#the idiots you love are always the hottest idiots on the planet

[godsofhumanity]

you know what i've decided? Momus and dolos are way hotter than theyre given credit for 😌😌😌

i’m so sorry 2 say this but when i see “momus” and “dolos” i immediately read it as “momos” (🥟) and “dollars” (💵). 2 things i would like very much rn.

[yuwuta]

mine. — inumaki toge

❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.

000. inumaki toge + reader

001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words

002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words

Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.

He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.

(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)

Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 

(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 

His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”

You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.

You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 

“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 

Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 

He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 

“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.

So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”

You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 

He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.

Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”

[anqelbean]

I need a bingqiu fic where everyone reverse transmigrates into the modern world but only Binghe and Mobei Jun remember their old world cause now THEY have the system and their task is simple: find their husbands and make them fall in love with them again.

Seems easy right? They've done it once already.

WRONG.

Because, when Binghe finds Shen Qingqiu, he's heartbroken to find that his Shizun's personality is almost the same as before his qi deviation in their previous life, and has absolutely no interest in him.

He also finds out that for some reason in this life Shen Qingqiu has a younger brother, Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan is sweet and kind and pretty and gentle and funny and pretty. He's also closer in age to Binghe. Slowly Binghe starts to feel a devastating guilt every time he looks at him. He doesn't know where this man was in their previous life, but in this one. In this one Binghe is pretty sure he's falling in love with him.

He feels guilty because it feels like betraying his Shizun, his husband. He feels like the only reason he's in love with Shen Yuan is because he reminds him of his husband, but that's not fair to Shen Yuan either. It's like he's just replacing one brother for the other.

But no matter how much he tries he can't get Shen Yuan out of his mind.

Then his Shizun, Shen Qingqiu, starts dating Yue Qingyuan and Binghe's confused more than anything. He doesn't understand why he doesn't feel heartbroken. But when the System doesn't take away any points for this, he finally asks it "Hey, System." "Yes?" "Do you know why Shizun is acting as such?" "What do you mean? We've detected no abnormal behaviour from Shen Yuan." "No, not Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu— WAIT, WAIT, SHEN YUAN?????"

Then he finds out, this whole time, he's been going after the WRONG. GUY.

Shen Yuan, on the other hand is heartbroken.

Despite acting like he's straight his whole life (and very much believing it himself), there was just something that stabbed him in the chest every time he looked at Luo Binghe playfully flirting with his ge (while getting rejected every. Fucking. Time. Shen Yuan really doesn't know if his ge doesn't know the hottest guy on the planet is flirting with him, or if he's being an idiot and rejecting him).

He's gotten to know the guy quite well, and they have become quick friends. They talk, they text and they hang out, all the time. He finds that Binghe is an amazing cook (seriously, HOW can food be so good?). He also loves to read, and they proceed to rant about the books they've both read. He's also a huge cry baby. (Shen Yuan thinks it's cute)

And sometimes.

Sometimes he'll just look at Shen Yuan with so much, well, fondness. It's in those moments that Shen Yuan let's himself dream that maybe, maybe, this boy could be his.

Sometimes he'll say something that cannot be categorized as anything but shameless flirting.

Like the first time he made Shen Yuan congee. "This is the best thing I've ever had. Holy shit." "Ah, you like it that much? Alright then. I'll make it for you all the time, with variations." Then he proceeded to wink. WINK. (Shen Yuan did not blush. He did not. He's straight. It's just the halo-like light that surrounds Luo Binghe is enough to charm sven a straight man. Like him. Cause he's straight. Definitely.)

When his ge starts dating Yue Qingyuan. He expects Binghe to look heartbroken, but. He doesn't. He acts like nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing is out of place.

Except he smiles at Shen Yuan with that fond look way more often. He flirts way more often. He cooks for him way more often.

Shen Yuan doesn't know how to feel about that.

Has this guy been some kind of playboy this whole fucking time? And when one target is no longer available, he just moves on? To his BROTHER? Yeah, no, scratch that, he knows exactly how he feels.

He's furious.

(Binghe has no idea why Shen Yuan seems so angry with him. He just wants to kiss his husband. Why must this always happen when they reunite?)

Mobei Jun on the other hand is having a, uhh, sorta better time. He's found Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua is the Shang Qinghua he knows, flighty, cowardly and cute. But, the thing is. Qinghua's absolutely terrified of him.

Every time he pops up next to him, he squeals and jolts so bad that one time he slammed into a door.

But he still blushes at their proximity. Still has the same taste in trashy novels. Still writes. Still loves having his hair ruffled.

They get together within 2 months. The system congratulates him 3 times.

[minisugakoobies]

Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff Rating: M (18+) Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d Word Count: 6.5K Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️

Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel. 

You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate. 

Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity. 

Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,”  some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples. 

Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan. 

And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day. 

It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles. 

The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”

“Sure it could.” 

“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.

You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.” 

Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping. 

“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished  and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.

His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins. 

So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho. 

Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send. 

Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate. 

Ughhhh he’s so damn fine Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!

Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.

You’re a lunatic

He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats. 

It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything. 

At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.

“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Trying to find my shirt  

“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.

“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?” 

“My tiger tank.” 

You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones. 

“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”

Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.

“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.” 

“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?” 

“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.” 

Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.” 

“Thanks.” 

Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this? 

You grab your phone. 

I’m losing my mind

You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response. 

What did Chan do now?

He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans

Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.

My mouth is literally watering It’s a Pavlovian response at this point I see denim and I start salivating

A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting. 

Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?

“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.” 

Thanks

“Chan!” 

His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.

Seriously If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis

There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed. 

“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply. 

Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!

As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.

It’s no choice.

“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?” 

Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time. 

Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out? 

“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.

Chan cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”

“You’re thirsty?”

Fucking understatement.

You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone. 

“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.” 

He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.

“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow. 

He does. “Wait, what?” 

You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you. 

“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?” 

“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up. 

“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?” 

“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly. 

Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’” 

Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you? 

“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.” 

And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll. 

You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words. 

Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle. 

“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”

You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”

But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles. 

“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug. 

It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go. 

Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.” 

You’re so fucking confused. “I am?” 

“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.” 

You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.  

“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?” 

“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” 

“About your dick??”

Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…” 

He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh. 

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.” 

His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips. 

“You good?” 

Funnily enough, somehow, you are. 

“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you. 

Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently. 

“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.” 

Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling. 

You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.

The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face. 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?” 

“If you - what?” 

More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.” 

“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.

“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to. 

“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again. 

As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.

“Are you not wearing a bra?” 

You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.

“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.

“You too.” 

He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach. 

“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest. 

“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.” 

“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction. 

You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.

“Can I touch, too?” 

“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!” 

He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth. 

“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses. 

Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again? 

Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine? 

Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.

Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting. 

“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses. 

��Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.

“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop. 

You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun. 

Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?” 

“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame. 

“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly.  He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them 

For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker. 

You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want. 

While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you. 

Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly. 

“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.” 

Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs. 

“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.” 

Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused. 

While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild. 

Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him. 

“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”

Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”

You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern. 

“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.” 

Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down. 

“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.” 

He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you. 

You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock. 

“Do that again, baby.” 

You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.

At the very least, it’s something to aim for. 

Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.” 

You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?” 

You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”

You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”  

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.

Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.

Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”

You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.

“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”

With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.

Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.

“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.” 

“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”

Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.

“Yes, Channie.”

He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.” 

He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over. 

“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue. 

You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal. 

“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?” 

At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more? 

“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…” 

Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you. 

“Maybe a little slower?” you ask. 

He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.” 

Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment. 

And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.

Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place. 

“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!” 

Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening - 

“Fuuuuck!” 

With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth. 

When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.

You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling. 

Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times. 

“I’m going to need a minute.”

He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.” 

A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!” 

You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.

It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over. 

“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.” 

“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?

Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.” 

You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later. 

Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho. 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:

@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕

[candycandy00]

Can you do a Suguru and Satoru fic with them being horny bullies to a shy curvaceous nerdy girl? I love the bully stories!

Hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Rape/Noncon. Fem Reader. College AU. Bullying. First time sex. Oral sex. Coercion. Gojo and Geto are cruel scumbags. This is a mean-spirited little fanfic! And before anyone wonders, I did discuss details with the requester before writing this. 

You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the empty campus library, peacefully reading your book, when you hear the heavy wooden door open. That alone is unusual enough. At this time of day, an hour after all classes have ended, the library is always deserted, not even a librarian or custodian in sight. But then you hear a pair of loud voices, laughing, talking, and you feel panic rising in your heart. 

With only one way in or out of the library, you know you can’t simply flee to an exit. Those two are near the door. Your only option is to hide and hope they don’t spot you. Maybe you could even circle back around to the door once they move further in. So you grab your book and your bag, so they won’t see any signs of your presence, and move quietly but quickly to the row of shelves nearby, ducking low to try to stay out of sight. 

You can hear them walking around, making no attempt to be quiet. They don’t care if you hear them approaching. Hell, maybe they want you to, maybe it’s part of their plan to terrorize you. 

“You sure she’s in here?” a voice asks as they move toward the tables. 

“I’ve seen her come in here every day this week. This is definitely her new hideout,” the other replies. 

They’re getting closer to the shelves. You’re not an idiot. You know they’ll check them, but if you can time it just right, you might be able to move between the shelves to avoid them. 

Suddenly they go silent. You can’t hear their voices or their footsteps. Fuck. They know you’re hiding between the shelves, and they don’t want you to know which direction they’re coming from. You try to watch both ends of the aisle you’re in, your plan now being to flee in the opposite direction the moment you catch sight of them. 

You stand there, ready to run, your heart pounding, when you finally see it. On the back end, a glimpse of white hair as the tall young man moves around the corner. You immediately make a run for it, sprinting toward the front, toward the library door. But just as you reach the end of the aisle, two strong arms reach out from the side and grab you.

“Got you,” a smooth voice says as you’re dragged back into the aisle, between the tall shelves that now feel like the walls of a cage. 

You struggle and kick, yelling, “Let me go!”

In the aisle, Gojo Satoru is waiting for his best friend, Geto Suguru, to bring you to him. They’ve been bullying you relentlessly all year, gradually getting worse as the months rolled by. It started simple, with them occasionally knocking your books out of your hands and laughing as they gave fake apologies, then shoving you against the wall and pretending they didn’t see you. Lately, their tactics had taken a decidedly sexual turn, as they’d taken to flipping up your skirt and commenting on your panties and even copping feels of your chest or ass when they caught you alone. 

You were an easy target for them. Quiet, reserved, and having few friends to surround yourself with, it was obvious why they chose you. Despite the growing intensity of their harassment, you haven’t reported them. Doing so would make the entire school hate you, and no one would believe you. Gojo and Geto were the school’s golden boys. They were beloved by everyone, and could do no wrong. They were easily the hottest guys in school, got perfect grades despite never seeming to study, and had both won various awards for their performances in several different sports. 

They were perfect, and you hated them. The universe was cruel indeed, to make the two biggest scumbags on the planet also be so gorgeous that everyone was blinded by their beauty. Everyone but you. 

Geto’s grip on you loosens just a bit, but at this point you’re trapped between them. If you try to run again, they’ll easily catch you. They’re both track team stars, for fuck’s sake. 

You try to calm down, to talk to them rationally and pray they’re feeling merciful today. “What do you two even want? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Geto is behind you, his hands around your waist. It’s the kind of position you’ve seen couples in. Gojo is standing in front of you, uncomfortably close, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We just wanna play with you,” Gojo says, his eyes hidden behind the dark sunglasses he wears when not in class. 

“Why were you running away?” Geto’s voice asks into your ear. “That hurts our feelings.”

You turn your head to look at Geto. Of the two of them, he’s definitely the most likely to listen to reason. “I-I don’t feel well today. Please, just let me go.”

Geto looks to Gojo. “She doesn’t feel well, Satoru. What should we do?”

It doesn’t sound like he’s asking a serious question. It sounds like he’s mocking you. 

Gojo gives you a look of fake concern. “Poor thing. What’s wrong? You on the rag?”

Before you can even answer, Gojo’s hand shoots out and moves under your skirt, squeezing your crotch through your panties. You gasp and freeze up in terror. He’s never been this bold before.

“I don’t feel a pad,” he says, withdrawing his hand. 

“Maybe she uses tampons,” Geto suggests, his grip on your waist seeming to tighten. 

Gojo snaps his fingers loudly. “That’s probably it! Let’s find out!”

“No, stop!” you cry, wriggling out of Geto’s grasp as Gojo’s hand moves toward your skirt again. “I’m not on the rag!”

Gojo stops, lowering his hand. “Then what’s wrong with you?”

You look back and forth between them, trying to think up a convincing lie. Would they have pity on you if you made up a sob story? You could say your dad died yesterday, or that you just found out you have cancer. But lying about things like that, even to escape danger, just doesn’t feel right. And besides, these two sadistic assholes probably wouldn’t care. 

“I think I’m coming down with the flu,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might want to avoid possibly catching it from you. 

“Oh, that’s all?” Geto asks. 

“Should have gotten your flu shot like we did,” Gojo adds with a laugh. 

Your heart sinks as you watch Gojo pull something from his pocket. Geto is no longer holding you but he’s so close against your back that you can feel his body heat. 

Gojo holds up some sort of pen. “I ordered this the other day. It’s a super strong permanent marker. The ink is guaranteed to stay on skin for at least seven days, no matter how much you scrub it.”

He pulls the cap off and points the marker at you. “Why don’t we test it out? I could write, ‘This dumb cunt belongs to Gojo and Geto’ across your forehead!”

You shrink back away from him, but that only results in you pressing your back into Geto’s toned chest. 

“Satoru, I don’t think that many words will fit on her forehead,” Geto says. 

“Oh, right. Well, we can just scribble it all over her face then,” Gojo replies. 

“Please, don’t! Just leave me alone!” you cry out, your voice breaking into a sob. 

They watch you shake and tremble, then look at each other. Gojo nods, as if they had already agreed to something beforehand, and Geto suddenly steps back away from you, giving you space. 

“Okay, we’ll leave you alone today,” Geto tells you. 

You look up at him with teary eyes. “You will?”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, as if he’s suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah. We didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Gojo pats your shoulder in what he probably thinks is a comforting manner. “The truth is we kinda like you. We didn’t realize we were taking things too far.”

You look at both of them with wide eyes. You don’t trust them at all, so you just want to get out of here as fast as you can. “So… I can go?”

“Sure,” Geto says, smiling at you. 

Without waiting for them to change their minds, you grab your fallen bag and book from the floor and walk down the aisle, toward the door. Just before you get to the end, you hear Gojo’s voice. 

“Hey, Suguru, who’s that nerdy little guy she always sits with at lunch? Mori-something…”

“Moriyama,” Geto corrects him. “He’s always in the chemistry room around this time, with his little club of fellow nerds.”

“Yeah, that’s him! Since she can’t play with us today, let’s go play with Moriyama!”

You stop dead in your tracks and look back at them, a deep, engulfing dread building in the pit of your stomach. “What did you say?” you ask them, your voice weak and quiet but echoing in the mostly empty library. 

They both look at you. “Never mind us,” Geto says with a charming smile. “Go on home and take care of yourself.”

Gojo looks back to Geto, as if he’s ignoring you now. “Hey, let’s drag Moriyama out of the chemistry room, strip him naked, and write all kinds of hilarious shit all over him! Then we can make him walk back into the room like that so all his friends can see!”

