#I want to box. like real boxing with a punching bag. for real. not just air punching in theory

[patricia-taxxon]

In art, positive feelings are dumb and negative feelings are smart. This is an association I've noticed in especially online discussions of media, it is an error that has gone uncorrected for entirely too long.

This association is bolstered whenever someone says that you shouldn't criticize the mario movie too harshly because it's "fun" and light frivolous things are self justifying. This association is bolstered whenever people continuously categorize media that makes you feel bad as a strictly adult afair, that anything sad or disquieting or revolting is somehow trying to outsmart you and you're actually very cool & hip for rejecting it in favor of dumb pleasures.

This association leaves two categories of art completely outside of discussion and dying for air. Firstly, art that is joyous and life affirming in a mature and reflective way. It'd seem almost sacrilegious to describe Kiki's Delivery Service as "Wholesome," even though it is such prime comfort cinema there's just so much more to it than that. It's a tangibly adult perspective on the themes it presents. But the "happy=dumb" association is set so deep that nearly all critical discussion about miyazaki's movies is about how pretty and sweet they are. They exist in this category of being overexposed yet somehow still unappreciated.

But then there's the inverse, art that makes you feel like shit in a simple and single minded way. Irreversible is the worst time you can have with a movie, probably, and it (affectionately) has nothing going on under the hood. It's a pain box. This category of art tends to confound folks far more than the previous, it elicits a "what's the point??" usually, or if any concession is made towards allowing uncomfortable art to exist it's with the caveat that it has to "justify" it's discomfort. Simple displeasures don't have the same assumed good faith as simple pleasures. The surface level ways in which a film like Irreversible makes you feel like you've been beat up after it's finished? Not worth mentioning.

There's graver consequences to these two boulder-sized blindspots in artistic conception. Like, because negative emotions are smart, people think that making entertainment out of real life tragedies can be de-facto respectful so long as they make the emotions in their entertainment negative enough. It doesn't matter that Netflix's Dahmer plays defense for the killer and uses the image of black people as a boringly virtuous collection of punching bags to milk tragedy from, if it just makes you feel bad enough, gives the surface level impression of graveness, then it's fine that you're making entertainment out of real life people's personal real life tragedy that still exists in recent memory for many people.

I want to elevate joy, bring it into critical attention, stop taking it for granted. I also want to de-elevate misery, take it off it's false pedestal, let us realize that it's all art. FEELINGS are self justifying, not just good ones.

#cilantromixture #mini essay

[lazycats-stuff]

Hellooo, I was wondering if you could write a fic on how the bat family would react to the male reader having a mental breakdown. The male reader always acts like he is the best. And all of a sudden he just broke down and started crying and they all feel bad for him. Idk if this makes sense I'm sorry 😭😭

It does, don't worry. My poor baby boy...

Summary: (Y/N) thinks he is the best. The pressure amounts and eventually (Y/N) breaks.

Warnings: mental breakdown, (Y/N) is just lost, supportive family, crying, (Y/N) is just overwhelmed, everyone feels bad

This has been a long time coming. It was inevitable and honestly not that surprising. (Y/N), one of the Wayne kids, often felt the pressure from both his normal life and his hero life. When you are a Wayne kid, everyone's eyes are on you.

You are criticized for every little thing you do. Something that a normal teenager does, (Y/N) is criticized. He knew he shouldn't take it to heart and Bruce often told him that, the papers just want some drama and more reads and clicks.

Of course, (Y/N) has tried to let it go, but it has been going... Well, as well as you would expect it. (Y/N) has honestly tried to let it go, but the words have hurt. From the papers and from the many people online who put their hate out there.

(Y/N) had always assured his family that he is fine and that those comments are not affecting him.

Now that is one big fat lie.

He didn't want anyone to worry. Damian and Jason would fly of the handle and then there would be real trouble and actual backlash. (Y/N) didn't think he could handle the pressure of it.

Not to mention that there is the pressure of being a vigilante under his father, under Batman. Batman or rather his dad, is a legend. Batman became a boogeyman for many criminals, both in Gotham City and all around the world, of course depending who you are and how powerful you are.

Batman is coming for you.

Of course, there is always pressure when you are out in the field, but people have an impression that you are going to be great, just like Batman is and not some sort of d-tier vigilante. More so when Batman doesn't have any type of powers.

Just a human in peak physical and mental condition.

Now that is hard to beat, no matter how you look at it. And if (Y/N) made a mistake on the field, he would take it really hard. Everyone knew that mistakes were normal, but (Y/N) is taking it way to seriously. He just wanted to be the best.

But every ambition has it consequences. Every single one of them. (Y/N) has been more exhausted, he found it hard to smile anymore and before he smiled a lot.

There were times when he cried in his room, seemingly out of nowhere. Of course it isn't seemingly. The pressure from every single part of his life was piling and he couldn't identify it. For now at least.

He didn't notice how he withdrew from everyone. How he lost interest in doing things he loved doing before. He just focused on being the best of the best.

He had to be. Failure is not an option.

Bruce never pushed for perfection and he never will. He only wanted them to be able to protect themselves. Not to mention, every part of them gets sharpened. They are able to think quickly on their feet, observant in their environment...

But of course, there are the negatives. Mental battles and nightmares, not to mention trauma that comes with this... But there have to be both negative and positive sides for something to work.

The patrol was pure hell tonight. Nothing went right and (Y/N) got his ass handed back to him tonight. It seems like everyone targeted him tonight. Every single villain. (Y/N) was utterly pissed and frustrated. Bottled up feelings from months before didn't help at all.

He just wanted to go to his room and sleep. Just sleep it off and then punch boxing bags in the gym. For at least an hour. Or two. Depending if he is exhausted or not.

" (Y/N)? " Bruce called out to his son, who stopped on his way to the locker rooms. (Y/N) turned around, hands itching to take this suit off and just get under a warm shower.

" Yes? " (Y/N) asked, trying not to sigh.

" I need to talk to you about tonight. " Bruce started, thinking how to approach this. (Y/N) sometimes got frustrated and he would just blow up.

" I just want you to know that one night doesn't define you. Is it awful? Yes, but you can't always be that good. Some nights you are the best you can be and some you are just God kill me please. " Bruce started and (Y/N) looked down.

The boys were still in the cave, looking at the interaction. They felt that something was off with (Y/N) for some time now, but they couldn't approach him until they had more evidence.

Now they could see if Bruce is going to have some success with him.

" Not for me. "

" What do you mean? " Bruce asked concerned and confused.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened and now he knew he slipped up.

" What does it mean? "

" It means I'm always best. Not just one night. " (Y/N) started and Bruce tilted his head.

" What do you mean always? " Bruce repeated.

" Just like you heard, always. Doesn't matter with the suit on or off. " (Y/N) said and his voice cracked slightly at the end. The boys glanced at one another. Uh oh.

" What? "

That one word and sheer fact that Bruce couldn't understand pushed him over that edge. Everything boiled over and he couldn't even contain it anymore.

" Because everyone expects me too! The media, the other heroes, everyone! No matter what I do it seems that everyone has something to pick on! " (Y/N) yelled, his voice echoing through the cave. " No matter what! So by becoming the best I could, I could avoid the criticism! " (Y/N) yelled and afterwards he started crying.

