#the way the uniform stretches over his pecs

[toxicanonymity]

midnight tow (slasher!Joel)

3.6k / slasher!Joel x fem!reader / master

Slasher masterlist | art by @bonezone44 💙

WARNINGS: 18+ Horror, DARK!Joel, near murder by strangulation, manhandling, dubious consent, choking, unsafe PIV sex, reader can sit on Joel's lap. unedited. Reader survives ♥️

Inspired by this ask from @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Your breath hitches when you see the bright lights, then relief floods your chest as the tow truck comes into view. The driver parks his unmarked truck, hops down out of it, and walks to your car.  He gets just a couple of feet away before he stops to face you and spreads his boots, crunching the loose asphalt beneath them. The truck lights illuminate him. He's wearing a blue working man’s jumpsuit that stretches over his biceps as he crosses his arms.  The name on his uniform is Joel.  

Joel's dark eyes scan you, then he scratches one side of his salt-and-pepper beard. “Got anyone to come get ya, sweetheart?” He rubs the back of his neck, exposing a dark patch of sweat under his arm.  "Real dangerous out here at night. . . Nothin' good happens this late.” 

His voice has a calming effect, despite his unnerving words.  For a moment, you admire his nice head of hair instead of facing the reality of his question. 

Your car broke down in the worst possible area.  Nothing within walking distance. You drained your phone battery trying to get a signal and finally managed to call for a tow, but you weren’t able to reach anyone to help you get home. Waiting for the tow felt like forever, especially without a phone or watch. It felt like something or someone was going to pop out at any minute. It's a humid night, and even the clouds have refused to cooperate, dimming the light of the nearly-full moon. 

This is not the guy you talked to on the phone. His voice would’ve made an impression on you.

You tell him you weren’t able to get a hold of anyone. 

“Anyone know you’re out here, might see the missed call and come lookin’?” 

Maybe, but you don’t think so. 

“Hmmm,” he says. “Well, lemme load your car up, then we’ll figure it out.  Sit tight for me, sugar,” he says with a wink. He has a disarming energy.  "Gonna take me a minute."  The clouds begin to clear away from the moon, affording more light.    You begin to feel better all around. 

You carefully sit down on the grass near the cab of the tow truck with your knees to the side and behind you since you’re wearing a short dress.   Not a single car has passed by the whole time you’ve been broken down, at least an hour. You wait as he uses some wire to secure a loose part on your car, then loads it up onto the bed.   

His biceps and quads stretch his uniform as he crouches on the bed of the truck and secures the straps around your car’s wheels.  He gets hot and unzips his jumpsuit for air,  exposing a dirty t-shirt.  Then he opens the passenger door to the cab of his truck and it's piled high with scrap.  No seat. He reaches behind the driver's seat and grabs an enormous wrench.  His forearm flexes as he carries it off to tighten something on the back of the towing platform.  When he’s done, he comes to talk to you again. 

-

“Whew. Been a looong day," he says as he wipes his brow with a rag then throws it over his shoulder. "How ‘bout you, sweetheart? Couldn’ta been that good."

You agree as he takes off the sleeves of his jumpsuit and ties them loosely around his waist. When you follow his large, veiny hands to his waist, it's impossible not to notice the crotch of his uniform is tight enough to see he's well-endowed. You yank your eyes back up and he crosses his arms again. His muscles are hard and he has the slightest paunch. The way his biceps and pecs stretch his t-shirt is a welcome distraction from the rock bottom situation. Looks like a guy who works with his hands, lifting very heavy things, and enjoys a few beers at the end of the day. Or night. It feels like a miracle you could get a truck at this hour, especially in this desolate area.  

His phone doesn’t have service for you to call anyone.  Since the service is so bad, he just has a radio to receive dispatch instructions.  Since he doesn’t have a passenger seat, and that space is instead occupied by scrap, the only thing he can offer is for you to sit in his lap. Unless he leaves you by the side of the road. 

You choose his lap.  

He gets in first, puts the big wrench in the back, and empties his pockets.  He puts a switchblade near the gear shifter and hangs some spare wire around the rearview mirror before he sits down.  Then he settles in and unties his sleeves, letting them hang off the seat.   He extends his massive hand to you. His bicep flexes as he helps you into the cab of the truck.  You sit down on him ass-first, but it’s a precarious position and you could get hurt. You jostle around trying a few different things. You get butterflies from being so close to him, touching him, smelling him, feeling his body against yours. 

“Alright, let’s try this,” he says.  “Turn around an’ face me, then hug me like we're on a motorcycle.  Safer.” 

-

Hard to believe this is happening, especially in your short dress. Of all the nights to wear one.  You hesitantly straddle him, and when you’re face to face a few inches away, his features are even more striking.  He has a perfect nose. His brow is furled and casts a shadow over his eyes like he has a sexy secret.  He has a dimple perfectly nestled in a patch of skin within his beard. Looking him in the eye is too intense at this distance.  

You tug pointlessly at your dress but there’s no way to be modest in this situation. He reads your mind.  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he reassures you. "Don't worry 'bout it."  He pulls you in closer so your crotch meets his and your heart skips a beat when you feel his warm, ample package.  “Hang on tight, now.”  You put your head over his shoulder, facing the back of the truck .  

The smell of his sweat is intoxicating. He starts the engine and pulls back onto the road. It’s not long before you feel him hardening under you.  He lifts his hips, sending a rush of arousal through your body.  

You shift shyly and he pulls you back into him, then lifts his hips again and clears his throat.  “Can’t help it, sugar.  Sexy little thing like you wrapped around me.  Damn.” 

Your face burns.   There’s a long silence and his arousal is digging into your panties the whole time.  He turns his head ever so slightly to inhale your hair.  The next thing you know, his lips are pressed against your neck.  Lightly enough to be accidental at first.  But then they drag an inch without him pulling away.  He opens his mouth against your dewy skin then closes it, like he’s eating something invisible off you. A chill goes down your spine and your nipples harden.  

“Bother you?” he asks, subtly thrusting his hips up again. No, it doesn't. You’re hot for him. It bothers you a little that it doesn't bother you.  Like you know it should.  But what could you say anyway?  You’re at his mercy.  You might be dead on the side of the road without him.  

“Guess not." 

“Good girl.”  He adds his tongue and full on kisses the crook of your neck as he drives, then gives it a nibble and a suck.  You’re so wet.  With the pathetic thong you're wearing, it must be no secret from him.   

His voice gets horny and low.  “Good thing you're down,” he says, “or this wouldn’t be any fun.”  He drags his nose up  your neck to your ear and adds "Yeah, you're into it. . .I can feel it."

-

By the time he pulls into a gated property, he's turned you alllll the way on.  Between his voice, and his mouth on your neck, and his clothed arousal against you, you’re a wet mess. You're trying desperately not to hump him as he slowly traverses what seems to be a gravel yard of cars. 

When the truck slows way down, he rests a hand on your ass and gives it a squeeze as he says, "What a ride. . ." with an upward thrust.  "Ain't over yet, though." Your cunt flutters at those words.  Then he clears his throat and adds, "We're goin' through the back gate to another lot." You scold yourself for being disappointed in what he meant, but you can't imagine he'd deny you if you made a move right now. 

You wait, though.  You'd rather figure out how you're going to get home first. 

-

Joel drives deeper into the lot.  It's dark, but you try to look around. There's no back gate or other lot that you can see.  All you see are the skeletons of cars that have been picked over for scraps. A pit forms in your stomach.  You start to scoot back from his crotch.  He notices and parks the truck.  There’s a look in his eyes, and something makes you reach for the door.  His large, veiny hand gently covers yours before you can open it.  

“Whoa, sugar. Where ya goin'?" Your heart rate quickens and your gut feeling intensifies.  You try to get out of his lap, lunging for the door. 

"What the hell are ya doin, sweetheart?" He firmly grabs your arm. You stare at him, your chest heaving, heart racing.  He glances at your neck and you imagine he must see your jugular vein pulsing a mile a minute.

"Too dark out there, sugar.”  You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.  “Lotta sharp stuff.”  He looks at you skeptically.  “Lemme turn on some lights first.” 

You exhale in relief. He was just protecting you.  

He hits a button on his dashboard and it illuminates the surrounding area with the yellow siren lights on the top of his truck. He gazes at you through wounded eyes, looks down between you, where you're no longer covering his hard, swollen package with your crotch.  He must feel so cold. He swallows.  

"Damnit," he says.  His eyes glisten.  "Thought we were havin' fun."  He sighs solemnly. "Wait here a sec." You feel bad.  He’s gone above and beyond to help you.  Maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt.    

So you wait in the truck, catching glimpses of vehicular carcasses as the amber light dances over them.  Nothing drivable.  

Then it hits you like a punch in the gut that you still can't see a back gate, even with the added light.  It's just a fence. That’s all there is to it.  There’s nowhere a gate would even be.  No other lot in sight.  Your heart races even faster than it was a moment ago.  

You jump in your seat as a machine rumbles to life, followed by the sound of metal in distress. You look in the direction of the noise and the yellow lights pour over a big, industrial dumpster.  Your stomach turns.  

You're still processing your fear when the truck door opens, making you jump again.  Joel climbs up into the cab and nudges you up so he can get under you.  You freeze and do it in a daze. Then he starts the truck and coaxes you back into straddling him.  You feel like you have no control, you have no idea what’s going to happen, no idea what to do. 

-

Joel reaches behind you to the rearview mirror and sighs lazily like he's about to do a chore. 

“Been a while since I shredded a car this new.  Damn shame, wasn't plannin' on it tonight."  

Your heart drops through your feet. “What? –why are you-” 

A cool, thin wire presses against the top of your spine, then he wraps it around your neck like a scarf. His face goes dark and serious, and his voice goes flat.  

