#rank fuckin jock feet

[notmuchtoconceal]

endless hours of brotherfun

[like-what-the-fuck-scoob]

Group Hug (The Fruity Four: Eddie Centric)

Summary: Eddie Munson struggles to cope when he loses a ‘battle of the bands’ contest. But luckily, Steve, Nancy and Robin are there to support him. 

Word Count: 903 (tis a short one)

Content Warnings: Fluff, platonic hug and kiss, sad Eddie, crying, descriptions of anxiety, competition. 

This is a submission for the @thefreakandthehair spring challenge. I am so sorry I’m posting this so late! I had a busy April, but I still really wanted to write this prompt!

I also want to give a huge thank you and shout out to @eddiemunsonfuxks for helping me come up with this idea! I had major writers block and you really helped me feel motivated again <3

Fifth place goes to… ‘Loud Summer’!

**********************************

Taking a deep, trembling breath, Eddie Munson bounced his leg as the host declared the rankings of the contest.

He’d been drinking a beer with Gareth when it was announced; a battle of the bands at their local bar. Shooting his drummer a toothy grin across the table, there was no way they weren’t going to enter. Hurrying back to tell the rest of the band, they’d practised every day for the past week, even skipping classes to touch up those more challenging riffs.

Fourth place goes to… ‘Midnight Metalheads’!

His eyes searching the crowd, Eddie locked eyes with his friends. Steve’s brown hues on his own, they shared a look of optimism, the jock waving reassuringly. Nancy and Robin stood beside him, their arms linked and brows furrowed as they listened anxiously to the results, knowing just how badly the dungeon master ached for this.

Third place goes to… ‘Guitar Hounds’!

Puffing his cheeks in a long exhale, Eddie’s nerves only grew. It was the best he’d ever played, adrenaline and drive coursing through him with every beat. Yet, his mind raced, picking apart every strum of his guitar, doubting every note of his solo.

Down the wire here folks. Second place…

His was ready to burst with angst, shuffling and jittering as he stood to the back of the stage alongside his bandmates, his heart almost beating out his chest. You could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife, as the presenter took his sweet time.

Goes too… ‘Corroded Coffin’!

Two simple words, yet enough to shatter one man’s heart. His stomach dropping to the floor, Eddie took a moment as his emotion’s caught up to him, eyes glossed over in a daze as he looked down to the ground. A firm hand on his shoulder pulled him from his startle, Gareth and Jeff both muttering commiserations as they stepped down from the stage.

And that means first place goes too…

Navigating through the cheering crowd, Eddie didn’t even hear the name of the winning band, his mind foggy and breathing shallow as he searched for his friends in a fluster. Overcome with gut wrenching disappointment, he found himself descending into hopelessness, his vision blurry and legs unstable as he sunk to the floor.

“Eddie. Eddie!” A gentle hand on his forearm, the guitarist barely caught his name as Nancy rushed to his side, the others close behind her. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Helping him to his feet, the trio guided him to the back of the bar, a much quieter space for Eddie to gather his composure. His friend’s huddled around him, it was clear how much they cared for the metalhead.

“Talk to us man, what’s going on?” Steve pleaded with him, compassionate eyes finding Eddie’s. Swallowing a lump in his throat, the dungeon master buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in dismay. “Didn’t fuckin win.” He mumbled into the skin of his palms, followed by a deep groan of irritation.

“We know. And that sucks b-but, second place is still amazing!” Robin chimed in, her bubbling optimism a much needed boost of serotonin. Though, her words seemed to go over Eddie’s head, as he merely responded with a frustrated grumble, his tone sharp and resentful as he snapped back. “No. N-No. Y-You don’t understand-“

Sharing glances of concern, the three young adults remained silent; an unspoken decision to give their friend a moment to feel what he needed to feel.

“For a second, I actually thought I stood a chance.” Eddie continued, scoffing at his own foolishness, internally scolding himself for doubting his cynical nature just this one time. “Like a fuckin idiot.” He clenched his fists, years of self-deprecation coming to a head in this one final kick in the teeth. His gaze clouded with unshed tears, he was close to breaking point.

“I was never gonna win.” He declared, pursing his lips to mask their not so subtle wobble. “I’m n-nothing.” A tear slipping down his left cheek, he wiped it with a sniffle. “Trailer trash, Munson scum, Eddie the f-freak.” He spat that final insult, a cry catching in his throat. “Before the contest even started… I- I’d already lost.” And at that, the dam burst, the metalhead sagging his shoulders in defeat as heart-breaking sobs racked his form. Bringing his hands to his face once again, the usually goofy brunette hid his emotions in shame. He couldn’t mask his pain with humour, this time.

“Oh Eddie.” Without hesitation, Nancy enveloped him in a warm embrace, soothing his back as it jolted with each cry.

Following suit, Steve once again placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, this time rubbing reassuring circles on the fabric of Eddie’s jacket. “We’re proud of you man, it’s alright.”

Making her way behind the guitarist and wrapping her hands around his torso, the third companion placed a platonic kiss to the back of his ruffled hair. “We love you, Eddie. We love you so much.” Robin gushed, her voice unusually calm, soft with affection and sympathy.

His sobs eventually fading into small sniffles, Eddie wasn’t sure how long they were stood there in a mournful silence. All he knew, was that in his darkest hour, as his three friends surrounded him with nothing but devotion and closeness, he felt a little less alone in this cruel world.

[idesofrevolution]

Here y’all go. Hope you like it.

Look at him, isn’t he adorable? I’d been watching him and his college friends playing ball every Saturday from my balcony. Each time, I’m hearing him talk about “slamming pussy” and “playin’ the game” as if he knows what that means. Jock boys always think the world of themselves, and sometimes for good reason. Every now and again, I look back on my own days at that age, fondly remembering all the bullshit trouble got myself into. I’m telling you- once you hit a certain age, you just want to relive those debaucherous days again; and hearing this little shit wasting those years degrading the ladies... I knew I could do so much better with his assets.

So into my mind popped a little idea. We’re living in a world of infinite possibilities, and using a few tricks and a whole lot of ingenuity you can really access some more unattainable goals. For instance, knowing the local voodoo priestess can be an invaluable advantage. Miss Marie had lived across the hall for as long as anyone could remember, and she had the respect and fear of everyone she met. So for a few hundred dollars and debt or two to her, she gave me a little gris gris which she insinuated could help little old me up my game. 

With bag in hand, I had to make my move. That Saturday I watched with bated breath as the boys were shooting hoops and talking shit until the sun went down. When the streetlamps went on, one by one they departed and left the ladykiller waiting on his Uber. As he sat there flipping through Tinder on his phone, I whispered the incantation that Miss Marie had taught me. Three times I repeated it, never once breaking my gaze on him. Upon the fourth recitation, I saw him suddenly throw his phone on the ground in rage. He tossed the basketball across the street and started to pace back and forth. Calling down to him, I “checked in on him.”

“Hey! You alright?” He looked up to my balcony and grimaced. 

“Shut the fuck up ya fruity bitch! Phone’s dead that’s all! Mind your business!” I chuckled and leaned against the railing, watching my hateful prey unknowingly within my clutches. Thinking his Uber was on it’s way, he sat down on the curb and pouted to himself. Five minutes turned to forty minutes and with his ride nowhere in sight, he played right into my hand. “Ay! Fag! Got a charger or somethin?” A smirk crawled across my face and I waved him over to my building and buzzed him up.

Now truth be told, I had no idea what to expect. Marie didn’t exactly explain how the gris gris would work, nor did she break down how to initiate the plan. So when he knocked on my door, I’d be lying if I said I was entirely understanding of what I was doing. I swung the heavy old door open and there he stood. Glistening with sweat and a scowl on his pretty boy face with his beat up skateboard in tow. 

“So where’s the charger?” He looked me up and down, disapprovingly looking at my big belly and old biker tattoo sleeves. Back in the day, I rode with my crew from coast to coast, fuckin’ every stud, twink, and bear that came my way. But the years hadn’t been too kind to me, and from the look on his face he sure didn’t see me the way that those boys back then did. Convincing myself to swallow my pride, I tossed him an iPhone charger and pointed him to the living room outlet. Plugging it in, he plopped down on my couch, and completely ignored my existence. Muttering under his breath, I could tell his Uber had cancelled.

“You can stay here until your car gets here.” I leaned against the hallway arch, taking in his steaming muscles. He clearly worked out in addition to all the days and hours of basketball. And damn... did he smell like hours of and hours of basketball. It was my favorite scent- raw testosterone, absolute masculinity, untempered musk; and his was STRONG.

“Bet your ass I’m getting the fuck out of your creepin’ ass house when this car gets here.” He thought he was so hood, so badass. He had no clue. Soon, though, he’d learn how to be a real man. Soon he’d be more than just a basic pretty boy frat kid. He started coughing gently, trying to hide it behind his phone screen, but the coughs grew louder and heavier. “Yo, get me some water!” I smiled.

“Get it yourself, bitch.” He whipped his head in my direction and tried to jump up, but realized he could barely move. It was as if he had no breath. “Oh, you’re feelin weak, huh? Why don’t you call your friends and they can come pick you up.” He tried to reach for his phone, but his arm had all but given out. Panic set in behind his cruel, mean spirited eyes and for the first time I saw him for who he really was behind the muscles, good lucks, and put on swagger: a little homophobic bitch who was in over his head. I walked over to him and plopped down on the couch next to him. His smell was strong and virile, full of youthful pheromones that he knew were a gift straight from God. I tested the waters and lifted his limp arm, exposing his wet pits. Assaulted, I tell you, I was assaulted by the sharp fragrance that poured from the hairy confines. He could do no more than a whiny whimper as I buried my nose and tongue into his armpit. 

“Well, fuck, kid. It’s been a fuckin’ bitch knowing you. But it’s gonna be one hell of a good time bein’ you.” I saw the last of his pathetic consciousness fade away. Where it went I neither knew nor cared; all that was left was his empty, hollow husk. Curious, I brought my fingers to his plump lips and pried. A sound I can only describe as stretching elastic rang through the room as I pulled and pulled. Looking inside, he was hollow, albeit padded with slick flesh that outlined his impressive musculature. Letting go, his face snapped back to normal. He was ready.

I eagerly stripped, thinking of all the adventures I could relive from within him; thinking of the numerous opportunities that I could snatch with his glorious body and my confident mind. Laying him down, I stuck my toe into his mouth and pushed. After a few thrusts downward, my foot slid down his throat. It took a solid minute for me to weasel my second foot into the tight confines of his slimy mouth and down his throat, but they were soon both slipping down his torso, through his muscled legs and landing in his tight feet. I was several sizes larger than he, so his tiny size 7s felt like a pair of tiny, wet rubber socks to my size 13s. Yet, after a little adjusting, they looked amazing at my size. I brought one to my face, pressing the damp soles on my nose, taking in the salty, rank funk that emanated from between his toes. I stood up, his mouth around my ankles making my a little wobbly. I grabbed his waist and pulled up, watching his legs slip over mine. The sheer size of my pudgy calves and thighs seemed to be suctioned into his, adding my mass to his musculature. He would be so much better at my 6′2 than his 5′9.

After a hefty tug, my bloated ass was sucked into his, tightening and firming into an ass any stud would kill to plow, and anyone would kill to plunge their tongue into. Sauntering over to my mirror, I saw a toned, gorgeous lower half, with my tubby top pouring over our waist. My cock was pressed tightly against my groin, since I’d forgotten to slip it into his when my ass was... compacted. I stuck my meaty hands beneath our skin and tried to grab my shaft, leading it towards his. The kid wasn’t packin’ anything impressive. I guess his ladies didn’t have high standards for dick. But I’ll tell you when my thick rod was slurped into his, it was like I was thrusting inside the tightest fleshjack I’ve ever used. Looking down, I smiled at a girthy, 10 inch, uncut fuckstick. I swiped my finger underneath my new foreskin and took a deep sniff. Fuck. Yes. It was unreal. The cocksmell was so strong yet so addictive, it was as if it was dripping manliness in odorous form. 