You feel your heart pounding again. Moriyama is a sweet, kind, happy young man who has made your miserable life at this school just a little bit bearable. You’ve never told him about the bullying you suffer through, but you think he suspects something is troubling you. He’s always trying to cheer you up and offering to listen if you need to talk. In truth, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, but you haven’t had the courage to tell him yet. 

You can’t let these two monsters hurt him, especially not because of you. 

“Leave Moriyama alone!” you say, more firmly than you’ve ever said anything to them before. “He has nothing to do with this!”

They look at you again, and they both grin. “We’re going to play with someone today,” Geto says. “Will it be you, or Moriyama?”

Your hands are shaking at your sides. There’s something different about them today. They’re more aggressive, more cruel, more terrifying. But you have to protect Moriyama, so you slowly walk back down the aisle to stand near them as you say, “Y-you can play with me.”

“That’s great,” Gojo says happily, then he looks at Geto behind you. “Did you lock the door?”

“Of course.”

You look between the two of them, your eyes frantic. Lock the door? What were they going to do to you?!

All of a sudden, Gojo leans down and picks you up, practically slinging you over his shoulder as he carries your panicked, squirming form to the cluster of tables near the back. He flops you down onto one of the tables, on your back, and starts unbuttoning your shirt. You scream and try to push his hands away, but Geto is at the other end of the table, and he grabs your wrists to pin them down. 

Completely helpless to stop him, you whimper in shame as Gojo pushes your unbuttoned shirt open and shoves your bra up above your ample breasts, exposing you. He lets out a whistle as he pulls his sunglasses down to get a good look. You’ve never seen his eyes up close before, and wish you never had. They’re deceptive, far too beautiful to belong to someone so twisted. 

One of Gojo’s hands squeezes your breast, way too roughly. If the rumors are true, he’s slept with a ton of different girls. He should know how to touch a woman, which means he’s intentionally hurting you. He laughs when you wince under his touch. 

“She’s got decent tits,” he says to his friend. 

Geto releases one of your hands and reaches down to grope your other breast. His touch is softer, but equally unwelcome. You jerk your free arm down and try to push the offending hands away, but Geto pinches your nipple harshly and says, “If you keep struggling, we’ll assume you’d rather we play with Moriyama.”

You freeze up again, dropping your arm beside you. Geto releases your other wrist and looks at Gojo. “So who’s going to fuck her first?”

The words send a spike of panic through your whole body, but you realize fighting will do you no good. They’re way stronger and faster than you, there are two of them, and they effectively have a hostage. The deck is stacked against you so badly, you don’t have a prayer. 

You close your eyes for a moment as tears begin to leak out. You don’t want your first time to be with these assholes. They’ll hurt you on purpose, make it as unpleasant as possible. All you can do is hope they might not notice you’re a virgin. 

“I want to,” Gojo says, unbuckling his belt. “I’ve been hard for like twenty minutes now.”

Geto frowns. “I hate going in after you. You always leave them all stretched out.”

Hearing this terrifies you, but you try not to show any reaction. 

“Okay, fine,” Gojo says. “You can fuck her pussy first. But I’m taking her mouth right now.”

You watch in stunned horror as Gojo pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sits down, spreading his legs far apart and reaching into his open pants. He pulls out his dick, and you can only think to yourself, “That can’t be right.”

They’re not supposed to be that big, are they? How is that supposed to fit inside you? You look at it with terror as Geto pulls you up from the table and pushes you to your knees in front of Gojo. 

“Get busy,” Gojo tells you. “My dick’s not gonna suck itself.”

Thinking only of protecting Moriyama, you scoot closer to Gojo and lean your face forward. You’ve never done this before, but you just have to put it in your mouth and move your head back and forth, right? So you open your lips and let his cock slide in. It feels gross, but you try to ignore that as you make shallow motions, your lips sliding partway down his shaft and then back. 

After a few seconds, Gojo sighs and says, “Use your fucking tongue, sheesh. If this is the kinda head Moriyama’s getting, I feel sorry for the guy.”

You feel your face burning with embarrassment, and you start running your tongue over his tip, hoping it will satisfy him. The sooner he finishes, the sooner you can get his dick out of your mouth. 

Geto moves behind you and pulls your open shirt off your shoulders, then unhooks your bra and pulls it off. Even though your tits have been out for a while now, you still somehow feel even more exposed. You feel Geto’s warm hands on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, then his fingers playing with your nipples. You keep your hands stiffly at your sides, resisting the unbearable urge to pry Geto’s hands off you and shove Gojo away. 

It feels like an eternity of this torment passes before Gojo’s cock suddenly seems to get harder in your mouth. Then all at once, there’s a flood of gooey cum filling you, coating your tongue and throat. You draw back reflexively, letting some of it spill out over your lips. 

“Hey, don’t waste it,” Gojo says, using his fingers to scoop up some from your chin and then shoving it back into your mouth. You gag and heave, but he forcibly holds your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” he says. 

You have no choice but to obey, letting it glide down your throat as tears stream down your face. 

When it’s over, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before the boys pick you up and sit you on the table again. This time Gojo is behind you. He’s climbed onto the table and has his legs on either side of you, his arms around your torso. Geto is in front of you, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs and then tossing them onto the floor. When he pushes your legs apart, you close your eyes, trying to block this all out. 

You feel his fingers on you, opening your folds, feeling around. 

“She’s dry as a desert,” Geto says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

“So let’s get her wet,” Gojo replies, one of his hands snaking down to fondle your pussy. You jerk in his grasp, trying and failing to shrink away from his fingers that are now stroking your clit. 

“S-stop!” you cry weakly.

Geto is between your legs, leaning forward. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you feel his tongue glide over your spread open pussy. 

Gojo jerks his hand away. “Dude, you almost licked my fingers. Gross.”

They both laugh as Geto takes over stroking you with his thumb. Soon you can feel it, a slickness you can’t believe. You hate them! Why is your body betraying you like this?

“She’s ready,” Geto says before opening his own pants. 

“That was easy,” you hear Gojo’s voice at your ear. “Guess we were right. She is a little slut. I bet Moriyama would cry if he found out his girlfriend’s getting wet for other guys!”

They have an entirely wrong idea about your relationship with Moriyama, but at this point there’s no point in trying to correct them. 

You raise up as far as you can to look down. Geto’s cock is already out, and it’s almost as big as Gojo’s. He runs his hand up and down it a few times, then he closes in on you. He positions himself just right, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath. 

Then you feel it, his cock ripping into you. You grit your teeth and hold back any sound from escaping your mouth. You won’t let them hear you scream. 

After a few deep, hard thrusts, Geto pauses. “Satoru?”

“Yes, Suguru?”

“You won’t believe this.”

You open your eyes to see Geto staring down at where your bodies meet. Gojo leans forward to look, then says, “Holy shit! She’s a virgin?!”

They both look to your face for confirmation, but you can only look away without speaking. 

Gojo laughs loudly. “Oh wow, that’s hilarious! You’re losing your virginity to a guy you hate!” 

“Satoru,” Geto says, his voice somewhat strained as he thrusts back into you, “shut the fuck up.”

He’s not going as deep or as hard as before. Is he trying to be gentle with you? Now? He doesn’t need to bother. It doesn’t change what he’s doing to you, what he’s been doing to you for months now. He’s just trying to ease what tiny shred of conscience he has left. 

Gojo is watching your face, seeming amused. “Wait, was that your first blowjob just now? That explains why you were so lousy at it! No offense.”

You turn away from him, just wanting this to be over. All you want is to go home and take a bath, to scrub their touch away, to wash off the smell of their expensive cologne. 

Geto pumps in and out of you for a while longer, then grunts as he suddenly pulls out. Then you feel his hot cum splatter on your stomach. 

“You should’ve given her a creampie,” Gojo tells him. 

Geto rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because getting her pregnant would be a great idea. Idiot.”

Gojo gets off the table and leaves your limp body lying prone, your legs still spread apart, blood trickling out of you. He gets the marker, the one he’d threatened you with earlier, and starts writing on your body. At this point you don’t even have the energy to care. You think you hear Geto telling him to stick to places that would be covered up by your clothes. He’s probably afraid someone will find out what they did. 

Before they leave, Geto throws your shirt over you and says, “I’ll leave the door locked on our way out so no one comes in.” You look at him blankly, not responding. Are you supposed to thank him for this tiny speck of decency amidst a sea of abuse? 

Gojo grins at you as he puts his sunglasses back on. “We’ll see you tomorrow! And if you open your dumb slut mouth about this to anyone, we’ll make Moriyama’s life hell.” Then he blows you a kiss as the two of them disappear out the door. 

For a while, you just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, not thinking or feeling. Then you sit up and look down. The words are upside down for you, but still easy enough to read. Written across your chest is the word “WHORE” in all capital letters. On you lower stomach, Gojo has scrawled, “We popped this cherry!” along with an arrow pointing at your crotch. He even doodled a couple of cherries on a stem. 

With trembling hands, you pull your clothes back on and pick up your bag and book. You’re already sobbing by the time you make it to the door. 

Worst of all is the unsettling realization that you’re only halfway through the year, and now you’re stuck being the fucktoy of your bullies. This was going to be one hell of a year. 

[vatican3]

wanted you to know that as a gender-apathetic traumatised queer with a funky relationship with religion, I’ve decided to project myself onto arsgoetia xoxoxo

can you pls tell us some more abt him?

obsessed w/ everything you write / draw btw ❤️

I would LOVE to talk about Arsgoetia.

He's shockingly cisgender considering his general disposition regarding personal identity (but as always I invite people to do whatever they want with the identities of my characters after the fact--when it's published, he's yours as much as he is mine).

Arsgoetia is an exorcist from Managua and he has not slept a full night in 20 years. He'll tell you that this is just part of being an exorcist, you see troubling things, you do troubling work, you have troubled sleep. It's a little deeper than that for him. He also thinks nearly every other exorcist on the planet is an idiot and a fraud; his feelings about his own field are very strained and for the most part he believes that (1) rarely is the problem actually possession and (2) exorcists are needed less than half the time they are called upon.

He's a fixer, everything is both his fault and his responsibility to remedy--you can imagine he has a strange relationship with religion, as a priest experiencing that level of guilt on a near-constant level. Arsgoetia has a lot of problems and one of those is scrupulosity which, yeah, that tracks.

Johnny is obsessed with him. Thinks he's the smartest and hottest man he has ever met in his life. Johnny once put on Arsgoetia's glasses and the prescription is so strong it made him nauseous.

His first name is Timothy but he'd really rather you not ever call him that. Arsgoetia is fine. Doctor and Dr. Arsgoetia (he has a DNP, not an MD or a PhD--he's a boynurse) are both also fine. Fr. Arsgoetia is also... fine but less ideal.

[comeon-intothemadhouse]

What are some of your absolute favorite fics? any fandom.

Hi anon! Ngl you've made my night last night and my whole day.

I was feeling kinda down but once I got thinking of my fav fics or what fics I'd consider my favs atm I kinda went on a bit of a journey to find all the ones i have saved on my backup drive and well that turned into a mission to choose my favs from each of my fandoms. (At least of the ones I managed to get backups)

I should probably make a proper fic rec list or something but for now theres this.

Teen Wolf:

Treading Water (Stiles/Derek/Allison)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056559

 (Full series: Learning To Swim https://archiveofourown.org/series/73750)

Honestly this fic is the ultimate S/D/A fic. Delighfully kinky and has some truely great characterization.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation (Sterek)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1881024

Magic Stiles and wolf Derek and Laura being everything I wish the show could have given us. <3

Venom:

drawn into something (Venom/Eddie/Anne/Dan)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1248083

This series has it all in every combination you can think of honestly. Kinky and desperate and lovely. This version of Dan is 10/10 btw

Agent Carter:

put our service to the test (Peggy/Jarvis)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144659 (podfic by RSCreighton who is my fav podficcer period https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643392)

AoS:

Just Married (for a week) (FitzSimmons)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34018864

Fake dating and enemies to lovers and sharing a bed. One of the best AoS aus imo

9-1-1:

Buck’s Big Bisexual Birthday Bash (Bucktommy, BuddieTommy and Buck/Multiple Others)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56954287

Listen, it's the hottest smut on the planet afaik and is sweet in the way only Buddietommy really can be.

don't just stand there (BuckTommy -BuddieTommy)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55252969

BuckTommy being cockblocked by Eddie until Eddie joins in. Whats not to love?

Tell Me It's Not Too Good To Be True (BuddieTommy)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55539589

First BuddieTommy fic I read and it blew me out of the water. Exactly the dynamic I imagine BuddieTommy really settling into

kiss it when you're done(BuckTommy)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55495252

Trans Buck & hot hot smut.

Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint)(Buddie)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39154293

FWB Buddie is honestly my fav go-to trope for them bc it is the most in character nonsense for these two idiots lol and this was one of my top 10 Buddie fics since I got into the fandom

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) (Buddie)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31704383

Heartbreaking and sweet in equal measures.

Big shout out to Last Outpost of All That Is by: gekizetsu because its my favourite Wincest fic and Supernatural fic all around and its THE fic I always bring up when asked about fav fics.

[jackalsprey]

Mi Amores

@strawberrylapin Stan I promised you some Lightnesco for your birthday and here it is! AS POLY LIGHTNING, SALLY, AND FRANCESCO! I will take this headcanon to my grave. These three are MARRIED and IN LOVE and NO ONE WILL CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE! Thank you.

Also, this is LONG. 1300 words exactly. I used it for my NaNoWriMo goal. (Yes, I'm doing NaNoWriMo, that's why I haven't posted anything in forever.)

Did Francesco expect to end up in this situation? No, he did not.

Did he anyway? Yes.

Was he the goddamn happiest man on the planet for it? Absolutely.

Falling in love with Lightning McQueen, his supposed rival, had been a surprise, one that had pained his tender Italian heart. After all, he was a magnificent man, a worthy rival, one that the Greeks and Romans would write endless poems on! (Ok, perhaps not that far, but Francesco did always have a talent for being dramatic.) But alas, he was in a happy relationship with the woman of his dreams, so even the great Francesco did not stand a chance.

Until that had changed.

It had been subtle; he and Signora Sally talking more and more often whenever he visited Radiator Springs. She was truly a wonderful woman: beautiful, fiery, but kind and gentle. She knew exactly what to say, even if it could hurt. (She was better than most racers at trash talking.) The biggest miracle of all? She’d gotten him to stop referring to himself in the third person.

And suddenly, Francesco found himself falling for her too.

He’d known he was polyamorous for some time; being with multiple partners had never disturbed him. But to be in love with both his greatest American rival and his wonderful lawyer girlfriend sounded like a plot straight out of a cheesy romance novel his mama would read.

And just like one of those romance novels, it ended up working out spectacularly, because now? Exactly one year after the World Grand Prix, Francesco Bernoulli was moving to Radiator Springs, Arizona, to live with his girlfriend and boyfriend.

“That the last of them?” Sally called from the kitchen.

Francesco set down the box, filled with his street clothes, on the coffee table. “I think so, Lightning is just checking the van to make sure.”

As if on cue, the American racer strode it empty-handed, whistling some ridiculous country music tune. What was it called, Life is a Highway?

“Movers are paid and on their way out,” he reported. “And Jesus Christ, they overcharged. 6,000 dollars for less than 40 things they carried?!”

