you were two stops away from your destination. Your phone buzzed in your hand and you glanced down, seeing your roommate text you back that she was heading to bed and for you to make sure you get home safe.

As you were about to respond, you were suddenly aware that someone had sat down carefully beside you. You glanced up for a moment, noticing the curly haired boy had settled in the seat next to you, eyes now set forward at the doors of the train. The smell of his cologne filled your nose, the scent subtle yet having an unprecedented effect on you, thighs tensing and your cunt clenching. You looked away quickly, sending a quick reply to your roommate and wishing her a good night before placing your phone into your jacket pocket, choosing to settle your gaze on the window, watching as New York passed you by, trying to ignore the boy sitting beside you.

His knee was touching yours, the rough material of his jeans rubbing against your bare skin at every jostle of the train. His hand resting on his thigh deftly dropped between the small gap separating the two of you, his bare fingers making contact with your soft skin casually. Your eyes instinctively darted down, watching as his fingertips began to faintly stroke your skin, grazing over the hem of your skirt.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance at his pretty face and noticed he looked almost bored, completely uninterested and still not looking at you at all. You felt his fingers glide over your thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle, a soft tap of his fingers as if he was ordering you to open your legs for him.

You couldn’t do this, let some random fucking guy you’d never met start touching your pussy on the middle of the subway.

Just from the limited contact alone, you were already pathetically wet. It was like your body and mind had completely separated from one another as you lightly inched your legs apart, allowing him to slide his hand between them, his fingers grazing at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before he made direct contact for a few seconds, as if he were making a decision about how he wanted to touch you before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your strained clit through your panties softly, the touch so faint it shouldn’t have even had that much of an effect on you, but alas, it did.

Your breathing hitched and from the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you’d seen his lips twitch up into a small smile but you didn’t bother to look, worried it would snap you out of whatever the fuck had gotten into you.

This wasn’t you, you weren’t even the kind of person to interact with a stranger unless it was entirely necessary, but here you were, at three o’clock in the morning with your legs open and dying to let this random guy touch your pussy in a public space, practically gagging for it.

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing your clit teasingly through your damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with your strained, aching clit.

Your hand wrapped around the cold pole next to you again, this time to stop yourself from moaning aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with your clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes still fixed ahead of him as though he wasn’t doing anything, as though this was an completely normal interaction. Perhaps it was for him, but at that moment you couldn’t care less. You didn’t care that the subway car was littered with strangers that could very well be watching this guy touch you so intimately, making you push yourself against his fingers like a needy whore with your head tilted back, eyes screwed up as you focused on just how good he was making you feel.

His fingers moved from your clit, dragging down your slit and collecting your juices, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against the spongy tissue and making you let out a soft whimper, looking down to see this strangers fingers gently pumping in and out of your cunt. Your legs were so wide from him now, your knee was practically resting against his thigh.

He removed his fingers before moving his fingers back up, using your juices coating his fingers to carry on playing with your exposed clit. Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually, still not looking at you. Soft moans and gasps escaped you and you sunk your teeth harshly into your bottom lip and bit the inside of your cheeks so hard you could almost taste blood, trying desperately to be as quiet as you could manage as you clenched around nothing, feeling the fire in your stomach build and burn hotter and hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers, your legs opening wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to work your clit.

The pressure was perfect, the speed of his strong fingers was making your impending orgasm loom dangerously close as your back arched from your seat, pushing yourself against his long fingers before your eyes flew open and you came with a soft gasp on this tips of this stranger's fingers, hand gripping the cold metal of the pole so hard it’s a wonder it didn’t bend. Your eyes flew open as you reached your peak, meeting a man’s shocked and wide eyed gaze as he stared at you, mouth agape as he watched you cum, body shivering and writhing as you pushed your hips down against the strangers fingers, feeling them slide from your clit and into your soaked hole with every movement of your body.

The train stopped as you felt the warmth of his fingers abandon you. He cleared his throat a little, still not looking at you as he stood up, grabbing his bag from the ground and walked toward the doors. You finally moved your gaze onto him, watching as he left the train car, walked onto the platform without even looking back and disappeared up the steps of the station and vanished out of sight.

You felt suddenly self-conscious as your eyes met an older woman’s, her expression nothing short of disgusted, and the man that had watched you cum, his eyes still as wide as dinner plates as he stumbled up from his seat and adjusted himself in his pants, leaving the train looking completely dazed, as though this was the highlight of his month. Maybe it was. You shifted in your seat, feeling your wetness covering your thighs and no doubt staining the seat beneath you as you quickly closed your legs, crossing one over the other and pulled at the hem of your skirt, eyes quickly moving away from the woman and back through the window, beginning to bite at your nails, feeling satisfied yet extremely vulnerable and disgusting.

Did that really just fucking happen?

Despite the disgust you felt in yourself, it only added to your satisfaction. It felt new, different and exciting. You couldn't lie, you absolutely loved the combination of the mixed feelings.

Needless to say you never saw him again, you’d never really expected to. You thought about him a lot though, pressing your vibrator against your clit while you were alone in your bedroom, imagining the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his fingers as they expertly touched you, and just how fucking pretty he was and how hard he’d made you cum and just how easy it was for him to touch you, as if it was completely normal.