I knew that there was building pressure from within, and that the midsection would be the hardest thrust. So, I readied myself. Getting my footing underneath, I took a deep breath and held it in. With as much strength as I could muster, I tugged upward and my bulging belly was gulped into his skin with a loud “shlorp.” This took my body a moment to adjust, with a hefty beer gut protruding from my stomach, but after a deep belch, a set of washboard abs was there before me. To my surprise, and glee, some of my tattoos had transferred to my new skin, which gave me hope for the sleeves I’d grown to love.

Speaking of which, it was time for me to thrust my arms into his, which seemed entirely easier than my stomach. I slipped on his arms like gloves, the sensation of touch returning to my fingertips as they slipped into his. Looking at the mirror, it seemed only a fraction of my sleeve transferred over. Oh well, better than nothing! His shoulders snapped over mine, and I stood there in all my nude glory- with his jaw around my throat. I was ready. I was so ready to begin anew. I grabbed the jaw, matching his bottom lip to mine, and pulled his face over mine like a silicone mask. It suctioned to my head and within seconds I opened my eyes to a new man. 

I was incredible. My face was an amalgamation of both our likenesses, the best of both worlds. I winked at my new self, testing out my old cocky smoulder. I still got it, and hell, I would be using it a whole fuckin’ lot. A knock on the door woke me from my eyefucking and walked over to the door. Opening it, there stood Marie. She looked me up and down and rolled her eyes.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s a bonafide stud once again.” I smirked, and let her in. “Phew... Boy you’re fragrant. But then again, I’m sure the boys you fuck are into that sort of thing huh?” Smiling, I lifted my arms, and took in my scent. Better than poppers. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? You agreed to the terms, now it’s time to pay up.” I plopped down on the couch, preparing to hear the terms of my debt.

“What you need, baby?” She grabbed me by the cheeks, looking her straight in the eye. All color must’ve flooded from my face.

“Your big blue eyes aren’t gonna get you anywhere with me, son. You are to do as I say, do you hear me?” I nodded silently. “I need followers, boy. Followers. Those who are willing to do what I need done, and in exchange... I’ll add them to your little crew. When I tell you to get something done, I need it done, you hear me?” I nod. “Now when I say go get some more boys, ma cher, you understand what I’m saying, yeah?” I smile as she lets go of my cheeks. “Enjoy your immortality, baby. I’ll be in touch.” With that, she tosses me some clothes as she walks out my door.

It’s been three weeks since that day, and the old man in the flat is nowhere to be seen. His ‘son’ Sebastian has since taken over the lease, and become something of a staple in the community. Always makin the ladies swoon, and the guys drip. Always there to end a fight with a swift K.O. to the chin. Always happy to help a down-on-their-luck neighbor. But most importantly, always looking for new people call ‘family.’

WELP. Introducing a potentially new recurring character: Sebastian the Voodoo King. Let me know what you think of him through asks, and what you’d like to see him to HERE. Have a dope day, kids. Hope this is everything y’all wanted.

[vantaestummy]

Beers, and Bleachers, and Kisses

SYNOPSIS: Music major Min Yoongi has always had the hugest crush on popular jock Kim Taehyung, but when out of no where, Taehyung asks him out on a date to the homecoming game, Yoongi goes a little above and beyond to, you know, impress him. Cue drunken antics like kissing and lots of barfing.

A/N: inspired by a true story that a friend told me. the gif has nothing to do with the story, just loved all of yoongi’s looks in the comeback teaser and have watched it like a thousand times now.

TW/// emeto and drinking way too much alcohol

THE STORY

Yoongi has had his eyes set on Taehyung for quite some time now.

Taehyung, the star child, infamous athlete, the boy carrying the school’s legacy on his back. Yoongi can’t help but to be enamored by the boy because out of all the assholes at this school that are prideful with their heads in their own ass, he’s the only one that actually has the right to be an asshole.

Don’t get Yoongi wrong, no one should be an asshole, but at least Taehyung has the looks and the talent to back it up. But Taehyung is actually the complete and total opposite. Yes, he hangs with some of the jocks like Park Seojoon, Park Hyungsik, Jeon Jeongguk, Kim Seokjin, and Park Jimin, but Taehyung has this air about him that emanates hope and love.

Here’s the other thing:

He’s really fucking smart. Truly. He’s the only dweeb of the athlete crowd that constantly gets straight A’s. And that’s not all.

One day, Yoongi was off to class, books and assignments in hand when one day, he gets the wind knocked out of him, his papers flying in a whirlwind, his glasses now askew.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going dude.” A gruff voice says, and suddenly, Yoongi feels so small, like his entire world has shattered and he feels nauseous with embarrassment. He doesn’t want to look at who pushed him because he knows he’ll be stricken with fear and he really doesn’t need to come to terms with the audience that has surrounded him and his perpetrator.

“Hey, back off, he didn’t do anything wrong.” That deep, velvet clad voice says. Yoongi’s heartbeat quickens, the feeling pulsating throughout his entire body.

Kim Taehyung stands there, hair flowing in the non existent wind like the hero in a k drama, having come to his aid in the midst of a dire situation. Yoongi couldn’t help it then, the way his heart overflowed with the utmost love and respect.

Yoongi had it bad.

And so you could imagine how Yoongi felt when Taehyung had asked him out to the homecoming game. The athlete had the audacity to look all nervous and shy, his head ducked and his cheeks glazed with pink. It was far too much for Yoongi to handle and let him tell it, he still thinks it’s a prank.

But Yoongi was over the moon, and he did NOT take almost three hours to pick out his outfit... promise. With his sandy blonde curls, cherry glazed lips and eyelids smeared delicately with a bit of gold, Yoongi was so ready to blow Taehyung away.

Taehyung was waiting for him at the entryway to the stadium, like he had promised, tickets in hand and a boxy smile on his face. When he notices that Yoongi is approaching, his face drops, his eyes widen. His jaw goes slack and it looks like the entire universe has made a home in his eyes. Yoongi can’t help but to blush.

“Woah... hyung you look... woah.”

Yoongi giggles, not used to such attention and definitely not used to it coming from someone so fucking beautiful and kind. That was the most important part for Yoongi. That Taehyung was kind.

“Uhh... you should close your mouth before... you know, flies?” Yoongi tries to play it cool but, he clearly can’t even do that right when his use of lingo just fades away into the night. But Taehyung must find it cute, (Yoongi hopes he does) as he just throws his head back with a laugh and hands Yoongi over his ticket.

“Here, the others are waiting for us.”

Yoongi raises a brow. Others? He had hoped that it was just the two of them but, Yoongi can’t be picky. Never in a million years did he think someone like Taehyung would be into someone like him. So he’ll take this one in stride.

They walk side by side up the steps and into the bleachers, finding spots next to all of Taehyung’s jock friends. This game was for the junior varsity team and Taehyung and his friends belonged to the major team? The other division? Yoongi didn’t really give a shit. He just knows that this was the team lower in rank and that it was a home game. Either way, he was with Taehyung, and that’s kind of all that matters.

Beside them are Jimin and Jungkook who, can’t seem to get their hands off of one another. Next to them, are Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok, people that Yoongi has seen around before but, has never really interacted with until now.

“Guys, this is Yoongi hyung, Yoongi hyung, meet Jimin, Jungkook, Joon-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Jin-hyung. Jimin, Jungkook and Hyung are on the same team with me. Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung are just our friends.”

“Wow, thanks for making it sound like we don’t do shit.” Namjoon teases. Yoongi smiles, offering them a kind nod and sighing with content in his seat. It isn’t long before Taehyung ducks his hands into his bag, pulling out two cans of beer and handing one to Yoongi stealthily.

“Want one? No one really says anything unless you make it a big deal. Plus, you’re older than me right? So you must be over twenty one.”

Yoongi’s nose crinkles as he finds this endearing, that Taehyung has thought about this so carefully. Granted, Yoongi doesn’t really drink but, if he says no, he risks looking lame as fuck and that is the last thing he wants to do right now. Especially when things are going so well.

“Sure, hand me another one while you’re at it. Beer doesn’t do shit for me.” Yoongi lies, easy. Taehyung’s brows raise, his smile widening, clearly impressed. He hands Yoongi the two cans like he asked and the older boy throws them back as if it’s no sweat off his back. Taehyung can’t help but to give him the side eye, his lips quirked are the corners as he bites his lip, very intrigued by how badass Yoongi is.

But unbeknownst to him, Yoongi had made the biggest mistake.

Halfway into the game, Yoongi had already had four beers, and not only was his vision hazy, but he could barely hear anything, all of the sounds of the world blurring together and invading his eardrums with a fuzzy sound. Along with the dissipation of his senses, comes a newfound courage that he did not ask for.

“Y’know Taehyung? I was real’ surprised when you asked me out, y’know? Because you’re just so fuckin’ gorgeous and I’m... not...” Yoongi giggles sadly, truly meaning what he says even though he’s drunk out of his mind.

But Taehyung seems to take offense to his words, quickly snatching up the other boy’s hand and holding it tight.

“I have no idea what the hell youre talking about hyung. You are so... beautiful, and believe it or not... but I’ve been wanting to ask you out for some time now?”

There it is again, Taehyung’s nerves as clear as day. Yoongi, so drunk that the world is spinning around him, can’t help but to find it so adorable that he just giggles, and giggles, and giggles. His fingers curl by his mouth in the most adorable fashion and his eyes crinkle as he laughs. Taehyung’s gaze softens, and with the new look, comes his tan cheeks turning a sweet shade of pink.

“You’re too... you’re too nice Tae...” Yoongi murmurs, clearly stricken by the others words as his heart swells in his chest. He leans in, intertwining both of their hands now and allowing their noses to brush. “You should kiss me now... I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a long time.”

Taehyung gasps at Yoongi’s bluntness but, nonetheless, has been waiting for this moment just as well. Taehyung leans inward, tilting his head so that their lips can slot perfectly together. Yoongi takes no time to hesitate as his lips move with the kiss, deepening it and allowing Taehyung’s tongue to mingle with his own. It’s hard not to laugh into the kiss because it’s so much more perfect than he could have ever imagined. And yes, Taehyung tastes like cheap beer and pocket mints, but he also tastes sweet and full of bright, hopeful dreams. The others pay them no mind as the two make out shamelessly in the bleachers of a college football game (talk about cliches) and Yoongi wouldn’t have it any other way.

The game is over when everyone in the bleachers retires for the night. Taehyung’s friends send him playful winks and teasing kissy faces as they depart, and Yoongi can’t help but to blush as he’s left alone with the jock he’s dreamed about.

But that’s not the only reason why his cheeks are flushed.

Yoongi feels sick, like, really sick. The world is still spinning but it isn’t as fun anymore, and an overwhelming sensation of nausea floods his entire body, making him hot all over as his lids droop and his mouth fills with saliva.

Taehyung kisses his cheek, still not aware of what’s happening.

“Do you want to... come to my dorm for a bit? We can watch movies or something? I also have food in the fridge that I can cook for us to last us the night. All the dining halls are closed so—”

“Taehyung?”

The jock in question closes his mouth, his brows furrowing as he intakes Yoongi’s pale and shaky state. “Hyung? Baby, are you okay?”

Yoongi can’t even swoon over the pet name as his stomach gurgles in protest.

“I-I... I think m’ gonna be sick...” Yoongi mumbles as his cheeks puff out against a sickly burp. He presses his fist to his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries so desperately not to puke in front of his crush??? Boyfriend??? It’s too early to tell but, if Yoongi vomits, this might be the end of it all.

“Ahhh.... shit.” Taehyung jumps to his feet, scanning the bleachers for something that Yoongi can be sick in. Thankfully, he swipes up a plastic bag that had been discarded holding who knows what.