Francesco smirked, wrapping an arm around his waist. “To be fair, mi amore, they were working for the two greatest racers in the world! And were dragging those things to the hottest place on Earth.”

“We’re on the opposite side of the state from Death Valley, idiot,” he grumbled, but still leaned into the embrace.

Sally came in and smirked at the sight of her boyfriends cuddling upright. Running her hand through her short black hair, she looked tempted to join in, but managed to hold herself back. “Alright love ducks, we’ve got unpacking to do. Make yourselves useful.”

“By making the bed?” Francesco quipped, wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

“By taking out the trash,” she corrected, grabbing the box he’d set down. “And don’t put things on the coffee table, it’ll leave marks.”

The Italian shrugged. “As you wish.” And in one swift move, he hoisted Lightning up and threw him over his shoulder, fireman style. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” The American yelled. “Put me down!”

“She asked me to take out the trash, I’m just doing what she wants,” he replied innocently, while walking out to the front.

“You stupidass spaghetti man!” The insult was rather offset by the fact that in between words, Lightning was laughing up a storm. (Francesco smirked at the mental pun.) “Guess who’s not sleeping with you tonight!”

“Hm, let’s see…Sheriff, Lizzie, Fillmore, Sarge, Flo, Ramone, Red, Guido, and Luigi. I think that covers it.”

“And me, asshole! I am not sleeping with you tonight, no matter how sexy you are or how comfy the new bed is!”

Just for that, Francesco did actually set him down in the empty trash can. (Oof!) He was laughing even harder than before. The Italian racer couldn’t help but grin at the sight: the love of his goddamn life, right before him, more beautiful than he ever could’ve imagined. Yes, he was in a trash can, wearing ratty gym shorts, and his own merch tank top, but goddamn it, he was  still gorgeous.

Then a tap on the shoulder alerted him to the presence of the other love of his life. Francesco smirked as he met her sky blue eyes. More serious, and yet still sweet, pale but with a passion in her features that set his heart pounding, she was the Lucia to his Renzo, the stars to his sky. 

“You two done?” She asked.

“Si,” he chuckled.

“Uh, a little help here?” Lightning asked, struggling to flounder his way out of the garbage. 

“Only if you promise to take a shower once you’re out, you smell like crap,” Francesco stipulated.

“Oh, and who’s fault is that, Mr. Bernoulli?”

“Mr. Bernoulli is my father’s name,” he corrected. “And I don’t think it’s his.”

“Ok, ok, smart aleck,” Sally groaned, rolling her eyes. “Get him outta there and get your Italian ass in here.”

As she strode back in, he couldn’t help but give her one last snarky remark. “Only if you plan on slapping these asses later!”

“I agree!” Lightning called.

Their response was a well-manicured middle finger.

========================================================================

After the gentlemen had stopped giving Sally hell and actually started helping her out, it didn’t take very long to set everything up. They’d all decided to share the one bedroom, and Francesco hadn’t shipped much furniture with him overseas, so it was really just a matter of setting up his books, clothes, and making room for his absurd amount of plushies. (His only response to “why do you have so many” was “dopamine. Fuck off.”)

After they were done, all three laid down together on the queen-sized bed. The Italian, the lawyer, and the jerk with a heart of gold, cuddling like a bunch of kittens, before they turned into bloodthirsty devils. (Lightning had biases.)  Francesco was on the left, curled up and with his arms wrapped around Sally’s waist. Sandwiched in between them was Lightning, his fluffy brown hair a perfect little toy to play with as they relaxed.

“Y’know, this is not where I thought I’d end up in life,” he murmured.

“You wanted something else?” Sally whispered.

“Nah, not really,” he replied, chuckling almost imperceptibly. “Can’t think of anything better than this right now.”

Francesco, who was the one facing his boyfriend’s face, pressed gentle kisses to his forehead. “Good, I was about to regret moving here.”

The two Americans snuggled closer, if that was even possible. 

“Please never do that, Fran,” Sally asked. “Please, for all our sake.”

“No plans to, fiore.”

“Ah, what, do I not get cute Italian nicknames?” Lightning pouted. 

Before Francesco could answer, a stern, clipped voice cut through the peaceful vibe of the room. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, FILLMORE?”

“C’mon man, some respect for the queen!”

“And, that’s my cue,” Sally sighed, reluctantly extracting herself from the cuddle pile. “Don’t get too frisky, I just did those sheets last week.”

“Translation, you don’t want us to have too much fun without you,” Lightning quipped.

That earned him another middle finger, right before she walked out the bedroom door. It sent him into another fit of laughter. Now, it was just the boyfriends, tightly wrapped up with each other, and Francesco giving Lightning the best puppy eyes he’d ever seen.

“Sooooo?”

“So what?”

“Should we listen to her or…”

Lightning let out a brief laugh. Grabbing the Italian by the front of his black and white jacket, he rolled them over so that he was now on top of him.

“Not a chance, spaghetti head. Not a chance.” They kissed, soft and sweet, and Francesco knew that this was the best decision he’d ever made.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that have a character as a WAG (wives and girlfriends of a professional athlete or in most cases here boyfriends and husbands) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

-Larry-

💖 your certain charms by deLILAh

(E, 20k, Potter Direction) louis is the reserve-reserve seeker, harry is the quibbler’s brightest new voice, and the quidditch world cup is as good a place to stargaze as any.

💖 I'll be home soon by Lalalaartje

(T, 20k, kid fic) Louis Tomlinson, 28, is an internationally successful football player for Stoke city and the English national team. He's openly gay and happily married to Harry Styles, who sacrificed his career to support his husband and raise their children.

💖 the sweetest devotion by itiswhatitisbutterfly

(E, 18k, mpreg) Harry loved Louis at 18 when he couldn’t afford to take him on a date, at 21 when he spent all his time trying to make it and now he adores every part of him as he professionally lives his dream every single day. 

💖 The fic where Harry calls Louis an idiot for ten days straight because he is one. by @mercurial-madhouse

(M, 17k, sick fic) A gift forgotten in London, the untameable force of the weather, and the scent of burnt snickerdoodle biscuits find Harry and Clifford pitifully alone and Louis... Where is Louis?

💖 Love in slow motion by sloganeer

(E, 17k, kid fic) A series of glimpses into the life of Harry Styles, pop star turned fashion designer; his husband, Louis Tomlinson, football legend; and their four adorable children.

💖  Hockey Player DILF Harry ♡ Ex Popstar Mommy Louis by dilfrry

(E, 17k, series) Why does his boyfriend have to be such a fucking DILF? He blames it on a twitter thread he read a few weeks ago.

💖 this slope is treacherous by TheRomantics

(E, 13k, engagement) Harry and Louis are getting married but that doesn't mean they can't have fun

💖 Want you more than a melody by @softfonds

(E, 12k, mpreg) His band is about to release their third studio album, he's dating the hottest football star on the planet, and tour is going to start the following year. But one trip to the doctor's office changes all his plans for the future, and he wonders if Louis is ready for it as well.

💖 So Kiss Me by embro

(NR, 5k, kiss cam) Harry's stuck in the football stands alone and falls a bit in love with Louis, the little-too-forward boy who's sat beside him.

💖  the stars are coming home by lsforever / @harrystinyshorts

(G, 5k, hurt/comfort) After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. 

💖 you always leave me wanting more by jesynelsons 

(E, 4k, fluff) Sometimes when he's playing a big match, he swears he can hear Harry's voice in the stands over thousands of other peoples.

💖 your laughter tastes so sweet by tumsa / @babyoflouis

(G, 3k, kid fic) a future!fic where Harry and Louis are married, they have kids, Louis plays football, Harry is his biggest cheerleader and the whole world is envious of the awesomeness that is Tomlinson family

💖 In The Nick Of Time by ICantChangeRose

(NR, 3k, class reunion) Harry, dreadfully, attends his 10-year school reunion. A lot changes when you leave a bullied looser and you come back a pop star married to one of the most famous football players in the world.

💖 i'll be yours (and you're mine) by underpressure

(E, 2k, sugar daddy Louis) Dating a famous footie player is hard – maybe even harder than school or convincing his mum that he was mature enough to move in with Louis even though he was only eighteen

💖 ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

(NR, 2k, pwp) Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

-Rare Pairs-

💖 love and kickin'!verse by @camiii

(E, 140k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw)  the fic where Nick has no interest in football but is dragged to a football match, Louis is the Arsenal player that catches his attention, and maybe there are some redeeming qualities to the game after all.

💖 The New Posh and Becks (series) by @mistresscurvy

(E, 31k, Liam/Louis) 2016 is a big year for solo artist Liam Payne.

💖 The Million Reasons Why by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 4k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) When closeted Manchester United striker Louis Tomlinson visits his secret boyfriend Nick Grimshaw on the Radio 1 Drivetime Show to promote his charity work, how long can secrets remain secret?

[sheepwasfound]

dnf moments caught from within the chaos (every single one)

 march 10th george alt stream

 ***

first video:

00:11:40-00:12:30 "is that george from dreamhunt?"

00:20:37-00:21:10 g:"me and dream argue about the stupidest things"

(many good sap/gogy sibling moments! and then...)

00:26:49 dream joins in secret and george tries to figure it out

00:27:26 dream gives himself away with a chuckle

00:27:55-00:29:00 "i was watching George's stream, i didn't even know you were streaming"

00:34:08-00:34:45 lil uk travel ban talk

00:36:46 g:"'late nights in the middle of june' this is true x2"

00:37:52-00:38:10 1.5 inches elephant still on george's desk

00:40:56-00:41:12 dream chuckling going "george is so salty"

00:49:04 dream hasn't paid george the $1,000 from geoguessr

00:49:50 dream tries to get george to play geoguessr

00:50:18-00:50:45 george tells dream about dreamhunt guy

00:53:37 d:"im on literally negative sleep"

00:55:57 g:"'tell dream you love him' no."

00:56:27-00:57:00 g:"'george you're the hottest piece of ass in dreamhunt' is that true dream?", d:"maybe it is" + "you're such an idiot"

00:57:14-00:57:54 dream tries to think of who in one direction each one of them are, can't choose for george

00:59:12 d:"he's like the most annoying person on the planet" (prob cus he can't focus on chess cus of gogy)

01:17:36 sapnap doesn't reply to george, dream replies immediately

01:19:26-01:19:40 + 01:21:56-01:22:50 talking about george exposing dream for the s*x tiktok

01:24:13 g:"ok i'm gonna go get water. dream, entertain my stream."

01:29:55-01:32:00 george and sapnap argue over servers, simp dream settles it w/ a "coin flip" (rigged)

01:33:40-01:34:50 sapnap waited for dream to wake up for burger day, s:"george wishes he coulda been a part of that"

01:36:12 d:"i was actually writing lyrics this morning"

01:40:37-01:42:12 stonks talk g:"what do i invest in?" d:"me"

(dreamnap moments interval here...)

01:50:14 s:"should i tweet out a picture of your girlfriend george?", d:"it's gonna be like a picture of my yt icon"

01:52:11-01:52:43 d:"'dnf arc'? yeah maybe", g:"is it a joke to you?"

01:52:57-01:53:11 sapnap and dream don't send george good morning texts & it upsets him

01:53:13-01:53:45 george didn't laugh at dream's joke, so dream calls him out for not paying attention

01:53:51 g:"'pretty privilege is real and you have it!' is this true dream?" d:"yeah. yeah"

01:54:13-01:54:55 sapnap accusing george of having a girlfriend, g:“dream, should we just tell them?”

01:59:30-01:59:50 g:“’can you say bleepbleep dream?’ no i can’t say that”, d:”just say it. george.”

02:02:00 g:“’is it true quackity and dream constantly fight for your love?’ it’s true”

02:02:10-02:03:00 d:”we were in our, like, linked arc. except for opposites …attract”

02:03:30 dream starts going through his texts with george

02:04:30 d:”my favorite number is…one second, i’m pulling up my george contact”

02:05:35-02:06:20 dream reads out their texts about waking up at the same time & having s*x

02:06:33-02:08:00 george’s “ayo muffin man” text to dream where he asked if he could make a joke about dream’s cheating drama, d:”you were being a good friend”

02:07:02 g:”we don’t text that much” d:”we text, like, everyday, but…”

02:08:36 first video ends

***

second video:

00:10:35 george shoots dnf on a wall, d:”you’re so dumb”, s:”what?”, d:”george”

00:14:30 g:”dream come baaaaackk”

00:16:22 dream in the bg laughing alone “this text is so funny! this text is amazing” (note: he started going through their texts, like, 20 mins ago)

00:17:25-00:17:58 george’s first text to dream: “hi loser”, sapnap asking about his first text, d:”that’s different”

00:20:38-00:21:00 s:”maybe if you were watching my stream instead of watching george’s all the time” + s:“maybe if you weren’t in your, like, dnf arc all the time”

00:22:40-00:23:15 g:“’george and dream’s brotherly relationship is so iconic’ brotherly?”, d:”someone in chat said ‘the alabama arc’”

00:26:05-00:26:30 pickle dick g:”dick-…dip his hands in the pickle jar”

00:27:05 d:”you’re an idiot george, you’re such a, you’re such a dick”

00:30:29-00:41:45 discussion about covid travel rules and george going to florida, george heatedly going through every possible trick to get there but dream being responsible about it

00:34:00 g:”dream, get me a private jet”

00:34:56 g:”i’ll just stay”, d:”for how long?”, g:”forever.”

00:36:13 gnf charity for private jet and then george will grapple down from a helicopter, d:”you’re such an idiot x2”

00:36:51 g:”i’m not actually joking” + g:”no it’s not impossible!” *checks cost of a private jet*

00:38:20 d:”you need to double it cus you have to go back” g:”i’m not going back. i’m not going back”

00:38:38 about deportation g:”dream, you can just protect me dream, just don’t let them take me away”

00:39:29 about deportation g:”then what if i never go back, what if i just never go back?”

00:40:01 g:”wait i have an idea dream. what if you just married me?” s:”you’re not allowed to marry someone to get them in the country”, g:”well that’s not the only reason”

00:41:13 g:”’sounds like dream doesn’t wanna meet you’ yeah he doesn’t”

00:43:43 g:”to be fair you are in your silly goose arc”, d:”i’m not in any goose arc” *mutual giggling*

00:44:45-00:45:25 discussion about obama escorting george on his private jet

00:47:38 dono:“you visiting dream is not a no, it’s a not yet”

00:50:21 g:”’just admit it, you’re madly in love with dream and you’re using this as an excuse to marry him’ no. this is false”, g:”i’m in my hating dream arc right now” d:”well, i mean … it’s about to be in a different arc though”

00:50:40 finishing each other’s sentences

00:50:50 s:”i wish karl was here.”, s:”at least i would have someone to be like, in love with, jesus”

00:51:29 d:”sapnap third wheel arc” s:”you guys may flirt and stuff, but me and you have physical s*x” d:”oh my goddd, what the hell?! that’s too far!”

00:54:43 sapnap teasing george about being able to cuddle dream, g:”i don’t care, i don’t care”

00:56:27 george teasing sapnap about having a gf again, s:”you have a dream”

00:56:43 g:”should i play geoguessr?” d:”oh, yes!”