“Real dangerous out here, sweetheart.”  

He takes a deep breath and his cock swells harder against you.  He holds the wire in one hand and tightens his other arm around your back.  He slowly begins to twist the wire against itself.  You grab at it and beg him to stop.  To your surprise, he pauses.  

You try to slow your breathing.  You can’t get out, you can’t fight.  He just looks at you with dead eyes, waiting for you to say something else.  It hits you there's only one thing left to do to buy you some time. And you need to make him forget you tried to leave the truck. 

“Wait,” you say as calmly as you can. "Weren’t we in the middle of something?" You reach down and grab the hard bulge in his jumpsuit. To your horror, a stab of desire slices through your clit. You spread your palm and press it into him, massaging his cock.  You're throbbing for him.  You're genuinely dying to fuck this sicko.  He makes you sweat out a long moment of silence.

“Now that might get ya somewhere,” he says, low and gravely, thrusting into your hand.  He lets the wire hang from your neck. One strong arm tilts you up against him while he urgently pulls his jumpsuit's zipper down more. He grunts as he frees himself from his boxers. The next thing you feel is his stiff, warm, naked cock against your inner thigh.  He slips a finger into your thong and sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how wet you are.  

He murmurs, “Damn, you really do want it.” He looks you in the eyes hornily, then seductively as though to say he likes where this is going.  Like he didn't just loop a ligature around your neck. 

He takes a deep breath.  "Maybe I took it the wrong way," he says in self-reflection.

"What?"

"When you tried to open the door. . ." 

He's nuts. 

"I was . . . embarrassed I was getting you wet." 

"That's the least of your worries."

He pushes your thong aside, then the large head of his cock finds your warm, wet little hole.  He wraps both arms around you and pulls you down with a low grunt that turns into a sigh as he impales you on his shaft.  You don't suppress your moan as his girth parts your core and you sink down on his cock.  He fills you to the brim and stretches you wide, making you grateful for how wet you are. 

"God damn, you're tight." He pulls you down even more with a lift of his hips and a vocal sigh. "This what you wanted?"

You nod and try to move your hips, but he holds you still. "Use your words."

"Yes," you say.  "God, yes." 

He still doesn't let you move. "What did you want?"

"Your cock"

"Yeah,” he nods.  “And what do you want now?"

It feels like a trick question. "Whatever you'll give me."

You're sitting there for a moment and he studies your face like he's wondering if it's a trick. The car shredding machine roars menacingly. 

Your cunt twitches and he inhales sharply.  

You break the silence.  "Fuck me, Joel.”  He wants to be wanted.  “You feel how much I want you."  Then you rock your hips gently - very gently.  He must want to be in control.  And you don't want him to come too fast before you’ve decided what to do next.  

"Please," you beg.  “Fuck me,” you mouth silently with the horniest eyes you can muster. 

"There she is."  He lifts his hips in return. 

"Please, Joel."  He pulls back, then plunges into you again, holding your hips down on him.  He retreats, filling his chest with air, then lifts his hips slowly again, bottoming out deep inside you with a sigh. He fills you all the way up.  And when your bodies are flush, the pressure on your clit is just right.  The noise of the car shredder becomes part of the background. 

He gets into a rhythm, and this man knows how to fuck. He's so smooth, and your cunt squeezes his cock so tight, there are brief moments you forget what you’re supposed to be thinking about.  Instead you’re just marveling at the motion of his hips and the sounds of his breath and the perfect shape of his cock dragging against your walls. 

You need to access whatever part of him doesn’t want to kill you.  But god, it’s hard to think with his cock inside you and your life on the line.  His lower belly grinds into your mound, and his massive hands scan your back.  The wire bounces around your neck. 

"God, you feel good," you gush.  "So good."  As you ride him, you weigh the options. You could seduce him into the idea of fucking you again later then run when he's asleep, or you could fight for your life right now.  Your lips graze his neck and you consider biting his jugular as hard as you can.  A powerful thrust upward shakes you out of the thought and nudges your g-spot. He grunts each time your warmth sheathes him. 

The window is completely fogged over.  You moan, then say, "you knew it would turn me on, didn’t you?" You lightly touch the wire around your neck without removing it.  You caress it.  "You could tell I wanted it."  You roll your hips harder into him and feel a climax building.  He breathes heavily as your cunt pulls him back in each time. 

"Shit," he pants.  "Little sex kitten like you?" His cock twitches deep inside you and he slows down. "Course you wanted it." 

"Yeah," you breathe, rolling your hips into him slowly.  "Oh god," you pant.  He holds your hips and gradually speeds up again, moaning and sighing. 

"Lucky you're so fuckin' hot," he snarls. 

"It's hot you had the balls to scare me like that," you say.  "just to turn me on even more." 

There’s no doubt in your mind this man is a killer, but you need him to believe you don't think he is.  It’s the only way he can let you live. 

"Musta worked," he pants. He fingers the cord around your neck and the rough pads of his large digits brush your delicate skin.

"Do it," you tell him. "Choke me." 

He grunts "Mm" with an emphatic thrust.  

You cover his hand on your neck with yours.  "God I love these hands," you gush truthfully, tracing the veins as you ride him and feel something building more and more in your gut.  

His hand wraps more than halfway around your throat as you bob up and down in his lap and he tightens his grip. His thumb digs into your jaw.  Your hips buck into him hard as your head fills with pressure and your throat croaks. He loosens his grip enough for you to moan. 

"God I wanna suck your cock," you tell him, knowing he'll come too soon before you can.  

“Maybe later, sugar.”  You try to suppress your excitement.  You might get out of this alive.  “If you’re good.” 

He bites his lip, and his thrusts intensify.  He wraps both arms around you and firmly cradles the back of your head with one hand, his beard prickling your cheek.  He pistons into you and you let yourself come, choking his cock with your climax.  You don’t hold back at all, you let it all out, almost crying as you convulse in his lap.  Then he holds you down and groans, powerfully shoving his cock into you as he erupts.  He empties his balls into you with a long sigh. 

He rests his head back and breathes. Your climax wanes, and the next few moments feel like an eternity.  The car shredder sounds louder than ever at the forefront of your mind.  You have no idea whether he’s more or less likely to kill you now that he’s come.  If it brings him clarity, is it going to be clear that you have to die now or clear that he never should have thought about it? 

-

Finally, he reaches his hand to your neck and your heart skips a beat.  He takes the wire and puts it back around the rearview mirror.   

“Just a minute, sugar.”  He nudges you up and tucks himself away in his jumpsuit.  He gets out, and you stay put, his cum trickling out of you and onto the chair.  It’s a delicate moment, not worth the risk of trying to run.  Where would you run, anyway? 

The car shredder turns off, and you relax back into the seat, ready to cry tears of joy.  

Joel comes back and opens the door to the truck.  He stands there for a second, looks you up and down.  You must be a hot mess, and he seems to like it. 

He moves his tongue in his cheek like he’s thinking.  Then he says, “You really wanna suck my cock, don’t you?” 

You smile.  “After that? Fuck, yes.  What a rush.” 

He looks proud, like that really was his intent all along. 

“Alright.” He climbs back into the truck with you and you get out of his way while he sits.   “You’re comin’ home with me tonight.” His hands slide over your thighs, looking at you with new admiration as he pulls you in to straddle him again. “Figure out your car in the mornin’.” 

-

If you want another one mention it in the RBs or comments. Thank you all so much for your support and engagement. Your reblogs and comments mean so much for me. Best readers out there!!

-

[gatorbites-imagines]

Shanks w male s/o who's love languages are physical affection & words of affirmation, who's a romantic but laid back. Some fluffy and smutty head canons if that's possible, with verse shanks?

(Might be a bit too specific and if so feel free to ignore completely, as with anything ofc: Reader has ADHD and a lot of history hyper fixations and does martial arts rather than swordsmanship)

Shanks x Male Reader

Headcanons

I love Shanks, I wanna put him in a box and shake it around and hear him rattle around.

You probably joined the crew later on after running into them many times over the years, maybe you and Shanks already had some kind of relationship without it being anything official. Thinks lotsa flirting and nights spent together whenever your paths cross.

Being a martial artist and running in the same circles as Shanks it means you’re most likely a master in your craft.

Sparring is most likely a type of foreplay for you two, even after you join his crew. The rest of the crew knows to keep at a distance when you two start riling the other up for a spar, since they all know where its leading nowadays.

I can see Shanks as someone who’s love language is also physical affection, so you two are always seen all over each other or hanging on the other. After Shanks lost his arm, it probably caused some issues since he had to get used to not being able to hold you at the same time as he did other stuff.

After losing his arm, you make sure to push him to his limits to make up for the struggle of having to be a skillful fighter with a missing limb. You may or may not reward him for his “achievements” whenever he passes a milestone, meaning he works even harder.

I don’t see Shanks as someone who blushes much, but he always finds himself smiling when you show affection through words of affirmation. It makes his insides do swoops and flips even if you guys have been together for years.

Your words of affirmation truly shine through after he loses his arm, since there’s part of him that probably feels like he is less attractive and desirable, especially since he can’t do the same things as before with only one arm.

This just means you have to show him you still love him all the same, much to the annoyance of your crew and especially Benn, since you and Shanks act like a pair of teenagers in your first relationship at times.

The physical affection bleeds through to the bedroom, resulting in stuff like body worship always being present one way or another. If you start praising and complimenting Shanks, I could see him getting red in the face from just how much you can come up with.

Even with one hand he still touches you all over, and he finds interesting ways to use his haki to keep it all interesting and fresh. He always gets a little too cocky in your opinion when he surprises you with whatever new he’s come up with.