He opens the bag beneath Yoongi’s chin, saliva already dangling from his lip as the crinkling of plastic resonates through the cold fall air. The wind does nothing to soothe Yoongi’s burning hot skin.

“Tae... m’ stomach...” Yoongi groans, the nausea followed by a dull ache that only makes him sicker. Taehyung pouts with sympathy.

“Just... get it up baby... you’ll feel better soon.”

Yoongi doesn’t hear the last of Taehyung’s words as his shoulders roll with a guttural burp, a thick wave of vomit clattering into the bag and nearly filling it up halfway. Yoongi heaves, more chunky puke nearly the same color as the beer he drank creating a small pool into the bag and weighing it down. Taehyung barely manages to keep it together.

He grabs at Yoongi’s other hand for help in holding the back, and with one hand now free, he brushes back Yoongi’s soft, light brown fringe, hissing through his teeth as Yoongi’s stomach clenches visibly beneath his jacket. More puke spurts from Yoongi’s lips, the bag overflowing with his vomit and soaking Taehyung’s fingers. The jock bites back a grimace as his eyes scan the bleachers in a panic for another makeshift puke bucket. He ends up finding nothing and resorts to dumping the bag to the grass below, opting for a wet but empty piece of plastic.

“Let it out baby, everything’s gonna be okay.”

Meanwhile, Yoongi is living through his worst nightmare.

Not only is his stomach a hot mess, but he’s not so drunk that he doesn’t realize what’s happening. After this, Taehyung will no longer want to speak to him again, let alone see him in class.

How disgusting can he be?

“T-Tae... I’m... I’m-blech.”

Yoongi gurgles out a few mouthfuls of vomit, his stomach convulsing as he continues to puke up nothing but bile and saliva. Taehyung rubs calm, soothing circles in his back as his spine curves from the force of his puking, his eyes wet and overflowing with unshed tears.

“Don’t speak hyung, just get it all out first.”

Yoongi whines, a few tears falling as he coughs wetly into the bag that isn’t nearly as full as it was before. Yoongi gags helplessly as nothing more comes up, but his head continues to hang low, unable to face Taehyung at the moment.

But once Taehyung realizes that Yoongi must be done he ties up the bag and wipes his sticky hands on his jeans, reaching into his bag for a few towelletes that his mother had given him before he left off to school. The package hasn’t even been opened, as Taehyung never thought he would have to use them, until now.

“Here hyung, you can wipe your mouth with... hyung, baby why are you crying?”

Yoongi sniffles, more tears escaping him as he descends further and further into the realms of never ending embarrassment. Yoongi is so ashamed that he doesn’t even think he can speak right now, let alone think of something useful to say.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I’m so gross and I just wanted to impress you and make you think that I drink all the time when really I’ve only had wine and never enough to actually make myself drunk and I was so surprised when you asked me out that I thought it might be a joke and now I’m really hoping it was because I know you probably hate me now and I’m just... I’m so sorry Taehyung...”

Taehyung’s jaw has dropped, his face etched with incredible disbelief.

“A... a joke? Hyung, I wasn’t joking when I asked you out. I did it because I actually like you and... I’m sad that you thought you had to go as far as to get really drunk to impress me but... I think I’m flattered?” Taehyung says cautiously with a small smile. It’s sweet, and endearing, and even though Yoongi’s stomach still hurts, it kind of makes him giggle too.

“I get it if you don’t want to see me again... I mean, who would? I got puke on your shoes.”

Taehyung looks down at his sneakers to see, yeah, a tiny splash of vomit on the tip of his converse. But he honestly doesn’t really give a shit. To him, he’s spending time with the coolest, cutest, most talented kid in school. There’s no other place he’d rather be.

“You know hyung, I was there, at the recital. You were so amazing. Every time I saw you around campus I got so intimidated, it also doesn’t help that you’re so cute. I’m really happy that you said yes.” Taehyung says earnestly as he uses his sleeve to wipe away at Yoongi’s tears, since his hands are still kind of gross.

Yoongi sniffles, looking up with wide eyes, shocked, his cheeks reddening as Taehyung takes care of him so effortlessly.

“You... you saw me?”

Taehyung nods with the brightest, boxy smile on his face. “Yeah! I love the music showcases because everyone in them is so good but you? You took my breath away. I never thought I would get the courage to ask you but... my friends kinda bribed me to do it. I wanted you to hear it from me instead of them being assholes and telling you how much I was crushing on you.”

Yoongi chuckles, breathless. His cheeks are flushed and his skin has somewhat returned to its usual color, even if he is still super dizzy.

Taehyung had known who he was? Before they even met?

Yoongi experiences a chill then, his hands wrap around his torso as he shivers. Taehyung quickly discards of his jacket before pulling it around Yoongi, his cheeks still a faint pink.

“Let me walk you to my dorm. It’s cold and dark out, and I also have some really good remedies for bad hangovers.” Taehyung offers softly, his voice tinged with hope that Yoongi will say yes. He does in fact, say yes, and when Yoongi feels even better, he borrows one of Taehyung’s jerseys and they cuddle on the couch, warm and so much happier than before. And if Taehyung’s teammates clown him once they see Yoongi leaving his room at the crack of dawn the next day, he doesn’t say anything about it. Frankly, he doesn’t care. He’s kind of in love, and nothing can change that.

Even if their first official date was filled with puke.

But thankfully, they go on many more dates to make up for that one, and when Taehyung asks Yoongi to be his boyfriend, Yoongi of course says yes. And when people ask how they met, Yoongi groans, and Taehyung just laughs, because they both know that whoever asked, is in for a long story.

A/N: sorry for disappearing. i can’t promise that i’m back officially, but i hope this makes up for some of that time!

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Blight | II

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Magic AU, Enemies to Lovers

Words: 7k

@tamedandscripted @syubcandy @cencoroil @kathrynwynterbourne @fireflower90 @bluegreenguppyfish @queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut @mygukandonly

Jungkook wasn’t sure how long he’ been here. Resting alone in silence in his secret place.  It wasn’t like some sort of fort of anything, no.  Where he was was a beautiful section of flourishing forest.

It was a hidden area, a secluded patch of land.  One had to find a cavern entrance that hid behind thick hydrangea bushes to even begin to search for it.  Even then, finding the hydrangeas was a feat.  The cavern was hundreds of miles underground.  It was secluded and any possibility of it ever being discovered by anyone other than Jungkook was a rare chance. Man would never set foot here so help him.

A far off, desolate cliff in the middle of a mountain range untouched by man.  A rare feat.  A long flight up to the near peak of a mountain.  Find the large, wide hydrangea covered rock area and with them behind the vines is an opening.

Going through that opening and traveling through the rocky, vine-covered cavern walls the cavern opens. A giant hole, leading straight down into God knows where.  No human would ever try and explore, and if they did, they would for sure lose their life.  It was far too deep and far too dark. However, if one ever got down the entire trip that traveled the entire mountain and below the ground, they would come into a clearing. A clearing leading into a vast, almost completely different world.  

Enchanting was the only word to explain it.  A magical place, a lake an entire ecosystem were thriving inside this mountain.  Hydrangeas sprouting in mass with all sorts of wildflowers growing by its side.  Trees wept with green, low hanging branches and vines. Water flowed in a strong, brilliant waterfall in the side the of the rocky cavern, most likely from a lake or body of water on the surface. A crystal lake sits beneath, capturing the mirror-like water.  This lake had healing properties Jungkook had discovered in one of his many trips here.  Just standing in the water could heal any injury.  Finally, floating orbs of soft, yellow and blue lights kept the ‘jungle’ lit and navigatable.

This place must have been crafted long ago by magicians: witches and warlocks.  There was no other way to explain the flourish so far beneath the ground.  As well as the inscriptions on some cavern walls and glyphs that so depict an ancient civilization with ‘God’s Gifted Ones’.  

The other piece of evidence was a large rock island in the middle of the lake.  It was jagged and uneven but it had arches of rock and covered in vines that bloomed in deep, crimson flowers he couldn’t name. The arches were incomplete, the very tops of them open and staggered like a ray of magic just shot through them. Underneath the open arches was a single throne of rock.  Uncomfortable looking though it may be, the carving among it makes it seem like a seat for royalty. He’s never sat there, and something in his blood demands that he never does.

This place was the only thing Spellcasters had his respect for.

Jungkook sat in a small space he liked to call his own as he looked around.  He wasn’t the only living thing down here, no not at all.  There were small creatures and animals that resided down here in harmony.  Almost all herbivores he’s gathered as the only remains he’s ever found were caused by nature and time; not by some sort of predator.

He lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head and one of his legs propped up on his foot as he looked up at the trees above him.  The weeping willow blew in the small constant draft that seemed to circle endlessly around the cavern.  It gave a nice, gentle chill.  For a hot-blooded, fire breathing, mobile furnace, the breeze cooled him and made him relax.  

If he closed his eyes long enough, he would think he heard bells in the distance, but knew it was only his mind adding onto the soft atmosphere this place gave him.  

Here, he was free.  He was a free man.  Not roped into classes and exams to ‘hone his abilities’.  He wasn’t stuck in the same boring lecture cycle of Masters and how he would need to valiantly and obediently follow his one day. He wasn’t just some jock who needed to keep his team strong and never lose, lest he gets ridiculed.  

He was just himself.  He was just Jungkook.  

Jungkook had never found a place so calming once he left home.  At home, it was his mother that warmed his breast and made him smile.  She loved him so, but once she lost her life, the candle she kept within her was snuffed out.  Taking all the light and warmth with it. Jungkook was lost for a time.  His mother gone, his father always a way for business and no siblings to try and connect with.  

Then he met Jimin.  Jimin ran into him when accidentally running into one of his living room glass doors that lead out into his yard.  He had been so distracted in chasing a shadow cat that he ran smack dab into the glass in his dog form.  Jungkook, startled into showing his horns and scales, watched as the dog changed into the form of a small boy not much older than himself.  

Somehow, after that, a friendship bloomed and Jungkook almost felt warm again. He and Jimin stuck together and eventually were both able to get into the main academy of Hearst.  However, they didn’t plan on being Ranked the same and pinned as classmates both in their first year and now, yet it was a minor chance of luck that Jungkook wouldn’t refuse.  

Yet, even with Jimin, the warmth wasn’t the same as it used to be like as his time as a small child.  So, he would explore every chance he got.  Transforming and flying miles upon miles away just to find something, anything to help the void in his chest.  The hole in which his mother’s death forged so long ago. Then, he found it in this place.  

He couldn’t remember exactly when or how he found this wonderful world of his own, but he didn’t care.  He found it, and it was his and he couldn’t be warmer.  

Somewhere along his visit, he drifted off.  He didn’t know when but when he woke up, his arms that stayed under his head were nearly numb.  He sat up and let the tingling pins and needles of his blood rush back into his arms and hands.  He sat looking around.  He could never tell the time of day in this place, that’s a given.  Yet, he decided it time to go once again.  

Working his way out from under trees and into a clearing he lept into the air and took off upwards with his wings that tore from his back.  Up the long drop that seemed to get shorter with each visit and out the cavern into the hydrangeas before soring into the sky of outside.  It was dusk.  The sun setting with each ticking moment below the horizon, kissing the daytime farewell until morning.   It was a beautiful view, yet a view that no longer captured Jungkook’s jaded perception.

He moved above the clouds until his nose picked up the scent of the school ground and soon descended onto the rooftop of the main building.  It was always much easier making a landing on the roofs than into the fields or courts.  Less chance of conflict.  

His feet touched the hard roof and breathed a content breath.  He made his way down and into his building where he went to his locker to retrieve the shirt he discarded and replaced it on his chest. Now fully dressed, he was lucky not to be caught and stopped by some random person who would definitely scream about some ‘nudist’ on campus.  It’s happened before and it was not fun.