Bruce wasted no time in hugging his son tightly. His poor son. The others joined in. They all felt bad. How didn't they act on their gut feeling?

How could they have been so stupid and blind?

" Oh my son... " Bruce said into (Y/N)'s hair, feeling the way that (Y/N) shifted to completely hide his face. " Why didn't you tell me? Or anybody else? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) didn't bother answering.

Not that he could anyway. It has been to overwhelming for him. He is taking out the feelings that were bottled up for a long time.

Everyone the others hugged (Y/N) tightly too. Their brother was suffering and they were too blind and to scared to approach him. How stupid could they be?

But they were going to make this right. No matter what.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #batfamily

[jupitercomet]

Alice Down the Rabbit Hole

summary - You should have known to question when Bob suddenly appeared in your bakery and made his place in your life—but, in your defense, his smile was so charming! Five dates in and he's already swept you off your feet completely with his thoughtful nature and kind heart. But the question still remains: what do you actually know about him? And why does he always come back to you covered in bruises?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, boxing inaccuracies probably, smut - (p in v, protected sex, brief finger sucking, fingering, spitting, like two spanks, implied aftercare), no use of y/n, I added outfit links but you can imagine whatever you would like

this series is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.0k

sweeter than sugar masterlist

“Not quite, you gotta— Move your foot forward a bit—”

You let out a huff, dropping your stance as you turn to face Bob. “Can you please just show me?”

The tips of Bob’s ears turn pink at the request, but he nods and takes a step towards you, lining up behind you as you turn back to the punching bag. He moves his hands to your hips, angling them with a gentle knee pushing against the back of your own.

“Like this.” His breath is warm against your ear and his hands slide up your forearms, positioning them correctly. “Good.”

You’re thankful that Bob is holding you up because you’re pretty sure his raspy voice in your ear would have you melting into the floor if he wasn’t.

Even though you and Bob had been on three dates already—with your fourth in just a couple days—you are still too prideful to admit that your boxing inquiry was just an attempt to see him more and so he is still under the impression that you actually want to learn. Your arms are suffering because of it, but your heart doesn’t care. And Eloise can laugh at you all she wants, she’s not the one who has Bob breathing against the shell of her ear as he moves his hands all over her body.

“Always make sure your hands are blocking your face. If you’re not punching, you want them up as a defense,” Bob instructs, moving your arms to match his words.

You nod, swallowing as Bob’s fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding you through a slow punch. Once your glove has made contact with the bag he brings it back parallel with your ear. He repeats the cycle a few more times, alternating hands, before you feel his gaze on your temple.

“That make sense?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

Bob mirrors your smile and, unfortunately, he drops your arms and steps away from you. “Good. Why don’t we call it for today? Don’t want you so sore you can’t eat your popcorn,” he teases gently.

Just because you refuse to admit the real reason behind your sudden interest in boxing, doesn’t mean you haven’t been complaining about it.

“Why do you think you’re coming, muscle man?” You grin.

“Oh, I see,” Bob chuckles as he helps you out of your gloves. “You only takin’ me on dates so you have someone to feed you popcorn?”

At the second reminder of your upcoming movie date, you can’t help but stretch onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to Bob’s cheek. “And don’t you forget it.”

Again, Bob is pink in the face, but his mouth is a content, small smile anyway. You aren’t sure if Bob is your boyfriend—you think he’s pretty close to it, but you’ve only been on three dates. He kissed you on your second date, right when he walked you to your door. And he does thoughtful things like texting you random updates throughout the day—you always get good morning and goodnight texts—and dropping by the bakery with coffee whenever he can. Bob isn’t your boyfriend. But you wouldn’t hate it if he was.

“Alright, you’re gonna be late if I keep you any longer.” Bob glances at the clock behind you. “Let me grab your stuff and I’ll walk you to your car.”

His hand intertwines with yours—that’s another thing he’s started doing - holding your hand—and he slings your gym bag over his shoulder. You swing your interlocked hands as he leads you out of Mav’s, politely waving goodbye to the woman at the front desk.

Squeezing Bob’s hand lightly, you get his attention. “If you come by Sugar Plum’s later, I’ll save you a blondie.”

“You bribin’ me?” Bob looks down at you with a smile.

You bat your lashes at him innocently. “Only if it’s working.”

“You’re seeing me Friday, sweet pea, you sure you won’t get sick of me?” Bob jokes as you reach your car.

“Not possible.” You shake your head resolutely.

He looks at you for a moment, perhaps searching your face for something, and then he’s dropping down to give you a quick peck. “Yeah, I’ll come by.” He promises.

You give him another kiss before he’s putting your stuff in the backseat and you’re getting in the driver’s side. You pull out with a wave goodbye and Bob waits for you to exit the parking lot completely before he heads back inside Mav’s.

There’s still a gnawing of guilt in his stomach every time you leave, but it’s lessened significantly. Since he started seeing you, Bob has cut down on his fights—something he knows Maverick isn’t happy about—and it’s made him feel a bit better about everything. He hasn’t fought since your first date and you’ve lit a small hope in him that maybe one day his lies to you will finally turn into truths.

He just needs more time to figure it out.

“So, who’s the girl?” There’s a teasing lilt in Adler’s voice and Bob stiffens.

“What?”

Adler just chuckles. “Is that how you wanna play this? That’s cute.”

“I’m not playing anything,” Bob argues, probably a little harsher than he intended, and it gives away that he is, in fact, playing something.

“Alright, tough guy, I’ll drop it. Simmer down,” Adler holds his hands up in surrender with a chuckle. “Just think it’s nice to see you so sweet on someone.”

“I—” Bob can tell Adler is enjoying this far too much so he clears his throat. “Did you need something?” He changes the subject.

At that, Adler falters slightly, a small sigh leaving his lips. “Mav’s got a fight for you. It’s a big one too, I don’t think you’re getting out of it.”

Bob swallows. “When?”

“Friday.”

“But… I have a date…” Bob feels like a child again, always coming to the bitter realization that things don’t work out for guys like Bob Floyd. 

Adler purses his lips, closing his eyes for a second before opening them. “Look, I’ll get Mav to push the fight back until after midnight— Lord knows they hardly fight during daylight hours anyway and I know Hangman’s been itching to fight since he got back so we can probably get him in the undercard. But then you have to be there, Cinderella. Got it?”

Bob nods hastily.

“Alright,” Adler pulls a white card from his pocket. “Here’s the address. You’re there or I’ll kick your ass personally, Reaper.”

“Ya know, I distinctly remember you sayin’ you weren’t gonna ask her out and now you’re on date number, what is it?” Mickey pretends to run through his fingers. “Four.” He grins, taking a happy bite of his doughnut.

“I don’t know,” Bob looks down bashfully. “She just— I don’t know. She’s way too good for me—”

“Then let her be. She clearly likes you too, Bo. Don’t you think she should be the one to decide what kind of guy she deserves?” Mickey gives him a stern, knowing look, though it loses some of its effect with the powdered sugar covering his mouth.

Bob takes a breath. In a little under half an hour, he’ll be picking you up and taking you to a movie. Somehow, without him even realizing it, you wormed your way into Bob’s life as a constant and Bob doesn’t mind in the slightest. Clearly he doesn’t, because even though everything in him tells him he doesn’t deserve you, he keeps seeing you. The white address card Adler gave him feels heavy in his pocket.