00:57:07 d:”i’m exhausted and i’m laying in bed” (but he’s still staying)

(00:58:30 geoguessr starts, they’re tired and argue a lot)

01:00:48 arguing about colors g:”well you’re wrong” d:”maybe- actually maybe i think that’s- actually you’re right”

01:03:27 george was going to do geoguessr with wilbur today, but is too tired now

01:07:55 d:”if you had asked, i would’ve told you” g:”i didn’t wanna ask, i did it myself” *sassy*

01:13:55 george missed dream’s joke and he called him out for it again

01:17:00 g:”i’m not buying a maid dress” d:*silence*

01:20:10 g:“’dream we need your support to get george in a maid dress’ what do you think dream?”, d:*silence*

01:21:53 g:”you know what dream? i trust you”, d:”no, don’t trust me!”

01:22:50 dono:”when you asked dream if you should wear a maid dress, the silence was so loud” d:*silence*

01:23:23 after george makes a dumb voice d:”why are you reading like that?”, d:”i’m about to leave” (spoiler: he doesn’t leave, just stops looking for 30 secs)

01:24:10 g:”what do you mean you’re not even looking?”, g:”why, do you hate me?”, d:”you were being in your annoying arc”

01:34:28 dono:”do you have a song that makes you think of dream?”, d:”probably heat waves”, + george saying he doesn’t think of dream when listening to songs and dream not buying it

01:36:40 dream replying for him that george’s most listened to travis scott song is goosebumps (aka “their song”)

01:39:50 george confirms goosebumps is his most listened to travis scott song

01:42:26 d:”this is the last game im playing with you”, d:”cus i don’t wanna play with you anymore” (spoiler: it’s not the last one)

01:45:52 g:”alright one more”, d:”no i said i’d-…ok fine whatever one more” (spoiler: it’s not just one more)

01:48:46 dream mishears that george is gonna kiss him

01:54:24 g:”alright here’s the last game guys”, d:”you keep saying that, you keep…leading me on”

01:57:02 d:”that was the last one”, g:”no we said we were ending on a win” (no they didn’t) g:”you can’t leeeeeave, you can’t leave! it’s not allowed”

01:58:17 dono:”what is a place you’ve always wanted to go?”, g:”idk”, d:”america”

01:59:27 g:”i just, i was like…aaaaaghhhhlldududu you know?”, d:”yeah, i do know”

02:05:00 d:”alright, i’m gonna head out”, g:”wait, wait just wait”, g:”why are you in your like salty era?”, d:”why are you in your clingy era?”, d:”i think it would make sense if i left when i want to”, g:”alright, well, leave then, see what happens, you’re gonna regret it, that’s all i know”

02:05:30 dream leaves the call but then immediately starts watching george’s stream until he ends (who’s the one in their clingy era?)

02:06:10 george talks about going to bed (dream’s already in bed so they’re synced once again) 

[typemoonconfessions]

Mod Lolly: ALRIGHT *rips off shirt* HERE WE GO

so first off, “he’s such a godawful asshole” exactly. Insert persona 5 that’s the best part meme here. He is arrogant. He’s evil. He’s the literal worst. You just want to punch him. Beautiful. All positives. Villains are incredibly sexy. 

look how smug and diabolical he is!!! 

flawless, literally doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. thinks he owns the place. bitch. look at the muscles of his neck and his tiddy peaking through under his shirt!!!! slut!!! whore!!! (affectionate)

^^^^^^^ THIS POSE!!!! THIS POSE RIGHT HERE! LITERALLY THE SEXIEST THING ANYONE CAN EVER DO!!! he’s powerful and he knows it. his arrogance is actually backed up by something. 

YOU ARE SO EVIL. I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE AND THEN KISS YOU YOU STUPID BASTARD. 

and that just makes it even more satisfying when he finally gets his ass handed to him purely because of his own arrogance 

HE’S ANGRY!!! HE CAN’T BELIEVE HE WOULD LOSE TO SOMEONE WEAKER THAN HIM BUT HE DID BECAUSE HE’S AN IDIOT!!!

the hottest thing in the world is a character who thinks they’re above everything and never showing weakness then suddenly being in a position where they’re forced to show weakness and are no longer in control. vulnerability in a character that seems above it!!! hubris babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Ok so that’s what makes gil hot as a villain. but despite appearances archer gil is not always a villain. or at least, not 100% evil 100% of the time.

hollow ataraxia, emiya gohan, and strange fake all show that gil is actually really soft and patient towards kids (you know when they’re not being used as fuel for his mana). the local fuyuki kids love hanging out with him. he’s fun to be around! he lets them play with the stuff he buys. the kids even tease him about not knowing what’s cool and popular just like the kids in uruk do to casgil. 

when gil said in zero he loves entertainment he wasn’t just talking about the kind of stuff kirei is into. he reads shonen jump!! he’s interested in video games! in strange fake he gambles at the casino he’s staying at to pass the time and when he wins all the money the casino has he gives it all back bc he was only doing it for fun

then there’s his whole relationship with enkidu. zero actually mentions enkidu’s death and i will never! forgive! the anime! for cutting it! but thankfully the manga delivers (also i will never forgive the babylonia anime for changing enkidu’s death to being outside in the rain bc it robbed us of the only chance of seeing gil cry be animated but i digress)

and in strange fake we also get to see just how happy he is about getting to see enkidu and fight them again! 

then there’s ccc gil, which really opens up his character to a whole new level. technically you could argue that ccc gil isn’t really archer gil bc he has no class there, and it’s more closely a direct incarnation of his soul than forcing him into the mold of a servant class, but he still takes on his archer appearance plus he’s an archer in extella and extella link and he’s basically the same there so we’re going to count it

god where do i start. gil becomes genuinely attached to hakuno over the course of the game. he talks to them about his love of swimming and architecture. he teases them constantly, but in a way that you can genuinely tell he cares. hakuno is the closest anyone ever gets to getting gil to fully open up after enkidu’s death

soooo much is revealed here that puts into context his actions in other installments. a lot of what casgil mentions in babylonia about pushing humanity towards the future and his clairvoyance of what they would achieve and everything, all of that was mentioned here first. it shows why he acts like he’s the most important person in the world. it’s because, in a way, he kind of is. or at least was. even before he became the wise king or even before he met enkidu, he was the reason why the mesopotamian gods declined and why humans in mesopotamia were able to thrive

if it sounds like the line is blurring between archer and casgil here, yeah. that’s kind of the point. you can’t really separate them. they’re way more alike than they are different. they have different priorities but on the basis of the same ideal. that doesn’t mean that archer gil in zero and fsn isn’t evil tho. he absolutely is. or well, it’s more accurate to say that as a being that’s 2/3 god, he sees himself as being above the concepts of good and evil. he genuinely doesn’t believe how he acts is wrong. that’s why his alignment even in the route where he wants to wipe out the majority of the planet is chaotic good. however that’s still obviously an inexcusable goal, and he deserves to get beat up and learns what individual humans are capable of, not just humanity as a whole

i’m gonna leave you with this meme i made about a week ago that pretty much encapsulates everything i’ve said here into one convent format 

[lovelyirony]

Moony-Eyed

@bironfam i hope this is okay! 

Tony didn’t think that their new astronaut was going to be anything special. 

Well. 

That’s a lie. 

You kind of have to be special if you’re going to be an astronaut for NASA. You have to keep your cool, have good eyesight, and be okay with the possibility of dying. Maybe. Maybe you have to be cool with that. 

Tony is rather good at his job. From revolutionizing how space suits are made to making the functions of the ship easier to manage, Tony is NASA’s secret weapon, the handyman of all handymen. 

He’s usually squirreled away in his workshop, at his apartment that he honestly needs to clean far more than he does, or arguing with Potts about why he needs eight different coffee mugs. 

They know him as a guy who doesn’t exactly give a rat’s ass about the chain of command, or dress code. 

“You can’t fire me,” he had told Happy, after he had tried once again to stop Tony from entering areas containing sensitive information in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that proclaimed him the “MIT class of 1992.” 

Tony is good at his job, nearly too good. He likes it that way. 

But back to the astronaut. 

Danvers had taken leave to take care of her family, and honestly? Space usually isn’t a lifetime event for astronauts. You see too much of it, you need time away. A lot of time away. 

Pepper is giddy. She loved Carol, but Carol was happily married with a baby girl, and this one? This one wasn’t. 

Not that Pepper was looking for anyone. No, she and her partner Nat had standing date nights every Saturday evening, and she loved them too much to even think about anything else. 

But Tony? Tony needed someone. He never really dated anybody, at least not anybody that he genuinely liked. 

Stark was a powerful name, and it got tossed around a little bit, but Tony mostly kept to himself and only responded to it when he was at a party or Happy was mad at him for forgetting his ID badge yet again. 

James Rhodes was a nicely built man with a strong, confident aura, and single. 

(Pepper had checked.) 

She thought that he and Tony would get along quite well, if anything. 

James is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’d rather just get to work on what he needs to do. Getting into the air is one of the best feelings, and the sooner he can experience it, the sooner he’ll be fine. 

He always pushed the limits, and space is just the last limit he gets to push. He’s excited. He’s always wanted to work for NASA, be on their roster of astronauts. He wants little kids who identify with him to know that they can do it too. 

So he’s ready to work with the best and brightest of their era. 

“Where the fuck are my nachos?!” 

His head whips around to a man who is wearing an ill-fitting cardigan (that is most likely not his), old jeans that have what look to be equations written on one thigh, and glasses that are most definitely broken sitting at an angle. 

“Your nachos were too close to the computers,” one woman says without looking up. “Stop bringing nachos here or I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

“You can’t kill me,” the man retorts. 

“Tony,” comes another voice. James turns and sees who must be Pepper Potts. “Go to your office. Now. Change your pants, you wrote on them again.” 

“I did?” 

He looks down and swears. 

“Son of a bitch!” He then looks at Jim. “Wait, who are you? Are you the new astronaut?” 

“Uh, yes? I’m James.” 

He sticks out his hand. 

Who seems to be Tony stares at his hand. 

“Your name is seriously James?” 

“Do you think I’m bad at jokes?” he asks, eyebrows raised. 

Tony grins. 

“No, I think you’re gonna be a riot. But I’m not calling you James.” 

“Jim, then.” 

“No,” Tony says. “You’re not an old man, you’re still attractive.” 

His eyebrows raise. 

Tony’s face pales. 

“I’m going to. Go. I have math on my pants.” 

Pepper snorts, readjusting her grip on her clipboard. 

“Welcome to NASA, Colonel Rhodes. I can promise you that we don’t usually yell about our lunch location or write on articles of clothing.” 

- 

Surprisingly, James doesn’t see Tony for two weeks. Apparently, he’s been working outside with a couple of the interns to calculate some stuff, rework some of the older ships for experience, and stay out of the way of Pepper, who says that he’s attempting to murder her via headaches to deal with. 

He seems interesting, however. There are sticky notes and papers all over the offices and breakrooms reminding people of what Tony had for breakfast/lunch/dinner, or where the extra coffee supplies are. 

“You provide for him?” he asks Pepper one time. 

“He gets too much into his own head sometimes,” Pepper says. “He focuses too much on a program or an improvement and forgets that he works around other people. You wouldn’t believe how many times we had miniature science experiments based off of lunches that he would leave in the fridge.” 

Rhodes nods. “Well. I’ll look forward to working with him.” 

- 

Tony has been working outside of the office for two reasons: 

1.) To legitimately help the interns. (Ned and Peter are making improvements!) 

2.) James Rhodes is the hottest guy on earth. Maybe in the universe. For real. Seriously. 

He hates Pepper for this. Didn’t even tell Tony what the new astronaut looked like, and then shows up with a god of a man. Rude and unfair. 

And he had to be the dumbass with the equation on his pants. 

He didn’t even have spare pants! He had to stay in his office for the whole day because the equation was actually really important and he needed it. 

“Why didn’t you just transfer it over on paper?” Bruce asks over the phone. Bruce is his friend who works in a technically classified, off-the-books, not-exactly-government-issued building. He’s cool. He also points out the obvious. 

“I’m the biggest idiot on the planet,” Tony groans. “There was just a new guy at work, and he threw me off balance, so-” 

“What’s he look like?” 

“Why, you not crushing on that hot Nordic space dude?” 

“No, still am. But I still remember when Barton came to work for you guys and you didn’t know that his name wasn’t George until about six months into him working there.” 

“In my defense, he works mostly with physical therapy and prep for no gravity,” Tony says. “I work with math and shit.” 

“Still,” Bruce says. “You wouldn’t have pointed him out if you didn’t think he was cute. What’s he like?” 

“I...don’t exactly know.” 

“Oh my god, you’ve been avoiding him?” 

“Oh what, like you didn’t jump out of a window when Thor almost saw you in a tank top?” 

“I have a farmer’s tan! Totally different circumstance!” 

“Is it?” 

“I hate you.” 

“Get to dating Thor and then we’ll talk again. Have fun re-revolutionizing green energy, Dr. Banner.” 

“Look to the stars, Tony.” 

- 

James has to get fitted for his suit. 

He faces Tony, who looks quite different from when he first saw him. His hair is somewhat less messy, he has one of those geeky NASA-logo shirts that they sell at Target, and is wearing khaki pants with about a million different pockets. 

(Something in his mind is whispering that he definitely shouldn’t find him attractive. But he will anyways.) 

“Alright space-cowboy, let’s get your measurements,” Tony says. “You feeling okay today?” 

“Right as rain.” 

“Rain is never good, sunshine,” Tony quips. “Now, about your nickname from me...hm. Rhodey.” 

“How’d you figure that out?” 

“Substituted the ‘s’ for a ‘y’, just simple stuff,” he says with a shrug. “You approve?” 

“I...guess.” 

“Good. Now Rhodey, how are you feeling?” 

“Like sunshine and gumdrops,” he responds sarcastically. 

Tony smiles, and damn if it makes his heart thump a bit. 

“Better answer, soldier. Extend those arms, please.” 

Tony smells really nice. Subtle cologne and clean laundry. Rhodey finds that he likes it. 

“How’ve you been doing, Tony?” 

“Like a gentle breeze on a day that’s seventy-two degrees,” Tony answers. “Work’s been good today. Helen made tacos.” 

“I had some of those, they were pretty good.” 

“Mm,” Tony answers. “Legs a bit more apart, thank you.” 

Rhodey shifts his stance a little bit, carefully not watching Tony bend down just a tad to get the bottom of his foot. 

(But oof, that was hard.) 

Tony comes back up again, looking into Rhodey’s eyes. For a moment, for a brief moment, his breath is taken away. 

“I need to wrap my measuring tape around your waist. You okay with that?” 

“More than.” 

“Don’t get saucy,” Tony winks. “No one likes more than one floozy at the office, and that’s what got me this job anyways.” 

Rhodey lets out a laugh, and Tony grins. 

He likes making him laugh. Likes it more than he should. 

- 

They spend more and more time together. Tony always makes adjustments, Rhodey realizes that Tony doesn’t exactly keep track of when he eats, so they have lunch together. 

They like it a lot. 

On good-weather days, they eat outside on a bench. Tony leans against one said, foot brushing Rhodey’s calf, and Rhodey doesn’t really mind because he’ll lean over occasionally and steal whatever Tony’s eating. 

“This is theft, you know.” 

“You eat like a bird, what do you know about food theft?” 

Tony almost always stays later than anyone else except for nights with Rhodey. 

Once a month, they have dinner together. Rhodey’s new to the area and Tony’s almost never social with anyone, so they’ve been working through a list of the three-star-rated restaurants and seeing which ones they like. 