I could imagine him loving your body a lot. As a martial artist, you most likely built muscle very quickly, resulting in stretch marks, unless you somehow have a devilfruit that makes it so you don’t get them.

But imagining you do, he always licks and nibbles at them, snickering when you wack him over the head for biting at your hips or licking at the sides of your pecs. Shanks never apologizes for laying all his love on you, he just shrugs and says he can’t contain himself with someone as irresistible as you.

Speaking of the bedroom, he loves when you ride him. Shanks probably also some kind of captain kink. Seeing as you guys are lovers and see each other as mostly equals, you don’t really call him captain outside of battle, so when you finally do use that title, he always snaps to attention.

To add to the point above. Roleplay. He could walk into his quarters and see you splayed out on his bed in a dramatic pose, wearing some clothes you bought just for this, like a different gi or maybe even a marine uniform.

Lay it on thick whining about the big scary Yonko shanks having captured you, how strong he is and how you’ll do anything for him to show you mercy. It always gets his haki boiling around him, a glint appearing in his eyes before he pounces on you.

But I can also imagine him wanting to be the one playing a role. Maybe he plays the role of a poor pirate who’s washed up on your island and you’ve been taking care of him, so he has to return the favor and thank you.

Or maybe when you both feel more electricity and adrenaline in the air, you play out the roles of rivals who spar and give it your all to dominate the other. You guys are pretty evenly matched if he doesn’t pull out his conquerors haki, so its up in the air whos gonna win, not that Shanks minds.

On a more fluffy end, he takes you on dates. Since you always show how much you love him through your words and actions, he wants to find ways to show you just how much he loves you in return.

Expect him to whisk you off on a date on every island your crew stops at, even if you guys are in a hurry. It can be anything from a full week away at a fancy hotel, to a trip to a bar or even just a walk around the area so you two can spend time together.

When Shanks is drunk, he gets even more clammy. He will hang off you and be more perverted. You’ve had to pull him into an alleyway or back to the ship more than once cuz he wants to climb you right then and there in public, and he’s not shy about falling to his knees to undo your pants to get his mouth on you.

After all this time, you don’t really feel any shame or embarrassment, but you respect others you get him somewhere more private before you let Shanks go at it as he pleases.

I can see him struggling with words at times, so its through these acts that he expresses his love, though he probably finds it lacking compared to your more open way of showing it. But again, you’ll just have to reassure him that you know he loves you, and that you enjoy everything he does for you to show it.

[brodygold]

Becoming A Bro

Ben had always been an outcast. He spent most of his time in isolation, immersed in solo activities like video games, chess against the computer, or endless rounds of solitaire. The social world seemed distant, an intimidating place that he never felt he could belong in. But sometimes, a longing crept in, a desperate desire for camaraderie. He watched groups of friends laugh together, teams celebrating victories, and he envied their connection.

More than anyone, he envied the Golden Army.

The Golden Army were everything he could never be: athletic, popular, powerful—and most of all, brothers. They stood together as a unit, an unbreakable bond of loyalty and strength. Watching them from afar, Ben could only dream of being part of something like that. It hurt to be on the outside, so much so that, sometimes, it brought him to tears.

One evening, as he sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the loneliness crashed over him again. He booted up his video game console, navigating to his favorite game: Golden Army: Legacy of Champions. For Ben, this was the only way he could experience a taste of their world. As the title screen appeared, he stared at the glowing gold armor on the players and whispered, "I wish I could be part of the Golden Army."

His voice barely left his lips before the screen responded in a way it had never done before. The image warped and swirled, forming a spiral that grew larger and larger, creating a vortex right in front of him. Ben’s heart raced, and he tried to resist the pull, gripping the couch with all his strength. But it was no use—the force yanked him into the swirling void.

Ben was weightless, spinning in darkness for what felt like an eternity until, suddenly, he hit solid ground. He opened his eyes, disoriented. The harsh sunlight blinded him for a moment before he took in his surroundings. He wasn’t in his apartment anymore—he was standing on a lush green soccer field. The smell of fresh-cut grass filled his nostrils, and he could feel the breeze brush against his skin.

But his clothes… they weren’t the familiar jeans and t-shirt he’d been wearing. His eyes dropped to see a shining gold jersey stretched across his chest, with the number 13 emblazoned on it. Below that, matching gold soccer shorts clung tightly to his legs, muscles he didn’t remember having bulging beneath the fabric.

Ben stared in shock, lifting his arms. They weren’t his arms—at least, not the thin, untoned arms he had before. His biceps were thick, powerful, as if years of intense training had sculpted them. His pecs, once nonexistent, were now solid, broad slabs of muscle, his chest proud and firm. His legs felt sturdy, like tree trunks capable of propelling him across the field with ease. Even his hands, gripping the jersey, were larger, the fingers rough with callouses from years of handling soccer balls.

“What... what happened to me?” he muttered, his voice deeper than he remembered.

Panic began to rise within him, but so did something else—a strange fog clouding his thoughts. He tried to cling to the memories of who he was: Ben, the shy guy who preferred video games to people. But those memories were slippery, fading fast as if they were no longer relevant. He blinked, feeling the cool breeze rustle his now-brown hair. Brown? His hand shot up to touch his hair, realizing that it had lightened from its former dark shade.

A pressure was building inside him, not just in his body but in his mind. A new sense of purpose, of belonging. Why had he ever felt so out of place? This felt right—this uniform, these muscles, this team. He wasn’t meant to be some lonely outsider; he was born to be part of something bigger.

“What’s... my name?” The question echoed in his mind. Ben. It didn’t sound right anymore. It didn’t fit.

“Tyler! Hey, Tyler!” A voice shouted from across the field.

His head snapped up. Tyler. Yes, Tyler—that was his name, wasn’t it? He wasn’t some introverted gamer. He was Tyler, midfielder for the Golden Army. He played alongside the best, and his job was to keep the game under control, always in the right place at the right time to assist his team.

“Get Oliver here! The game’s about to start!” the voice called again.

Tyler—he was Tyler now—smiled, feeling the energy of the field course through him. The crowd was already roaring in the distance, waiting for them. His team. His brothers. This was where he belonged.

As Tyler ran to join his teammates, memories of Ben—his old life, his loneliness—faded into nothingness. His heart beat in time with the rhythm of the game. He was one of them now: fast, strong, confident, everything he had ever wanted to be.

On the sidelines, Brody watched with a satisfied smirk. "Another satisfied customer. Another bro for the team.”

[hotluncheddie]

charm 🧚

written for @steddiemicrofic september prompt 'charm' !

wc: 548 | rated: M | cw: i know nothing about baseball, ref to a bj | tags: chubby steve, horny eddie

...

eddie is painting a miniature at the coffee table. cross legged and just having a wail of a time. 

steve padded through, flopping onto the sofa with his beer and grabbing the remote. because, right, of course, it’s game day. 

how could eddie forget. big final. good team going to the big win. down with bad team. yes. riveting. 

but, oh? What light through sporting yonder break? 

‘what’s that you're wearing?’ eddie asks, innocent and continuing to paint. 

‘my cubs jersey? that’s who’s on.’ steve answers. ‘baseball!’ he adds, doing little jazz hands. 

‘cute.’ eddie smiles up at him. 

the first inning starts with the pitcher stepping up to the plate. and, ah, yes, eddie remembers now. why he agreed to sit in here while steve watches.

the uniforms. 

…but theres only one jock eddie really cares about..

looking at his figure, he muses. ‘not seen you in that much. thought they were your favourite?’ eddie feels like the sneakiest horniest detective know to man. 

steve takes a swig of beer out of his peripheral. ‘ah well, it’s the final. shirts a, a good luck charm.’ steve clears his throat half way through. 

eddie lays down his paintbrush and stretches. humming he leans back on the sofa, right next to steve’s knee. he stares blankly at the screen for a few seconds before leaning his head back to look up at steve. 

‘what size is it?’ 

‘uh. medium, i think.’ 

‘mmmm’ 

From this angle eddie can see how the bottom most button is starting to pull. its straining, because they’re all straining. the buttons up the front are being pulled apart slightly by steves stomach, puckering. an expanse of golden skin and soft hair are just becoming visible in the upside down v of the bottom flaps. the upper v of the shirt exposes chest hair and frames steves pecs just, oh so nicely. eddie wants to bury his face between them and stay there for at least an hour. just hair and softness and the smell of his steve. 

eddie sighs, smitten and strokes the soft skin of steve ankle. 

something happens on screen, home run whatever. steve celebrates by pumping his fist. very nice, very jock. he watches steves bicep bulge under the thickness of his arm and through the tightness of his sleeve. 

eddies mouth fills with spit. 

‘you dont really wear a medium now though do you stevie?’ 

eddie shifts onto his knees, sliding closer, looking up at stave's cherub face.

‘don’t know what you mean?’ steve answers. he takes a final drink of beer, draining it and putting it down.

‘you being coy baby?’ eddie asks, fingers ghosting over steve’s inner thigh.

steves eyes go wide; glassy and pretty. tease. Eddie smirks.  

‘i mean this.’ eddie moves so he’s kneeling in between steve’s legs. grabbing a handful of belly 

‘ah fuck’ steve moans. cheeks flushing pink. eddie’s hand rucks up the shirt further, exposing more hairy belly. steve squirms, his pecks jumping.

‘well what are you going to do about it?’ steve asks, voice coming out rough and affected. he grinds his hips up so eddie feels the hardening line of his cock through his jeans. 

‘you just focus on the game now stevie baby.’ eddie directs, popping the button of steves jeans. 