He was finishing up grabbing whatever he needed for tomorrow’s academic courses when he heard a group of B Ranks who had just come from the upper floors, ready to leave for the day.  Jungkook ignored them as they soon passed and Jungkook slammed his locker shut.  They were talking about the Spellcaster Exams happening tomorrow.  They were to perform trail tests and magical limits to see if they were qualified for a Familiar.  

“Fuckin’ Spellcasters,” he murmured as he too left the building and soon the campus to his own dorm.  

XXX

The dorms were not laid out in any sort of system like the school itself.  Many students of different species and ranks lived among each other as neighbors or even roommates.  Had it not been for Yoongi needing a roommate and purposely waiting for you to enroll, you would’ve probably roomed with a Spirit, given a choice.

Currently, you were sat on the floor, nursing a bag of your newly owned chips - that Yoongi got as promised - completely drowning in worry.  The exams were tomorrow, just hours away and you swore you could tear your hair out.  You stared at the ceiling as your head was kicked back while your back rested against the foot of your shared couch with Yoongi in the main room.  

Said warlock had just leaned over the couch, catching your attention and making you crane your neck further back to an uncomfortable position and also drawing a headache to the surface.  

“You really shouldn’t worry.  It’s not that difficult of an exam and it’s held twice a year. You have way more than one shot going forward.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve already passed.  You just don’t attend the ceremony to actually get a Familiar.”  

“Well, yeah.  Why would I do that when I can pick my own partner on my own terms?”  

You groaned and rolled your eyes.  “Yes, I get it.  You’re super advanced, rub it in why don’t you.”

Yoongi just shook his head at your pessimistic attitude.  Honestly, if he told the truth, he knew you had nothing to worry about.  You had magic storing down to a T and your ability to maintain and manage your magic was outstanding for a C Rank.  It was whether or not your execution of said magic would go as planned.  You, one might say, were a nervous test taker.

Yoongi rounded the couch, sitting on the cousin behind your head as you had taken to pushing your cheek against his knee.  He hovered his fingers above your head as the magic that gently came from them made your hair dance like static.  You were always emotional around exams or ceremonies, but he supposed in your situation that you had every right to be.

“Would you feel better if I waited outside the exam hall? Results won’t be posted until the next morning. We can go to that lame, gross ‘asethetic’ diner you like so much.” You rolled your eyes as you contemplated actually biting his knee.  

“That ‘lame, gross ‘asethetic’ diner’ makes me warm and fuzzy so shush your mouth you Dark Wizard.”  He tapped on your head, a bit reprimanded.  You strictly knew wizards were half-breeds between humans and magic users, a rare breed to be sure.  “Besides, when exams are over, we still have academic courses.”  Yoongi rolled his eyes.  

“Yeah, but they aren’t mandatory.”  

“I’m not ditching class, Yoongi.”  He sighed as you and he got quiet.  Sitting in silence he knew the reason you were worried.  He just didn’t know how to phrase it without making your mood any worse.  Though, it wouldn’t hurt, would it?  It was already floating around in your head, drilling into every corner of your thoughts like a nonstop drill with rechargeable batteries.

“Y/n,” he started, voice uncertain, “are you worried about your dad again?”  You were silent, still and unresponsive.  Perhaps you fell asleep?  You’ve don’t so before.  However, you soon nodded.  “Don’t worry about it,” he thought that might be the case.  

Your father wasn’t the most generous man on the face of the planet.  A big name for himself in your family history and hardly any people even knew he even had a daughter. 

Growing up he was earning awards and making headlines left and right and featured in reports and newspapers frequently.  Succeeding in classes of all kinds, magical or not and gaining his Familiar in his first year right off the bat when he entered and enrolled in Heart Academy for the Wicked and Supernatural.

That Familiar ended up being your mother.

Your mother lost her life when you were born.  It was normal, well as normal as being born a Spellcaster can be.  

Spellcasters almost always end up stealing the life of their mothers upon birth.  The magic gathered and stored into their small, infant bodies only obtained their powers from their mother’s life. They took the life energy from their carriers and converted it into magic to store and released that magic when they are born.  The only way to slimly avoid death is by C-sections, but it’s risky.  There’s always a chance that both parties would lose their life if the doctor is too unskilled.  

Once a Spellcaster, witch or warlock or even half-breed wizard, is born the father is either pulled in one direction of the other.  They are either completely overprotective and shelter their children until they can’t possibly shelter them any longer.  Or, they reject them absolutely.  

Your father rejected you. Absolutely. 

Yoongi has known you since childhood, and he’s seen the way in which your father completely overlooks you and your presence as a whole.  It wasn’t unnatural to guess your father grew up into a wealthy man, so the house was filled with staff that was directly in charge of raising you.  You were raised by interchangeable faces and fake gestures all because you were ‘the bosses daughter’.  The only plus was Yoongi’s companionship and friendship.  

His father was loving to him.  Waiting on him hand and foot until middle school when Yoongi was able to sit down and talk with him, telling him to back off and not to treat him like a fragile doll, but a person.  LIke his son, and his father listened to him.  Maybe it was because he was a boy, or maybe it was because his father accepted him from the beginning, you weren’t quite sure.  

That’s why you always tried so hard.  Whether it be in class, working on book smarts or building your magical properties.  Why you pushed so hard for a Familiar.  If you were to gain a Familiar, maybe he would finally notice you and all your potential you could build from now into the future.

Yoongi just pat your head and reached forward into the bag of chips to grab one and force it between your lips.  The salt stung slightly as you scowled at him.  He just messed up your hair before he stood up, making your body roll to the side and now lay on the ground.

“It’ll be fine.  Don’t worry about a 6-foot tall demon when you have me.”

“You’re literally 179 centimeters.  You’re a single inch off of 6 foot.”  

“That, my dear friend, is what makes me so much better.  I’m an inch smaller for travel convenience.”  You rolled your eyes as you watched Yoongi trot off into the kitchen, hearing clunking and removal of pots and plates from cabinets thereafter.

The rest of that night, Yoongi made it a top priority to keep your mind off the exam and most importantly your father. Throwing jokes, starting little skirmishes and even dabbled on the idea of getting you drunk so you could just puke and go to bed.  However, he took a miss on the alcohol, you did have a test in the morning.  Hangovers don’t work out for the brain and magic.  You could very well make something blow up if you're too hungover.

It was 11 when you finally crashed.  Spending so much energy just dealing with the back to back objects and tasks Yoongi threw at you.  Yoongi nodded in satisfaction before maneuvering you to throw you over his shoulder.  You know, like real friends do.  

Marching to your room with your body folded over his shoulder, utterly unconscious for the night, he moved into your room where he blew his lips and a small puff of light floated around to light the room.  There was a chance if he flipped the light switch on, you’d wake up and proceed to yell at him for carrying you like he was, a fact he knew you weren’t fond of.  The light, though small, was bright enough to show the path to your bed without running into anything or tripping on the journey from your door.  

It was a mystery, how your den and your bedroom had polar opposite vibes.  Your den, as he knew, was dark and felt like a cave when one stepped inside.  However, your bedroom was like how he could only imagine a child felt walking into a damn Build-A-Build store.  It was bright, and resemble your white magic specialization to a T.  Pastels from coral, to teal and even a nice shade of grey specked your room in the form of books or knick-knacks.  

Though, Yoongi wouldn’t say he disliked it.  His room resembled a monochromatic museum, that was just his style.  However, he would like to camp in your room with you if he ever needed a spark of color to lift a bad mood he felt on the horizon of his mind.

He carefully rolled you off his shoulder and put you, rather sloppily into bed.  Laying you sideways and having your feet hang off the edge of the mattress, but he couldn’t be bothered.  You were on the bed with no way of falling off unless you decided to fight in a war in the 6 hours you were going to be asleep.  He tossed your comforter over you and stretched his back.

You may be smaller than he is, and he may be a man, but that doesn’t make you any less heavy than the scale you complain about every morning.  I mean come on, the average weight for someone like you wasn’t something to get bent out of shape about.  Yet, it was often times he’d see you shove down rabbit food in the form of salads and greens before turning around and enjoying those chips you devour each chance you get.  Thus, prompting him to poke fun at you.

He turned to look into the mirror you had in your room.  It was large and wide as it sat upon your rather magnificent vanity.  The same vanity that Yoongi’s father and he helped pick out for you on your 18th birthday.  That was probably the first time Yoongi saw you actually cry in joy at something most girls had at the age of 13.  He smiled as he recalled the memory before he whistled lowly and the orb of light faded out.  

He followed the light from the hall that leaked in through the doorway to work his way out, one against without stumbling and took one final look back at you.  He smiled as he lifted his hand and created a small symbol.  It resembled a pair of doors opening inwards, hardly noticeable and small enough to hide in his palm.  He blew it out of his hand as it flitted over to you were it stuck your cheek.  

Then, he quietly closed your bedroom door.  He walked around the dorm and shut off all the lights and the TV before he retired to his own room.  He was still going to go to the stupid diner with you, even if he didn’t exactly like the taste of anything in there. Min Yoongi was many things, but he wasn’t a liar.  He promised to go with you, so he would.

You woke up the next morning to the sound of your alarm.  Annoyed you swatted your wrist at it, some force flinging from your fingertips to knock the clock off your bedside nightstand and against the wall.  Hearing the cracking of the cheap plastic, you lifted your head with squinted eyes before pushing your face back into the pillow.  Now you’d have to buy a new one, knowing Yoongi would refuse to fix another alarm clock from you.  This is the 7th alarm clock you’ve broken in the last 2 months alone after all.

Yet, none of that mattered as all you could think about is you had to get up.  You had an exam today.  

XXX

The morning trudged on as sparingly as you knew it would.  Getting dressed was the only fast part of your morning, racing against time on getting ready in your exam gowns.  It was a fundamental rule that when important eams rolled around, you were to where your school provided gowns.  They were simple, the female design much different than the male.  

The top was a black, almost violet undertone, fabric that ruffled and ran horizontally along your chest and hung below your shoulders around your bicep.  A hood and low hanging scarf were attached loosely to the back of the ruffled patch behind you that you looped around your neck and sat among your breasts.  The gown clung to your torso and the skirt divided at your thigh.  A centerpiece almost resembled a thick, old fashioned loincloth, covered your front (although just barely) while the rest of your skirt was cut off and fluttered behind you at your ankles.

It was flattering and charming sure, and even you were quite taken with how it looked from a mundane standpoint, but it was so exposing.  Walking around with it on, even if no one was around, made you feel too open.  And, of course, you ran into Jungkook.  

Yoongi was at your hip, glaring at any filthy minded warlock who tried to even think about peeping beneath your shoulders or down your legs.  It was actually Jimin, who stood at Jungkook’s side (as per usual) that flagged you both down.  It was a routine by now, one that Jungkook could frankly do without.

As you approached, clutching your spellbook to your front and keeping your eyes downcast, any other guy would probably see you as cute.  Cheeks red at the unwanted attention and quiet disgusting cat-calls threw your way.  You were quite the sight, much to Yoongi’s dismay.  It was like people were hitting on his sister to his face. 

“Wow!  Your exam robes look really good on you Y/n!  You look so pretty!”  You rubbed your bare shoulder with a free hand as you only managed to keep eye contact with the friendly Hellhound for a moment before staring back at his shoes.  Your own footwear was a pair of small, 3-inch, thick heels.  Also a stupid requirement of this damn gown.  

Jimin sensed your unease.  Sure, you were embarrassed by your gowns, you usually were, but you always tried to play it out with being extremely boisterous or over the top.  Overdramatic, so to speak. Today, though, you were different.  You were quiet, clammed up and he could practically smell the anxiousness pouring out of you with his heightened senses.  

He looked at Jungkook’s back; he had only glanced at you before he went back to swapping book in his locker to his bag.  Maybe an unexpected compliment would cheer you up?  

Jimin grabbed the back of Jungkook’s shirt, twisting him around and slammed his locker shut.  