“It’s kind of like a date,” Pepper says, on her monthly hangout with Tony (and also kind of a clean-up party for his house). 

“Not dates,” Tony says. “Just friends. I’m sure he has his eye on someone in or out of the office.” 

“Like you?” 

“His first impression of me was me writing an equation on my pair of jeans, and then I haven’t exactly upgraded my style since,” Tony deadpans. “He’s seen me in neon orange sweatpants, Pep. You don’t exactly come back from that.” 

“Maybe he likes you for who you are!” 

“God that’s such a bullshit answer,” Tony whines. “You sound like a straight-to-video movie that came out in 1997!” 

“That’s too specific.” 

“And? You still get the point!” 

Pepper flings a pillow his way. 

“Where is your wine?” 

“In the same cabinet you always leave it.” 

“Goody.” 

While Pepper sways to bed, Tony thinks about what she said. 

It could be possible. Tony had never exactly asked him about himself in that capacity, but Rhodey never had an odd reaction to a statement that involved talking about a partner of the same-sex or a one-liner about it. 

Maybe? 

...no. 

Guys like Rhodey deserved someone better than someone who forgot to eat lunch four out of the seven days of the week. (And maybe four was being generous.) 

- 

On the flipside, Rhodey was currently telling his woes to Carol, who was laughing at him. 

“You nerd!” she says. “You like Tony, and you’ve done nothing about it? Have you even told him that you also like guys? Cuffed your pants?” 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I just...why would he like someone like me? I’m...boring.” 

“You’re not boring,” Carol says. 

“Yeah you are!” Maria calls from the kitchen. “You’re very boring, Mr. ‘Only-Drinks-Black-Coffee’!” 

Carol giggles. 

“Maybe Maria has a point. Maybe.” 

Rhodey groans, leaning against the couch. 

“I’m so fucked.” 

“On the contrary-” 

“Oh shut up.” 

- 

Pepper is tired of people’s problems. They’re getting closer and closer to launch, and Clint’s out sick and Helen is being weird again, and Jane is off somewhere to a secret government-but-not-government launch to discuss things with two potential boyfriends. (Maybe boyfriends. Maybe.) 

Tony is getting stressed. 

Usually, he’s the only one who’s fine during a launch. He’s still cracking jokes, making fun events, and calming down people who are a bit too nervous. 

But usually, he’s not as close to the astronaut as this. 

He’s been thinking about the accidents they’ve had over the years. He doesn’t want a repeat. He’s been pulling all-nighters, avoiding sleep, and checking in on Rhodey consistently, to the point where Rhodey has to drag him outside and tell him that things will be fine. 

(In Pepper’s professional opinion, they’d be fine if they just did a goodbye kiss or whatever, but okay.) 

Tony’s getting into his own head. 

So is Rhodey. 

He’s going to be gone for a long time. He’s going to miss the holidays. And Tony won’t be able to talk to him everyday. 

“You should tell him,” Pepper murmurs. “I think you both would benefit from it.” 

“I’m not going to play that unfair card,” Rhodey murmurs back. “I either confess my love and go to a dangerous mission knowing that he loves me back and I said it when I can’t return, or he doesn’t and I just played a guilt-trip card.” 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

Rhodey shakes his head. 

“I...I can’t do that to him. Wouldn’t be right. After the mission.” 

“After, then,” Pepper says. “When you come home.” 

Rhodey grins. 

- 

The day of launch happens far quicker than anyone wants it to, most of all Tony. 

Pepper actually kicked him out of his office, told him to shower, and wear something nice for once. 

“Make sure he knows he has someone to come home to,” Pepper says. “Wear your turtleneck!” 

“It’s only September,” Tony scowls. “And he’s his own person who’s about to launch himself into space.” 

“He will be fine,” Pepper says. “With your research and work, we’ve cut down overlooked mistakes by about forty percent.” 

“Still not half.” 

“Because we’re NASA,” Pepper sniffs. “Our mistakes matter more, so we make less of them.” 

Tony nods. 

-

He ends up almost being late to the launch because of Pepper’s stupid wardrobe advice. 

He’s wearing his nicest pair of pants, a button-up that’s been at the back of his closet for quite some time, and he’s feeling stupid because he had to play AC/DC in the car so he would actually focus on what was going on. 

Now he’s waiting for Rhodey to exit wearing the space suit that he made and to tell everyone that it was an honor and a privilege to be going to space where things happen and Tony can’t be there to help. 

Life sucks. 

But it goes on, and there’s Rhodey in the brilliantly-designed suit, and Tony’s never been more proud and more sad, but he sucks up his tears and walks up anyways. 

“Hey space-cowboy. Ready to explore the frontier?” 

“As ever,” Rhodey says. “You ready to forget to eat your lunch all over again?” 

Tony smiles. 

“You’ll have to check in with me soon, then,” Tony says. “Cut the mission short?” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Wish I could. But I’ll send you pictures,” he says. “I promise.” 

Tony stops for a moment, smile dropping from his face. 

“Promise me one more thing.” 

“Anything,” Rhodey says. “Anything you want.”  

“Come back safe. Swear to me that you will.” 

Rhodey grins. 

“Safe and sound, honey. Safe and sound.” 

Tony watches him board the ship, wave to the cameras, and wink at him. 

He rolls his eyes, but blows a kiss anyways. 

-

Tony’s a nervous wreck. 

Pepper has decided that Rhodey needs to not go on missions anymore, or at least take Tony with him because he’s annoying. 

“Can you stop crying on the second floor bathroom? It’s getting annoying,” Pepper says. “Clint says he can hear you and feels bad.” 

“Well how are we supposed to know that Rhodey’s okay?!” Tony says. “For all I know, he could be dead!” 

“I really hope you don’t mean that,” comes a voice from behind. 

Tony whips around, seeing Rhodey’s grainy face from the big screen. 

“You bitch!” 

He laughs, and it doesn’t sound real, but he can see him. 

“Hey Tony. You been making sure no one is pissed at you for forgetting your dinner in the fridge?” 

“Well, now I will,” he admits. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Rhodey smiles. “How’s everything been down there?” 

“Boring,” Tony says. “When are you coming back?” 

“I got about two more months,” Rhodey says. “And then I’ll be back.” 

“Quit hogging all the screen time,” Natasha teases. “You lovebirds can have your moment on earth.” 

Tony blinks. 

“What.” 

But by that time, Natasha and Sam have already been asking a million questions, and Pepper is filling Rhodey in on what he’s missed. 

Tony is still stuck on the whole ‘lovebirds’ thing that Natasha suggested. 

...that couldn’t be possible. And yet if other people saw it that way...

“Tony? Tony?” 

He blinks again, looking back up at the screen. 

Rhodey is smiling at him, that smile that means that he’s happy to see someone. 

“I’ll see you soon, honey.” 

“Right back at you, space-cowboy.” 

The screen goes to black, and Tony smiles a bit. 

“Aw, you nerd,” Clint teases. “So, you gonna ask him out on a date?” 

“Clint, I will cut off your leg,” Tony says cheerily. “I have to go finish some paperwork!” 

Tony’s done all of his paperwork, it’s one of the few times that Pepper’s had it done on time. 

He has to keep doing things to stop thinking about Rhodey. 

-

He writes him letters. He knows that he won’t ever read them, but writing letters helps and sometimes it makes his hands less jittery. 

He’s not ever going to send them. Ever. Letters are cheesy and they feel...personal. 

Pepper tells him that he’s being lame. 

“I’m not being lame!” Tony cries. “I am just. Protecting myself!” 

“You have the reasoning of a Jane Austen love interest,” she says flatly. “I swear if you don’t tell him, then I’ll meddle. And you know how bad I am when I meddle.” 

“You literally have made things so much worse for so many people,” Tony responds. 

“Not worse, per se.” 

“Oh right, how could I forget?” Tony exclaims sarcastically. “You made things the worst.” 

“If we weren’t such good friends, you’d be dead,” Pepper says. 

“Then let’s be worst enemies,” Tony mutters. “You still ready for pizza night?” 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Pepper says. “Meet at your place at seven, right?” 

“Right.” 

-

Here is what Tony does not know: Rhodey’s coming back down earlier than expected, and Pepper knows this. 

So she’s been busying Tony with work while she’s acclimating Rhodey to life on earth again. 

“Has he really missed me?” Rhodey asks for about the twentieth time in about two hours. 

“Yes,” Pepper says. “I hope these aren’t your talking points for your interviews. If people know you’re this much of a love-struck idiot in real life, they won’t take you seriously.” 

“I just missed him!” 

“Oh sure,” she responds, rolling her eyes. “And I’m sure you’ll tell the news reporters that you missed me with as many stars in your eyes as now. You like him, you absolute geek.” 

“Well, maybe a little,” Rhodey mutters. “But you’re sure he’ll like the surprise?” 

“One hundred percent.” 

-

Tony is having, perhaps, the worst day in his life. Maybe in history, if he’s being quite honest. 

His car, for one thing, won’t start for more than is done-away-with concern, so he has to call Pepper and say that he’s going to be late since he has to fix his own car. 

“Will you get coffee on the way here?” Pepper asks. 

“Your usual order?” 

“Yeah, you know the drill.” 

Then the line is long because some stupid person wanted to complain, and Tony was this close to just threatening to buy the entire store to make it stop, and he cried on his way to work because he saw a duck cross the road and it reminded him of how Rhodey crashed his first car avoiding a duck that was crossing the road. 

Yeah. It’s rough. 

Then he parks in the wrong parking spot because some asshole with a stupid rental car took his usual spot, and then he stepped in a puddle. 

He hates today. 

“Pepper!” he declares as he enters the building. “I wore jeans today, I got your coffee, and I’m already done with the day. I swear to god if one more unexpected thing happens, I’ll just say ‘fuck it’ and go work for the Soviets!” 

“The Soviets aren’t a thing, Tones.” 

He knows that voice. 

He fucking knows that voice. He isn’t supposed to be back from that mission for another month. 

Tony doesn’t turn around. 

“I’m hallucinating. Oh my god, I’m hallucinating.” 

Hands wrap around his neck, hugging him. 

“This feel like a hallucination?” 

(Okay so Tony drops the coffee.) 

Rhodey’s smile is blinding, and he’s...he’s here. Right in front of him with those not-supposed-to-be-that-hot polo shirts, those eyes that he could get lost in, and just...

Well. 

He hugs him and he hugs him tightly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back so soon?!” 

“Pepper organized it,” Rhodey says, giddy. “Decided it would be a nice surprise for you.” 

Tony looks over at Pepper, who’s trying to hide a grin behind her hands. 

“Pepper if I wasn’t so over-the-moon right now, your heels would be snapped.” 

She shrugs. 

“Worth it. You requested today off, by the way.” She winks as she turns back to her office. 

“Well, what do you say?” Rhodey asked. “Help me get used to having my feet back on the ground?” 

Tony grins. 

“Dinner sounds like a good start. Gotta get you some good earth food, none of that dehydrated crap.” 

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had a decent slice of pizza?” 

Tony grins. 

“I can fix that.” 

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #12: “S&M Present” | April 17, 2005 – 11:30PM | S01E09

I begin this by saying what I always say: I didn’t laugh. Boy howdy, did I not laugh. But this might be my favorite episode so far?

This episode “Fistful of Yen”s it’s self into a two-part “The Fat One” where Joey Fatone (playing himself) is the only member of N*Sync to not get killed by Japanese Yakuza members, so he seeks training from Pat Morita (also playing himself), goes off to fight in a deadly tournament, fights Hong Kong Fooey for some reason, and then he fights like a Britney Spears monster or something? I don’t know, I got to a point where I was just like “I’m not mad at this, it’s basically harmless, I guess”

Another highlight is a scrambled porn which I’m only bringing up because as a big scrambled porn connoisseur I can say that they only did a “just okay” job of recapturing that specific scrambling effect. Could’ve been better. Nothing was more thriling to me when you’d get lucky and the scrambling effect would accidentally clear up enough to show you something nice. I remember watching once and about 75% of the screen in the upper-right hand corner was VERY clear, just miscolored and washed out, and I could very clearly watch two nude women wash a boat. It remains one of my most cherished memories. Also, getting to listen to porn was thrilling. Finding out lesbianism existed for the male gaze was a very formative moment in my upbringing. 

My least favorite sketch was one I actually remember people referencing to me: In it M. Night Shyamalan keeps experiencing various plot twists in his life and turning to the camera and saying “what a twist!”. I actually remember and think about with some frequency this video I found on YouTube of an aspiring comedy film-maker who did a video with just a bunch of “randomness” and he basically did “what a twist!” at one point. It still rings through my head. Another sketch was about how much it sucks to get up in the morning, and he just moaned while stumbling out of bed and occasionally would pop his head down into the camera and say “seriously, this fucking sucks!” and it was like a recurring bit that they’d keep cutting to throughout the video. I can’t believe I think about this guy so much. I wonder if he went on to do creative stuff. He probably did. Putting yourself out there and being an obnoxious idiot is far more important for success in comedy than being a huge me-style snob ever was. But we can admit that’s still pretty important though right

CONTACTING GHOST PLANET...

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #9: “Self Help” | October 7, 1994 | S01E09

Oh, Anka Radakovich... sooooo hot.... want to touch da hiney... AWOOO!!!

An episode that isn’t that good, but I’m so intimately familiar with it because it’s the earliest episode in Space Ghost’s run that isn’t on the DVD. So when they aired it on television I made a point to tape it, and when Adult Swim started it’s service where one could compile a DVD-R’s worth of Adult Swim episodes as a make-your-own/burn-on-demand sorta deal I jumped at the chance to make a DVD with the missing episodes of Space Ghost. Why they were available for burning and not clearable for the regular retail release eluded me. But I do know why this one wasn’t initially available: Dr. Joyce had a no-merchandising clause in her contract which somehow didn’t prevent her guest shot on Larry Sanders from seeing a DVD release.

This one features Rich Hall curmudgeonly refusing to do sniglets, saying “they’re dead. put them in the garage”. We also have the aforementioned Anka Radakovich who is the hottest woman to ever be on Space Ghost. She seems really cool. I would like to hang out with her. I am sorry if she looks not that good in the screenshot but it’s her most endearing moment, where she acts retarded on camera basically. I love her.

[tintinwrites]

euphemism | Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: Blame @damerondjarin​ for supporting this when I was looking for 40′s/50′s sex euphemisms and we ended up laughing about the dumb ones!!

Rating: M

Warning: Naughty words. Sexual content. Oral (M and F receiving kind of). Quite a bit of weird euphemisms for sex and oral from the past that are real and can be found here and here.

Word count: 1,889, apparently!!

Summary: 6 Times Your Euphemisms Made Poe Almost Cry and One Time He Was Cool With It.

Tags: @dogsandrocketsocks @himbopoes​ @agentpike​ @greengrassandcyansea​ @arkofblake​ @bunkybarnesbxtch​ @itsamedeemoney​ (this is when you beg me to never tag you in anything ever again)

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

You and Poe had been married for four beautiful, wonderful months now.

You were together for two years full of romance and amazing sex, and you were joining each other on yet another wonderful journey that somehow made the romance and sex even more fun.

He loved you so much.

He pretty much told you that every day; he’d be staring at you and say it in this wistful tone that either turned you on or made you cry depending on your mood.

“I love you so much,” he huffed as you leaned over the back of the couch to hug his shoulders.

“You want to boil my cabbage?” You pressed a kiss to his temple.