[octuscle]

Hi Chronivac Support, I need some help, I'm a 23 year old Korean American and every time I try and get myself transformed writers first thought is to turn me into some big white guy in his 40s Could your app give me the transformation of my dreams? I want to be turned into a huge muscle freak but stay young and stay korean american. I'd love to grow bigger randomly at inconvenient times, like if im on a date with a guy my nice button up stretches and rips as I swell bigger. I want to sweat so bad everything I own stinks. I fantasise all the time about getting stuck in door ways, being so big I break furniture by sitting on it, sweating and stinking so bad people laugh at me for it. Please just make me a big gross muscle freak

Your wish is my command! And we start directly. During a business lunch. Your back becomes a good deal wider in one fell swoop. Your jacket tears open over your back. You struggle to get out of the jacket. The buttons above your chest are still holding.

You excuse yourself, get up and leave the restaurant. You need air. The first button of your shirt flies off. And the fabric rips over your swelling biceps. And a short time later, your pants give up the fight with your thighs.

It doesn't help, you have to buy something new to wear. At the fitness store across the street in the mall, you get compression shorts and a tank top. And return to your lunch. Your coworkers make a few funny remarks, but no one really seems surprised by your getup.

For the rest of the day, all you can think about is the gym. You drink one protein shake after another. And with every protein fart you feel like you've gained another kilo of muscle mass. And while all your colleagues are still diligently sitting at their screens at 5:00 p.m., you just can't take it anymore. You have to lift weights now. Now! And leave the office.

The next morning you work from your home office. Of course, you went to the gym as soon as you got up. You were sweating like a pig. But now you're showered. You even found a shirt that fits. But you have to wear your compression shorts with it. There were no shorts that fit over your massive thighs. It will do for video conferencing. The first conference is barely two minutes in when your fresh light-colored shirt gets dark stains. You're sweating even more than you did during the workout. After a short time, the shirt sticks to your upper body, soaking wet and stretched to bursting. You try to stay cool. But you hear your colleagues giggling. Now you just have to tense your chest muscles. You have to free yourself from this straitjacket. Your buttons bang like pistol bullets on your screen. And your nipples shine into the camera, freed from their prison. Your boss sends you a private message. Whether you are still in your right mind. You can't help but tear the shreds of your shirt from your sweaty torso. And you let your pecs dance in the camera. Your immediate suspension is already in your e-mail inbox.

You don't care, you can spend more time in the gym. It doesn't matter that you sweat and stink of sweat. You don't need to wear a shirt or a tank top. Everyone should see your sweaty upper body. As long as you need a new job, you can work in the gym as a janitor.

Chronivac Inc. supports its customers wherever possible. Also in the search for a new job. I think I have found something suitable. It doesn't give a shit if you sweat through your uniform. Your partner is a gym rat too and almost stinks more than you. Any crook who has to ride in the car with you is almost punished enough.

However, I can't guarantee that at some point even this uniform will suddenly become too tight…. Take care of yourself!

[number-one-fan-of-doktor]

Kink-Your-Tober Day 8: Clothing Kink

“I want to hit something.” Mikhail growled. The seams on the sleeve of his brand new uniform bulged out, threatening to pop at any moment. He could barely bend his arms or turn them in any substantial way. His stomach wasn’t doing much better, straining against the cloth and stretching it beyond use. And the material over his chest, as nice as it made his pecs look, restricted his breathing to such an amount that he was becoming light headed!

Ludwig, of course, didn’t care about such frivolities. He simply enjoyed the view, watching Mikhail bursting out of his shirt and threatening to rip it with every twitch of his massive muscles. A specimen like that, it was worthy of his study after all! And if the slight bulge in his trousers didn’t say the rest, he didn’t know how else to communicate his excitement.

“Vhy do you vant to hit somezhing, Großer?” Ludwig chewed on his lower lip, watching Mikhail slowly turn around towards him. His arms were held out in front of him with the elbows slightly bent, reminding Ludwig of how a broken arm in a cast might have looked. That thought got him even more excited.

“You know why, doktor!” Mikhail growled again, and Ludwig found himself trying to inconspicuously adjust his trousers. Rubbing his thighs together, however, only resulted in a more desperate feeling of need.

“I have no idea vhat you mean.” Ludwig shrugged, blinking up at Mikhail. The giant man scowled, a vein in his neck pulsing.

“Look at me! I barely put shirt on and now I cannot move in it! Mann Co. never sends uniforms my size! This is Scout size!” He was getting red in the face, his fists clenching and unclenching causing the seams of his shirt to spread dangerously thin, as if the thread would snap at any moment. Ludwig gulped, hopefully inaudibly, as he once again tried to adjust himself.

“I zhink it looks fine,” Ludwig cleared his throat, “I’m sure you can go out like zhis into battle vithout a problem.” Ludwig wondered how red he was getting. Certainly not as red as Mikhail was right now, his skin matching the fraying fabric of his shirt, made almost sheer with how much it stretched. But he could feel his ears getting hot, and he knew how obvious it was once he began blushing.

Mikhail bent over, leaning in close until they could almost touch, “Is doktor mocking me?”

“Aheh, I vould never dare!” So close up, Mikhail could no doubt see his tenting trousers. He could probably smell Ludwig’s arousal.

“Really?” Suddenly, Mikhail grinned, “Because I think doktor is hiding something.” There was a loud rip as Mikhail’s sleeve tore off at the shoulder, and the giant lunged forwards to cup Ludwig through his trousers. Ludwig could see a second rip tearing a ravine down the centre of Mikhail’s back, his hips involuntarily bucking up into the man’s palm.

“I want to tear zhat shirt off you vizh my teeth!”

Mikhail leaned in close, “Then do it.”

[sterekchub]

I’ve got an idea! I’m a sucker for soft bby Derek 🥺 him trying to get his life together after the fire but because he barely finished high school the only place that will hire him is the local fast food joint, where the floors are greasy but the food is greasier 😆 but he doesn’t care he just wants to do something on his own for once.

Head manager Stiles just wants to eat him up when he shuffles in for the interview, all shy and lean (too lean). He hires him immediately, devoting lots of time and attention to making sure Derek is comfortable and adjusting nicely. This may or may not include encouraging Derek to take advantage of the free food perk.

As Derek’s frame grows he is slow to notice because Stiles keeps “upgrading” the uniform when he outgrows his.

Also I for sure know Derek would have such a feminine gain 😩

Yesss I also adore soft Derek who deserves nice things. Who has the family fortune to support him but doesn’t feel like he deserves to use it. Too many rumors around him killing his sister, no degree or work experience to mention…he applies everywhere and gets more and more dejected with every day that passes without a job offer.

And Stiles has heard the rumors. Sees Derek’s gruff and ‘I could care less’ attitude….and doesn’t buy it. He’s the kid of a cop- he sees what most people miss. The way Derek’s belt has extra holes poked in it because he’s lost so much muscle mass and weight. The way his jacket hangs loosely off him. How he uncomfortably shifts his weight and looks out of place and ready to bolt immediately.

Stiles immediately offers him the job. Probably working as a manger while he finishes his degree and it reminds Derek he should be a college grad by now, if he ever bothered to go, if his parents were alive to help him with college apps and moving into a dorm…. But Stiles doesn’t make him feel bad about it. Even offers to help Derek look into online classes, even if he starts small with one class at a time at a local community college.

And in the meantime- tells Derek eat what he wants. Better than throwing out leftovers. Sends him home with bags of burgers or nuggets for dinner even if it’s way more than Derek can eat and he protests he can’t take the food.

But- it takes awhile but Derek eventually opens up and feels comfortable being his snarky, rough around the edges- pre fire self. And accepts he should stop arguing with Stiles and take the food.

At first, Derek only notices his 30+lb gain because he’s back to a healthy weight. Doesn’t need the belt to hold up his jeans, his shirts fit snug but not stretched tight. How he used to be.

Which- absolutely when Stiles doubles down. Tells Derek stay hydrated! Get a soda! (And orders those deluxe pick any flavor digital soda machines). Totally keeps a mental note of how often Derek refills his soda- and Derek is solidly chugging at least a small bag of sugar a day with the amount he drinks

Mostly because all the fries Stiles gives him “happen” to be over salted… oops.

Or has Derek try possible new menu items. Triple burger? Triple cheese? What about if they add more bacon? If they add ranch? What about nuggets on a burger?

Derek tries it all and ignores the button of his pants digging into his now rounded middle.

He gets *soft* and blubbery for sure. Because he has nothing else to do- so he picks up all the shifts he can. Maybe keeps Stiles company even when he isn’t on the clock. Comes into the restaurant when he has online classes so Stiles can help him.

He’s on the round the clock greasy fast food diet and as a result he just expands. Ass getting wide and heavy, thighs that are rubbing against each other and the friction leaves holes in his khakis. Belly that protrudes out and hangs low over his waistband- when it isn’t stuffed with burgers and soda and an inflated orb, taut to the touch. The start of a double chin. Pecs that soften and drop. Upper arms that have a solid amount of fat that hang down. Love handles that are always stretching out his shirt and Stiles keeps having to resist the urge to SQUEEZE everytime he walks by.

Derek with his belly resting on the counter, no customers in sight, burger in one hand and large soda in the other…

Sorry I got from “awww angsty and sweet” to “kink” real fast.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

if ur still taking prompts i’d love some bucky and jack smut if you’d enjoy writing it!

Jack doesn't lack confidence. Never has. But he's also never fucked someone as unquestionably good-looking as Bucky Egan, and he's never been unaware of his own looks.

Bucky strips him naked first, still in his slacks and undershirt as he pulls off Jack's second sock. He pulls Jack into his lap and wraps Jack's legs around his waist, then grabs Jack's arms and drapes them over his shoulders.

"You done?" Jack asks.

Bucky grins and lands an open-mouthed kiss on the curve of Jack's pec. "Not even close," he declares, then takes Jack's left hand in his right. He kisses Jack's palm, then drags his mouth up his inner forearm, then nips at the bend of his elbow. He nuzzles Jack's bicep and nips his shoulder, then kisses up Jack's neck and ends with a small suckle on his ear.