That was, until a few weeks later. You were at home, working on your thesis for class when the news grabbed your attention.

“Ghostface killers finally come to a grisly end. The family of killers, Detective Wayne Bailey and his children and resident Blackmore University students Quinn Bailey and Ethan Bailey, formally known as Landry, all brutally murdered after targeting previous survivors of the 2022 Woodsboro massacre, Samantha and Tara Carpenter, Chad and Mindy Meeks, and celebrity Gale Weathers.”

Your eyes widened as soon as you saw “Ethan’s” picture lighting up your screen, recognition hitting immediately. That was him, the stranger from the subway you'd all too willingly opened your legs for. Then your blood ran cold when the realisation that you’d let a murderer get you off and make you cum on a fucking train hit you like a ton of bricks.

[agaypanic]

Fun omg ok could you do the main mbav boys (Ethan, Benny, Rory) and how they would react/feel towards (gn) vampire s/o giving them random little love bites <3

The MBAV Boys Reacting To Love Bites From Their Vampire S/O

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: like i do with my headcanons, i did a few short sentences and then a little blurb :)

***

Benny

He likes it

He likes the attention and the way it feels

A kinda dull ache but in a nice way

Occasionally, he’ll do it back

Sometimes, he likes to pretend you bit him to the point of turning him just to bite you back

“Ah! I’m wounded!” Benny yelped, clutching the hand that you had gently nipped at. “I can feel the venom coursing through me.”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes, stifling your laugh as you watched Benny slip off his bed and onto the floor.

“It burns!” He said dramatically, starting to go rigid before going completely limp.

“That’s not how it works, you know?”

Benny ignored you, staying on the floor for a few more seconds before slowly rising to his feet. He faced you with a wide-eyed stare and outreaching arms.

“I vant to drink your blood!” He said in a typical Dracula voice.

“You watch too many movies.” You said with a giggle before Benny pounced on you, biting at any part of you he could.

Rory

Does it back

Like, without hesitation

Since you’re both vampires, you’re not really scared of just chomping down because it won’t affect you too badly

It quickly becomes a silent way of saying ‘I love you’

Weirds the gang out a little bit when you do it out of nowhere

Sometimes you leave teeth marks, but you and Rory think it’s funny

“Oh my god, Rory, what happened to your arm?” Ethan looked at his blonde friend in slight horror, gaze fixated on his right arm that was covered in faint bite marks.

“Yeah, Rory, who mauled you?” Benny asked, slightly more amused by the sight than Ethan was.

Rory looked down at his arm, as if he had forgotten that you had practically used him like a chew toy yesterday.

“Oh! That was just Y/n.” The blonde said with a shrug. “But if you think this is crazy, just wait until you see them.” Rory laughed. “I got both of their arms and their neck!”

“...excuse me?” Ethan seemed even more disturbed.

“What? It’s how we say ‘I love you!’”

Ethan

Kind of freaks him out at first

Especially if you’re doing it after the Jesse incident

He doesn’t really wanna be a vampire

(at least not right now, but that’s a conversation for later)

He’s okay with love bites when you don’t have your fangs out

You and Ethan were in his room, deeply invested in a video game. He was playing while you sat on his lap and watched. 

You had developed a bit of a habit of biting Ethan. Not too harshly obviously, just a light nibble here and there. But sometimes, when you were distracted, like you were right now, your fangs would show.

Eyes locked on the screen, you shifted slightly in Ethan’s lap to give him a little love bite on the shoulder. But before you could take the bite, the game suddenly paused, and Ethan was giving you a serious look.

“Put them back.” He said, hand on your jaw to keep your mouth from getting closer to him. You gave him a confused look, and he gestured to your fangs.

“Oh.” You quickly retracted your fangs, smiling a now perfectly normal smile. “Better?”

“Much,” Ethan answered, hand dragging down from your jaw to your arm to give it a quick squeeze, as if to say thanks, before returning to the game. You made sure to give him a few love bites before resting your head on his shoulder and watching him play again.

***

Benny Weir Taglist: @batmandallyboy

[spidybaby]

Dull shine part 2 pleeeeease 😫❤️ ur srsly talented!!!

Dull Shine | Part Two

Summary: An advice and looking into the mirror makes Kylian understand why you left.

Warnings: cursing, depression topic, money issues.

A/N: It's meeee hiiii, I'm the problem it's ME. Sorry about taking so much time, I was solving some personal things, and now I'm freeeee 😫✨️ love you all so much ❤️

Also, heads-up, this is short because I think it's all it needs, not a full part two, more like a compliment that seals the deal 😀❤️

Part one

One day left.

That's what Kylian told himself when he woke up.

One day left for you to come back.

He can't deny that he wasn't the most excited person in the room the next day at practice. Everybody noticed, it was like everybody knew what happened that night.

But not at Luis Enrique's home. At his own, when he told you to move on from the problem he created.

When he ignored you, back turned to you. When you needed him the most. Every time he thinks about it, his heart sinks. It's a weight he's not able to lift.

His mother was the first to notice your absence. He walked into his home with something for you and you weren't there.