That wasn’t something he thought you’d ask with how cute you were being, but he was always happy to help you cook dinner and he turned his head to peck you on the lips then moved to his feet with a dramatic grunt at the movement.

He shuffled into the kitchen in search of the cabbage, looking high and low in the fridge and even bending over to peek behind the bottom shelf.

“Where’s the cabbage, baby?” He opened the crisper, but none of the vegetables in there seemed to be a head of cabbage.

“Not that kind of cabbage, Poe. This kind.” Your words were followed by a light thump.

Poe turned around with his mouth open to ask what you meant when his jaw dropped instead, finding that little thump had been your robe falling on the floor and you were now sitting on the counter with your legs open wide.

Were you referring to your pussy as...cabbage?

He was confused and a little frightened.

But he was also pretty sure you were asking for sex and he was perfectly willing to step between your legs with a grin even if your request was a little strange.

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

Poe moaned, moving his fingertips up and down your back as you pressed the sweetest kisses to his neck. “That’s it, pretty girl…”

You kissed along his collarbone then down his chest, enjoying the access his nakedness offered on this early morning.

The muscles in his belly twitched at your tongue darting out on his skin, a little groan falling from his lips when you continued licking, kissing, and nipping down his belly right above where he really wanted your mouth.

Of course, you did not disappoint, kissing along his shaft, then running your tongue back up to his tip where you sucked on him gently.

“Mmm,” the vibration made him moan loudly as you took him as far in your mouth as you could without gagging and pulled back to stroke him slowly.

“You’re such a sweetheart…” His tug on your hair was gentle.

“My own pricknic.” You breathed softly over his tip, looking up at him.

“Oh, ye— wait, what?” His lustful eyes were open wide now at whatever the fuck you’d just said.

Pricknic?

Like the thing with the checkered blanket and the basket and the sandwiches, but with his cock put in there somewhere?

He might have asked you what drugs you’d taken or what alcohol you’d drank this early in the morning if your mouth taking in his cock again wasn’t that damn distracting.

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

Whenever Poe decided to workout, it was half-actually needing to exercise and half-knowing you would stare at him with the horniest look in your eyes.

He always made sure to work up a sweat since he knew that was your favorite, grunting and groaning in the most obscene way he possibly could.

It was doing the trick as usual since you were sitting on the arm of the couch watching him do push-ups like you were watching some incredible show you refused to take your eyes off of.

He pretended he didn’t see you until he really wanted to be inside you, moving to his knees and letting out a little ‘whew’ as he grabbed his ice cold bottle of water to take a long, obvious sip that made his Adam's apple bob with each gulp.

“You need somethin’, sugar?” His tone would sound innocent if you were a total idiot who didn’t know him inside and out.

“How’d you like to exercise the ferret, too?” You purred, stroking his wet curls.

He was going to say that you didn’t own a ferret unless you’d bought one in the night and hidden it from him, but then something clicked.

This wasn’t the first time you had said something odd when you really meant sex and he supposed that exercise was a typical euphemism for sex and ferret kind of made sense in a totally creepy way what with the fur and teeth.

Now he really didn’t want to have sex the more he thought about his dick being a ferret.

The utter disappointment in his eyes almost made you feel guilty for saying it.

“Can you please just ask if I want to fuck you or something?”

“My mama taught me not to say that kind of word.”

“—you literally said it eight times when I was pounding you last week. See, pounding is a very, very sexy one. I would also accept ‘plowing’ as a way to ask for sex.”

“Plow me? Like I’m a field?”

He knew your offended look was fake since your lips were begging to laugh, but he still fell with his face nuzzled into your lap. “My penis is not a furry little tube thing with legs and sharp teeth.”

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

“Fuck. Fuck.”

You were the hottest person on the planet.

How could Poe not think this as you sat with him in the backseat of the car, outside of the restaurant you’d finished dining at, giving him the best possible handjob ever?

He was thrusting up into your hand as he held onto the back of the seat, teeth bared with each growl and moan that you blissfully stroked out of him.

You always made it worth it when you’d tease him and you did tease him with your hand a little too high on his inner thigh.

On a double date, no less, where he had to pretend that he didn’t want to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you over a sink.

But, again, you made it entirely worth it by satisfying him with a semi-public handjob that would most definitely be repaid with some semi-public tongue in your pussy.

Speaking of tongues, you were shifting to kneel on the floor of the car and hovering your lips over his tip.

He really loved you.

“Want a little sucky-sucky?”

His animalistic posture dropped, staring at you then slowly pulling away from you.

“What are you doing?” You pouted, reaching out for him.

He shook his head and moved a little bit towards the door.

“Baby, stop, come here.”

“I am going to get out of this car and you are going to run me over with it for having to listen to you say that.”

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

You felt a little guilty for all the times you’d kind of turned Poe off and lately all you had was nice, normal sex.

Well, the candle wax wasn’t really normal, but it was fun and it didn’t involve any of your weird euphemisms you’d dug up from the pits of hell themselves.

Poe really wasn’t mad about any of the silly things as much as he was a little grossed out by the things people would say to allude to the idea of having sex, and it was slightly hard to be turned on by a lot of them.

He was obviously still in love with you and happy to have sex with you, which was clear as he crawled into bed next to you and tossed your book aside to lay himself on top of you.

You moaned into his deep kiss, moving your fingers through his curls and gently scratching his scalp.

That was his absolute favorite and you were the best and—

“Are you ready to take a turn among the cabbage, my love?”

—you were a fucking monster is what you really were.

“What is it with you and the fucking cabbage?” He rolled off you and moved off the bed without another word, stepping into his boots.

“Where are you going?” You sat up on your elbows.

“I want kimchi now.”

“Ooh, I want bibimbap if you’re going anyway!”

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

Poe was kind of starting to like it when you were too turned on to do much more than moan, cuss, whimper, and praise his skills.

He’d always liked it, but now it meant that you weren’t thinking about the weird things you could say to ruin the mood like usual.

Sometimes he wondered why you were doing this sort of thing to him.

Maybe you were joking around with him or maybe you were seeing his limits to being turned on considering that one time you jokingly mentioned biting his ass and he railed you there over the arm of the couch for it.

Not that it mattered right now, when he was peppering teasing kisses on your inner thighs right outside of the area where your hips were bucking in search of his tongue.

This was probably all another way to tease him since he always loved teasing you, and he decided to give you exactly what you wanted in hopes that you would start saying nicer things like ‘fuck’ and ‘blowjob’.

His tongue hardly dipped between your folds when you moaned out, “That’s right, yodel in my canyon of love.”

That was…

A lot of the sayings you chose were on the verge of gross, but this one matched with the little smirk his gaze landed on ruined the mood in a different way.

He pressed his face into your thigh and started laughing so hard that tears were falling from his eyes.

Your leg was shaking beneath his nose as you giggled along with him and, hell, maybe that was your goal all along.

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

Poe was happy that the euphemisms finally seemed to slow down; you were apparently appeased by him finally laughing along with you rather than being creeped out.

It was all pretty funny now that he looked back on the stupid comments.

Now you were sitting on the couch together and he was stroking over your shoulder with his arm laying behind you, and the look in your eyes as you looked up at him was familiar.

Fuck, he loved when you looked at him like you could eat him up.

He leaned down to kiss you suggestively and you said against his lips, “I want to have a bit of cock.”

Then he yanked back out of instinct, his brow furrowed disappointedly. “Would you stop—”

He paused as the words processed in his mind and he thought them over a little.

Wait a minute…

“—that was actually hot.” He dove onto you to the sound of your delighted yelp, pushing you back on the couch as he kissed you passionately.

One of your hands went to stroke his cheek sweetly and the other tugged on his hair, smiling up at him when he pulled away.

“You meant a lot of cock, though, right? My dick is pretty damn big.”

“Yes, baby.”

[gwoongi]

𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖽 ♥︎ jeongguk (ft namjoon)

𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖽 jeon jeongguk / reader (ft kim namjoon) genre: pornstar au, smut rating: explicit words: 4749

The sight of his shit-eating grin leaves Namjoon with a prickle of hot frustration that hurts when the video rolls to an end, with no flashy end credits or promotion. Just a black screen with his own idiot reflection staring back at him.

a/n: i……………i don’t know what came over me.

warnings: graphic sexual content, rough sex, porn themes, choking, impreg kink, creampie, squirting, daddy kink, loving sex, dirty talking, degradation/humiliation, unprotected sex, cum eating, porn couple, name-calling (slut shaming?), bisexual namjoon, dirty talk literally inspired by dirty talk i see in sexy stuff im sorry

Namjoon liked porn. Like virtually every guy in his fraternity, Namjoon watched porn almost daily. There was something addictive, like a drug, about visiting PornHub; porn was like an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while, and watching porn was like relieving an itch that he couldn’t quite reach.

“The fact that all you do when you get home is watch porn is just sad,” his friend Sunmi had said, with her cheek pushed up against the worn bicep of Namjoon’s one of many frat brothers, Hoseok. Namjoon had just scowled and said nothing, not feeling the need to defend his unrequited friendship with porn because, “everybody watches porn”. To him, it was kind of like gaming; everybody played games, some more than others. And Namjoon enjoyed exploring every category, watching searches with pretty thumbnails of peach genitals or cum-stuffed faces, holes leaking with it.

It was a Friday evening, the end of Namjoon’s long haul of work from a week of University. With an untouched linguistics assignment flashing to be given attention in his emails, Namjoon closed the tab and sighed loudly with a frown, rubbing the side of his face with his hand. Boredom was the bane of his life, and he could feel it slowly creeping up on him, wrapping like a snake to prey around his body and very slowly squeezing the life out of him. After a few moments of exhausting hesitation, Namjoon groaned and reluctantly reached for his laptop.

“When you’re bored, try and reach out to a friend,” was something his Mother had always said. Granted, she didn’t quite mean friend as a synonym for PornHub dot com, but at the end of the day, she never specified what a friend was or who the friend could be. And, look, Google filled in the blanks for him as he typed in ‘p’, and like a loyal good best friend, Pornhub logged him in automatically, his premium membership like a badge of honour.

Namjoon glanced at the time- ten fourty three in the evening, and the exhaustion from classes and his late afternoon shift at the Italian restaurant down the street still hung over him, despite the glorious view of cum-filled cunts and leaking dicks. Because, when dabbling with porn, Namjoon wasn’t picky. Life could throw a thousand warm wet vaginas in Namjoon’s face, or a thousand veiny cocks, and he’d still find himself with his hands stuffed down the front of his pants, begging for some kind of release. Sunmi’s old words echoed in his head- it was sad. What he was doing, and how often he did it, was actually the saddest thing in the world.

Unlike normal, Namjoon hovered his cursor over the categories, undecided on where to go to. He’d viewed every category to death, spending hours jerking to images of girls on all fours, dressed like cats, gags stuffed in their mouths; boys with big dicks up their asses, tears down their faces. You name it, and Namjoon has probably seen it, bought the t-shirt, left a rating. As he scrolls, Namjoon’s cursor lands on a category he admits is rather alien: Verified Couples.

Not that Namjoon is at all against love- in actual fact, he thinks that is what he yearns for most of all. Somebody he can take care of, and look after, and wake up in the morning next to and stroke hair from their face, all whilst simultaneously being able to shove their faces into the mattress and fuck them, and be fucked. He’s just never explored the Verified Couples section, because honestly, he thinks he might get a little jealous of either either party in the video. What if the girl is the hottest woman he’s ever seen before, and she’s being dominated by a guy Namjoon knows from three seconds isn’t good for her? And what if the sexiest man alive is wasting his time with a selfish girl who only cares about herself?

Regardless, Namjoon decides that today, this Friday of April, he is going to explore this category like Lara Croft in a new tomb.

He clicks, unbothered, and scrolls for a few seconds. Nothing is catching his eye; none of these thumbnails show him anything he’s never seen before, and they’re all painfully mediocre and white, some just plain weird with titles like “Abusing my husband with feet!”, which is certainly not going to make him feel good tonight. After a minute or two of bored searching, Namjoon almost realises why he never dapples into this section of porn when he pauses, mildly interested in a thumbnail and a title reading, “Rough sex with my girlfriend.”

The sight of the thumbnail takes his breath away; a man, with unbelievably toned thighs and a gorgeous curved ass holds his girlfriend like she is the last thing alive on the planet, his arms wrapped around her body, the skin bunching up like old Greek statues you’d find in galleries. She is made of marble and the guy is the sculptor, breathing life into her skin as he, from the thumbnail, holds her side with his left and her small tit with his right. The thumbnail moves as he hovers the cursor over it, and for a short few seconds, Namjoon watches the boy’s hand move from her tit to her throat, and the muscles in his hand suggest he is holding tightly, his hips meeting hers in a sweet kiss as she matches his thrusts.

Namjoon can already feel the discomfort tenting in his joggers and he clicks the video without a minute of hesitation.

It begins like most pornos, the sight of the boyfriend’s enlarged cock at the bottom of the frame, the delightful view of a V-line and honey abs filling the screen for a moment as the boyfriend fiddles with the camera of amazing quality. In the background, Namjoon sees the girlfriend, her body dressed in pointless coral lingerie, the sight of perked nipples soaking through and faded bites on her collarbones. Before enlarging the video, Namjoon checks the uploader: koopid. The bio reading, Fucking Y/N until she cries for me to cum inside her, signed by Jeongguk. Now he’s familiar with names, and it feels as though he’s watching in through the window, hiding behind curtains as Jeongguk fucks the living shit out of his unbelievably cute girlfriend Y/N.

“Mmm, you look so pretty, baby girl.”

Namjoon notes how sweet the unknown Jeongguk sounds, almost as if his voice had been dunked in honey, and his words were the glump of thick substance dripping down. He sucks in a breath when Jeongguk comes into view, naked for the world to see, a smile on his face Namjoon believes was made for him. He’s boyish enough for Namjoon to enjoy, and he leans back, allowing the couple to do what they intend to do.

“So fucking pretty,” Jeongguk comments between his teeth, his fingers looping around your underwear. “Who bought you this?”

“You did,” you reply, shimmying to aid Jeongguk as he slowly pulls your panties down the length of your thighs, smooth and newly shaved. Namjoon can see a shine. Marble. “Do you like it?”

“Mm, that’s right. I love it, baby,” Jeongguk says, lifting you with ease up and out of the panties, already relatively soaked from whatever foreplay he did beforehand to get you hot and flustered. “Are you gonna let me fuck you tonight, for everybody to see?”

A gasp leaves your lips. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he murmurs in reply.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Mm, good girl. You’re so good,” Jeongguk praises, kissing beneath your chin and encircling your arms around you. You grab onto his biceps for balance as he smooches the skin, with one swift movement setting you down on your back onto the plush pastels of the bedsheets, a whitewashed blue with pretty tiled patterns on the pillows. You lie there, staring at Jeongguk as he shadows over you, a hand on either side of your body. The muscles in his back flinch as he moves downwards in a curve, kissing a messy line from your chin to your sternum, leaving behind a visibly wet trail Namjoon follows with his eyes. “You’re so good for Daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, only for you, Daddy,” you squeak out, like a little kitten, a strangled and high-pitched moan leaving your lips as Jeongguk licks a line between your breasts, one hand palming a tit in circles, his thumb rubbing your nipple beneath the lace of the bralette. “Only for you.”