Jack shivers at all the attention, his free hand clenching against Bucky's back. "Jesus," he breathes out as Bucky busses a kiss across his mouth, suckles his other ear, then nips his shoulder. "You are--"

"You are so fucking gorgeous," Bucky murmurs as he nuzzles Jack's bicep, then nips at his elbow. "You're the leggiest fucking redhead I've ever seen."

Jack wants to laugh at the description, but Bucky's mouth is hot and wet on his forearm, and then his lips are soft on his palm, and he grabs a handful of Bucky's hair and yanks slowly but deliberately.

Bucky chuckles and lets Jack pull his head backwards, lets Jack bite at the underside of his jaw and kiss his chin. "Fucking beautiful is what you are," Bucky says. "You know what you look like in the sun?"

Jack shakes his head. "No one's ever mentioned it," he says.

"You fucking glow, Jack. You glow like a goddamn star." Bucky spreads his hands over Jack's hips, then rubs the inside of his thighs. "You're pale, but in the sun, you light up. Jesus, first time I saw it I thought I was gonna die."

"Oh, come on," Jack says. "I bet you use that line on all the leggy redheads."

Bucky wraps a hand around Jack's cock and tugs once, slow and hard and perfect. "That one's just for you, beautiful. Never seen anyone look like you in the sunlight."

Jack sighs as Bucky jerks him off, murmuring about Jack's beauty, about his light, about the way he looks so handsome when he flushes as Bucky jerks him off. Jack grinds in his lap, keeping Bucky's head tipped back so he can suck a mark on his collarbone, then a smaller one just below where his collar will hit when he's buttoned up.

Bucky never stays buttoned up. Jack looks forward to looking over sometime tomorrow and seeing the little bruise he's giving him now.

Jack may glow in the sunlight, but Bucky is always lit like a flare, so blindingly bright it almost hurts to look at him. To look at Bucky and see a little proof that he's Jack's, it makes Jack feel wild.

Jack comes and buries his moan against Bucky's mouth. Bucky kisses back just as hard, wiping Jack's come on his own undershirt before grabbing Jack's hips and holding him still so he can rut against him until he comes in his slacks.

Bucky lays Jack onto the bed, unwinding Jack's arms from his neck and stretching them lightly over Jack's head. He unwraps Jack's legs one at a time, trailing his fingers over his calves and his ankles. "Stay put," he says.

Jack nods and watches Bucky through half-lidded eyes as he strips himself naked. He's as stunningly perfect naked as he is in full uniform. When he sees Jack watching, he flashes a grin and crawls back into the bed, laying himself over Jack so their chests are pressed together, and he can slide his hands into Jack's and press down lightly.

"There's that glow," Bucky says, nosing Jack's cheek. "God, you're something else, Jack."

"So are you," Jack replies, and the kiss this time is gentle and sweet but no less intense for it.

[wolfwoocl]

@millionsnife from (x)

Ohh, he’s got a name aboard the ship already. Bakery man. Not the best, not the worst. The box of donuts remains in his hands and he’s still under the microscope. 

“Wh–” 

Did that man just compliment his…? Wolfwood looks down at the open front of his shirt, puzzling over one, the fact that Vash found it necessary to mention a random baker’s pecs to his brother, and two, that this was somehow part of the basis for Knives’s…approval, for lack of a better word. 

And he still has this damn, greasy box in his hands. Knives has shown exactly zero intent on taking it from him, much to his dismay. Putting forth great effort in ignoring the sense of impending doom awaiting him farther down the corridor, Wolfwood puts one foot forward. Then another. Following. 

“Sure.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Knives doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist, and Nicholas still hasn’t determined whether he’ll still be in one piece by the time he steps off this ship.

As they walk past the endless stretch of immaculate, moulded glassfiber walls, he scans the various blinking lights in the overheads, the secured doors further down the passageway, the low-frequency thrumming of machinery and something or other he doesn’t have a name for. A few passing crewmen dressing in coats and plain white uniforms (scientists?) give him a few odd looks, but with Knives standing next to him no one slows their stride to examine him further. He’s never been in a SEEDs ship before. 

Wolfwood’s jaw falls open in surprise. “That was you. Er, yeah. I got ‘em.” He pauses, then adds, “Thanks.” 

Probably better not to mention that filling in the hole in his door, sanding it down, and repainting it had been a royal pain in the ass. Nevermind what the hell he was supposed to do with a weird-looking knife. No handles, no practical way to hold the damn thing, and it was sharp.

“So…you’re a big knife appreciator, huh?” 

Stellar ice-breaker.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

ok one head canon i think about all the time is billy plumping up over the summer. he finds out that steve is working at the mall when he drops max off one day and decides to catch a glimpse of former king steve

of course billy has to go in to tease steve for his ridiculous uniform. billy is just about to go to work himself so he's in his red board shorts and his official hawkins pool lifeguard tank top. steve immediately knows billy is up to no good so he puts his foot down and says no loitering, if he wants to be inside scoops he has to be a paying customer

billy acquiesces and orders a single scoop of vanilla in a dish. he eats half of it all while teasing steve relentlessly and tosses it on his way out. the ice cream was good but he can't let himself indulge too much for the sake of his image as well as his job

billy keeps coming inside the mall every time he drops max off which eventually turns into billy stopping by starcourt on his way to work regardless of whether or not max is with him. he sees steve every day for a little pre-work pick me up in the flavor of flirtatious banter and a single scoop in a dish

eventually that dish turns into a waffle cone and the single scoop multiplied into three by the time billy realizes what has happened over the course of the summer. as he formed his flirtationship with steve, he also formed quite the belly

a stark contrast from the first time he stopped by scoops, on the last day that hawkins pool is open, billy is struggling to fit into his uniform. his board shorts are stretched right across his hips, and his shirt is nearly see through with how much it strains to contain the entirety of billy's belly. the outline of his navel is clearly visible, as is the stack of rolls on his sides, and his perky pecs have softened into pudgy moobs

steve already has his order ready - an extra large banana split topped off with nearly an entire container of whipped cream. billy polishes it off like it's nothing and before he can head out for his last day of work as a lifeguard - because he's surely not returning for next year's swim season - steve slips him a piece of paper with his phone number on it and suggests that billy start stopping by his house for dessert instead

I can get into a muscle chub billy, like softened over rugby build. I think that would definitely suit him. I think that's a super cute head canon/scenario

Usually I associate chubby with soft, sort of submissive characterization because that's usually what I identify with. But every so often I can get on with the thick, harder, more masculine reading of it which is what my mind immediately goes to with billy.

[per-oceanum]

I haven't done a post actually explaining Things regarding Elio & his physiology so.

Let's chat.

*This post will be talking about the human anatomy & the changes undergone when taking hormone replacement therapy. Nothing in this post is sexualized, but things will get slightly detailed.*

Elio stands at a solid 8’3”; both of his parents had been tall, his father coming in at 8’5” while his mother was 7’2”. Tall family ( possibly due to their heritage, but that's a story for another time ). He is well groomed, something Elio strives to maintain. Despite the fact that HE CANNOT SWEAT, he still takes pride in his appearance. More often than not, he brushes his hair back, held in place by either pomade or some other styling product. He comes in at a strong 245 lbs.

He can grow facial hair! If he doesn't shave? It begins to grow within a few days. It's not an overnight, immediate 5 o'clock shadow thing, it does take a few days. During his time in Impel Down, he would go weeks between when they would bring someone in to shave it down. He had a decent amount of scruff grow in. ( He hated it. ) He’s got some fuzz on his chest, trailing down his tummy and creating a happy trail. It's SOFT, not coarse nor wiry. A deep, dark brown in tone.

Speaking of-

His hair isn't *black*. His hair is actually a very rich, very deep brown. It comes from his father's side; his mother was a blonde. He has his mother's facial structure- high cheek bones, his nose, the way his brows sit and eyes are shaped and colored. The strong jawline could have come from either side, truthfully.

Now, here is where we veer away from canon strongly. Crocodile isn't a pale man. Living in the desert for fifteen or so years will strip that away, as well as how he simply looks. He sports a rich golden tan which does not fade. While imprisoned, he did grow a touch paler- but not ghastly pale. [ This is where my using Oscar Isaac as his live action faceclaim comes in, or young Sylvester Stallone ].

Before his transition, a period in which only a select few have seen ( Whitebeard, Ivankov, and Dragon, most notably ), his frame was slightly smaller, though not by much, truthfully. He'd always had broad shoulders and a tapered waist, that didn't change. Having been binding since he was sixteen ( as well as training his already reasonably low voice to appear more masculine ), he was already passing relatively well. However, after his altercation with Whitebeard in which he lost both the fight and his hand, and gained the scar that stretches across his face, he returned to Ivankov on death's doorstep.

Here, Ivankov performed the surgery that saved Elio's life. While fixing the wounded, botched amputation That Newgate so lovingly gave free of charge, Elio requested one other thing: top surgery. He wanted it to be PERMANENT, not something that Ivankov's Devil Fruit could give- or take away, if the chance presented itself. And so, Ivankov did as requested- performing a double incision. The scars that remain are neat, uniform- settling below his pecs. ( it has been joked that those scars match his facial scar; he does find this humorous ).

After this procedure- and healing- Elio began a form of HRT. He has been on testosterone for over twenty years, which helped the lowering of his vocal register, as well as helping him fill out his musculature. And thus, Elio began to go by Sir Crocodile-

And quickly became a Warlord of the Sea afterwards.

He has multiple scars from his youth that cross his body, and others from before eating the Suna Suna no Mi. Each one bares a small story, though what scar is shown depends on who- and where- he is. He has no tattoos, though his ears are pierced- having been done when he was a child still living on Carrozze.