“What are you doing you-?!”

“Don’t you think Y/n looks nice?”  He questioned.  You ducked your head.  You knew that Jimin only wanted to help cheer you up, the hound was always in tune with emotion.  No doubt he could tell your overly dramatic depressed mood.  Though, turning to Jungkook wasn’t the best option.  You were absolutely certain that the insult that was bound to roll off the stupid dragon’s tongue would push you to tears.  

You were too emotional this morning.  Fuck hormones.  

“Well?”  Jimin pushed a Jungkook remained silent.  He looked at you, but to him, you looked the same.  So what if you were wearing different clothes?  You were still you, the insufferable brat he’s put up with since he enrolled.  But, even he could feel the dread coming from you.  Jungkook wasn’t heartless.

“Jimin,” Yoongi starts, trying to avert a possible scene to keep you together, “It’s alright.  We’ll just-”

“Yeah,” Jungkook interrupts. Yoongi looked at him, almost insulted he was interrupted.  Jungkook just slung his bag over his shoulder as it rested on his back now.  He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he slouched to a leg.  The bangs that were separated off his forehead shook in the bounce he took to look at your smaller than usual form.  “You look nice.”  

Jimin and Yoongi for shocked, to say the least.  Sure, Jimin wanted him to compliment you, but he didn’t actually think he would!  Jimin broke into a smile and turned to you.  He quickly grabbed your hand that still rubbed your naked shoulder.  You snapped your head to him, cheeks still flushed as they seemed to lose their redness at Jimin’s over-enthusiastic form.  

“See!  Now, good luck on the tests!  You’ll do great! The best B Rank witch ever!”

“That’s what I told her too!”  Yoongi quips up to help lighten the mood.  And before you knew it, you busted into laughter.  You don’t know why you were laughing, you were still dreading the exam and you were still so nervous walking was a chore, but you felt better.  

You turned to Yoongi after you pulled your hand from Jimin.  “I’m ready to go now. Better rip the bandaid off, right?”  He nodded as he slung his arm around your shoulder.  

“That’s the spirit!”  

You quickly turned to Jungkook, looking at him as he watched all of this happened in silence.  He could’ve left, maybe he was hanging around waiting for Jimin.  He did every other time.  “Thanks,” you quietly say before Yoongi is dragging you off until you both are out of sight.  

“You’re welcome,” he muttered completely to himself.  Jimin looked at him.  

“Did you say something?”

“I called her stupid.”   

Jimin opened his mouth in astonishment.  “Come on!  You were just nice to her!” 

“Yeah?  Well, there’s a first for everything.  I still don’t like her.  Salem will still be on my ‘hate’ list, no matter what fancy garbs she puts on.”  He spun on his heel, working his way to his first class.  “Come on, we’ll be late.”  Jimin ran behind him, catching up.

“We’ve been late before!  Hold on!”  Jungkook only sped up, leaving his best friend to run in a chase.  Though Jimin easily caught up, he was a hound after all.

XXX

Yoongi sat in his class, watching the clock tick down second by second with a bouncing, impatiently knee.  He sat slumped with his elbow on his desk as his palm supported his chin.  Fingers tapping his cheek.  He wasn’t even paying attention, frankly, he hadn’t been ever since he sat down.  Once this class ended, you’d be out of your exams and he’d get to find out if you passed for the third attempt since your first year or not.

It was 14 minutes later when his class was dismissed and Yoongi literally just phased into a shadow.  Hiding his body and zipping through the halls along the walls and ceilings.  Traveling by shadows is the fastest, most efficient form of travel; at least for a dark warlock like himself who knows how to actually control it and now get stuck in the shadows like many have done before.  

The tactic was much more complex than you would think.  If not performed correctly, one could even suffocate within the shadows of something as small as a puppy.

He was down the halls, scaling stairs and zooming along the corridors of the outside courts before he quite literally flew out of a wall right next to the door of your classroom.  Your class had already started filing out, the hoods of robes being flung down and some stupid, over appreciated jocks even flexing the pride that is their passing grade.  

He waited at the doors until he peeked inside, still not seeing you exit.  Perhaps he came just a split second too late?  He leaned in the doorway to see you, standing in front of the professor as he spoke to you, waving his hands about. You nodded, talking back with him as Yoongi stepped inside. He was familiar with this professor anyways.

“Ah, Min Yoongi, what a pleasure,” the professor spoke.  You turned around, flipping down the hood of your gown as he moved briskly to your side.  Yoongi nodded to the teacher.

“Tihex,” he said.  He had long dropped any title from instructors names.  No Mr. Ms., or Professors for him.  Just using their names. Some found it endearing, others not so much. Tihex didn’t really care though, he was a young professor and rather open-minded.  Wanting to connect with each student of his in one way or another.  Yoongi looked at you as he opened his mouth.  “How’d you do?” 

You blinked up at him as you then looked to Tihex.  He smiled as he motioned to Yoongi basically telling you to tell Yoongi your scores.  The way that scoring works is that throughout the exam, your given a slip of paper for your professor to mark points on.  Whether to deduct or add on points.  Another is the class ranking.  On the wrist of each participant that passed the exams with high enough remarks and points were given a name stamped on their forearm.  That number places what magical standpoint they are in their class.  The Spellcaster with the number 1 on their forearm being the most excelling student as of the current standpoint.

You opened off your spellbook and handed Yoongi your point slip as he looked over the numbers.  High marks all around.  He smiled as you tilted your head in pride.  

“These numbers are awesome!”  He cheered, even stomping a little jig in excitement.  “What rank did you get in class?”  He was eager to know.  Y, u however, didn’t even know that yet.  

“I don’t know.  I was about to be stamped when you came in.”  The two of you looked to Tihex who was busy playing with his magic stamp.  Customized with stickers and even a little bow, of course, the stamp wasn’t originally his and he did have to pay the school board a hefty price once he started slapping stickers on it.  

He stuck out his hand to you.  “May I finally place you in the ranks now, Miss L/n?”  You nodded as you rolled up your sleeve and showed him your bare, blank forearm.  Yoongi looked over your shoulder, forgetting the idea of seeing your face before he knew your number.  

Professor Tihex took the back of your hand before he placed the stamp on you and with a small push, a puff of pink smoke and a few coughing fits later, he pulled the stamp away from you. There on your forearm was a pink, scripted 1.

Yoongi crashed into your back as he picked you up and flung you around, almost violently.  This is all he wanted, you to succeed.  He stopped shaking you around, yet he still held you off the floor, toes just brushing the tile as Tihex laughed.  

“You two are like a pair of siblings.”  Yoongi laughed as he felt you try to touch the ground, to which he lifted you higher. You had half a mind to place a weight spell on your body, but you knew he could counteract it with a relieving spell, so it would just be a waste of magic and time.

“We have a diner to go to!”  He cheered.  You grabbed his arms, panicking slightly as you raise your knees.

“Yoongi! No!”  You felt him start to shift his body to travel in the shadows again, only this time, he’s taking you with him.  “I’m still in my gowns!”  Then, he sunk into the floor, taking you with him and zooming out, leaving Tihex wondering if he’d bring you back to finish your classes for the rest of the school day.

The ceremony for passing Spellcasters was 3 days later.  Letters and messenger falcons (old school yes, but some folk refuses to conform to technology) were sent out to every parent of the successful students.  Many showed to see their children come back with signs of a Familiar.  Some whose child wasn’t shy even got to meet their child’s new Familiar’s first hand.

The robes for the ceremony were all the same style.  As opposed to exam gowns that differ between the sexes, ceremonial gowns were all the same. A completely black get up for dark magic users and completely white for white magic users.  Though there are some who dabble in both, they always lean more towards one than the other.  Yours, of course, were pure white.  

Long sleeves wide and rather comfortable.  Fabric layered overcrossing over the chest and waist in diagonal cuts.  Top piece cut into a square around the neck, and uncommon yet flattering attention to detail.  The bottom was cut into pant sleeves, yet most certainly aren’t pants.  They were large, fluttering and spacious.  Though divided, they moved around your legs and feet like the skirt of a dress.  Your hair was up, pushed into two thick hair ties, the handy work done by Yoongi himself.  Finally, each student wore a numbered necklace of their rank.  Yours was a golden 1 that rested on your chest.  

You were gathered in a room with your fellow classmates, family and friends outside in the courts yards out front, holding small conversations here and there as well as taking congratulatory remarks for being top. The feeling still hadn’t sunk in yet that you passed. Now, here you were about to get your Familiar that has been chosen by fate.  

Soon, a bell was chimed and each student went to their numbered chair.  Chairs were lined in rows in the main building as the Spellcaster head professor stood on a small stage in front of a door leading to a private back room.  The ceremony of Familiar and Master is entirely private, not even the professor may know unless the Master so chooses.

Interestingly enough, the order in which the students are called up to cast their spell and summon their familiar is from the bottom student to the top.  So, you would be the final student to summon.  Time ticked by, students going in and coming out with a neutral expression, some with mixed feelings and others practically dancing.  

“Spellcaster 1,” the professor speaks and you stand, making your way to the stage door, white gown flicking your leather sandal covered feet.  You stood in front of the door and took a shaky breath.  “Good luck,” the professor spoke without even looking at you as you pushed the knob into the room down and stepped inside.  You heard the door lock behind you as you looked around.

A summoning circle was in the middle of the room with a spellbook on an altar in the center.  Open and bookmarked on the page in which the spell you needed was open and ready for reading. The room was flicking with floating, uneven orbs of light and it was dark.  Black cloth hung from the ceiling covering the tiles from view as you stepped forward.  You stopped in front of the altar and looked at the spell.  

You knew this spell well, you had read and re-read it over and over again in hopes of one day finally being able to use it.  Now was that time.  You closed your eyes and took a breath, right before you opened your mouth and began to softly speak the incantation.

XXX

Jungkook was sat in his room in his dorm which he somehow got all to himself.  He was a late student to apply for a dorm room, so he was stuck with the last option, a one-person dorm with a single room, bathroom and kitchen.  He didn’t mind though, being on his own in his own space was actually preferred.  He sat at his desk, typing up an essay he had due for a class when he was dozing off.  

He was jerked awake and startled when he thought he heard someone mumbling behind him.  Spinning around in his twisting-rolly chair, he nearly flung himself out of it.  No one was there, there couldn’t be.  Wouldn’t be.  He lived in this dorm alone and even if someone got inside, he could hear them.  Turning back to his computer he left with a long line of ‘kkkkkkk’ after he dosed with his finger on the key, he backspaced and jerked when he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him.  

Jungkook kicked up, pushing his chair behind him as he stepped away from his computer and looked around.  His body felt light and heavy, stuck in an uncomfortable balance.  It was like he was on the verge of getting drunk, yet still not there and haven’t taken any shots.

Another jolt of shock made him shout in annoyance as he felt himself phase between consciousness.  He rubbed his eyes, blinking once then twice before his wrist began to burn.  

Shrieking, he wasn’t used to the idea of burning, given he wasn’t supposed to feel heat.  It stung as he looked at to what he could have possibly done or what to see what was happening. A small burn was etching into the skin of his wrist.  Circling his wrist like a bracelet in red, angry, raised skin.  The pain made his body shift.

Breaking into a mid-shift form, his wings tore through the fabric of his shirt and stayed folded against his back. His horns twisted from the crown of his head as the scales on his neck and cheeks felt chilled.  His fangs bit into his lip as his golden eyes glowed and his slit pupils dilated.  

The burn soon finished etching it’s tribal pattern and ignited.  Jungkook shouted as he slapped at it, waving to put the random flames out.  Oddly enough, the fire engulfed his hand, yet it was only his wrist that continued burn.  Soon, the fire snuffed itself out and all that was left was a black, tribal tattoo around his wrist.  

“What the hell?”  He whispered, out of breath and confused. Voice shaking and looking around, he wondered if he was somehow hexed.