“I know,” Jeongguk acknowledges, rising up when he realises he’s prolonging things. “Keep being good for me, okay, baby?”

You mewl with a nod as he continues, getting off from his words, a vocal God, “you gonna let Daddy have your sweet little pussy, hm? Let me fill you up with my cock, fill your pussy with Daddy’s cum?”

“Please,” you breathe out, arching your back up as Jeongguk removes the bra with one hand, taunting his experience to the audience and helping you slip out of it, your perked breasts sloping upwards like tiny mountains, a delicious treat for Daddy. He contains a groan. Tonight, he wants to be mean. Tonight, Jeongguk wants to have you all, every inch of you, he wants to shove his cock so far inside of you that it hurts. For the first time on his channel, Jeongguk wants to be rough. He wants to put on a show, show everybody who you belong to. “Please. I want it- I want you to fuck me.”

Jeongguk palmed your breasts for a while longer, deciding what he was going to do with you. After a very short briefing in his head, Jeongguk hummed to himself as if thoughtfully pleased and moved between your legs, satisfied and proud when you spread them open for him. He let out a hiss between his teeth, looking at the wetness pooling between your legs.

“My, my,” Jeongguk comments. “All this for me?”

“All for you,” you confirm. He is so close, his touch burning, and you rise off the mattress impatiently, whining loudly. “Please, Daddy. I need you.”

Jeongguk makes a noise with his mouth, as if disappointed. He isn’t, but he knows how to push your buttons. He knows what to do and when to do it to get a reaction. “I don’t think you deserve my cock just yet. Daddy needs to hear what you want him to do to your precious little pussy. Hm? Tell me, tell me what you want me to do, baby.”

Namjoon thumbs his head, rubbing pre-cum like it was a new lotion. His cock was throbbing, pulsing as if breathing on its own.

“Please,” you begin, your voice enough for Namjoon to wrap his fingers around his cock in anticipation, “I need your cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me, until I can’t walk. Please, please, you own me. You own my pussy. Ugh- I need-to feel you inside of me.”

Jeongguk almost has the nerve to look unsatisfied, but he reckons, and only because he knows the ratings depend on it, that he’s prolonged it enough. He knows what everyone’s here for. Even though he does, nobody else cares about what you have to say. He pretends to think about it, humming once more before smiling, dragging you down the mattress by your thighs so your wet cunt is closer to his dick. You writhe with anticipation as Jeongguk massages his cock for a few moments, sucking in a breath and then positioning the tip near your entrance. He’s going in raw today.

Underneath him, you moan as it teasingly prods at your entrance, throbbing for his length. From where he kneels between your opened legs, Jeongguk stares at your hair dancing around your head like a halo, the blush burning on your cheeks. With his mouth open with admiration, his heart widening out of pure love, Jeongguk remembers what he’s doing and without warning, shoves his cock inside, without giving you the chance to grow accustomed to his hardened length.

He’s big- Namjoon, behind the screen, can see that.

Beneath his body, and heavily breathing torso, you cry out with pleasure, a large and loud moan ripping out into the silence of your bedroom. It sounds like Heaven to everybody’s ears, Jeongguk responding with a grunt of pride, knowing only he can make you feel this good. He pulls out and thrusts back in roughly, without caring for how it hurts. From the angle of the camera, Namjoon gets a good view of Jeongguk’s dick pushing in and out of your hole, that tiny hole Namjoon thought nothing could ever get inside. He watches with wonder, his expression like a child in a sweets shop, as Jeongguk pulls you closer to him, pushing deeper inside.

“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks through laboured breaths.

“Yes!” you squeeze out, tightening around him. “Oh, yes!”

“Mm, you like Daddy’s cock?”

“I love your cock,” you rush out. “I love Daddy’s cock so much.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk replies happily, the praise making his chest inflate with adoration and confidence. “I love how you take my cock, baby. Your pussy is so pretty with my cock inside.”

You fall silently shortly after that, save the erotic groans and moans and the distinct clapping of skin, like an applause for all your hard work. Namjoon pumps his own dick desperately, his eyes flitting from your face to your tits, the right cupped by Jeongguk’s large hand and the other bouncing gorgeously in the light, to the way Jeongguk’s ass clenches as he finds a new spot to abuse inside of you, a new spot to send you yelling out with pleasure; Namjoon shakily breaths out a moan as he stares at your gaping cunt, wet and glistening like a 90’s edit from Tumblr, Jeongguk’s dick moving in and out with wet sounds.

Jeongguk changes the pace, quickening his thrusts as if it doesn’t even matter. He gets drunk off the reaction, grinning with a soft chuckle as you cling to his skin like letting go will kill you, each thrust met with a yelp that increases in pitch and volume. Namjoon knows how this looks and sounds, but he doesn’t care anyway. His laptop is on its side as Namjoon frantically pulls his joggers down to pool around his ankles, his red and angry cock snuggling into his hand as he watches the pair of you, entangled together, lovers, in a sort of love Namjoon can’t even wet dream of having. He looks at the screen through a blurry gaze and sees you writhing with pleasure, tears slowly pulling down your flamed cheeks.

“O-oh, right there!” you mewl, your hands clenching around the skin on Jeongguk’s thighs. “Oh my God, Jeongguk, right there.”

He visibly falters, as if the screen glitched, and the hand wrapped around your tit moves up to your throat. The thumbnail- Namjoon groans out loud at the thought, remembering how it went. Jeongguk wraps his hand around your throat, his thumb where it needs to be, his eyes glued to your face observing your reaction. He wants to test how far you can go. He wants to make you cry, and hurt. He wants you to feel humiliated, embarrassed by how you beg for him to keep going deeper, faster, rougher. Jeongguk feels like a church-boy discovering sex for the first time, testing the waters on how many sins he can break before his Priest father comes into the room.

“Who said you could call me that?” Jeongguk sneers, his hand tightening slightly. You moan around the struggle, your eyes lidded and heavy with the euphoric weight of sex. “Hm?” Jeongguk’s hips stutter faster, rougher, sharply hitting a spot that sends you in a squealing mess.

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy,” you gasp. “‘m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll be good.”

“You’ve disappointed me,” Jeongguk admits. Then, quite suddenly, he stops moving, the absence of his pace sending you writhing with anxiousness. The threatening orgasm begs to spill over, like a nearly full glass that needs a few more drops before overflowing from the top. “You gonna make it up to me, little one?”

You nod against the sheets. “Yes, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Okay, baby girl,” he agrees, He sits back on his heels and Namjoon watches with agonising anticipation as Jeongguk sits between his own legs, his feet behind him, pulling you from the mattress onto his lap where your own legs wrap around his tiny waist. “Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock.”

Like a good girl, you don’t need to be told twice. Namjoon finds out from the way you look at your boyfriend between barely open eyes that you’re a total cockslut; you wrap your arms around Jeongguk loosely as you sit back down on his cock, like it’s your throne and you own it. It takes a moment for you to readjust to his size, sucking in a breath and rising up and down on it, doing all the work as Jeongguk watches with his tongue between his teeth, his arms up with palms flat on your back.

“Hmm, show everybody how good my cock makes you feel,” he instructs, moving his mouth to your nipple and giving it a light suck. It’s as if he’s taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, getting a taste before going in for the whole thing. He looks up at you between his thick eyelashes, “go on. Show them who’s making you feel good.” With one hand, Jeongguk kindly wipes away the tears from your face. “Don’t even think about cumming. You haven’t earned it.”

Namjoon can feel his body deepening with a hot flush as he watches- perhaps not entirely with want but with need, a need to be loved and fucked and held the way you are. He never realised how much he needed koopid in his life until he stumbled across it, and his heart panics with an unfamiliar lust when you rock your head back and look shyly at the camera.

Namjoon can see now that your face is hot, sweaty slightly and tear-stained, your lips swollen from whatever foreplay Jeongguk failed to include in the video. He doesn’t care- he’s torn between looking at your eyes and your tits, bouncing around Jeongguk’s lips, or your ass, moving with each deep sit you take on Jeongguk’s dick, his length buried in your warm cunt. He wants to see more; he wants to see your pussy stuffed with dick, he wants to see the cum pour out of you slowly like cake mixture. With his hand moving quickly up and down his own length, Namjoon can feel the nerves twisting inside of him, like the rise in volume slowly creeping, his orgasm nearing. You lift yourself up and down on Jeongguk’s dick like you were made for it, like you were the only person worthy of sitting on it.

“Dirty little slut, being selfish with my cock,” Jeongguk words around your nipple. “Huh? Look at you, taking in all my cock like a big brave girl. Bet everyone wants to see your pretty pussy.”

Yes, Namjoon says to himself. Please. Please.

“Do you want that?” he edges. “Want everyone to see how red and stretched your hole is for me?”

You don’t reply, stubbornly, fucking yourself onto Jeongguk’s dick like its your life’s purpose. Jeongguk doesn’t want to show people. He doesn’t want them to see everything on this one video- if they want to see your pussy stretched out and pretty for them, then they can check out your other videos. Namjoon’s a porn connoisseur; he know looks, and he knows that’s what Jeongguk wants as he glances you up and down and then at the camera. He smiles smugly, and the audience suddenly know it too. He’s not going to give you what you want. It’s his turn to be selfish. Namjoon moans out loud.

“Tell me baby,” Jeongguk asks, “what you want?”

“Please-please,” you gasp out, “please c-cum inside of me. Please. Please- oh, Guk, please, baby. I’m close. Please cum in me-fill me up?”

Jeongguk kisses your breast. “Do you deserve it, princess?”

“Y-yes, I do,” you reply. “I’ve been good for Daddy. I’m Daddy’s good little girl.”

“Mmm, you are,” he agrees. He kisses your breast sweetly once more, looking up to kiss you round on the lips. Around him, you groan, sending butterfly kisses across his lips and he smiles, half forgetting what he’s doing. From his smelly bedroom, Namjoon thinks it’s sweet. He wants to cum so badly.

“Okay, honey. I’ll cum inside of you this once,” Jeongguk complies. He pulls you flush against his chest, rearranging himself inside of you and then lifting his hips to match your rhythm. “Are you gonna be good for me?” You reply with moans.

Namjoon moves his hand so fast- he pumps his dick with a quicker speed, his mouth hanging agape as you moan sweetly above Jeongguk’s forehead, and then slowly look to the side at the camera, daring the audience, staring into the lens and by extension, right into Namjoon’s eyes. He wants to fall inside the screen, and rip you out of Jeongguk’s hands. He wants to be the one inside you. He also wants to be the one around Jeongguk, feeling his big dick stretch him out. Namjoon cries out- porn was so unfair.

“Bet you’d like that, you little slut,” Jeongguk grins, “wouldn’t you? Letting Daddy fill you up with his cum. Yeah? You want me to do that, put all my sperm inside you and make a baby?”

“Mmh, Jeongguk!”

“Look at you,” he continues, laughing slightly. “Look at how you take me. Your tiny little hole.” He scoffs with affection, “You’re a mess, baby. My little baby, taking my cock so well. I’m so proud of you.”

You cling to your boyfriend, your jaw slack as you groan and stare at the camera. Namjoon can feel his stomach twisting, his hands cupping at his balls for relief, imagining that one hand is you, and the other Jeongguk. He can feel his heart in his ears and his throat; Jeongguk buries himself deeper inside of you, gripping at your marble skin to drag you down and up onto his dick, the slapping skin no match for the moans pouring from your lips, and faintly, he can make out Jeongguk’s own moans, slightly high and breathy, indicating the end is near. Namjoon doesn’t know what to focus on.

Still watching the camera, you shake your head back and move one hand to Jeongguk’s throat, clenching it to hear him groan out with pleasure and pain beneath you, your face scrunching up as you slam yourself down onto his dick. It’s rough and wet with sounds that fill Namjoon’s ears, and Jeongguk’s hand comes down like a whip to smack your ass, a boob filling his face as you arch up with each smack, girlish moans escaping free. Namjoon can taste salt in his mouth, and blood from biting down on the inside of his cheek, and he almost screams out about how unfair life is because koopid is there and he is here, when you bow your head to Jeongguk and shiver.

“I wanna cum, Jeongguk,” you beg. “Please, baby.”

Jeongguk cocks his head with sudden kindness. “Okay, baby. I’ll let you cum. Cum for me, cum around my dick.”

Threefold sounds fill the remaining seconds; you cry out with relief and pleasure as you spill cum around Jeongguk’s dick, the white substance trickling down the running vein that pulses and Jeongguk stuffs his face in your neck, and Namjoon back home yells out with abused satisfaction, closing his eyes as his own relief spills out on his stomach and bedsheets, his fingers soaked with his own cum. He breathes in the fantasy of seeing his own cum pouring out of you, the way Jeongguk does once you’ve fucked yourself tired on top of him, and he lifts you up by your thighs to marvel as the sliding semen down your legs, clumped in your hole, dripping like a tap. Jeongguk’s dick vibrates between his legs and twitches at the sight. He doesn’t show the audience. They don’t deserve to see you. They don’t deserve to see what he’s done to you.

Jeongguk doesn’t even say goodbye; he lets the audience and his girlfriend catch their breath before he smiles down at you, adoringly, praises your hard work and shuffles himself towards the camera, where the sight of his shit-eating grin leaves Namjoon with a prickle of hot frustration that hurts when the video rolls to an end, with no flashy end credits or promotion. Just a black screen with his own idiot reflection staring back at him.

Namjoon needs more. His dick hurts and his head throbs, but he needs more- he physically needs to see more. His hands tremble as he clicks on koopid’s profile, observing the fifteen videos you have public. He doesn’t need to watch them all tonight, saving them for his lonely evenings, but he does click on “creampie in my girlfriends cute pussy”.

He knows it’s worth the overstimulation when he gets five minutes in and sees you squirt, unexpectedly, onto Jeongguk’s face and the bedsheets. Aside from the view and the surprised gasp that is ripped from your mouth, Namjoon hears Jeongguk’s throaty chuckle up close and personal, and he sees Jeongguk’s cocky smirk now that the boy has set the camera to the side, giving Namjoon a beautiful view of your cunt and the side of Jeongguk’s wet face.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when Jeongguk manoeuvres himself back between your legs and thrusts, the sight of your cock-filled hole and the curve of Jeongguk’s toned ass filling his screen. Jeongguk cums noisily; he groans gruffly, sounding intimidating and the blood rushes to Namjoon’s cock and he cums unexpectedly, missing the grand finale of when Jeongguk pulls out after filling you up with his cum.

He grins to himself and moves the camera so everybody can see how pretty it looks; Namjoon stares, milking his own high, looking at how Jeongguk’s cum leaks out of you slowly. You’re filled with it, the dried mess staining your skin and your body rising with deep and heavy breaths. It’s pink and abused, your hole wide and clenching almost with each breath. Jeongguk’s hand comes into view, the other holding the camera shakily, and he pulls apart your lips to show the sight clearly. His fingertip curls around the substance and as you lift yourself up onto your elbows, Jeongguk switches for two fingers, lapping up the escaping cum and shoving it right in your mouth and on your tongue.

Namjoon cums again. It’s the third time he’s came this evening, and it’s the first time he’s ever added a channel to his favourites.

He’s not sure what it is about koopid that makes him feel so fucking good, but when Jeongguk heaves himself down next to you and flips the camera, showing the unfair gorgeousness of the pair of you fucked out next to each other, your hair slightly in Jeongguk’s mouth, Namjoon knows he wants more. He needs more. He doesn’t care if Sunmi calls him sad, but, Namjoon knows that there is nothing on Earth that can cure the want and need he has for koopid.