As with taking testosterone, Crocodile does have bottom growth. What would equate to an inch of bottom growth on a normal sized human, Crocodile has four inches. He does refer to his bottom growth as his dick / cock. Truthfully, he doesn't have much bottom dysphoria; his main qualm had been his chest- which had been on the larger side- prior to his surgery.

His incisors / “canine” teeth are sharpened beyond the normal scope. Whether this was done on purpose ( it was not ) or if it was simply there by birth ( thanks dad ) is up to speculation. Regardless, they are sharp- both top and bottom sets, and have been used in self defense. Warning: He Bites.

And that is Sir Elio Lune Conti, known professionally as Sir Crocodile, former Warlord of the Sea, Founder of Baroque Works, and Chairman of the Cross Guild.

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Tydii smut please

hashtag back on my bullshit sitting in the back row and writing during my uni lecture

also, as the asks indicates, this is NSFW

~~

Saedii watches from their kitchen as Tyler tiredly trudges from the docking bay into their living room and slumps onto the couch, resting his head back on the couch and letting out a big sigh. She tilts her head to watch him, tracking the rise of his chest, the shift of the muscles of his arm as he runs a hand over his face, the sprawl of his legs on the couch. There's so much of him in their space and she likes taking it all in.

"Rough day?" Saedii asks and he nods, tilting his head down to cast his eyes appreciatively over her loose hair and exposed shoulders.

"Rough day," he confirms, before closing his eyes and resting his head back again. Saedii grins and places her now dry plate in the drawer near her hip, her eyes never leaving the way the light hits his face, the scar over his eye sharpening. Saedii has a thing for that scar.

She rounds the kitchen island on silent feet, approaching her boyfriend.

His eyes barely flick open as she straddles him on the couch. Up close, she runs her hands through his hair and appreciates the soft groan he releases when she scratches his scalp a little.

She leans in and starts to press soft kisses to his exposed throat, grinning against his skin as the rumble of his next groan vibrates through her.

Her hands trail down out of his hair and down to the buttons of his shirt, pressing the top button open to expose more of his throat.

"Is this okay?"

"This is definitely okay. It's making my day much less rough," Tyler whispers and Saedii shifts in his lap and snorts.

"But not less hard," she lifts her head long enough to say it, before latching back onto Tyler's neck without caring of the snort he lets out as a result of her dumb joke. She gently nibbles him, not hard enough to break skin but at least to bruise. He's so pretty, but Saedii thinks he's prettier with a mark of her on him.

Her hands do not rest, continuing to unbutton Tyler's shirt and push it off his shoulders.

Her hands traced the broad muscles of his shoulders, before moving to his pecs, her fingers running over his nipples and grinning when her ears catching the tiniest whimper.

She feels his hand on her shoulder, fiddling with the thin strap of her tank top as if to pull it down and she reaches to pull it away and place it back on the arm of the chair. Tyler frowns and Saedii kisses his cheek.

"This isn't about me, just let me make you feel good," she whispers and Tyler watches her with shining mismatched blue eyes. Saedii winks at him and interrupts the soft moment by one-handedly undoing his belt and slipping it from the loops, making sure that her hand brushes his erection through the unforgiving material of his uniform. Tyler groans and his head lays back again, breaking eye contact with her.

She undoes the fly of his pants and it is then that she gets off his lap.

"Saedii," Tyler says, somewhere between a growl and a whimper.

"Shh," she shoots back, her hand not leaving his lap as she lowers herself to her knees and begins to shimmy his pants and underwear down far enough to reveal his dick, hard and red. She leans her elbow on his knee and her head on her fist, her opposite hand rubbing up and down the inside of his thigh.

Tyler tilts his head to look down at her.

"Is this okay?" he asks this time. He knows she is not the type to get on her knees, to show that sort of weakness. She just grins and shrugs.

"Be'shmai, you would burn down the world for me to continue. I'm not the one in a position of submission," she doesn't wait for him to respond before leaning forward and wrapping her lips around his head, another grin stretching around it at the little whistle he releases in shocked pleasure.

"Saeds," Tyler's whispers desperately as she ducks her head deeper, lips spreading around his dick.

His fingers feed into the inky curtain of her hair, pushing it back to stop it getting in the way. He takes a spare hair tie from his wrists and pulls her hair through it. She hums gratefully and he almost falters at the muffled thanks, the way the vibrations felt. Once her hair was out of the way, she pushed his hand away and started to bob her head.

"Saedii, Saedii, Saedii," her name like a prayer on his lips, like she is the only altar he will worship at, his precious Maker be damned. She wouldn't deign to get on her knees for any man who would say her name with any less reverence.

She takes more of his erection into her, her nose resting in the warm skin between his hips and breathing the clean scent of him in, something primal in her Syldrathi DNA calming from it, the Pull a warm beat in her chest.

Her Be'shmai seemed to be closer and closer, his devout utterances of her name devolving into incoherent moans, his hips shaking from his efforts not to buck up into her face.

She knows she has Tyler when he goes still and a whisper quiet "shit" passes over his lips. That's her only warning before his hips stutter and he fills her mouth. She swallows his release down as quickly as he can give it to her and lets his hips guide her to how he was coming down.

Eventually, Tyler begins to soften in her mouth and she releases him, kissing the head before sitting back on her heels, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Come here," Tyler says quietly, pulling her up and sidewards into his lap, one of his arms holding her close and the opposite hand landing high on her thigh. He pulls her mouth to his and she happily obliges, slowly and surely kissing him. "I love you, you make eveyr day better by being in it," he says, lips pressed against her cheek.

She gently nuzzles their faces together, her nose brushing his. "I love you," she whispers back.

"Does that mean you're going to let me repay the favour?" Tyler asked, grinning. Saedii rolled her eyes and hoped he didn't notice the way she was pressing her thigh tight together.

"Maybe later, Be'shmai," she assures and he just nods and presses another kiss to her cheek.

"Deal."

~~

I'mma just... leave this here. Do what you want with it.

[saetoru]

THIN PATIENCE — RYUGUJI “DRAKEN” KEN.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ draken + public sex - in which you can’t help but let your hands wander as your boyfriend rides his bike

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ length ⋮ 1.5k words

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, public sex, hand jobs, slight overstimulation, use of petnames (princess + baby)

♱ notes ⋮ another repost left and then we will have paid homage to last years failed kinktober rnsjdsj

the night air is crisp on your skin as you wrap your arms around draken’s neck, pulling him into a quick kiss once the door is locked. the shop’s been busy as of late, and after months and months of watching draken struggle to get it up and running, you’re happy for him, you really are—but lately…you crave a bit more attention. he’s barely even had a second to spare all day to get up and eat lunch, let alone entertain you in your hunt for his attention. 

but right now—right now, he’s all yours, and you plan on using that to your advantage.

it’s a little risky, trying things with him that test his patience, but you want to push him to his limit, want to make his veins pop and his composure snap, want to make him give in and finally have his way with you—which ultimately means you’ve had your way with him too. 

“barely have any time for you anymore,” draken hums softly, "you wanna go for a ride, princess?” he grins as he asks you in between kisses, his rough hands finding their rightful spot on your hips.

you’ve been patiently waiting for this question, for this moment—and a grin of your own stretching across your lips as you hum, the beginning chips of your plan falling right where you want.

“course i do, kenny.” one hand trails down his chest, roaming over the muscles of his pecs and abs, making him chuckle lightly.

he’s always been built rather large, but the years have done him good. his towering height’s put on a few more inches, his muscles bulge a bit more, his chest is a bit broader, and any remnants of the boy you’d known draken as before have grown into a man.

“then let’s go, baby,” he presses a few kisses to your jaw. “need a de-stressor after this week,” he mumbles.

in your head, you’re satisfied to know that you’ll be giving him just that.

———————————————

the wind on your face as draken speeds faster down the highway is all too refreshing. the cramped garage of his shop has been all you’ve been seeing in your spare time anymore, the need to keep your boyfriend company overwhelming your urges to go do anything else. and you love keeping him company, love being in his presence more than anything, but the empty walls of his shop have been a tiring scene to say the least—and this, this is nice, you think.

draken seems rather happy too, his lips are stretched into a grin and his shoulders are less tense, the muscles rippling through the collared shirt of his uniform even as they’re relaxed. you trail your hands down his chest, rubbing over his abs while he glances momentarily at you over his shoulder.

“keep your hands to yourself, baby,” he grins playfully, and you can feel the small chuckle he lets out through the rumble of his chest as your hands glide back over it.

“can’t, you’re too pretty, ken,” you murmur, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder blade through the fabric. he shudders slightly. “been waiting for you the whole day,” you pout into his ear.

clearing his throat, he lets out a gruff, “hey,” as a warning, but you don’t pay any mind to that—your hands trail lower, and lower, and lower— “princess,” draken growls. “what are you doing?”

“just having fun,” you grin, and your palm glides over his crotch, gently feeling over his dick print as he grits his teeth. he looks around, and the highway’s almost empty, but he still doesn’t appreciate the circumstances.

“well, have fun somewhere else—ngh,” he cuts himself with a grunt when you squeeze his half-hard cock through his pants (he’s silently mad at himself for letting himself be so affected), pumping him as much as you can until a tent forms. “h-hey, i’m serious.”

you wish you can find it in yourself to care about his warnings—but you can’t. and you’re sure you’ll pay the price heavily for it later, but that only excites you further.

reaching into his pants, you grab his erection, cheek resting on his back as you pull his pulsing member from his confinements. you smear the pre cum from the tip along the thick girth of his cock, stroking him languidly and drinking in the sounds of his gasps and choked-out groans.

if only you could actually see him, but this will do for now.