“But,” Mickey grabs Bob’s attention and gives him sympathetic eyes. “You do have to tell her the truth at some point.”

Bob nods slowly. “I know. I— I know. I will. Not tonight, but— If it goes any further, I will.”

“If it— Holy shit, you’re gonna ask her to be your girlfriend! Are you gonna do it like you did with Samantha in 9th grade, when you got so nervous, you tripped over your shoelace and—”

“You know, this isn’t making me want to introduce you to her,” Bob interrupts his best friend with a halfhearted glare.

“Please, the second you slip up and tell me her name, I’ll be marching my ass to Sugar Plum so fast,” Mickey scoffs. “But you’re still going out with her tonight right? Adler pushed your fight back?”

“Yeah, he did.” Bob confirms

“Do you know who you’re fighting?”

Bob shrugs lightly. “Razor, I think. He’s good, but he’s always been predictable. I should be fine, I’ve beaten him before.”

“I guess they don’t call you the Grim Reaper for nothing,” Mickey tries to joke.

Bob frowns slightly. Though he knows some of the other guys envy it, Bob doesn’t have the same appreciation for the nickname. It’s almost mocking in a way. A reminder that the very thing that makes him a bad person is what he’s good at, that he’s synonymous with all the pain he claims to hate. The first time he heard the word “Reaper” slip past your lips, it made him sick.

“Yeah.” Bob just agrees simply.

In that moment, he thinks of you. Your kind eyes and cute nose, the way you’re so sure you’ll never get sick of him. And maybe that’s why Bob likes you so much, you’re one of the few people in his life that makes him feel like Bob. Not Reaper or weak, naive Bo. You make him forget about all of that. And maybe he’s selfish, because he knows that, as soon as he tells you who he really is, that will change, but he likes being just Bob. He likes being your Bob.

“I should go.” Everything else fades away at the thought of seeing you and he bids Mickey goodbye. “I’ll see you later tonight.” He pauses at the front door. “And stop eating all my food.”

“I didn’t— I have no idea what we just watched.”

You laugh as you and Bob walk out of the theater. The temperature has dropped with the sun and your outfit isn’t the warmest, so you move a bit closer to him. He lets you, throwing his arm over your shoulder to shield you from the wind.

“Me neither,” you giggle.

Bob’s car comes into view and he opens the door for you, hurrying to turn the heat on. His car kick starts to life, the digital numbers of 10:05 blink back from his dashboard. You watch Bob’s profile as he pulls out of the movie theater parking lot, your bottom lip tucking into your teeth.

Though you had a fun time with Bob, you somewhat regret suggesting a movie. Because, aside from sharing popcorn and maneuvering over the large movie theater armrests to have a cliche movie date cuddle, you didn’t get a chance to do anything with him. And you really like doing things with Bob.

The two of you joke about the absurd movie you just watched as he drives you home and you do your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You don’t want this date to end. And, by date four, you’re sure of it - you really, really don’t want Bob to leave you alone tonight. 

All too soon, Bob is pulling up in front of your house and putting his car in park. He moves to say goodbye, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and your resoluteness weakens. Trying to hide your dejection, you get out of his car and start to head to your front door. Then you stop. Bob can’t even fully open his car door before you’re turning around.

“I’m ready to use my last question.”

Bob freezes.

You look somewhat nervous, but you’re putting on a brave face, fiddling with your skirt as you hold his gaze. Your feet stay planted on the sidewalk outside your small home, your porch light causing a glow to emanate from behind you. Bob swallows thickly.

“What’s your question?”

You take a breath, and then strengthen your resolve, meeting his eye with a small smile. “Do you want to come inside?”

Bob turns off his ignition. 

With every step he takes to follow you to your front door, Bob is at war with himself. He wants to be a gentleman—a good person—and he really doesn’t want to mess this up with you. He doesn’t deserve you, he knows that, but you’re intoxicating. A sugar high he never wants to end. Bob’s always had a sweet tooth and you’re sweeter than anything he’s ever known. He doesn’t want to mess up, but his need for you is only growing as the distance to your house shrinks.

He steps inside cautiously as you turn a light on. “This is a nice place—”

Bob has hardly closed your front door behind him before you’re pulling him down by his shoulders and smashing your lips onto his. It takes a second for his senses to catch up to him, but once they do, his hands find purchase on your hips, your legs hitting the arm of your couch as he responds to your kiss more feverishly. 

You pull away with a smirk, watching as Bob swallows thickly with his eyes trained on your lips. “I didn’t really invite you in to talk, Bob.”

Bob feels his grip tighten on your hips. Just from one kiss and that look in your eye, he’s straining in his jeans and it certainly doesn’t help that he can feel the outline of your panties through the fabric of your skirt. In the mere moments he’s been inside your place, Bob really hasn’t been able to stop himself from imagining you bent over every piece of furniture in the room.

“Sweet pea…” He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, restraint heavy in his tone. He doesn’t want to hurt you or take anything too far. He wants it to feel good for you. His eyes snap up to you when you grab his hand suddenly and trail it up to your chest. Unable to stop himself, Bob squeezes your breast lightly. “Are you sure?”

You nod, catching your lip between your teeth. “Please,” you whimper. “Want you to be rough with me.”

It’s like your words unlock something new inside Bob as a gasp leaves your lips as he gives your tit another, harder, squeeze.

“Oh, is that what you like?” Bob’s voice is rough—low—like a switch has been flipped and his eyes are almost black, a deep, oceanic blue that makes you feel like you’ve just changed the tide when you look into them. “Ask me for it then. Like a good girl.”

This Bob is a Bob you haven’t met yet. You recognize him, he’s still the man who shyly teaches you boxing and waits with you at the bakery, that hasn’t changed. But a domineering aura has overtaken him as he looks down at you. His thumb traces your bottom lip and, wordlessly, he slides it into your mouth. You blink up at him, hollowing your cheeks around the digit as he presses down on your tongue lightly.

When all you let out is a quiet moan, he clucks his tongue. “You don’t wanna talk, sweet pea? That's fine. I’m sure you make lots of other pretty noises.”

You squirm, the sound of his voice, his gentle hands, and his dizzying scent all making arousal pool in your panties, and you clench your thighs for some relief. Bob pulls his thumb from your mouth, coating your bottom lip with saliva.

“You gonna show me to the bedroom, sweet girl? Or am I fucking you here on the floor?” You never thought someone’s smile could make you feel like you’re about to climax, but when he grins at you wolfishly, you have to suppress a whimper. “Oh that’s right, you want it rough.”

Bob’s head dips to your ear and he traces the shell of it with his tongue. “I’m gonna bend you over this couch and fuck you until you cry.”

You want to tell him that you’d let him, but all that comes out is a shaky moan.

“You really gotta start using your words, sweet pea.” Bob shakes his head condescendingly and in one quick motion he has your stomach bent over the arm of your couch, the fabric of your skirt lifting with the bend. His hands flip the hem of it over your back, giving him a clear view of your ass and he kneads each cheek between his fingers. 

One of his hands wraps around the back of your panties, pulling them tight against your folds. They drag against your clit and you gasp. You can’t see anything he’s doing, so the sound of tearing fabric catches you off guard, but Bob’s wetting his fingers with your slick before you can say anything, a low grumble coming from his chest.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy.”