Jeongguk grins to the camera, looking at you against the sheets and Namjoon can see in his eyes the way he is so in love with you. You smile too, kissing his lips and curling up against his neck and the last thing Namjoon sees before his own dumb reflection again is Jeongguk smirking at the audience before leaving. Jeongguk knows what he has and how lucky he is. Namjoon isn’t sure how to feel when he realises that he’ll never have what you and Jeongguk have. He feels empty and pathetic with his cock out and a black screen looking at him.

He’s not sure who he’s jealous of. Jeongguk, for getting to stuff his fat cock into your hole and seeing you, hearing you, feeling you on a daily basis. Or you, for getting fucked relentlessly and lovingly by the best looking man he thinks he has ever seen. Maybe it’s both.

(It’s definitely both.)

[pomegranate-belle]

Fic or Treat: how about smth based on your post the other day where Foggy doesn't realize he's in love with Matt 'objectively 11/10, anything less is heresy' Murdock? 😂 (it's been DAYS & i'm still thinking abt it so here we are LOL)

So this is somehow simultaneously set before Defenders and after DDS3 idk man, whatever.

Props to @kat8porgs and @thosemintcookies and @letsgetthisblog for helping me come up with some Dudes Hotter Than Matt Murdock, lol

—

Matt Murdock is pretty much the hottest guy on the planet. It’s an objective fact. There’s a lot of times Foggy despairs of this, but he’s never once questioned it; his best friend is a solid 10/10. Probably 11/10 when he does that one really sappy smile that only makes an appearance when he’s completely at ease or super drunk.

Misty Knight does not seem to agree, based on the unimpressed look on her face.

And look, there’s no accounting for taste, but Matt’s on another level. His appeal is undeniably universal. Like, as much as people have teased Foggy about fawning over Matt, it’s not gay or anything. Really. He’s just secure enough in his masculinity to be able to recognize how unfairly smokin’ hot his bff is. It’s a purely platonic observation, and the proof is that everyone else thinks Matt’s hot too.

“He’s not hot,” Misty says flatly, pushing Foggy’s phone back to the center of the cafe table.

It’s got one of Foggy’s best pictures of Matt on it — sitting at his desk in their office, hands scanning over some document or other and a look of intense concentration on his face. The lighting’s just right to show the red in his glasses and highlight his jaw.

“Are you high?” Foggy demands, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Just look at him! He’s beautiful!”

Misty snorts, then puts up her hands when Foggy glares at her.

“Look,” she begins, very obviously and condescendingly humoring him, “I’m not saying he’s ugly or anything, but when you say ‘ungodly man-beauty’ I expect to see some, y’know, ungodly man beauty. This? This is a generic-looking white boy.”

She’s lost it. That’s the only explanation. There’s nothing generic about Matt. Foggy tells her so, and her eyes sharpen a little with interest, though her mouth stays firmly in that ‘oh you poor fool’ smirk. In truth, maybe challenging a headstrong detective isn’t the smartest move; Misty is very perceptive. Not that Foggy has anything to hide. Because he doesn’t. And even if he did, he’s not necessarily known for making smart, rational decisions. Case in point: knocking out mobsters with a baseball bat, associating with someone reckless enough to earn the moniker Daredevil, and dating Marci Stahl not just once but twice.

Misty spins the phone back around and takes a second look, but there’s no dawning realization in her eyes. She shakes her head.

“And you couldn’t have gotten a picture sometime after he remembered how to use a razor?” she asks.

Foggy, of course, is offended on behalf of Matt’s pleasantly stubbly jaw. Matt looks good all the time, but he looks a lot less baby-faced with a little bit of facial hair — Foggy’s not sure whether a full-on beard would work well for Matt, but the stubble looks just right.

“The scruffiness is part of his charm!” he insists.

“He looks like a sad hobo in a business suit,” comes Misty’s totally ruthless reply.

Foggy has to gather his phone to his chest to protect Matt’s picture from such hurtful words.

“Sad hobo? We’re not talking about Rand again, are we? Because I got an earful from Hogarth the last time I suggested someone that rich should get better-fitted suits,” a familiar voice cuts in.

“Marci!” Foggy perks up — at last, a voice of cold, neutral sanity! “You’re finally here!”

Marci rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling with one eyebrow quirked and her arms subtly open — her usual ‘give me a hug’ posture.

“You didn’t think I’d miss a girls’ day out, did you?”

There’s a sudden, unexpected rush of relief and joy through Foggy’s veins as he thinks about their rekindled friendship. No matter how rough their first breakup was or how awkward their second, he’d missed her a lot in the years they weren’t speaking. He slips his phone into his pocket, then folds Marci into a hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Foggy Bear. I hear it’s been a busy month for you. Getting into heated disagreements with law enforcement again?”

As if he does it all the time! Really, it’s just bickering with Brett. And the people on the vigilante task forces. And those guys who’d been hassling Luke. And... Ok, maybe she has a point. Foggy clears his throat.

“Listen, that’s not important. I need you to tell Misty that she’s crazy. She says Matt’s not objectively attractive. But you saw, he had tons of dates in college, obviously all the girls thought he was hot.”

Marci gives Foggy a pitying smile that begins to erode his confidence with stomach-twisting effectiveness.

“Sweetie, the reason Murdock got so many dates was because he was confident but not a sexist jackhole.” She smirks. “Well. And because he was a big slut and everybody knew it. It’s not like there weren’t hotter guys on campus.”

“Name one,” Foggy orders, putting his hands on his hips like his Ma used to whenever he and Theo broke a window with their baseball.

Marci is a known bitch so she begins listing people off on her fingers.

“That guy Wyatt that Jen Walters started dating after you two broke up. The exchange student from Wakanda that quit second year. Eddie Brock on a good day. Sam Wilson every day. Cranston that one time in 2L when he was definitely trying to score with you. Shall I go on?”

“Tried to—” Foggy’s head is spinning, and he loses whatever argument he’d been cooking up about Matt’s hotness relative to these other guys. “Larry Cranston was a straight up dick, he never tried to score with me!”

“He definitely tried to score with you,” insists Marci. “At that post-midterm party first semester. But he’d already insulted Murdock by that point so you’d erased him from your dating pool and didn’t notice.”

“Well— then good riddance,” Foggy decides.

He continues to argue with Marci and Misty both until Karen arrives. Her face tells Foggy she’s somewhere between concerned and amused, but not enough to stop over before she’s got her drink in hand.

“The last time I saw you this fired up you were taking DA Tower to task,” she greets him. “What’s going on?”

“These two—” Foggy gestures at Marci and Misty— “have clearly lost it.”

“You’re the odd one out here,” says Misty.

But if he can get Karen to join his side, he won’t be — it’ll be fifty-fifty again.

“Look, unlike everyone else in this room she actually dated Matt, she’s got to agree with me. He’s objectively super hot, right, Karen?”

Karen blinks. Then she glances out the window and takes a long, awkward slurp of her coffee. Foggy throws his hands in the air. His perception of the world is literally crumbling around him. Or else everyone else has gone nuts.

“Karen, come on!” Foggy all but pleads. “You dated him!”

“Because he was really sweet to me! It’s not like someone has to be Adonis for me to date them, Foggy, I’m not that shallow! I mean, I like how he looks well enough, but he’s not as hot as, I don’t know, Idris Elba or Jason Momoa or somebody.”

She seems unbothered by the assertion. But, the thing is... Well, movie stars are all well and good, Foggy supposes, but they don’t have Matt’s... Matt-ness. That perfect, undefinable, essence-of-Matt thing that accentuates his natural beauty. Foggy doesn’t know how even Karen could have missed it, but Foggy’s got evidence on his side. He thumbs through the photos on his phone again, stopping on one from a couple months ago.

It’s of Matt, obviously. A closer shot, facing him head on. His hair is ruffled, his glasses are off, and there are small, happy little crinkles at the corner of his eyes. His smile is earnest and stunning. There’s a single fading bruise on his jaw. It’s Foggy’s absolute favorite picture of Matt, incontrovertible proof that Matt’s happiness isn’t trapped in rosy memories of the past. Proof that Daredevil is still Matt, still Foggy’s Matt, that the solid core of their friendship was never a lie.

Foggy wasn’t gonna use this — his final resort — because it’s... It’s private, and close to his heart. Matt keeps these smiles hidden, doesn’t show them to just anybody or for just any reason. It makes Foggy feel like he should guard them too. But the others just don’t get it, and Foggy’s determined to make them understand. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his phone at Misty.

“There!” he snaps. “Ok? Just— just look at that smile and tell me he’s only average!”

Misty accepts the phone and studies the picture on it for a long, long time.

“I’ll give you the smile,” she admits at last, handing it back. “It is a nice one. But it still only bumps him up to 7/10.”

Foggy’s jaw drops.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“It isn’t though, Foggy Bear,” sighs Marci, raking her manicured nails through her hair. “It’s totally reasonable, you just can’t make an objective judgment because you’re literally in love with him.”

Foggy laughs, but it sounds strained and hysterical even to his own ears.

“Of course I’m not in love with him.”

Karen reaches out and squeezes his shoulder with a look on her face that makes Foggy want to scream.

“Foggy...”

“I’m not!”

Because he’s not. He isn’t, he can’t be. He can’t be in love with Matt, because that would suck. Not loving Matt, any idiot would be lucky to do that, but... Matt has a Type. And regardless of what Marci and Misty and Karen say about Matt’s own attractiveness, it’s at least true that the people Matt goes for are always super beautiful women. That being the criteria, Foggy’s a perfect zero out of a hundred. Being in love with Matt would be an exercise in futility, and more than a little pathetic.

“I’m not, I...” Foggy tries again, staring down at the picture of Matt smiling. “I...” His heart squeezes in his chest. “Oh, god, I’m in love with him.”

When Foggy manages to look up, the others are watching him with concern. That seems appropriate, because he himself is also very concerned, beneath the numbness of his shock.

“Oh, Foggy Bear...” Marci sighs. “I’m sorry. I thought you just didn’t want to admit it out loud. I never realized you didn’t actually know.”

Foggy takes a shaky breath, squeezes his eyes shut until he’s sure he’s not gonna start crying.

“This sucks,” he says, trying to make light of it and failing epically when his voice breaks.

Even though she looks the most uncomfortable, Misty is the first to speak.

“Isn’t it better to know?”

“Not even a little,” Foggy says miserably. “Because he won’t— he wouldn’t want...”

“You don’t know that, Foggy,” Karen tells him.

But he does know that. Matt has a Type, and Foggy isn’t it. He shakes his head.

“What... What am I supposed to do now...?”

“Now,” Karen says firmly, grabbing one of his hands and lacing their fingers together, “we go have our girls’ day out.”

It’s Marci’s turn to choose, so Foggy expects to spend the afternoon day-drinking away his feelings. Instead, he ends up at an animal shelter.

Marci does not like dogs, but she’s very partial to kittens, and doesn’t even seem to mind all the fur getting on her designer clothes. Meanwhile, Karen spends her time making goofy cooing noises to a particularly happy pit bull, and Misty plays fetch with an excitable golden retriever.

“It’s just like Danny,” she jokes, startling a laugh out of Foggy for the first time since his unfortunate realization.

For his own part, Foggy plays a little with as many of the animals as he can, but he’s especially fond of an orange tabby that likes to pounce off of high places. Because of course that’s the one that catches his eye, right? Foggy is, he’s beginning to realize, completely hopeless.

Truthfully, though, hanging out with Misty, Karen, Marci, and the animals does manage to do a good job of keeping his mind off the whole Matt Thing entirely — right up until they drop him off at his apartment. Afterwards, well, there’s nothing to distract him. Foggy spends the evening moping, and maybe eats too much ice cream before curling up under the covers and taking an early night.

—

He wakes at what the red numbers on his alarm clock assure him is 3:17am. There’s a rapid, ceaseless knocking on his window. Foggy takes a good five seconds to groan into his pillow and then forces himself to get up.

However, he’s barely climbed out of his bed before he’s tackled back into it. A very familiar idiot in a black mask is pinning him to the sheets, gloved hands on his shoulders, knees bracketing his hips.

“Foggy, Foggy—”

“Matt what the fuck?” Foggy wheezes, because— really, what the fuck?

Matt rips off his mask and throws it somewhere. He’s grinning like an idiot, and even in the low light Foggy can tell that the look in his eyes is tender but exhilarated.

“You’re in love with me?” Matt asks, breathless and giddy.

The combination of those words with that unexpected tone means Foggy has to give his brain a few seconds to reboot before he can reply.

“I. I’m. Yes?”

Matt’s smile becomes somehow more dazzling.

“Good,” he says, like a big dork, and tugs Foggy up into a kiss.

It’s a good kiss. Like, a really good kiss. So good that maybe it takes Foggy a few minutes of really good kissing and one pinch to his own arm to be sure it’s not a dream.

Eventually, probably because it’s literally 3:30 in the freaking morning, Matt flops himself down on Foggy’s chest and his ardor cools into sleepy, catlike nuzzling.

“I love you too,” he offers at last, about fifteen minutes after he really ought to have, still pressing tiny kisses to Foggy’s throat.

Foggy can only laugh and gather him closer, disbelief and joy fizzing in his chest like soda.

“Yeah. I kind of figured.”

—

It’s 8:42 the next morning when Foggy thinks to ask what exactly tipped Matt off about his feelings. Matt’s posture gets cagey and sheepish.

“What?” Foggy asks. “Is it really that bad?”

“Well...”

Matt pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and holds it out for Foggy to take. After some silent prompting, Foggy accepts it and navigates to voicemail amidst the narration of the phone’s screen reader. There’s one message. Cautiously, Foggy clicks play.

“Hey!” Marci’s voice says loudly. “Hey! Answer your phone Murdock, I know you don’t sleep! Fucker.”

She’s pretty clearly drunk. The voicemail only gets more angry and incoherent from there; Foggy’s pretty sure she calls Matt ‘Wal-Mart brand white bread’ at one point, which... Ouch. But she also says a lot of sappy stuff about Foggy deserving the world. And then it returns to the insults when she says that if Matt wasn’t ‘too busy cultivating a greasy Castaway beard’ he would have admitted his ‘stupid, stu— smoof— smooch— schmoopy, that’s the one, schmoopy’ feelings by now because Foggy loves him too and they’re both big idiots making themselves sad for no reason.

“Ah,” Foggy murmurs when the message finally, finally ends. “Well. That’s... Something.”

Matt nods, chokes out a laugh.

“Pretty much,” he agrees.

“Um. I... I’m really sorry about her.”

“No. I, um... I’m glad. You know. That she called,” Matt tells him, and wow that earnest face is too intense for Foggy’s poor weak heart. “I.” Matt straightens his shoulders, takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says wonderingly. “You do, don’t you?”

He can see it now, on Matt’s face — and he suddenly realizes it’s been there a long time, that part of Matt’s indescribable beauty, his Matt-ness, is... Being-in-love-with-Foggy-ness. That Foggy makes Matt as happy as Matt makes him.

“Foggy,” Matt whines, mouth curling down into a slight pout.

“What?” And then it hits him. “Oh! Right. Yeah. I love you too, Matty.”

And like magic, like the flash of sunlight reflecting off glass, it’s back again — Matt’s perfect smile.