“are you kiddin’ me,” he hisses. “have you lost your fucking mind?”

“maybe,” you chuckle, batting your lashes even if he won’t see. 

rolling your palm in circles around his tip, you can just barely make out the long, drawn-out moan he lets out, the wind hissing around you muffling the sweet sounds he makes as you fist him tightly—he’s always been sensitive at the head, and you’ve always used that to your advantage too. his thighs are tensing at the smallest bits of friction, and you wish you could only face him to watch his face scrunch with pleasure.

“fuck,” he whispers, letting out a shaky sigh when your other hand reaches over his hips and cups his balls. you doubt anyone you pass by would really notice, draken’s going much too fast, and it’s much too dark, and no one would really think to look at his crotch, but still. the fact that your boyfriend is currently riding down the highway, dick out and open, hard and aching for release leaves you desperately aroused. “fuckin’ hell, either put my dick away or do something,” he growls at you. “and be quick.”

with a giggle, you decide on the latter, wrapping your hand around his cock and starting a quick rhythm, stroking his length as your other hand cups his balls again, massaging them lightly. he moans, forcing himself to keep his head upright and not thrown back like he desperately wants, keeping his eyes on the road.

“you’ve been working so hard, ken,” you say smoothly. “thought i’d help relieve the stress you were talking about earlier—and you look so good in your uniform,” you add. “my pretty boy.” 

he doesn’t have the patience to let the praise stroke his ego, too focused on the throbbing of his member in your hands. and you don’t have patience either, it seems—otherwise, you wouldn’t be pumping his cock out in the open like this, trying to pull an orgasm from him while he’s taking you both on a ride around the city.

“fuck, go faster,” he demands, his hips bucking ever so slightly to meet your fist’s movements. and you’d give everything to have your boyfriend cum right now, to have his body tense with his back pressing to your chest, shooting ropes of cum that splatter against his precious bike, out in the open for anyone to witness if they’d just look a little closer.

so you move your hand faster, squeezing at the base of his shaft before stroking up, thumb grazing his slit and making him cry out each time.

he’s moaning loudly by now, with no efforts to hold back or stay quiet. the broken strings of curses falling from his lips leave your thighs begging to close shut to relieve the heat pooling at your core. you can feel his chest rising and falling erratically as he pants, trying to keep his hips in place, fighting the urge to thrust into your hand. the bike swerves a little every now and then, and with a harsh squeeze of his balls and one more glide of your thumb through his weeping slit, he’s cumming with a loud, strangled cry of your name.

“god—fuck, baby,” he groans, body shuddering as he tenses his thighs. the ropes of cum that shoot from his tip leave him clenching his handlebars tightly, teeth gritting as he forces his eyes to remain open. “fuck—fuck, that feels good,” he says shakily, letting out a soft whine when your hands don’t stop even as he finishes. “shit, ‘m fuckin’ done. cut it out,” he hisses.

but you don’t listen, stroking his sensitive dick, hand coated in his thick cum, using it as a lubricant while you rub your thumb over his vein. you like the thrill of your position, how he’s literally in the palm of your hand and out for display, how he can’t do anything else but take it. he lets out a small whimper as your hand keeps the steady friction against his sensitive cock, and the sound shoots straight to your core.

“too much,” he all but whines. “f-fuck, ‘s too much, baby,” he grunts. chuckling, you stroke him one last time, smiling at the way he shudders before kissing his shoulder and pulling away. he’s still catching his breath when you tuck him back into his soiled pants, and before you can say anything, he’s swerving to take the nearest exit.

“wha—ken, you’re going the wrong—”

“we’re taking a detour,” he sneers. “someone has to be taught a lesson for being such a shameless brat.”

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[lovelybucky1]

Kinktober Day 13- Double Penetrarion

warnings: threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light degradation, praise, creampies, 18+ minors dni

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You knew it was a stupid idea, letting Maverick fuck you in the club. He promised to keep it subtle; you’d get a booth in the darkest corner of the room, keep to yourselves, and no one would notice.

You should’ve known that Tom “Iceman” Kazansky doesn’t miss a beat. As soon as he entered the bar, he had his eye out for you. He knows about Maverick and your little relationship, but that hasn’t deterred him from trying to pursue you.

You locked eyes with him when he was at the bar, a beer in his hand and Slider practically attached to his hip. He excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to you and Maverick, eyeing you with a knowing look the whole way over. He sat on the opposite side of the table and took in the sight of you, perched on Mav’s lap.

“Not your classiest move, Mitchell,” he huffed a laugh.

“Leave us the fuck alone, Kazansky,” Maverick spit.

“Public indecency while in uniform? I could report you for this; get your ass grounded and finally out of my way.”

Maverick’s breath hitched; he hadn’t really thought about the consequences of getting caught. He knew Ice was most likely bluffing, it’s not like he’s never gotten up to something the Navy wouldn’t approve of on a night out.

“What do you want?” Maverick asked, resolving himself to barging to keep Ice quiet.

Half an hour later, you find yourself caught between two men in a foreign bedroom.

Ice was calling the shots, and every time Maverick protested, he reminded him of what you were caught doing.

Tom was laying on his back, legs hanging over the bed as you straddle his cock. You’re bent over so your head is resting on his chest, and you feel oddly comforted by his steady heartbeat and strong arms around your back.

Your pussy is stretched open around his cock. It hurt at first because he didn’t give you much prep, figuring you were still open from Maverick, but you underestimated just how big he is.

You took everything he gave you, though, and he praised you the whole time as you sank down on him. Now that you’re seated comfortably, Maverick works to stretch open your ass.

When Tom asked you if you wanted this, if you were comfortable taking them both, you shyly agreed. He had your hands pinned gently at your sides when he asked if you’ve ever done anal, preventing you from hiding your face. He cooed after you said yes, not meeting his eyes.

Maverick is three fingers deep inside you, and you’ve almost had too much already. You’ve never been this full before, and you really don’t want to cum without Maverick inside of you, but being teased and toyed with like this is torture.

“Please, Maverick,” you whimper against Ice’s chest.

“You hear that, Mitchell? Get on with it.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Mav bites.

“I don’t think you want to deprive your sweet girl, do you?”

You hear Maverick huff, then you hear the click of the bottle of lube. He drizzles it over his cock, making sure it’s slick so the slide into you will be as easy and painless as possible. He taps his head against your cheek, and you jump at the contact.

“Ready for me, baby?”

You nod, face pressed between Ice’s pecs, and luckily that’s good enough of an answer for Maverick, because a second later, he is slowly pushing in.

You tense up, but Ice’s hands on your back coax you to relax. Soon, Maverick is seated all the way inside you, and you’re feeling impossibly full.

They move together in tandem, fucking into you like they’ve been doing this for years. You suppose when you spend so much time in the air with someone, you get a sense of reading each other’s minds, which they are clearly displaying now.

Your clit bumps against Ice’s chiseled abs every time Maverick thrusts into you from behind, and it ignites a fire that you didn’t know was smoldering. You love being with Maverick, even if your relationship is a little unconventional, but you’re starting to regret not getting a taste of the Iceman sooner.

“I can feel his cock inside you,” Ice whispers in your ear. “Such a sweet little thing, taking us both.”

Of course Maverick can’t let Ice one up him, so he joins in on the dirty talk.

“So fucking tight around my cock, baby,” he grunts out.

Their hands, big and calloused, are everywhere. Ice gropes at your ass, digging his blunt nails into your flesh, while Maverick holds you tight around the middle, his grip surely going to leave bruises.

Their speed increases gradually, until they’re both driving their cocks into you. They’re pushing, pulling, and taking what they want from you and you’re helpless to resist. You never found being used like this appealing, but now that you’re here, stuffed full, you feel yourself becoming addicted.

“Want me to cum in that sweet cunt, baby?” Ice asks, already knowing your answer.

“Yes!” you cry, the sound punched out of you by a particularly rough thrust from Maverick.

Ice cums first, shamelessly moaning your name as he spills into you and fucks it deep inside. He continues to move inside you even after he finishes, though it is much slower and gentler than before.

Maverick cums soon after, almost pulling out, but not quickly enough. His cum leaks from your stretched hole, making an obscene image that would make Maverick’s cock twitch if he hadn’t just finished.

You collapse down onto Ice’s chest, catching your breath while you feel the cum dripping down your thighs, being cooled by the air.

“So, you’re not going to tell?” Maverick asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“I’m not sure. I might need a little more persuasion.”

This time, you eagerly give it to him.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 13 - uniform

soloist 1k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Wonho (Lee Hoseok) NSFW

🖤 warnings: d/s dynamics, use of pet names/derogatory names (incl. slut), references to american football, slander of theater kids, assplay (m receiving), i might have a thing for men in stockings??? 🖤

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"It's not even real."

That doesn't matter to you.

"It's close enough," you tell him, hands wandering farther down his thighs in their skintight pants.

"I don't even know who this player is," he laughs.

You're probably tickling him, as you feel up his muscular legs and ass indulgently, velvety-smooth under your hands and even smoother with the thick spandex layer between you.

"What's the big deal about this outfit, anyway?" Wonho smirks. "I've worn way less."

"I dunno," you muse.

He laughs again, as you hook your fingers into the extremely tight band of his pants. "The man in uniform thing?"

"It makes you look like a jock," you tell him. "Instead of a theater kid."

"I look like a theater kid?" he asks, nearly offended.

"Just enough."

He doesn't look that much like a theater kid, anymore, not with a body like his. And wearing this American football uniform, thick numbers emblazoned on his even thicker chest and stacked lower half jammed into a pair of those much-too-tight game pants, he just looks like a run-of-the-mill professional athlete. Strong, fit, and way out of your league.