Your toes are only just touching the hardwood—most of your body slung over the couch—and they curl at his words. His index finger slides into you and he lazily drags it back and forth between your walls. His fingers are rough and calloused, textured from the amount of times he’s broken skin and it’s healed. 

You try to roll your hips against your couch for added stimulation, but Bob catches you almost immediately, swatting your ass with a growl. “Bad girl. You want something, you ask for it. And you use your fuckin’ manners.”

Though his words are gruff, his finger still stays at its tantalizingly slow pace. You whine into the couch cushions.

“More,” you beg. “Please, more.”

Another finger joins his index one and they’re so thick and they fill you up so good. Your thighs tremble.

It’s almost alarming how well Bob knows your body, how he finds a spot inside you and harps on it until you're wailing. As your orgasm approaches, your legs try to find purchase on the ground, kicking and squirming. The crack of Bob’s hand has you choking on a moan.

“Last warning, sweet pea.” His voice is low and it sends shock waves to your core. “Misbehave again and I’ll leave you here and get myself off with your panties, got it?”

Though the thought has you clenching around his fingers, you do your best to stay still, whining when he pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the back of your thigh.

Bob’s weight falls against your back suddenly, his mouth mere centimeters from your ear as he rubs soothing motions up and down your sides. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” His voice is warm and tender, reverting back to the way it always is with you. “Was that okay, sweet pea? Is this okay? We don’t have to—”

“Bob.” Given the circumstances, your voice isn’t that threatening but you’re able to muster up more than a breathless whimper. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.” 

Bob’s hands still against your hips, his weight lifting off of you. Your head is still buried in your couch cushion—even if you turn to one cheek, your vision is limited—so you hear Bob unzip his jeans more than you see him. And you hear him spit a wad of saliva onto your cunt. He rubs it into your folds lewdly with one hand, a groan escaping his lips as his spit glistens on your skin.

You cry out as he pushes into you, slowly dragging his cock along your walls. In your lustful haze, you must have missed him putting a condom on, but you feel the smooth latex as he inches into you. His hips press against your ass and he groans as he bottoms out.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweet pea.” His hands explore the expanse of your back as he starts moving at a harder pace.

Though he’s fucking you—truly and thoroughly—against the arm of your couch, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s rough, but he’s still gentle. Every movement is meant to bring you closer to release. Bob fucks you like his only purpose is your pleasure.

“That’s a good girl,” he grunts when you clench around him and if this is what good girls get, you don’t want to be anything but. “Droolin’ all over yourself. But you just can’t help it, can you? Messy girl.”

There’s a wet spot darkening the couch from your opened mouth, drool covering your chin and cheeks, but you don’t even care. He’s too much and not enough all at the same time and tears prick your eyes as he pounds into you in repeated, well-timed thrusts.

“That’s right, cry those pretty tears, sweet pea. Who’s makin’ you feel this good?”

“You, Bob! Oh fuck!— You!” You’re crying into the couch now—fulfilling the final part of Bob’s promise—unable to do anything but moan his name and expletives. 

You climax with a strangled cry, chest heaving as Bob follows soon after. He runs soothing hands up and down your back to ground you, slowly pulling out as he whispers praises. You can hear his heavy feet against your floors as he moves to discard his condom and then slide on his boxers. You think for the briefest of moments that he might just leave, but then his hand is on your back again and he’s gently lifting you off the couch. 

His brows are cinched together with worry when you blink your eyes open. “Are you okay? Was that too much? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you breathe.

Bob chuckles lightly, relaxing. “Yeah, okay, sweet pea. Where’s your bedroom, sweet girl?”

You’re not sure how long you’d been sleeping—it couldn’t have been more than a couple hours—before somewhat frantic rustling wakes you from your slumber. You groan, lifting your tired head from your pillow. Your movements alert Bob you're awake, the man currently pulling his jeans back on, and he rushes over to you apologetically. 

“I’m so sorry, sweet pea, this wasn’t how I wanted this to go at all. I swear I was gonna wake you up before I left.” He cups your cheeks with his hands as you blink at him blearily. “Something came up at work. I have to go.”

You rub at your eyes with a yawn, your voice small and tired. “You do?”

“Yeah, I didn’t realize—” He cuts himself off, eyes darting anywhere but your own before he finally looks back at you. “But I need you to know that I want to stay more than anything, I— I am so sorry, sweet pea.”

You hum sleepily as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and Bob suddenly pulls you in for a hard kiss. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers against your lips. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

You only nod, still confused as Bob throws his shirt over his head and gives you one last kiss before dashing out the door. If it were anyone else, you’d be hurt. A small part of you is. But it’s Bob. And he seemed so genuinely remorseful. And you’re still exhausted and half asleep, so this all feels somewhat like a dream. Maybe you can give the man who gave you the best orgasm of your life a bit of a pass.

Something white and rectangular catches your eye before you can go back to bed, laying on the floor close to where Bob had been kneeling minutes prior. You lean over your mattress to pick it up, looking at it in confusion. You have to read over the words a couple times and your brows furrow.

Spiderhead Boxing

783 Ragnarok Road

join my Bob Floyd taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

Bob taglist: @cottagecori @bobgasm @kmc1989 @berryjuicyy

#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd imagines #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd angst #bob floyd smut #bob floyd au #bob imagine #bob imagines #bob x reader #bob fluff #bob angst #bob smut #bob au #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #sweeter than sugar #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

[dorayakichan]

can I req a Joker fic where reader was with dom & vinny & we met him ( im not sure what chapter it was but it was the one where Joker made his first appearance & where he smacked the crap out of that boxer)

Joker x gn!reader first time meeting

A/N: Hi anon! So sorry for the late reply I was busy with exams so it took some time for me to find the free time to do this. It's actually shorter than I had planned in the beginning and it feels like it needs a part 2. I'd be happy to do one if so. And hope you enjoy it!!!

“I’m only helping you for three hours today then I’m out of here. Just so you know.”  Vinny told Dom as you approached the two boys you had seen at a distance while getting out of the new cake shop a friend had told you about at school.

“Helping him for what?” You who had gone unnoticed by the two young boys until then asked, making them both jump at the sound of your voice right behind them.

“OH MY GOD! YOU SCARED US! Why do your footsteps resemble that of a ghost? And why are you here?” Dom, who looked at least better than in the morning at class, asked.

“I was not scared.” Vinny who didn’t waste a second after hearing Dom finish added. It took everything inside of you not to point out the fact that he had flinched the most when hearing your voice. “I asked you first but whatever, I was here to buy cake.” You lifted the plastic bag with the cake inside.

“Oh, where? I want one too!” Dom's eyes lit up having forgotten about his sickness as you and Vinny glanced at each other sighing. “Wait…Look, are they holding some kind of event there?” Dom pointed at a huge crowd of people just slightly further from where you three were standing.

“Let’s go watch for a minute.” He ran not even waiting for any of you to respond. “Was he totally lying about being sick?” “I can’t tell anymore.” you honestly answered Vinny's question pressing your lips together, staring at Dom’s back with a disapproving look.

As you approached you could see a guy with white gloves trying to hit another one who had a red headgear and boxing gloves on. As the white one’s time finished the red gloved guy explained the rules waiting for the next opponent.