The first excuse. "She's working late."

Then it was Ethan. He called you to go to the movies and have a fun night. Wanting to see you after being busy with the team.

The second excuse. "She's sick, have a cold."

They both believed his words. Thinking you were being taken care of by him. But when the excuses kept coming. It wasn't normal anymore.

"Just be honest, we are your family." Fayza says. Sitting next to him. "Tell us what happened."

He sighs, ready to finally disclose his feelings. "She left a week and a half ago." He confess. Hands covering his face. "We had a fight, I said some things just days before, and she wasn't at the right mental place to deal with everything."

They didn't understood. How?

"What do you mean she left?" Ethan asks, standing up from his seat. "She left just like that? You let her leave just like that?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Kylian fights back. "She had her things packed, her ticket purchased and I thought that was the best thing. Don't you think this hurts me?"

"I can't believe you, Kylian. You lie to us, instead of admit that you fucked up. You lie straight to our faces."

"I was hurt, Y/n left, I was scared of facing that."

Fayza is silent, processing the information while her sons yell at each other.

"Enough, Ethan, sit down." She orders. "Kylian, you two broke up?"

He shakes his head no. "She just needed time. We were just not working together in understanding each others probl-"

"More like you weren't." Ethan interrupts. "Because all I hear is me, me, me. But you don't really think that same thinking got you where you are?"

He didn't fight back.

He knows his little brother is right.

"When will she be back?" His mother asks, worried expression.

"In a few days."

And those few days turned into just a few hours.

To be honest with himself, he was stressed. You were going to be back in Paris, but we're you going to be back with him?

Will the break become a breakup?

He was overthinking. That was not good.

Hakimi felt bad. He knew you better. When he heard what Kylian told him about you leaving, about Pamela belittling you, he checked his cameras.

The good thing about having money is that you can afford a very good quality security system. He heard how Pamela attacked you first. You then answered back, but you weren't going to let yourself get insulted.

He apologized to you over text. Asking you to forgive him and tell you how much guilt he feels about this whole situation.

When you read the texts, you felt weird. It wasn't his fault, or even Pamela's.

Everything was a mix of frustration, sadness and low self-respect you had for yourself.

You defend yourself from Pamela, but who was going to defend you from yourself?

You were the one belittling yourself.

Were you enough? You are.

But were you feeling enough? No.

Were you happy with Kylian?

And that question burned your mind for days.

You loved Kylian, he was your rock and you were his rock. You passed some critical times, but nothing like this.

Because he was there for you when you needed him the most, he was there when you lost someone, he was there when you felt homesick, he was there at you happiest.

But you didn't allow him to he at your lowest.

You notice how he was going out more, but he always asked you to come with him. Begged you to leave the house and accompany him.

You notice how he never heard you talk. But you barely even made conversation. You let him speak. When it was your turn, you only said, "I had a good day."

He had to fulfill the quietness with words.

Your mother asked you to think about therapy. Maybe there was something you needed that she or anyone couldn't understand. Something only you could.

And you did. You went to therapy while you were there. Every two days.

It was just the beginning, but it helped you understand that you had more than just a relationship problem. In fact, the relationship problem came from this.

Being blue is normal. We all feel like that.

But when you don't treat it, it can be rough. And you were doing that now, understanding that you needed help. Help that a trip home won't give you. Help that a fight with your friends new girlfriend won't give you.

But help that your lover can give you. He can be the hand to hold during this.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I know now what I need to do." You say, hugging your friend.

You felt nervous about coming back.

Would he be okay with that?

Did he realize he didn't need you anymore?

If only you knew how anxious he is at Paris. Watching the time every five minutes to see if your arrival time is coming closer.

He prepared your favorite meal. Got your favorite dessert, your favorite drink and even prepare everything for a bubble bath.

He needed you to know how much he appreciates you, how important you are for him.

You were nervous too, your leg bouncing and bitting your nails. You brought him a gift from your home. Something he asked you a long time ago, and you never got due to not being able to travel back home.

You asked for an Uber. Not wanting his chauffeur to pick you or him to get out in the coldness of Paris.

The whole drive was painful. You were overthinking.

Both of you were.

"Would she be back to stay?"

"Is this going to end?"

"What if he doesn't want me back?"

"What if this is the end?"

"Madame, we are here." The Uber called your attention once your things were next to you on the street.

"Merci beaucoup." You say, paying him and telling him that you will take it from here.

You open the gate with your control. The sound of it interrupting the calm of the evening.

When he heard the sound, his heart stopped for a second. He was about to throw up from nerves.

The giggle of the keys makes him stop, he feels like throwing up. He took a sip of water before looking at himself on his phone camera, checking if he looked presentable.

The smell of food hits you as soon as you walk inside. Leaving your suitcase by the stairs and slowly walking inside trying to find him.

His back welcomes you, he's focused on his phone to notice you walking into the kitchen. The table was ready, your favorite food ready to be served.

"Kyks?"

He turns quickly, smiling at you with soft eyes. He walks with open arms to you. You lock your arms behind his back, feeling his kisses on your face.