His eyes burned and watered as he rubbed at them.  Blinking once and then twice, he looked up to find himself somewhere that was most definitely not his dorm room.  He stumbled backward.  “What the fuck is happening?!”  He was in a room with black cloth and stupid lights of what? Gas?  

“Jungkook?”  He whipped around, more than ready for any explanation as to what in the everloving hell was going on only to have his face fall when he saw you.  Dressed in nothing but pure white garbs, you stared back into his half shifted form.  

“What in the hell are you doing here?   No, wait, where the hell is here?  Where am I?!”  He whipped his arms around as the short sleeves of his torn shirt showed his arms and wrist, to which you looked your eyes onto.  Jungkook saw you looking wide-eyed at his wrist.  He brought it up and pointed it at with his opposite hand. “Did you do this to me!?”  

“I-”  you started, looking around with a fallen face.  He seethed as he stomped towards you, grabbing the rectangular collar of your gown and pulled you to your toes.  “Jungkook, stop it!”  

“What did you do, Salem!!”  

“Release me!”  You demanded as his hand immediately opened, dropping you and he took two prompt steps backward.  As if he had lost his free will for a moment.  He shook his head as he looked at his hand then to you.  

“What did- did you just control me?”  You didn’t answer, only pulled up the sleeve of your gown to show him the same burned on tattooed on your wrist he had on his.  He looked at his wrist then to yours.  “What?”  He was so confused as the turn of events blew right over his head in terms of what was happening.  You sighed as you pointed behind him to the spellbook on the altar.  

He turned as he looked at the title of the incantation.  

“Summoning and Binding of a… Familiar?”  His voice shook as he read the title aloud. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  He spoke with a breath of disbelief.  “I got bound?”  He turned around.  “To you?”  He spoke with wide eyes and a wrinkled forehead from his raised brows. He pushed his hair back, his claws scraping his skin as he remembered he was still partially shifted.  

He took a few calming breaths before tucking his wings back into his back and hiding his scales.  His teeth shortened and his eyes reverted back to their wide pupils and whites. He cleared his throat as you stood there.  

“What just happened was absolute subjugation.  I gave you an order unquestionably and you were forced to obey it.” You rolled your sleeve back down to lay against your fingertips.  “It’s a power that a Master holds over their Familiar,”  you muttered.  Jungkook cursed as he looked at his two sides.  

One door was to his right, outside it was a small murmur of chatting.  The Spellcasters must be outside that door.  To his left was another door with the light from outside slipping through the cracks.  He clicked his tongue as he stomped over to the outside door and opened it.  Seeing the courts behind the school.  

“You are not my Master, Y/n,” he spits as he stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him.  Leaving you the Master of a Familiar who never wanted you.  Your one true wish crumbling at your feet. All good things, you feared, must always come to an end.

-TBC-

[jd07201990]

I tried to save him, I really did! But Coach, man is he one powerful dude… Coach, and the rest of the team, even my best fr…. frien…. Bro… Ky caught on fast, and tricked the hell outta me! I thought I was being slick, sneakin’ around finding all kinds of fucked up shit, tryin’ to get Ky back, but fuuuuck! Coach caught me in his office and fuckin’ screwed me up BIG time!

Ah, no, not again… not again! I have to control this, if I can just keep my mind, I can save Kyle and myself, we can get back to our old selves… But, Kyle, he even helped them Jock me up! He played along with me, egging me on, pretending to be scared, but, they really did turn him into just a big dumb smelly brute! And now, I joined him, all because I couldn’t see through his act, and Coach has the whole team trained to catch guys like me. It had taken weeks to convince Ky… Kyle, that he isn’t Donkey, the team’s Quarterback. He’s been lumbering around school, and in town, eating up the attention, screwing his way through all the pretty girls and even some of the hotter gay dudes. You could hear him coming, then smell him, as he stomped around with his humungous dawgs, reeking up the place. He seemed to enjoy his pretty boy good looks, reveling in the attention, despite having hated guys like that before. But I finally broke him free of it, or so I thought, long enough to hatch a plan to get him back to normal.

We snuck into the locker rooms after all the players, Kyle included, finished practice. God, the humid, dank musty stench made me cough, Kyle pretended to hate it as well, as we broke into Coach’s office at the other end. I was picking the lock, when Kyle raised one of his thick legs, and kicked the door in, his cleat leaving indented prints in the door. I should have known something was up, Kyle isn’t a violent guy, but I ignored it and entered.

We snooped around the office, checking out every inch for a clue on how to turn him back, to free him of the control Coach has over him, when suddenly, as I was leaning over the desk, Ky grabbed me, crushing the air from my chest, and stuffed a slimy piece of plastic in my mouth!

I gagged, trying desperately to spit it out, but my jaw seemed to clench over it, and I found my tongue lapping at the goo all over the chewed surface. It tastes rank, like an old gym sock smells, rancid and sour, then changed to a sickly strong, bleachy flavor I immediately recognized as being cum! I tried to spit it out, tried to vomit, but my tongue lashed helplessly at it, drinking down the slime, and as it seeped down my throat, it burned, feeling as if I’d caught a sudden bout of Strep.

I could feel my body shaking as the mouth guard dissolved, my head going fuzzy, images of the team, of Ky, sweaty and aggressive after practice seemed to swim through my cotton candy filled mind. I found myself lapping at the flavors as they switched between distinct funk, and sweet, savory cum. I could suddenly tell the difference between them all. Feet, pits, jock ass, balls…. And I was enjoying it more and more, as my mind let go and sank into a twisting spiral.

Oh, no, that wasn’t my mind! That was the spiral on the computer screen Ky had sat me down in front of! Then, I head a deep, dreadful voice, Coach, congratulating Ky on his catch, and heard Ky grunting, and a sudden warm splatter on my arm told me Ky had just creamed himself. I couldn’t look, but I saw the door shut as Coach lead Ky out, and then came back for me.

I was shaking as words and images of football, chicks, muscle, sweaty guys, raunchy sex seemed to meld and twist into my head from the screen, and Coach sat there, goading me on, telling me all of the things I’d now enjoy more than anything else. Worshiping the team, being the team’s stress reliever, wanting desperately to be like them. I teared up, struggling to keep these things out of my head as they seemed to rip away at it, filling in deeply. The screen changed to plays, the field, grunting, running, working out, male, masculinity, virile aggression, the need to be a man! And I wanted it all, I was losing the fight, when in a flash, the screen went blank, and I realized the mouth guard was totally gone, dissolved down my dry, ragged throat.

“Fu…. Fuck bro….. the fuck you do to me Coach!?” I rumbled in a dim, dull sounding sexy timbre, the voice of a Jock, the kind that causes girls to cream themselves, and gay bros to bend over for you!

“Fuuuuuuuck! No!! Fuck!” I tried again and again to stop the words, I couldn’t control my own vocalizations, dumb bro speak pouring from my mouth anytime I tried to talk.

Coach went into a speech about loyalty, and how boys in this school who get caught doing anything against their star team, will find themselves joining. He was rummaging through a wardrobe on the other side of the room while he went on and on about the team, about my new position as a Tight End, making a lewd joke about how Donkey, I mean, Ky, and the team could use one, and how I’d find it difficult to say no. He came over with a few more items, while I tried to get up from the chair. I was sweating with the effort, when he grabbed my shirt and hiked I up and off me.

He grabbed a bottle of what looked like sun screen, and squirted a large blob into my chest, rubbing it in with hard, rough hands, making sure every inch was covered and shining in the oily goop. Then he went to town on my nipples, rubbing, twisting, pulling, pinching, all while he mentioned a surprise as well, as I leaked precum from the nipple stimulation into my pants. Then stopping, and rubbing a little oil into the rest of my torso, then my legs, arms, back, all the way down to my toes and up my neck. Not as much as my chest though.

Then he made me strip and tucked me into a jockstrap and cup, pair of purple shorts, a large, dirty pair of cleats, pads, but left the helmet on the rack in the wardrobe, and ordered me into the locker room, then the workout room with all of the heavy equipment. He put me through the most rigorous workout, yelling at me to work harder, lift more, run faster, pullups, sit ups, bench press, and all manner of grueling exercises. I was drenched by the end of it, feeling my pulse in my entire body, as well as realizing that the uniform I was in, was too tight. Especially in the chest and shoulders.

He finally released me, just as Donkey… I mean, Ky, uh, Kyle, came back, dripping sweat from his Bieber cut pretty boy hair, instantly filling the room with his… fucking, sexy… fuck… fuck no.. No! Not that!!! Anything but…. But…. Fuuuuuck......

I ended up licking him clean, from toes to neck, worshiping his muscles, sucking 2 thick, heavy loads from his balls After he left, I sat, sweating, my chest was now a true pair of man tits, big juicy nips perking up from the meaty pecs. I was panting as coach put some headphones in my ears, and with a sneer, told me to get ready for the surprise. He reached for my nipple, squeezed in between his fingers, and twisted, it hurt like a bitch, but I instantly moaned, my eyes going glazed as I filled my jockstrap and cup with a thick, creamy load of jock jizz. I was Tits now, the team’s sweat slurping, nipplegasming Tight End.

[notmuchtoconceal]

Press your face deep in. Flatten your nose. Huff me deep. View my calloused soles as though through a magnifying lens. Might get lucky enough for me to stand upright and crush your skull.

[idesofrevolution]

For @baypay5. A very unique story, and as requested: Wrestling Jocks. 

Kevin hated Jonas. Most kids who are bullied hate their aggressor, but Jonas was a special type of bully. Kevin had expected as college juniors they’d grow out of the adolescent bullshit, but Jonas had not done so whatsoever. He knew that Kevin was queer, president of the school’s Diversity Club, and very militant around his beliefs; which gave Jonas plenty of material to work with. After coming back from wrestling practice, he’d tease Kevin with his sizable bulge and impressive muscles knowing full well that he was the type of man that Kevin lusted for. It was impossible not to look when they were in the midst of their spats- truly a public spectacle for all to see.

So to all onlookers, it was shocking that Kevin was in the stands at the wrestling meet. To Kevin, money spoke louder than anything, and a crisp $100 bill spoke volumes. After all, he could use a nice injection of funds for his rent. All he had to do was meet up with Jonas after the meet, pick up his key, and watch his dingy apartment for the night while he went out with his dopey friends. Deep down, he felt odd about the entire ordeal, and smelt a stunt. But, the Diversity Club was going to check in with him throughout the night and make sure things were okay, so to him, Jonas’ money was as good as his.

Jonas strutted out to the mat, took his position in his tight white singlet and immediately destroyed his competition. There was a reason he had a full ride scholarship to Sunnmore University, he was their ticket to Nationals. Kevin couldn’t deny it was impressive how he effortlessly defeated each and every opponent within moments. Always finishing his round with a crowd-roaring applause, he knew he was the best. 

The meet ended much as it always does: Sunnmore wiped the floor with Unger College’s boys, as if it was a practice round. Jonas walked out of the locker room, and Kevin was ready to take the keys to the apartment. The exchange was stilted and felt off. Jonas didn’t try to irritate him in any way, and instead simply took the key off his lanyard, handed it to Kevin wrapped in the $100 bill, and with a smirk, walked away. 

Kevin walked to his dorm, tossing his bag full of Calculus books onto the bed and tried to do his homework. Hours passed, and before Kevin knew it, it was almost midnight. Time flew by too quickly, and he’d forgotten all about his duties that evening. He bolted from the dormitory all the way to the subpar student housing apartments on the south side of campus. He walked to the shitty house, put his key in the lock... nothing. He tried again, twisting the key in any direction- it didn’t budge. He messaged Jonas, the reply was bizarre. 