It all became quiet when an extremely tall guy with an orange shirt went inside the circle people had left open for the 1 minute match to happen. “I want a proper fight for one minute.” His smoky voice reined through the hushed sounds of the people around you penetrating right through your ears. You attempted to see more of his features as you pushed Dom and Vinny to have a better look. From your point of view, you could only see the deep scar on the side of his mouth and the white patch on his eye.

“What are you doing? Come at me! I will show you what a real fight is.” The red gloved guy said as the orange shirt guy put on the white gloves. He aimed at him with one strong punch as the other guy avoided it. He was not prepared for the punch to change direction and hit him straight on the side making his headgear rotate on his head. All this in just a few seconds!

“WOW!” You exclaimed. 

The red gloved guy adjusted his headgear and went for a punch right at his face. Which the orange shirt guy took, without flinching and just minutes after that threw a powerful punch at him throwing him on the ground.

“That was insane. He was fantastic. Woah!” Through the crowd, your voice was the only one that made the orange guy’s head jerk and glance straight at you for some seconds. “Hey doesn’t it seem like we’ve seen him before?” Dom wondered, making you realize that in fact you had seen him before but you could not pinpoint exactly where. As you were still in a daze observing the orange shirt guy, you heard Dom call you.

“Hey guys! We’ve got trouble. Jay says his bike is gone!” “What??” you and Vinny both shouted at the same time. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know, just follow me.” Dom who as always did whatever he wanted ran leaving you both no choice but to follow suit behind. Before leaving you turned your head one last time.

The orange shirt guy was staring at you with an unreadable facial expression. It was just a moment. A stolen glance yet it felt like an eternity. As you followed both Vinny and Dom to where Jay was, all you could think about was those seconds. It felt as if the world had stopped moving, the people disappearing from your view as all you could do was gaze at him and he at you.

Something had sparked that night and you would soon find out what that was and the whirlwind of disasters it would bring to both of you. 

#windbreaker #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker fanfic #windbreaker joker #windbreaker joker x reader #windbreaker manhwa

[hqbaby]

twenty-four — get it now

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.1k content. swearing, big feelings, not much rly?

You wouldn’t say you’ve ever been a violent person. Sure, there were the occasional punches you threw at Oikawa and the slap wars with Yachi and that one time you and Yukie decided to box each other in the gym… but those times don’t count. They’re your friends and you only fight them because you love them.

The point is that you’ve never wanted to punch a stranger. Not until now at least.

It’s the weekend after midterms and you and a few of your friends have managed to pool some money together (mostly Sakusa) to rent a villa near the beach. Granted, it’s basically winter and none of you have any intentions of swimming, but you’re all usually caught up with training in the spring and summer so this is your only real chance to do this.

So here you are, gathered with your friends in the living room over mountains of food, talking over some reality dating show… meeting Suna’s girlfriend.

“This is Ayame,” he tells the group, his arm around her waist. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Everyone is stunned. And rightfully so. They all know that Suna and the word “girlfriend” just don’t mix. At least, they’ve never seen it happen before. They never thought they would.

It’s your boyfriend who speaks up first.

“Well I’ll be damned!” he says, smiling widely. Like he’s just won a prize. “Yer the girl he’s been seein’ for a while now, aren’t ya?”

The girl blushes a little at that, offering a soft smile.

She’s pretty. You’ll give her that. And, honestly, in any other context, you would actually want to get to know her, to be her friend.

Maybe if Suna’s arm wasn’t around her waist—holding her the same way he used to hold you—you wouldn’t feel the urge to tackle her. Right now, you’re about ready to jump up from the couch and grab her hair.

“It’s so nice to meet you all,” she says, tamping your violent intentions. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing your weekend together.”

Atsumu speaks again. “We don’t mind at all! We’d love to have our Sunarin’s girlfriend with us.”

Suna glares at him. “Whatever,” he says, picking up her bags and leading her to the stairs. “I’m gonna help her get settled.”

The two of them walk up to the second floor and, when everyone hears the door upstairs open and close, the room erupts into chaos.

“Who the fuck was that?” Aran.

“That man’s a mystery!” Hinata.

“I wonder what’s wrong with her.” Osamu.

“Did she take off her shoes?” Sakusa.

“She has a pretty smile!” Bokuto.

“Did we all see the same thing?” Kita.

"Okay, I think she took off her shoes." Sakusa.

“I think it’s great!” Atsumu.

You glance over at your boyfriend sitting beside you, brows furrowed as you catch his beaming smile and bright eyes. “You think it’s great?”

He turns to you and nods. “I mean, he finally has someone. That’s cool, right?”

There’s an edge to his tone that you’ve only picked up on now. What is it?

“Right,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “It is—it’s good for him.”

The truth is that Atsumu hasn’t brought up your relationship with Suna since you first talked about it. You have a feeling he’s been avoiding the subject entirely. You haven’t been too keen on discussing it either so you just never mentioned it.

You don’t know how he actually feels about the whole thing. And, if you’re being honest, you’re a little scared to find out.

The boys eventually head down the basement to mess with the pool table while you, Kaori, and Yachi grab a bottle of wine and play a game of Monopoly. You’re all cheating and the rules are entirely lost on account of you constantly distracting each other with new topics to talk about, but you’re having fun.

Until you’re not.

“Hey,” Suna greets the three of you—well, it’s more like he greets Yachi and Kaori with how much he’s avoiding your eyes, but it’s the thought that counts. His girlfriend is right behind him. “Where are the guys?”

“Basement. They’ve been waiting for you,” Kaori answers, she rolls the dice and waves at the girl behind him. “You wanna join us?”

Your eyes flick over to Kaori’s across the coffee table, but all she does is give you a look like “What are we supposed to do? Ignore her?” and you know she’s right. You can't be rude.

You look up at the girlfriend and smile. “Yeah, join us!” you say cheerily. “The boys are lame anyway.”

She starts at your sudden attention but hides it well. She’s clearly had some practice. “Oh, sure,” she says. “Thank you.”

Suna makes a face like he’s about to say something but decides against it. With a short nod and a quick glance at you, he says he’ll see you all later and walks out of the room.

“So who’s winning?” the girlfriend asks, sitting down on the carpet at the empty side of the table—beside you.

“Oh, no one really,” you tell her. “We’ve mostly been talking.”

She smiles. “I get that,” she says. “I can’t even watch movies with my friends anymore. We just talk over them.”

“We do too!” Yachi says, rolling the dice and taking her turn. “Y/N’s the worst of us though.”

You stick your tongue out at her. “Says the person that talked through Barbie.”

“I had to pee and no one was catching me up!”

You and Kaori laugh, taking your turns at the game.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier,” you tell the girl as you pay Yachi.

“Oh!” she says. “It’s Ayame.”

You nod at her, smiling so sweetly you almost make yourself sick. “I’m Y/N,” you say before looking over at your friends, “and that’s Kaori and Yachi.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Highly doubt that.

“What’s your major?” Yachi asks. “Shoot, Kao, I rolled the die under the couch.”

“I’m an econ major,” Ayame says, laughing a little as Kaori struggles to grab the die. “Need help?”

Kaori shakes her head, pulling her arm from under the couch and holding the die up for all to see. “Tada!” she says before turning her attention back to Ayame. “Why econ?”

The girl shrugs. “Parents.”

“Same.” Kaori sighs. “They made me go into marketing.”