"Mon amour." He kiss your forehead. "How was your flight? Did you even sleep? Are you hungry? I made your favorite meal and I was waiting f-"

You interrupted him by kissing his lips, and all the worries from both of you are out the door. You know he's not mad, and he knows you still love him.

"It was good. Thank you for updating my seat." You answer his questions. "I did sleep, almost all the flight, and I'm very hungry. Thank you for cooking. I can't wait to try it."

He kiss you on the lips, smiling into the kiss. His safe space is back with him. There is nothing better right now.

He pulls you to the chairs, serving you the food and drink. You can tell he was happy. He looked fresh.

You eat in silence. The peace of it is different than before. There was no more weird silence that a video or keyboard sound filled.

"Thank you, I really appreciate this."

He nods, waiting for the right time to talk about all the things that need to be talked about. He lays his head on your shoulder. Kissing your neck.

You feel the same. You want to jump and talk about everything to end the topic and move on. But that was not the way.

However, procrastinating the conversation wasn't the way either. "Let's talk. The faster, the better." You smile.

"Impatient much?" He jokes. Standing up and taking the plates to the sink. "Let's go to the living room?"

You nod, standing up and grabbing his hand, directing him to the big fluffy couch you both love.

"I want to start." He says as soon as his body falls into the cushion.

"Okay, lovie." You smile.

He thinks for a second, how can he ask what he needs to ask? He knows that no matter what, it will hit.

"Why weren't you honest about you having money issues?"

Your expression didn't change. You knew he knew. Celine asked you to pick your check a few days after you asked her you were taking a few days off to rest your mind.

You asked Kylian to pick it up, and Celine gave him a piece of her mind. She felt bad about doing it and called you a few hours later.

She told him that he was an asshole if he couldn't even tell that you were having issues not only with your peace of mind but with how much you worked and felt bad about never been able to match the lifestyle he was.

"I don't have money issues, Ky." You say, low but enough for him to hear. "What I had was the concept that I needed to have a certain amount of money to be enough for you. Leading to me working extra and feeling less than everybody who was around and could give themselves the benefit of spending what I earned in a nightclub."

He nods, understanding. "You know that I'm not like that, right?"

"I do. You always supported me in any way you could. And I'm grateful for you. I just felt so out of place." You sigh. "And every girl who got close to your friends always asked me about your ex, how she was this way and this way. I felt like competing."

He can feel his heart sinks. He never wanted you to compare yourself to the girls he dated. There was a reason why he was done with those relationships.

"You are so smart." He says, hand caressing your cheek. "You have no idea how much I ever wanted to end with someone like you. Not only beautiful but a very strong woman who doesn't need other peoples opinions and who can shine on her own."

You can feel your eyes watering. You never thought that his words were something you needed, but you did.

"My ex-girlfriends are just that. Exes. You are my present and my future." He kiss your cheek. "And I want you to know that no amount of money or any girl who I ever got anything with is going to take the place you have in my heart. You are the one."

Your lips found his, you can't think of any future plans or anything that didn't include him. You know he was your one, and knowing you are his one is heartwarming.

"I'm sorry, I know I was acting like a bitch. I think I felt way too comfortable, and I was so wrong for not noticing that you weren't you. I promise I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Thank you for that." You smile. "I'm sorry too, I was overwhelmed with all the thoughts in my mind. I think I let the worst of it hit me and never paint mind to it."

"It's okay." He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it. "You have me, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

The warmth in your heart is hard to describe. You are sure he will be with you no matter what. The same way you were for him when he needed you.

You hug him, falling into his embrace. His hands caressing your body while he left sweet words in your ear.

"We are going to be okay because we have each other." He kiss your lips and your head. "Tu m’as et je t’ai. Je t’aime, tu es mon monde." He humms.

[webbluvrsugar]

bby pleaseee...

ethan landry (experienced) x nervous virgin reader [[cute, sweet and wholesome but also dirtyyyyyy]]

always see the opposite but would love to see this!!

a/n: no i swearrrr. in this page we also love soft!dom Ethan <3

softdom!Ethan Landry fingering virgin!reader

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

He whispers, he notices you’re nervous, because how couldn’t he? Your sweaty palms and wide eyes show everything he needs to know about how you’re feeling, plus, he’s always been observant, and especially attentive to you, it was mainly one of the reasons that got you into him anyways, — asides from him being excruciatingly gorgeous — he doesn’t even know why you’re dating him, okay, maybe he does, he’s not that dull or shy, he knows what he’s doing, he played every card on the ‘nice guy book’ he knew and surprisingly, it worked, because now you’re here, he’s on top of you, both your shirts are forgotten on the floor, your pants too while he keeps his and one of his hands is on your chest, his fingers grazing against your bra.

“No, no, I want to do it I’m just…” anxious, frightened, tense, hesitant? You don’t know, you just know that you’re feeling something. “Nervous.”

He nods, his face leans down closer to yours, his words making your insides flutter. “That’s.. that’s fine, we’ll go slow.” He mutters and you nod, he takes that as permission and leans down to kiss you.

His kiss is slow and gentle, sloppy even, his tongue is wrapping around with yours and sometimes even out your lips for a soft moment, he’s nice and sweet but you can tell there’s hunger behind it, and honestly, you don’t mind.