“Dude you gotta disarm the security system. Type ‘bitch’ into the keypad and go in. Fuck.” What an asshole. He must’ve changed the password just to fuck with him. Reluctantly, he typed the word into the keypad, and was met with an immediate ‘ding.’ From the sides of the system, a big puff of mist flew at him. It was odorless and had no crazy sensation, but the moment it hit his face, he felt his body go limp. He was being drugged? He tried to pull his phone from his pocket, but his body disobeyed. Nothing. He stood there like a statue, unable to move. A strange voice emanated from the speaker.

“Unknown user. Enter.” Kevin opened the door against his wishes, and stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. It looked as he expected: clothes littering the floor, stinking of stale beer and man stink. “Remove unauthorized dressings.” He began to strip, tossing his pristine pressed collared shirt and khakis to the side, his white briefs, socks, and shoes being discarded like trash. Standing in this dump in the nude, he did his best to resist. His mind was still intact, and he was mortified at his inability to break whatever hold on him this drug had. “Disinfectant bathing initiated. Proceed to the bathroom.” 

Kevin walked to the dingy bathroom, clearly never once cleaned. Used condoms were strewn about, vitamins and supplements lined the shelves of his open medicine cabinet. The shower was already running, but it clearly was not water jettisoning out of the showerhead. The smell was all too familiar. It was unmistakably sweat- Jonas’ sweat. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t scream for help. His body moved forward, stepping under the lukewarm streams of sweat pouring from the shower. The sensation was a mix between water and a slick lube sliding down his body. “Open your mouth.” The voice commanded, and he obeyed. The taste of Jonas’ rank sweat was salty, yet oddly satisfying. It slid down the throat, coating his entire esophagus with the substance; Kevin drank it down like it was nothing. 

He felt his muscles pulsate and spasm. Though he was unable to watch, he felt his body shift and grow. Biceps and triceps ballooned out of his arms, abs popped like bubbles beneath his skin. His feet buckled and stretched, his calves and quads burned from the intense exertion of energy, his face warped like clay in the hands of a sculptor. It was painless, but he felt every ounce of the changes rippling across him. “Disinfection complete. Please proceed to the wardrobe.” 

Kevin walked out of the shower, bypassing the used towels and fogged mirror. Entering the bedroom, he walked with an odd swagger, likely caused by the new massive endowment swinging between his legs. The dresser was half open, and though he wanted more than anything to put on clean clothes, he was instead blindsided by the system. “Engage appropriate dressings.” He bent down to the floor, grabbing the closest jockstrap within his reach. It was white at one point, but now had a permanent yellowish-brown stain where Jonas’ musky balls and cum-dripping cock had been nestled throughout many practices and meets. He felt his body slide the strap up his meaty legs, and cup his own package in the well-used pouch. It felt damp. The remaining sweat having either seeped into his open pores, but what remained on his skin from the “disinfection” added to Jonas’ already ample deposit. His hands groped the pouch, making him gasp with a newfound deep voice. He felt himself grab two nasty old socks, slipping them on his feet. The smell was unbearable. Stink was one thing- this was pure testosterone and salty deliciousness. Wait, deliciousness?

A backwards cap eventually graced his head, along with an old lycra compression shirt permanently stained at the pits. His was groping and pumping, enjoying every ounce of his new scent and musculature. Shoving his nose into his ripe pits secured this sensation of pride and arousal. Each inhale clouded his screaming psyche. He heard the slamming of a door, and in walked Jonas, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, that’s better. How’s my bitch?” Kevin couldn’t resist. He was broken, he was his. 

“Ready for my ass to be pounded, sir.” Jonas obliged, tossing his shorts to the side, and placing his cock at the rosebud of Kevin’s eager hole. Lubed with his already present sweat and pre, Jonas thrust in. The sharp pain of insertion shocked Kevin, throwing him into a whirlwind of pleasure as Jonas slid in and out of him. He couldn’t deny he’d dreamed of this, but he never could have imagined how it’d come to pass. 

“Yeah, Kev. You’re my fuckin’ bitch. You always will be.” The two fucked hard, moaning and growling at every push and pull. By the time Jonas unloaded his load into Kev, there was no going back. He was a passenger. He would enjoy every day being fucked mercilessly by Jonas, killing the competition on the mat, and barely passing his classes. In time he’d learn to love it, but in that moment, he had no mouth, and wanted to scream.

If you liked this, PLEASE consider supporting my work on Patreon. It’s what keeps me going friendos.

[notmuchtoconceal]

( o ) goodimpressionofmyself

bro was a design a nature

one a evolution's flukes that'd change the course a the human species for the better. tho his name has been lost to us in the time since the second centennial of his coming, our sources place his ascent sometime in the year 2 AOR, before the advent of the pendulum calendar.

as we hear in the eternally buffering mass, the biochemical onset a puberty introduced into his seed a potent neurotoxin which’d constrict the blood vessels around the brain, leading to high functional autophagy and a sense a prolonged adrenal-hormonal euphoria

it spread through his circle a straight buds at first --brojobs, JO seshes, not gay threeways. the saline properties a vaginal mucus (in which his bitches were always drenched) rendered the toxin inert, so no matter how much pussy he plowed it never crossed over to the fairer sex and his t-girl worship seshes were doomed to wash out with the rattle of a bottle in the moonlamp of estrus. dudes already indiscriminate with their wanton appetites got hit hard, so as the chinese places collapsed, the priapism would a become fatal if they didn't nut every couple hours. the tumescence aching in the fiber a their bones -- eight inches a wood leaded inta ballershorts frothing champagnebottle down their legs

all up and down the ancient east coast, festivals, frat houses, lax circles, the ivied plendor fell to ruin as administrators looked the other way and quietly lamented the insidious influence of administrators. men of sound mind cited phytoestrogens and assorted toxicities in the water supply. crystal healing wine moms knew it was the GMOs, the same ones making all their sons and daughters into horrible amphibious transsexuals. a yiddishman of some renown, rumored to posses unearthly powers of the word, was silently invoked to wallpaper over petty bitchiness, and then the waiter finally came, thank god. the boy’s father can deal with it, certainly. he never lifts a finger

appointments were cancelled. beatings were booked. stern talks were had with severe, business suit clad dads before, in cruel reversals of fate, of which not even homer himself could do justice, they were bent over and fucked without lube, raw dogged in pools a piss and sweat blooms of bloody nut shred between father and son -- mutagenic shadows cast on walls so you couldn't see any a the good shit. gyms across the country saw sharp spikes in fit, newly out daddies who lifted hard in pink thongs, leaving oldschool macho gay men queasy with that fag shit

took over a month before it penetrated into the gay community at large, thanks to the initial outbreak being slowed by its confinement to vacancy and privilege. when fire at last took to the streets, everything decent god fearing americans feared about city life ruptured like a blister on a QB's rank gameday sole. the raunchiest excesses of your father's worst nightmare of a pride parade evoked through LA riot imagery, baby ya could almost hear the congo drums

soft-spoken boys lisping to stevie nicks swelled up into macho tumescent tumors and chuckled like dumbfucks. more leather than a book a elevation’s worth of beef cattle wriggled on an ocean a maggots. dicks were skewered, barbed, wired, shocked and chopped. the neurotoxin, now an airborne contaminant from all the fuck moisture, spread through trenched roid veins, and pillars a torture instruments and rainbow jocks rose to the armpit colored skies. so much interracial gay fucking occurred on live television, a proud rebel and a gentleman, a landowner and brother of the klan, died of a brain aneurysm before he had time to blow his brains out

a state of emergency was finally declared

the mayo clinic -- now 70% female, thanks to unrelated advances in propagandizing -- captured a dull chuckling brah by sticking a bottle a muscle milk under a box propped up on a stick attached to a string

they tried to get him to recite his own name, for the record, and after twenty minutes of listening to him huh? and uhhh? and paw at his dick through his jock, they collected a blood sample by sounding him with a micro-needle pipecleaner syringe

on the genome sequence monitor, the female scientists, all dressed in the height of fashion as large breasted, leather corset-clad porn librarians -- the archetypal state of womanhood freed from the male gaze -- were, thanks to a molecular bio-luminescence associated with necrosis of the effected nucleotides, able to locate genes associated with the following:

propensity for wearing ball caps as shading behavior

ventilatory adaptations such as cutting the sleeves off t-shirts

tolerance for EDM as pack hunter polyrhythms

the shocking link between gym exhibitionism and prostate stimulation!

the alpha female scientist, her feathered bun the most bouffant, her labcoat the most chic and the shiniest, removed her glasses, and exposed her radiantly pancaked cheekbones

ladies

gentleman

silent siblings of the neuter gender

we have located

the basic bro genome

toward the sun, her betas clucked their fingers against their foreheads and imitated trumpets with the rapture of new discovery

as a result of these findings, the women were able to devise anti-bro hormonal sedative weapons. they agitated estrogen molecules into arcs of light, and the stinger of their labias crested out in desert incandescence. when the sun came upon the sand, there was no blood, only scorched earth and smoke

most of the bros were rounded up in these mines and factories, left to toil in the bowels of the vast multi-tiered metropoli erected by the patenting parents to fence the women off from the battering world. the ones that weren’t were placed in bro pads where they could be pacified with electro-diodes and fed peanuts

whenever possible, direct oversight of the horny bros was performed by dudes who carried the strain, but saw little to no hormonal hostilities. they were chill, fun to wedgie, pretty cool as long as they didn’t talk too much. the bros would slobber and nuzzle their handler’s crotches whenever they were brought their daily soy blend, which showed no efficacy in lowering t. to ensure total stability, what with quarterly reports always looming so large, hormones were administered into the administrator's daily supplement trays, and many compliments were given on their skin quality and EQ readouts

at this point the wine moms, wary of having to stand their ground any longer, less they put a rut in the carpet, decided that since the bro phenotype was natural, this was fine. it was fine.

if god wanted them to be geniuses, He wouldn’t have given them balls. i suppose god really must be closer to a woman, i mean does He have balls? no, of course not. He simply needs to think it, and it happens. why, that’s really much more how it is with a woman. really, do we still need to be talking about this?

at last the wine moms would listen because all those annoying white bitches who tried to sell them makeup were going into the sciences and selling makeup to the porn librarians, and now with the men out of the way, they would build a compassionate world where everyone looked and felt good, and there wasn’t any soul-crushing ennui as a result of being doped into submission and atomized into a bipolar role as farmer and consumer of digital micro-product. for in our enlightened moneyless state, we are simply data, and data is patterns. soon we shall perceive the unperceivable, achieve the unachievable. we shall see the shape of nature, the pattern which underlies all patterns, down in our spiraling digital abyss. come with us deeper and deeper down. there is no going back. there is no going back. you can only tunnel further and further down. i promise you, i promise you, strip yourself of everything you think you are, and go back down into the meat flaps, the muddy folds, the white noise lacerating your brain like broken glass, you can dig and dig and dig and one day climb back towards the light

climb back towards the light bro

climb back towards the light

[notmuchtoconceal]

honestly, man?

(new catchphrase!)

the biggest indicator of my complicity in my own misery is that i keep hooking up with alcoholics and just blocking out that's what they are.

the lies, the excuses. the evasions, the blow ups.

it all feels so safe and cozy.

can never seem to square it when the man i love is an addict.

it's actually pretty mentally ill, now that i think about it.

[notmuchtoconceal]

Totally cool if you want logger boots to become your new religion, bro.

Bootlicker, especially when spat on your face by a bearded man, ought be worn as a badge of pride, for you cannot help but feel the sense of profound and inexorable communion flood your loins as u deepthroat the tasty salty leather get ur tongue nice and wet and stiff between the dirty soles, tasting all the grass and dirt lookin up into big bro's eyes knowin ur his and he's urs and ur just an extension of him best fit to suck his toecaps and get deep between his stiches as u lick the rims.

fuck yeah right

HEY LOGGER BOOT FUCKERS! THIS FUCKING HOT GIF WAS SENT TO ME BY A FOLLOWER, SO THANKS FROM ALL OF US, RIGHT? FUCK YEA RIGHT! AND DAMN! THIS IS HOW LOGGER BOOTS SHOULD BE WORN! RIGHT? FUCK YEA RIGHT!