“I’m in marketing too,” Yachi says. “That’s how Kaori and I met.”

Ayame nods before turning to look at you. “Y/N, you’re taking chem, right?”

You focus on the board in front of you, keeping your eyes away from her when you answer. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

She giggles and you can’t help but feel your blood boil at the sound. It just sounds so light and airy and sweet, no one should be able to laugh that way. “Everyone kinda knows you,” she says. “You’re the campus dream girl.”

“Ah,” you say, letting out a chuckle. You sound so fake. “Right.”

The four of you continue exchanging the regular pleasantries. Where are you from? What highschool did you go to? How were your midterms?

The more she talks, the more you start to hate Ayame even more... because there's absolutely nothing wrong with her. She’s so perfect it makes you wish you could just spontaneously combust.

“So you and Suna, huh?” Kaori eventually says. “That’s interesting.”

You narrow your eyes at her slightly, hoping Ayame doesn’t catch on. “Yeah, we were all wondering about that, Kao.”

The girl seems oblivious to your tone. Or at least she doesn’t care enough to react to it. “Oh, well, you know,” she says, placing her hands on the carpet behind her and leaning back. “He’s not exactly the commitment type.”

Yachi nods. “Yeah, we wouldn't necessarily peg him as that.”

You clear your throat. “So how did you guys get together?” you ask, trying to sound as natural as possible.

Ayame seems to shrink a little at that. You wonder why. “We were kinda seeing each other casually for a while,” she explains. “About two weeks ago, we decided to make it official.”

Kaori stills, having the same realization as you. “Two weeks?”

“Yup. Before midterms season.”

Two weeks ago, you had just gotten home from your trip visiting family. Two weeks ago, Suna told Atsumu something about what happened between the two of you. Two weeks ago, you came clean to your boyfriend about what had happened. 

For two whole weeks you’ve been wondering what Suna told him.

For two whole weeks, he’s been with this girl. This girl who looks too good, too kind, too sweet to deserve anything less than the best. The complete opposite of you, the complete opposite of Suna, the complete opposite of what anyone deserves.

You don’t even realize you’re standing up until Kaori asks if you’re okay.

“Yeah, I am,” you reassure her, trying your best to keep the smile from slipping off your face. “I just need some air. I’ll be right back.”

You slip out of the room, putting on a stray sweater from a nearby couch, and stepping out into the backyard of the rental. You sit on one of the benches outside, the whole place dark save for a few lampposts and the stars in the night sky.

You find your phone in your pocket and tap the top name in your contacts, trying to catch your breath.

“Hello?” the voice on the other line says. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You’re scared that you'll end up choking on nothing. “Tooru,” you say quietly, a strangling sensation gripping your throat. “I-he—well, it’s… bad. I don’t feel good.”

“What? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

The panic in his voice snaps you out of your haze.

“No! Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you tell him. “Sorry. I just didn’t know who to call.”

You hear him breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of your words. “Okay,” he says, clearly still concerned, “but what’s wrong?”

You let out a sob. You didn’t know you were crying.

“He has a girlfriend,” you say, crouching and putting your head in your hands. You don’t even try to wipe your tears, they’d just keep coming anyway. “And she’s pretty and sweet and completely innocent in all this and… I should’ve seen it coming.”

You don’t even need to say his name for Oikawa to know who you’re talking about. 

He sucks through his teeth, worried about you and a little disappointed that you’re having this conversation in the first place. He knew you were still being weird about Suna, but he figured that being Atsumu had changed things for you. He should’ve known things wouldn't change that much that soon.

“That sucks,” he says eventually. “I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

You shake your head, holding the phone to your ear. “I’m being stupid.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I already have Atsumu. This is so fucking dumb.”

“Stop it.”

“I honestly don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he cared about me—”

His voice is hard on the other line. “No,” he says firmly. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

You take a deep breath, sucking in the salty air drifting from the ocean. “Sorry, Tooru,” you tell him. “I’m okay. Just a sucky moment. Sorry.”

You hang up before he can even say another word. You just sit there on the bench, staring at the beach as the waves overtake the shore, the chill winds that come with the end of fall surrounding you.

“Y/N?”

Fuck.

“Ayame, hey,” you say, wiping your eyes as best as you can. “Is everything good?”

She nods, closing the door to the house behind her. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” she tells you. The girl steps closer, cautiously taking a seat on the bench a good distance away from you. “Are you good?”

“Oh, yeah, never been better,” you say, waving it off. “Allergies.”

She nods. “Right.”

You pick at your nails anxiously, unable to say anything else. There’s just something about having her sit beside you that sets your lungs ablaze. You’re burning from inside out and you can’t say it’s a good feeling.

“You should talk to him.”

Your head bolts up at that, staring at Ayame with a confused look. “What do you mean?”

The expression on her face could be anything. Pity? Worry? Concern? Jealousy? You can’t tell. All you know is she probably feels bad about something.

“Suna,” she says, the name rolling off her tongue like a knife to the heart. “You should talk to him. He might have some things to say to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ayame reaches out and places a hand on top of yours. She smiles. “I think I get it now.”

You frown. Why is she touching you? And why aren’t you pulling away? “Get what?”

“Talk to him,” she says, squeezing your hand. She gets up and heads for the door. “Just… listen to what he has to say.”

She steps inside the house and closes the door behind her, leaving you gaping in confusion in her wake.

What would he have to say?

notes. now everyone say THANK YOU AYAME also!! we are kinda entering the end zone 🫣 idk how to feel abt that yet but YEAH HERE WE ARE

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

[sunboki]

🎥 NEXT TUESDAY ┆ part one of "My Shirt"

boxer!lee minho x gn. reader

warnings — cursing

genre — boxer au, enemies to lovers, hinted strangers to lovers

word count — 1.2k

aug’s notes — got reminded of how leeknow used to do boxing, wanted to write something i might follow up on with a part two? this is kinda like a test product :)

“You should take a self defense class since you live alone now dear.”

No Mrs. Kathy, you don’t need a self defense class. You don’t want to go to a self defense class, and living alone does not make you a weak and vulnerable person. In fact, you’re thriving with your own company.

But that’s not what you said. Of course not, Mrs. Kathy was simply a nosy old woman doing her nosy old job, it felt pathetic to let her words get under your skin.

“I might do that! Thank you for the suggestion.” You lied, lips pulled into a tight smile.

As much as you would’ve preferred to disregard the interaction and proudly admit what she said was long forgotten, it wasn’t. Instead, it bugged and bugged. Until you simply couldn’t bear to repeat that god-forsaken phrase for the 100th time and had to confess.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Kathy is a nice woman but this is really, really getting to me.” You deflate, arms stretched out on the wooden table. Sitting across from you Chris, your coworker, cocks a brow. He’s impressed. It’s been a while since you’ve had an itch like this.

“Look at you, dealing with your first problem in the big scary adult world.” God, even if you went deaf you’d still hear the teasing in his voice.

Except you’re used to this, used to his antics despite the sweetness you know him for personally. Chris was an older brother to you, an undeniably attractive and charismatic brother that was being an ass at the moment.

You mutter a “I’ve been in the adult world” under your breath, assuming he heard the remark from the knowing smirk sent your way. Great help dude. You’re a savior.

“‘Just playing, I can hook you up.” There’s a certain lilt to his voice you can’t quite translate as he stares down at his drink, dissolving the salt covering the rim of his margarita into the cocktail.