“We’ll just start with something simple.” His voice is low and deep before he kisses you again, one of his hands going down to your panties, pulling at the stretch fabric.

His thumb traces a line even further down through the lace, rubbing a slow circle on your clit, a gasp escapes from you. “That okay?”

“Y — Yeah, it’s nice.” He nods again, this time against your lips as keeps going with the soft motion before he kisses you one more time, you lean into it, moan into his lips as he pulls your panties to the side, his middle finger replacing his thumb and running up and down through your slit before it meets your hole.

“I’m gonna put one in, yeah?” He whispers. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

He does as promised as slides one finger inside your cunt, you gasp, your head falls onto his pillow, it smells like him and it feels cozy.

He moves his finger curling it into you and you tense, let out a struggled whimper and squirm slightly underneath him, his other hand caresses your stomach, its a funny, fuzzy feeling, leaves your brain slightly mushy.

“It’s okay, just relax.”

He slides in another finger, curls them both in and opens you up.

“It’ll feel good in a second..”

[transform4u]

Getting taught a lesson

Ethan Campbell sat in his car, staring at his phone with a sense of resignation. His fingers scrolled through job boards as he contemplated his future, the morning sunlight casting a dull glow inside the car. Another day of teaching loomed ahead, an event he approached with all the enthusiasm of a dental appointment. The prospect of facing another day teaching the morons on this campus and dealing with their behavior was daunting enough to make him consider bringing a flask to work.

"God, I hate my life," he muttered, the words carrying more weight than he intended. His gaze flickered to his phone screen where a notification from Grindr blinked insistently, but he brushed it aside. The loneliness that had settled into his routine was a constant, punctuated only by sporadic, unsatisfying encounters.

Ethan navigated through the throng, feeling out of place in his own workplace. He questioned his decision to stay, debating whether feigning illness and leaving might have been the wiser choice.

Ethan Campbell's career as an adjunct professor of English had been marked by a distinct air of intellectual superiority, one that often set him apart from his students and even some of his colleagues. He prided himself on his erudition and discerning taste in literature, often dismissing popular fiction in favor of dense philosophical treatises and obscure literary works.

Ethan's teaching style and choice of literature often clashed with the expectations of his students. He favored novels that dissected societal norms, questioned authority, and probed the complexities of human nature. His syllabus included works by authors like Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, and Virginia Woolf—writers whose narratives challenged the status quo and delved into issues of race, gender, and identity.

To his students, Ethan's reading list was derisively labeled a "woke reading list," a term that sparked eye rolls and muttered comments among those who preferred lighter fare or more traditional classics. They found his lectures dense, his interpretations overly critical, and his insistence on unpacking every nuance of a text exhausting.

"He acts like we're supposed to dissect every sentence like it's Shakespeare," one student quipped to his friend after class, echoing a sentiment shared by many. Ethan's lectures were punctuated by impassioned monologues on intersectionality, postmodernism, and the deconstruction of literary canon—an approach that left some students feeling alienated and others intellectually stimulated.

For Ethan, teaching wasn't just about imparting knowledge; it was about sparking intellectual curiosity and fostering critical thinking. He saw himself as a gatekeeper to a realm of ideas that could reshape the way his students viewed the world—a responsibility he took seriously, even if it sometimes earned him the reputation of being pretentious or out of touch with the practical concerns of his students' lives.

In the quiet corridors of the college campus, a clandestine plan began to take shape among a group of unlikely allies—jocks and science nerds who shared a common disdain for Professor Ethan Campbell. They had grown tired of his lofty lectures, his condescending demeanor, and what they perceived as his out-of-touch worldview. As they idly bantered in the campus cafe, an idea was born—one that would turn Ethan Campbell into the very caricature of a college guy he'd disdain.

It started innocuously enough with a casual conversation over lunch. Chad, the star quarterback with a mischievous glint in his eye, suggested a prank that would teach Professor Campbell a lesson. The math nerds, led by Brian, contributed their expertise in chemistry to concoct a plan that would alter Ethan's reality.

Late one evening, under the cover of darkness in the campus chemistry lab, the group huddled around a workbench littered with beakers and vials. With meticulous precision, they synthesized a chemical compound that, when ingested, would temporarily alter the fabric of Ethan's reality based on suggestions fed to him—suggestions carefully crafted by the jocks to mold him into the exact guy Ethan hated, "typical college guy."

The plan crystallized around an innocent apple, carefully chosen to be Ethan's mid-morning snack during his next lecture. Brian, the brains behind the operation, carefully injected the compound into the fruit, ensuring it was undetectable to the naked eye.

On the appointed day, as Professor Campbell droned on about existentialism in modern literature, the unsuspecting target reached for the poisoned apple during a brief break in his lecture. Oblivious to the eyes watching him, he took a crisp bite, unknowingly ingesting the chemical that would soon alter his perception.

"James Baldwin didn't just observe; he dissected the human condition with a raw, unapologetic clarity that forces us to confront uncomfortable truths," Ethan reiterated, his voice carrying the weight of conviction that had long defined his lectures. His gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of students who had grown accustomed to his impassioned discourses.