[notmuchtoconceal]

comforts u constantly wit reassurin lies

[notmuchtoconceal]

don't have any needs of your own.

he just controls you.

[ryanlockheart]

   sydney had never anticipated falling in love with another sigma chi member, let alone a pledge... but maddox was an exception to plenty of rules for sydney. he never let himself catch feelings. maddox had taken a sledgehammer to that rule, too. he never did anything in public, but maddox had him doing utterly filthy things in front of a crowd. sydney didn't care. he would've given maddox anything he wanted anywhere at anytime. he was devoted to maddox, no matter the circumstances. "might be a mixed bag. might have to prove myself to a few of 'em — which i don't mind. all it'll take is a few seconds of me deepthroating their cock, and they'll get the message loud and clear," sydney replied. his plump ass jiggled as maddox's hand came down with a smack. there was a bright red mark left on his pale cheek in the shape of his younger lover's hand. he couldn't wait to be marked up — hickeys and handprints left on his skin to remind of their escapades together. "we're gonna start our own little movie collection, huh? i bet you'll put 'em on while we fuck sometime. 'cause you know you're gonna love seeing your little slut goon out over your teammate's rank feet and sweaty balls," sydney chuckled. "who knows? maybe i'll even sneak in there one day without you knowing while you're all showering. and maybe you'll come back and find me huffing away at some sweaty jocks and dirty socks. now, what would my daddy do?" he was tempting him, eager to have maddox push him right back down to his place. sydney was sure that he could see right through his little game. "of course, i'm your little cock fiend. 'm a fuckin' gooner for cock. all your friends can use me, breed me. anyone you want, i'll wrap my legs around them. i'll let them fill this tight little pussy up with as many loads you let them, daddy. you'll be so proud of your pretty little girl, you'll have to break out a sharpie to keep track of all of the loads," sydney went on. there was a hunger to his voice, a desperation that no one had ever witnessed before — the partygoers, his sigma chi brothers, maddox. he was thankful that maddox knew how to handle someone with a sexual appetite like himself. sydney never felt better now that maddox had eased his fears about being too much. maddox made him feel like a princess — the sluttiest princess albeit — and sydney loved to bask in that glory. “i need it, daddy. i need you and your friends to knock me up, i wanna feel two of your friends stretching my pussy out while you take a leak in me. i wanna feel your piss leaking out around all those fat cocks,” sydney begged. “those feet would have me busting in no time. you give me enough time, and i’m pretty sure i could shoot a load from each and every last one of ‘em. i bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? me fucking all those feet ‘til i bust. let me do that, and i’d do anything filthy thing you asked of me. i’m sure i’d be giving tongue baths all night,” the raven-haired said with a chuckle. “i’ll earn it, daddy. you know how slutty i can get it. you can lock my cock up if you have to. you can slip a vibrator inside me too… whatever you want, you just name it,” sydney went on. he was a mess, but he was maddox’s mess most importantly. he could play every role he needed to play: innocent angel, insatiable slut, the trophy wife, a pump-and-dump whore. “i was waiting on you, daddy,” sydney declared. “i needed you from the second i saw you. you can’t hide that big ass cock. i need to take care of it… and now, here i am, getting ready to service all your friends.”

"i do like teasing you. i can't say i didn't like it, knowing you were probably running off to your dorm and rubbing one out to me," sydney answered with a soft giggle. "i don't give a shit what anyone thinks. when you walked in here, you acted like you owned the place, and i fuckin' never have seen something so sexy. i mean, you and that fucking tank top. i can't tell you how badly i wanted to come over and just bury my face in your pits." it was a lot to reveal, but maddox had laid it all out to bare too. sydney knew they needed that bond to continue on, to grow even more powerful together. it was how sydney knew he met his match. they revealed their filthiest desires to each other, and they didn't judge each other. "i'll wear something pretty that'll piss him off. definitely a skirt so you have easy access to this pussy at all times. i wanna break in every room, and then when we're done, i wanna do it all over again. hell, you can fuck me up against a window for the neighborhood to see for all i care," sydney went on. it was nonchalant for sydney. he wasn't ashamed of it; he wasn't above begging for something he wanted. he would go to any lengths to make maddox happy; his own happiness would definitely come from seeing maddox so blissed out. plus, he knew that maddox would never leave him unsatisfied. maddox stepped up and took his leader role serious. sydney had never seen anything so sexy in his entire life. his cock twitched, pre-cum splattering down onto the carpeted floor. "wow, two big cocks, huh? love a challenge," sydney announced. all the freshman huddled around the trio, and sydney was in heaven. this was what he was meant to do. maddox needed to see how desperately slutty he could get, how eagerly his little whore would follow his directions. his tongue raked across benji's curled toes, sucking gently. "you're fuckin' sexy, benji. you've got a nice body, and don't get me started on those feet," sydney hummed, looking up at the two boys with dazzling green eyes. "oh, you wanna wreck this tight little cunt too, huh?" he remarked smugly. "you can use my daddy's cum as lube. bet you're a rambunctious little thing, a closet freak under there. bet you're into hair-pulling and spitting and all that good stuff.. that's why my daddy picked you, right? i'm sure you've got tons of bitches you slut out all the time, benji." sydney hummed. he was trying his best to inflate the younger boy's ego, help him boost his confidence. then waltzed up the bulkiest freshman he'd ever seen from the corners of his eyes. he introduced himself as ace, and immediately his attention was on benji. he was down on his knees for benji soon enough, hand wrapping around his cock. "why not make it more fun? let's all three stretch your little slut out. give this senior slut all the freshman dick he can take," ace suggested with a smirk. sydney's eyes widened at the thought, but the feet before him were far too much for him to care about anything else for too long. he was finally getting a chance to fuck them. he'd been eagerly waiting so long; now, the moment was finally here. sydney's cock slid between those soft feet, his hands holding them in place. his rhythm started slowly and steady as simon and corey made their way over to face him. their cocks hung low and long, and they were basically begging to be sucked. "i won't disappoint you, daddy," he promised. he finally released his grip on those feet and let his rhythm grew faster and faster. hands wrapped around the bases of each boy's cock. his lips parted as slowly took simon all the way down his throat in one go. he bobbed his head along the length, tears forming in his green eyes. he worked through his gag reflex, though tears started to fill his eyes. all the while, his free hand worked corey's length. he pulled back for a second, leaving a sloppy kiss to the tip. sydney found the camera and made eye contact. his green eyes rolled into the back of his head. "you'd better tell my daddy thank you for slutting me out," he whispered as he moved his attention to corey.

maddox didn't think that a dirty frat house was at the top of anyone's list of places to fall in love — but there he was, gazing into sydney greene's eyes as though he was frozen in time. "you think they'll be surprised, princess? or do you think they'll take one look at that fat ass and know you were born to take cock, just like i did?" maddox said through a smirk, delivering a playful smack to the other's rear. he couldn't explain how he could find the boy of his dreams and want to share him with others, but he didn't need to. the desire he felt, boiling in the pit of his stomach, was enough to tell maddox that it was just how things were meant to be — he never thought of himself as normal, and certainly sydney hadn't either. perhaps that was what attracted them to one another in the first place. "i would love it so much that i would have to film it every time, even though it's gonna happen again and again... i can't wait to see it, baby. the sight of you with all those sweaty feet on your face, or stuffed to the brim with cock, or guzzling down all that piss — it'll be enough to get me off without even having to touch you," the younger boy admitted without issue. maddox wasn't ashamed of his needs, no matter how peculiar or perverted they might have seemed. "and that's why you're such a good girl, isn't it? you're a good girl who begs to be ruined, who spreads her legs and lets daddy's friends have a turn with your tight little pussy 'cause you need it... you need all those boys, all that thick cock breeding you full 'til you get your fix. you're daddy's little cock fiend, aren't you?" no matter how bashful sydney seemed, or how innocent he pretended to be — maddox knew what truly lied beneath the surface, and that was why he was the perfect fit for the older boy. anyone weaker, who couldn't understand that sydney's sexual appetite was apart of his charm, and not a deduction, simply wouldn't have worked. "gonna keep my cock in you while the other boys do whatever they want, princess. they're gonna feel my cock against theirs, gonna feel my piss leaking out around their dicks and making them filthier than they already are... and i bet those feet will be what pushes you over the edge, huh? you'll think you've got it all under control, but then i'll tell the boys to put their feet on your face and you'll be gone," maddox rambled, clearly caught up in his fixation. "if that's what you want, you'll have to earn it. i'll have all the boys on the benches with their sweaty feet kicked up, and you'll have to go down the line and worship 'em all before i let them fuck your feet — starting with me, of course." sydney wanted to be used, not treated like an innocent angel who couldn't handle what he desired. only maddox was capable of giving that to him — not one of the other senior frat boys, not anyone else on campus. "you're gonna be everything for me, baby — you're gonna be it," maddox promised, tenderly stroking the older boy's cheek. "i'm gonna take you out, show you off and make everyone jealous... but i'm also gonna share you when i want, make you feel like a dirty little slut when i know that you need it. whatever you've been waiting on, you've found it in me."

"i know that now, but goddamn... in the beginning, it felt like you were toying with me just because you could," maddox confessed. "i would have never thought that you wanted me. you're so fucking hot, and i was pretty sure that your friends' opinion of me would have ruined any shot i had with you — even if they are a bunch of fucking losers." it was a rare moment for maddox, one that showed his age and inexperience. normally, he would have hated to be so vulnerable — but he already felt comfortable with sydney. even if that was a rookie move, it was one that he couldn't prevent. "just wait 'til i take you home, princess. i'm gonna fuck you in every room of that fucking house, make sure my dad knows that his only son is dicking down a senior... he would fucking die if he knew what was happening in his precious sigma chi house," he chuckled. soon enough, sydney was surrounded by at least eight more freshmen — each of them exposed, rock hard, and stroking their impressive cocks. maddox knew some better than others, but they'd all managed to bond over all they were subjected to at the hands of sigma chi seniors. they sort of flocked to him as their leader, envious of the way he disregarded the older boy's disdain for him and ignored their orders. they would have done whatever he asked of them — and boy, if he didn't have a treat for them. "hm, the biggest cock? i can do better than that — simon and corey, you're up," maddox decided with a smirk. the two boys stepped up to bat with excitement in their eyes, letting their hard cocks bounce in the air as they waited for sydney to make the next move. "and... noah, get your phone out and go live. i'll make it up to you later." maddox called the shots like he was born to do it, his voice strong and unwavering as he arranged the freshmen into their various positions. once everyone was where he wanted them, he turned his attention back to sydney and benji. "y-you think i'm hot?" benji stuttered, curling his toes just to tempt the other boy. "i wanna cum on his cunt... after you fuck him, i want him to keep his legs spread for me. a-and i want ace to suck me off before i bust my next nut in your little slut's pussy." maddox couldn't lie — he was proud of his little benji. he knew the boy had a crush on ace sine initiation night, and he was finally making a move. maybe he was meant to be a leader. "well, you heard him, slut. you gonna let benji here fill that cunt a little more after daddy? and how about you, ace? you prepared to suck him off for a chance to use my little whore?" maddox quipped, the proud smirk never leaving his lips. his attention quickly returned to sydney, watching with glee as each of the senior's got a taste of their own medicine — and live for the whole campus to see, at that. "you're a fucking dream, princess... you know that? i think you've more than earned to bust your nut all over mine and benji's feet," he announced, moving to cross his and benji's feet at the ankles. it was the perfect position for sydney to stick his cock between one of each, to feel their soft soles and sweaty toes drag along his pretty cock until he was spurting white ropes across their skin. "well, what are you waiting for? you've got freshman feet to fuck, and two cock's to service... you've got a full plate, princess. show daddy you can handle it."