“Hook me up? This isn’t arranging my marriage so I can make sure to get married before thirty asshole.” He scoffs at your bitterness, warm brown eyes flickering back at you with mischief glittering beneath hardly visible irises.

“I mean you wouldn’t be living alone anymore-OKAY okay. But on a serious note. I can arrange something. I have a friend. His name’s Minho, I think he’d be the perfect person to help you out.”

There’s that lilt in the voice again, and somehow, perhaps in the midst of your desperation, you agree.

2 pm, Tuesday. In front of the real sketchy looking building. You have to walk into the place and go down the stairs to your left, from there you’ll figure it out.

If GTA was real, you think one of the buildings would look like the one in front of you.

Graffiti covered the walls, and you couldn’t feel more out of place in the foreign downtown surroundings. Minho. His name was Minho. That’s all you need to remember. Oh, and the stairs to your left. That too.

When you first stepped in, you were pleasantly surprised to find the space not occupied with greasy men and the smell of cigarette smoke, but a diner. Light blue hues here and there, and dimmed lights placed above each booth. A few glances here and there, but the atmosphere wasn’t all too bad.

Almost immediately you caught sight of the stairs hidden in a far corner, your step forward increasing the sound of bass seeping through the walls—getting louder as you approached the door at the bottom. And whatever had earlier crossed your mind was now completely gone without a trace upon turning the knob.

Inside was a boxing ring. Not a self defense class or a gym, but a nicely sized room with a boxing ring on one side and punching bags scattered on the other. Even with the new surroundings, the revelation of what you’d gotten yourself into hadn’t quite registered yet. Especially not when the one man appearing to be around your age in the middle of the ring pulled off his helmet and boxing gloves and turned to face you.

He was painstakingly beautiful. Dyed grey hair tousled in bizarre directions due to the helmets jostling, dark chestnut eyes similar to that of Chris’ yet the strangers’ were more soulful.

“I think I came to the wrong place, sorry I’ll be leaving..” You hurriedly reach for the door before he speaks, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“If you’re the one Chris mentioned you’re in the right place. Either come or go, don’t waste my time.”

Initially he seemed passive, his tone then distorting into impatience. To say his bluntness surprised you underestimated the situation. With these circumstances though you found yourself more enticed than offended.

“You really suck at introductions.” One step forward, one step closer to this stranger you had no idea about. He could’ve been a mass killer for all you knew. It didn’t matter right now because his attitude was the only thing determining your next move.

“Oh? Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings sweetheart,”

He leaned forward, a conniving tilt of his head used to address you.

“Lee Minho. It’s a pleasure.”

One fact about Lee Minho. He has a shit-eating smile when he gets his way. It pisses you off.

“I could say the same.” You basically spat, watching him collect additional gear.

He threw the items your way, leading you into the ring. The more you considered it the funnier it became, realizing you were surely not dressed in proper boxing attire compared to this noticeable veteran.

“Ever boxed before?”

“Nope, I do want to beat that look off your face though.” His shit-eating smile returned, giving you a once over.

Opening his arms, it’s almost like he’s daring you to give it your all. Another part of Lee Minho that pisses you off. His arrogance.

Somehow, it’s kind of hot.

You wait for his move, dodging narrowly and attempting to land hits yourself till you notice a glove placed on your shoulder. Holding there, not going through with the move.

“There.”

“And there.” This cycle goes on, pointing out open spots. Your frustration bubbles furiously, blindly swinging before being swiped off your feet to pummel on the ground in exhaustion. Minho squats down from above you, index tapping your chest that causes you to squeak out in surprise.

“I’d recommend wearing a thicker shirt next time, but I don’t mind the view.” Embarrassingly enough, due to the sweat clinging to your skin your bra was very much visible through your shirt. The man only shrugging and hopping to his feet.

Wait.

“Next time?” Your lips pull at the corners, following not far behind him putting equipment away. He doesn’t reply, earning a satisfied hum from you. Bingo.

Out of nowhere, a t-shirt is thrown your direction.

“Put it on. You can give it to me next Tuesday. You better come back.”

You somewhat wish you would’ve said thank you of a sort, maybe bothered him about his red ears. Except all you did was wave a goodbye and watch him disappear upstairs. Apparently marking the end of this uniquely strange.. boxing class? Something like that.

. ..

FaceTiming Chris the next morning before work, you listened to him talk until the line quieted and you found him squinting at your shirt.

"Whose shirt is that?"

all rights reserved by @sunboki. repost and plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#straykids x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz leeknow #skz lee minho #skz lee know #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee minho x y/n #lee minho fluff #lee know angst #lee know fluff #lee minho x you #lee minho angst #lee minho x reader

[writingduhh]

either ted or schlatt when reader gets their period?

- ⁉️, could I be an anon?

But of course my love! I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Also I’m open for requests! Preferably HC, Mood-boards, and longer fanfics for the chuckle sammy boys!

Chuckle Sandwich ||Time Of The Month (HC)

❥ Jschlatt

▷ I feel like he’s the type of boyfriend who would be a little uncomfortable, at least at first. Not because he thinks it’s gross or makes him uncomfortable, more like he doesn’t want to mess up or accidentally upset you (plus he only has a brother) .

▷ However, he’s very willing to learn. Especially if it means being able to take care of the love of his life.

▷ Finding things in his search history such as, “How to help partner on period?”, “How to stop cramps?”, “Why do periods happen?”

▷ Let’s you use him as a human punching bag if you need to release some anger.

“We really need to get you some boxing lessons, doll…”

▷ Offers you his hoodies/sweatshirts. He wants you to be as comfy as possible. Plus he loves to see you in his clothes, ofc

▷ He’d probably make you a whole blanket nest on the couch. Complete with pillows, snacks, and him waiting to cuddle with you

▷ Uses this time as an excuse to lay with you all day. (Totally not an excuse to be lazy… It definitely is)

▷ Suggests using the cats as ‘natural heating pads’

▷ He insists that he should go to the store to get you pads/tampons so you can ‘rest’

“Babe what size do you wear?“

“What do you mean the S stands for super?”

▷ Spends about 20 mins just reading the boxes or looking up reviews. He wants to make sure he gets the best products for you.

▷ Ends up buying 3 different strengths/sizes, plus a little treat for you.

“Thanks so much for going to the store for me… is this beef jerkey?”

“Well, I assumed that you might be craving something to snack on… So I just guessed and got you my favorite thing.” He explains, kissing your forehead.

▷ It’s the thought that counts 😭😭

▷ Definitely babies you. He won’t let you get anything yourself, he insists on bringing it to you.

❥ Ted

▷ I feel like Ted is the type of boyfriend that is very knowledgeable about periods. So needless to say he’s very on-top of things.

▷ Keeps a stash of your products under the sink “Just In Case.” Probably even keeps extra clothes for you as well. (Or just insists you borrow his)

▷ Very understanding of your mood swings / Pms symptoms.

▷ He’s always there when you need him. A shoulder to cry on, he’s right there. Someone to rant to, he’s listening. Someone to just hold you, his arms are wide open.

▷ Literally your professional teddy bear

▷ Theres a good chance he secretly keeps track of your cycle. (I low-key could see this) This way he knows whatever phase you’re in and how best to help you.