Amid the expectant silence, Trey's meaty arm abruptly shot up, breaking the reverie. "Yo teach!" Trey grunted, his voice resonating with an unusual intensity. Ethan stifled a sigh, the flicker of annoyance evident in his eyes as he responded, "Trey— I'm in the middle of my lecture. Can't this wait?"

"Naw, professor," Trey persisted, his words laced with a disarming sincerity. "I got some uncomfortable truths for ya'. Don't you think all this woke liberal stuff is a bunch of crap?"

Ethan's fingers instinctively moved to massage his temples, a dull throbbing beginning to pulse behind his eyes. It was as though a haze was settling over his thoughts, obscuring the clarity that had once defined his intellectual pursuits. Ayn Rand's name surfaced in his mind, her ideas on rational self-interest and individualism now appearing more coherent, more compelling than they had ever been.

"As I was saying," Ethan resumed, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Ayn Rand believed in rational self-interest, the pursuit of one's own happiness…"

His voice faltered, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. The pain in his head intensified, a relentless pressure that seemed to coincide with the erosion of his once-firm beliefs. Memories of spirited debates on social justice and systemic inequality fragmented and slipped away, replaced by a growing inclination toward perspectives that he had once dismissed with righteous fervor.

Ethan's ideological landscape shifted, reshaped by the unseen influence of the chemical compound now coursing through his system. Concepts that had once anchored his worldview—equality, justice, solidarity—began to recede into the background, supplanted by a burgeoning affinity for viewpoints that echoed the sentiments of those he had often scorned.

As the lecture hall buzzed with whispered conversations and suppressed laughter, Ethan Campbell struggled to reconcile the fragments of his shifting consciousness. His head still throbbing, Ethan's focus wavered as he attempted to maintain control over the deteriorating situation.

"Bro! Yo, Bro!" Hunter, a burly figure from the wrestling team, called out, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Ethan winced at the familiar address, his patience fraying. "I'm not your bro, Hunter—I'm," Ethan started, his words interrupted by a sudden surge of discomfort in his chest.

"I'm your—your professor, and you should address me as such."

"Okay—uh, Professor Bro, hahaha—uh, have you been working out 'cause you're looking ripped," Hunter rumbled, barely concealing a smirk. Ethan's hand instinctively gripped his chest, a sharp pain spreading through his muscles. His shirt strained against an unexpected expansion as his once-modest pectorals ballooned into hefty mounds of muscle.

Ethan staggered, his balance faltering as a sudden heat surged through his abdomen. His shirt stretched and strained as six tight-packed abdominal muscles emerged, carving themselves into prominence over his previously flabby gut. Each muscle group defined itself with startling clarity, a stark contrast to the softer contours that had defined Ethan's physique until now.

As Ethan struggled to comprehend the rapid changes overtaking his body, his legs began to thicken, quads bulging with newfound mass. His feet, confined within shoes too small to accommodate the burgeoning growth, burst through the seams as they expanded to size 14. The sensation was alien and overwhelming, his lower body morphing into a shape that bore little resemblance to his former self.

Simultaneously, Ethan felt his biceps throb with an unfamiliar sensation. The muscles swelled to the size of footballs, straining against the sleeves of his shirt. His arms, once slender and unassuming, now boasted a formidable strength that belied their previous appearance. The transformation extended to his neck, where his Adam's apple grew more pronounced, signaling a deeper, more resonant voice emerging from within.

"Well, yeah—Pride is coming up and I have to look good for—" Ethan's feminine voice faltered, the words catching in his throat as he struggled to reconcile the alien masculinity that now coursed through him. The jocks exchanged knowing glances, their mischievous grins widening as they witnessed the extent of their prank's success.

"Bro," one of them muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips as Ethan's transformation continued unabated. The professor who had once commanded intellectual respect now stood amidst a chorus of laughter and incredulity, his physical and vocal metamorphosis a testament to the power of unintended consequences.

Tucker, the quarterback for the football team, couldn't help but be a prick in class. With his feet propped up on the desk and a smug expression plastered across his face, he had no qualms about disrupting Ethan's presentation. "Yo bro, what are you talking about pride for? You always tell us you hate fags, you're always telling about how much pussy you've scored over the weekend, bro!"

When Ethan heard Tucker's words, he felt a mix of embarrassment and anger welling up inside him. "I-I was just kidding," he stammered, trying to recover from the awkward situation. But as he looked around at the shocked faces of his classmates and saw Tucker grinning cockily at him from across the room, something shifted within Ethan. As Ethan tried to explain himself, a cocky grin washed over his face.

Ethan's face contorted into a snarl as a long-festering wave of homophobia washed over him. The mere mention of Pride and fags sent his blood boiling with disgust. Memories of making fun of loser gays filled his mind, and he couldn't help but let out a cruel laugh.

"Fucking fags," he spat, glaring at Tucker. "You think I give a shit about some gay pride parade? I don't care if you like dick or not - just keep it to yourself."

Ethan launched into a long rant about feminist bullshit and how it was ruining the world. "You know, I'm sick of all this political correctness," he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. "I mean, come on! We're men! We should be able to say what we want without having to worry about offending some snowflake."