Or he would be, if he wasn't currently letting you sit him down on the edge of the hotel bed and settle yourself over his sturdy lap. His hands find purchase at the dip of your waist, and you let him hold on, broad hands fanning out over your back.

"I've always wanted to fuck a hot jock," you say.

Wonho chokes, sputters. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, y'know. Nothing like that kind of fantasy, for someone who wasn't cool in high school."

"I wasn't cool in high school, either," he argues.

You stare at him, his pretty face so close to yours from your perch on his broad thighs. You grab him around his sharp jaw with two hands, squishing both of his cheeks up.

"What?"

"Ulzzang," you deadpan, squeezing the so-called perfect face for emphasis.

"That doesn't mean anything-"

You're tired of his excuses, though, so you kiss him on the nose just to see him fluster, and when his cheeks have tinged sufficiently pink, you tilt his face in your hands and kiss his lips, instead. He's so easy to rile up; just an innocent kiss, fully clothed, sat on him gently, and he's already starting to roll his hips up into you. It would be sad if it wasn't so cute.

"Careful, if you get all excited, you're gonna have to be late for practice," you tell him seriously.

"Fuck you," he complains.

"Is that how you talk to me?"

"You called me a theater kid," he pouts.

You'll never get over this enormous man's ability to make faces like this. Wide eyes, pursed lips, an aura of the utmost demure ignorance.

"I'm so sorry," you coo. "I'll fix it."

Matching the pouty jut of his lower lip, you stand up again, even as he scrabbles at your waist to keep you there. He leans back slightly without you on top of him, relaxes, and you gaze at his gorgeous body, his spread legs and his pecs under the thick material of his jersey and his thin pants doing nothing to hide the shape of his hard cock against his thigh.

"You really went all out," you comment, "Right down to the socks."

"All for accuracy," he replies.

"Harder to take off. Too many layers."

"You haven't even tried, yet."

"True," you hum.

He's right, you should try first.

You stand him back up just long enough to peel the pants down his legs, and since the skintight fit leaves no room for another layer, he's bare to you from the waist down. Carefully, you untuck the cuffs from the calf-high athletic socks.

"What're you doing?" he asks, as you push him gently to sit again. "Aren't you gonna..."

"Kinda like these," you say.

"The socks?"

You nod. There's something inexplicably obscene about the vision that he is now, jersey stretched over his broad shoulders and neat white socks up his legs and his cock bare to the room. Innocent sexy, schoolgirl sexy.

"Okay," he mutters, obviously embarrassed.

"Don't get shy on me, now," you tease.

"Can't help it."

He's so lovely.

You step between his open legs, looking down at him fondly, and as you kiss him again, you take his erection in hand and stroke him leisurely, aided by the precum that he's already leaking. The contact makes him groan against your mouth, jumping under your touch as if it's the first time.

It's far from the first time, but it only gets better.

"Turn over for me," you say.

His name is written on the back of the jersey, you note with a grin, as he flips easily onto his stomach and melts into the covers. It's not all fours so much as it is knees and chest, his ass in the air and his cheek pressed to the bed.

"Eager," you say, pinching the back of his thigh playfully.

"Hey!" he yelps.

You're not sure what you're gonna do with him, yet, but fuck does he deserve it. He needs to be spoiled, you know that. He's had a long day of shooting in this godforsaken outfit, and now he needs to relax.

"I know the real reason you wanted this uniform, anyway," you say conspiratorially.

"Oh, do tell," Wonho murmurs, good humor and presence strong even facedown in the duvet.

"You just wanted to get fucked like this."

He doesn't argue with you. He couldn't even if he wanted to, you think, judging by the way he keens and presses his hips back into you, where you stand behind him.

"Football captain," you say, condescending, "Is this what you wanted? In your gameday jersey?"

"Yes."

"I know," you soothe.

Your fingers play over the perfectly-maintained soft skin around his hole. He's clenching around nothing. Eager little slut.

"It's a good thing they wrote your name on this goddamn jersey," you say, unable to resist the joke so plainly in front of you. "Because you're not gonna remember it by the time we're done."

[lokiarc64]

RWBY: Vibranium Shield AU: Jaune’s Day at Beacon with new gear (Harem)

Jaune after a solo mission of recon mission of just following some White Fang, Ozpin decided he could have a day off and just do him for awhile, Jaune took this opportunity to then decide to put on some fresh smelling clothes after a long shower and decided to have a nice walk around Beacon with his shield on hand or on his back?

He worn a black tank top, some cargo military navy blue jeans and some of his old steel toe cap Dr.Martens, he grabbed his wallet and scroll and headed out for the day.

As Jaune walked out and passed some people, mostly girls and few Guys he was being watched and lusted as the girls saw his muscular arms and hidden abs and pecs while seeing him looking like a Soldier in training, most males got a bit annoyed and jealous of the attention, Sun however just gave him some respect as he was showing off the abs like a pro.

Half way out he was passing the teachers lounge and Glynda even managed to choke on her coffee and blushed hard while thinking she should give him her crop and use it on her.

As he exited the school he then headed to the comic store that was only a few miles away and decided to Jog there for some small exercise.

An hour later as he jogged back with some new comics he was then noticing that Team RWBY, Pyrrha, Coco, Velvet and Glynda where all staring at him and had some lusting looks on their faces.

Jaune: umm?…..you guys ok? And are you ok Ms. Goodwitch?

Jaune: “Lays in bed”

Jaune: That mission took longer than it should’ve.

Jaune: “Yawn”

Jaune: Got make sure to wake up early for class.

Jaune: I… can’t be… late… again.

Jaune: “Shuts eyes”

“Morning”

Jaune: “Opens eyes”

Jaune: “Stretches”

Jaune: “Checks time on scroll”

Jaune: “Closes eyes”

Jaune: “Eyes widen”

Jaune: Crap, I overslept guys we gotta get t-

Jaune: “Looks around room only to find it empty”

Jaune: They probably already left.

Jaune: I gotta hurry.

“Scroll rings”

Jaune: Hm?

Jaune: “Pulls out scroll to find message”

Jaune: Ozpin?

Mr. Arc we appreciate your improvement, you have made incredible progress as a leader and a fighter. Even going as far as to risk your own life to save an ally of another team. Because of you’ve Improved in such short time you are excused from your classes for the day I have already sent a message to your team and peers. We are grateful for your selflessness and courage - Headmaster Ozpin.

Jaune: Huh.

Jaune: Dodged the bullet there.

Jaune: So I have the day to myself.

Jaune: What should I do.

Jaune: “Sniffs shirt”

Jaune: Ugh, well first I gotta take a shower.

“30 Minutes Later”

Jaune: “Looks in closet”

Jaune: Where the heck is my hoodie?

Jaune: “Looks under bed”

Jaune: Where could it be?

“Meanwhile”

Ruby: “Looks under school uniform”

Ruby: Hehehe.

Jaune: “Continues to rummage around closet”

Jaune: “Spots black tank top”

Jaune: Why haven’t I ever worn this?

Jaune: Well no better time than now.

Jaune: “Trips on shield”

Jaune: Ow.

Jaune: “Stares at shield”

Jaune: “Grabs shield & places it on his back”

Jaune: Just in case.

“Hallway”

Jaune: “Walking down hallway”

Students: “Staring”

Female Student: Isn’t that Arc

Female Student: Yeah, when did he become such a hottie.

Female Student: I totally let him take me out.

Male Student: Lucky bastard.

Male Student: He was the weakest student and now he’s a chick magnet.

Male Student: Dudes lucky.

Sun: Yo Jaune.

Sun: Looking good my man.

Jaune: Heh thanks dude.

Glynda: “Sipping coffee”

Glynda: My class begins in a few minutes, I should get going soon.

Glynda: “Sips coffee”

Glynda: “Spots Jaune”

Glynda: “Spits coffee”

Glynda: “Coughing”

Glynda: 😳😳😳

Glynda: M-Mr Arc he is is.

Glynda (Internally): Am I getting fluster over a student?

Glynda: Oh how he would look in a crop like mine.

Glynda: 🤤🤤🤤

“Vale”

Jaune: “Walks in a comic book store”

Jaune: “Looks through comics”

Jaune: Yes the new X-ray and Vav issue.

Jaune: “Sees shield wielding hero”

Jaune: “Smiles”

Jaune: “Takes comic”

Jaune: “Sets comics on counter”

Female Employee: Quite the selection.

Female Employee: “Looks at Jaune”

Female Employee: 😳😳😳

Female Employee: Woah mama.

Jaune: “Pulls out wallet”

Jaune: How much do I owe you?

Female Employee: “Hands comics to Jaune”

Female Employee: There on the house handsome.

Jaune: Really, wow thank you.

Female Employee: Oh a comic lover who’s ripped thats so rare.

“Beacon”

Ruby: Seriously Yang what were you doing with Jaune?

Yang: It was nothing, why do you keep bugging me about it?

Weiss: Because you continuously dodge the question whenever we ask it.

Yang: Look what happened was my business and-

Yang: “Spots Jaune”

Yang: And…

Ruby: Yang?

Weiss: You dolt whats distracting you from our conversation?

Blake: That.

Blake: “Points at Jaune”

Ruby & Weiss: “Turn to see Jaune”

Ruby & Weiss: 😳😳😳

Ruby: Holy-

Weiss: How dare he get so muscular and stop flirting with me.

Blake (Internally): Lucky for the rest of us.

Coco: “Raises her sunglasses”

Velvet: “Stares at Jaune with lust”

Pyrrha: “Covering face”

Glynda: “Covering bloody nose”

Jaune: Is everyone staring at me?

Jaune: Are they okay?

Jaune: “Looks at Glynda who’s nose is bleeding”

Jaune: Is Miss Goodwitch okay?