He paused for effect before continuing. "But enough about that nonsense," he said with a smirk. "Let me tell you about the hot blonde bimbo I scored with over the weekend." Ethan recounted in vivid detail how he had fucked that chick's brain out - describing every moan and groan she made as if it were happening right then and there in front of his students

"Haha, teach that was epic! You'll be a perfect fit for the frat," Topher, the baseball pitcher, chimed in, his voice filled with a mixture of admiration and amusement. Ethan's head throbbed with each word, the impact of the chemical prank continuing to wreak havoc on his once-sharp intellect.

"You're the dumbest, loudest, most obnoxious bro on campus," another voice added, laughter rippling through the lecture hall. Ethan struggled to focus, his thoughts slipping like sand through his fingers. The weight of academic discourse and literary analysis dissolved into a haze, replaced by a flood of trivialities and frat-boy banter.

Like a wrecking ball to his mind, Ethan felt himself growing dumber, his mental acuity fading with each passing moment. The intricate plots of novels and the nuanced critiques of societal norms were replaced with useless sports trivia and memories of pulling pranks with his bros. The lines on his face seemed to smooth out, the clock of his life winding back until he felt like a carefree 20-year-old college sophomore once again.

He remembered the struggle of his freshman year, nearly flunking out until he switched to Econ to fit in with his frat brothers. Memories flooded back—a wild party last night, the taste of cheap beer still lingering on his tongue. A wave of nausea hit him, and he let out an unapologetic buuuuurrrrp, the sound echoing through the now rowdy classroom.

"You bros—what are we doing in this boring class, let's party! Let's get wasted!" Ethan hollered, his voice now unrecognizably boisterous and carefree. The words slipped from his mouth effortlessly, devoid of the eloquence and depth that had once defined his speech.

The entire class erupted in cheers, the students joining in the revelry of Ethan's transformation. Gone was the professor who had challenged their intellects with complex theories and philosophical debates. In his place stood a caricature of collegiate stereotype—a figure of amusement and camaraderie among his peers.

Ethan's name slipped away from him, lost in the tumult of cheers and laughter. He was no longer Ethan Campbell, esteemed professor of English. As the echoes of applause filled the lecture hall. And as he looked around at the faces of his cheering students, he was ready to party.

As the group entered the local college pub, Ethan's face underwent a subtle transformation. His jawline, already strong, seemed to chisel itself into sharper relief, giving his face an air of calculated confidence. His lips curled into a perpetually cocky grin, one that exuded a blend of charm and entitlement.

His eyes, normally warm and inviting, now sparkled with a glint of mischief and bravado. They scanned the room with a self-assuredness that bordered on arrogance, taking in the attention from others with a satisfied nod. Ethan's posture subtly adjusted, his shoulders squared confidently, as if he owned the space around him. As soon as Ethan stepped into the bar, he assumed a persona that was a stark departure from the reserved professor he had once been. He swaggered through the crowd with an air of entitlement, exuding the brash confidence of someone who believed the world revolved around him.

At the bar, surrounded by his bros, Ethan's behavior escalated to the epitome of obnoxiousness. He loudly heckled the players on the screen, critiquing every move with an exaggerated bravado. His voice carried over the din of the bar, drawing attention to himself with every shouted comment.

As he stood at the bar, Ethan's eyes were glued to the sorority chick with big tits and blonde hair across the room. Ethan's demeanor shifted into overdrive. He flexed his muscles, struck exaggerated poses, and flashed a grin that oozed harm. A sudden tan seemed to wash over his body, adding to the illusion of athleticism and vitality.

Ethan turned to his bro Topher and yelled out loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear: "I'm plowing that bitch tonight! Bet!"

"Dude, you're like the biggest party animal on the team," Spencer shouted over the cheers, slapping Ethan on the back with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Coach was right to make you the captain, Zayne!"

In that moment, everything clicked for Ethan—or rather, Zayne. He was no longer the boring college professor burdened with intellectual pursuits. He had transformed into Zayne, the embodiment of every fratbro stereotype—dumb, obnoxious, and self-assured. Captain of the college football team, his path was clear: lead his team to state victory and revel in the adoration of his peers.

Zayne was the loudest, most obnoxious bro at the bar that night. His muscles bulged under his tight t-shirt, and he downed shots like they were water. He grunted to his bros Topher and Spencer about his "sick gains" at the gym earlier in the day, flexing for them whenever he could get away with it.

Zayne caught sight of himself in the mirror at the bar, and he couldn't help but check himself out. His huge muscles were on full display, and he felt an undeniable sense of pride swell within him.

As he flexed for the mirror, admiring his chin strap beard and tight t-shirt, Zayne became more vain and vapid by the second. He couldn't believe how hot he looked; it was like all those hours spent pumping iron had paid off tenfold. With each passing moment, Zayne sank deeper into a state of self-absorption - lost in his own reflection.

The energy in the room was electric as Zayne, Tucker, Topher and the rest of the frat house down they're shots. They had just come from a grueling workout at the gym, and they were amped to let loose and party.

"Dude, I just hit the gym and killed it!" Zayne exclaimed excitedly. "I'm so pumped for tonight." His eyes scanned the room hungrily, searching for any signs of hot chicks who might be interested in joining them.

Topher nodded in agreement. "It's about to get lit af in here," he said confidently. "Damn right fam. Let's go find some babes to party with." Zayne hollered. With that, they made their way over to the bar where a group of girls were already gathered around another table laughing loudly.

Zayne spotted a drunk sorority chick from across the bar and grunted to his bros, "Yo, let me show you how it's done." He made his way over to the blonde bimbo and shamelessly flexed his muscles. She giggled vapidly in response.

"Hey babes, check out this fine piece of ass," Zayne said with a dumb laugh. His hands began roaming her perky ass and tits as he continued talking about football and gym sessions with with the blonde chick. Flexing his biceps as regaled her about today's football pratice. The girl seemed entranced by Zayne's bravado; she didn't even notice when he slipped his hand down her pants.

The night became a drunken blur of partying, drinking, and hitting on dumb bitches. Zayne lost track of time as he moved from one girl to the next, flexing his muscles and telling stories about football and gym sessions. His frat brothers hollered in approval from across the room while they downed shots of tequila.

In between making out with various girls, Zayne would occasionally glance over at Tucker who was deep in conversation with a brunette beauty at another table. Topher had disappeared somewhere into the crowd but could be heard cheering every now and then when someone scored a touchdown or did something particularly impressive on stage during karaoke night.

Zayne met up with a hot cheerleader chick who had the biggest rack he had ever seen. They ordered shots and grinded and danced throughout the night. He knew he had found the chick he was going to plow that night.

As they continued drinking, she began stroking his firm pecs and squeezing his huge biceps. She was dumb, blonde, and drunk - just the way Zayne liked it. He couldn't help but laugh at her inane comments as they made their way back to his place later that night.

Zayne was the most obnoxious, dumb, crude conservative asshole in the frat house. He loved to flex his muscles and brag about his "sick gains" at the gym. His favorite pastime was hooking up drunk sorority girls and taking them back to his place for a good time and working out.

Despite being a total douchebag, Zayne had an undeniable charm that drew people towards him. His bros Topher and Tucker looked up to him as their fearless leader - someone who could always be counted on for a good time or an epic prank. Zayne has become the epitome of an obnoxious, dumb republican bro in the frat house. He's always flexing his muscles and showing off his latest workout routine, which consists mostly of bench presses and bicep curls. His wardrobe consists mainly of tight t-shirts that showcase his pecs and abs, paired with baggy shorts or jeans that hang low on his hips.

His hair is styled into a messy quiff that he thinks makes him look like a "total stud," but it just ends up looking greasy most of the time. Zayne is constantly talking about how hot he is and how all the girls at the bar can't resist him. Zayne is just another spoiled, entitled rich white frat boy. He comes from old money and has never had to work a day in his life. His parents have always given him whatever he wants, so it's no surprise that he expects the same treatment from everyone else. He loves nothing more than throwing his weight around at bars and clubs, buying rounds for everyone just because he can afford it.

Whenever someone disagrees with him politically or challenges one of his opinions, Zayne gets extremely defensive and starts shouting about how great America is and how liberals are ruining everything. He loves to start fights at bars just so he can prove how tough he is by throwing punches.

Zayne is the epitome of what people hate about frat boys. He's the most obnoxious, dumb conservative bro in the house, and he knows it. His muscles are sculpted from hours spent at the gym, and his clothes scream "I'm hot stuff." He loves to show off his physique whenever possible, often wearing tight shirts that reveal his chiseled abs and flexing for anyone who looks his way.

His personality is just as big as his ego; Zayne thinks he's God's gift to women. At bars, he loves to order rounds of shots for everyone around him while shouting out cheers like a drill sergeant leading troops into battle. His favorite pastime is pulling gross pranks on unsuspecting victims with his bros –

When it comes time for scoring with drunken sorority chicks at bars (which happens often), Zayne goes all-in by buying them drink after drink until they can barely stand up straight anymore before making his move on them later in private rooms or dark corners of the bar.

In shot: if there were ever an award given out for being "Biggest Douchebag on Campus," then without a doubt that trophy would belong solely on Zayne’s mantlepiece because this guy truly embodies everything people despise about frat boys – but somehow still manages remain the most popular bro on campus. Zayne is the quintessential douchebag, and he knows it. He struts around campus with an air of confidence that only comes from being completely oblivious to his own shortcomings. His muscles are always pumped up from hours spent at the gym, but his brain is as soft as marshmallow fluff.

As he flexes in front of the mirror at the bar, admiring his reflection, he can't help but feel a surge of testosterone coursing through his veins. It's not just because he looks good; it's because he knows that every girl on campus wants him. And tonight, he has one lucky lady all to himself.

His date for the evening giggles vapidly as Zayne whispers into his ear "Why don't we had back to the frathouse and you can show me what a slut you really are". Zayne drunkly grunts. She doesn't even know what she did to deserve this guy; all she knows is that she wants him more than anything else in the world right now. As they make their way back to his place, Zayne can feel himself growing harder by the second… until finally, out pops a massive 10-inch cock! He grins like an idiot and starts thrusting against her without even bothering with foreplay or lube – after all, who needs those when you have such incredible stamina?