▷ Seems to always be learning some new techniques or ‘hacks’ in order to help you.

“I saw this video on how to massage out cramps. Can I try?”

“Can I try to find the pressure points that help cramps? I watched a video on it.”

▷ Let’s be real, it’s mainly an excuse just to touch you.

▷ Cooks all your favorite meals and makes sure you’re eating enough calories/protein.

▷ Essentially he gives you the princess treatment. You don’t have to even lift a finger.

#chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #hc #jschatt #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt x reader #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison #ted nivison headcanons #ted nivison x you #jschlatt fluff #ted nivison x y/n #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt fanfic #ted nivison imagine #ted nivison fluff #chuckle sandwich x reader #imagine #ted nivison fanfiction #youtube #jschlatt x you #ted nivison fic #jschlatt #jschlatt imagines #schlatt imagine #ted x reader #ted nivison fanfic #schlatt

[flieslikeamoron]

Hi! For the first sentence game:

"You want to try that again?" he asks.

Sorry this took a while, but it turned into a whole thing. This is like 2.5K. Not really explicit, but there are some boners and stuff of that nature.

---

“You want to try that again?” he asks.

“I don’t need your pity,” Steve says sourly. “I’ll take my stupid three.”

“It’s not pity.” Eddie laughs and waves a hand, generous as a king. “You have advantage.” 

“You get to roll twice,” Dustin says. “And take the highest.”

“I know what advantage is, dipshit.” Steve rolls his eyes as the number comes up.  “A whole seven.” He makes a whoop-di-doo motion with his finger.

“Your persuasion check fails.” Eddie leans forward threateningly over the screen in front of him. “The guard rings the alarm bell.” A chorus of groans rise around the table. Eddie grins, shifting into the growling scream of a wrestling announcer. “Rrrrolll for initiative.”

___

Steve comes out of the kitchen with a garbage bag in his hand after the kids have all gone. The little shits leave a disaster area of junk everywhere they go: half eaten pizza crusts, scribbled notes, mysterious piles of crumbs that don’t look like anything Eddie actually saw them eat. Steve reaches across the table to pick up a paper plate. He ditched his sweater halfway through the game, a bit of chest hair peeking out of the V of his polo. Eddie blinks and looks away. He sweeps all the miniatures off the table into his old ammo box with a clatter. 

Steve sets the garbage bag down and snatches the box from Eddie’s hand. He glares at Eddie and starts organizing the haphazard jumble. “Come on, man. There’s a system.”

“I have my own system. It’s called not having OCD.”

“It’s called not being able to find the ones you need next week.”

“What are you, alphabetizing them?”

“Like I know their names,” Steve scoffs, holding up a furry, long-fanged monster. 

“Bugbear,” Eddie says.

“Nerd,” Steve says fondly. Like he didn’t spend four hours at the table tonight. Lately Steve has become, if not a weekly player, at least a recurring guest star. He likes to gripe and act like it’s such a chore. Like he’s doing Dustin a favor. Or humoring Eddie. Being supportive of his nerdy-ass hobbies. Giving up his oh so busy Friday night.

Eddie knows better. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t play. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t keep his character sheet updated. Wouldn’t cover the back with careful notes of the names of each NPC the party meets, bits of lore. 

No, Eddie is onto him. Steve gets pushy about his XP in that competitive jock way he has about him. Just as excited about beating one of Eddie’s traps or monsters as the kids. That lit up glint in his eye every time he reminds Eddie he’s immune to charm or poison, like he’s getting one over on him. He’s having fun. And Eddie-

Well.

Eddie came to terms with the fact that he’s horny for his straight roommate long ago. That maybe he even has a fucked up little crush on the guy. But the really fucked up thing is Steve spends a pretty significant amount of time sweaty and shirtless around Eddie, and watching him total up his damage, not forgetting to add his bonuses, is somehow hotter. 

Steve glances up from the minis. Whatever’s on Eddie’s face must be a doozy because his eyebrows knit together briefly. But then he smiles. God. The way a smile looks on him. He starts talking about the stat boost he’s going to get when he levels up. He talks about it like he’s been borrowing Eddie’s Player’s Manual on the sly. Hair drooping down over his forehead and that smile on his face and that polo tight against his chest. Eddie wants to jump his bones so bad, it feels like someone punching him in the dick. But in a good way.

“I could put it into strength or charisma,” Steve is saying. “I was thinking charisma, so I could get that plus two.”

“That’d almost catch you up to real life.”

“You think I have a plus three to charisma?” Steve cocks his head, half smiling, half curious. Like he’s trying to figure out if that was a joke or an actual compliment. This is where things get dangerous. Being around him makes Eddie feel almost feverish: too hot, fuzzy headed, all wound up with wanting shit he can’t have. And he’s around him all the time. 

The problem with Steve is he doesn’t act like any straight guy Eddie’s ever known. Most straight guys treat Eddie kind of like he’s contagious. Not making a big deal, just… Leaving space. It’s fine that you’re gay, but don’t touch me. It’s fine, but don’t put it in my face. Don’t make it too real. It’s fine, but- It’s the kind of thing that makes Eddie want to push. Get up in a guy’s space, press right against that uncomfortable but. It’s almost a game. Pretty dangerous game, he knows that. Poking at the violence most guys have in them. But Eddie likes the fuck you of it, the little bit of fear in that step they take back when he gets too close. 

Steve though- Steve doesn’t back down from anything. Not monsters, not an argument, not even a guy hitting on him. No matter how hard Eddie pushes, he hasn’t found anything that can make Steve blink, take a step back. When Eddie leans into his space, expecting him to flinch, he just slings an arm around Eddie to pull him in even closer. If he touches Steve, Steve touches him back. And Eddie can say the most insane shit. Flirty shit, blatant shit. Steve just plays along. Like it’s all good fun. 

Is it really Eddie’s fault if he forgets himself sometimes? Starts running his mouth way too close to the truth? What is Eddie supposed to do when Steve takes all Eddie’s big boys and sweethearts with a pleased smile? What is Eddie supposed to do with the way Steve sprawls out on the couch after a date? Lays his head in Eddie’s lap and plays with Eddie’s rings while he talks about whether this girl gave good head or why he doesn’t think that girl will work out. 

This is the kind of shit he’s dealing with, okay? Just the other day Steve came out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel around his waist. And Eddie leaned in to smell him. Look, he’s very aware of how weird that was. But he’d been half asleep, and he’d just- He hadn’t been thinking. It happens kind of a lot with Eddie, actually. He doesn’t think. Maybe that’s why Steve didn’t step back, or give him a well deserved push. Didn’t even look at him funny for doing something objectively weird. Objectively fucked up. He laughed and yanked Eddie in until his nose was squashed into the warm curve of Steve’s armpit. Steve’s hand wide on the back of Eddie’s head as he pushed Eddie’s face in there, tight. 

“Take a big whiff,” he said, like he didn’t care that Eddie was pressed up against his bare skin, body to body with Eddie’s hand curving around his waist, brushing against his back. Like he didn’t care that Eddie’s hard dick was obvious against his thigh. 

When he let Eddie go, his gaze flicked down to Eddie’s boner. Just as obvious. Making sure Eddie knew he’d noticed it. A teasing lilt to his voice as he said, “Bathroom’s all yours.” Practically inviting Eddie to jerk off. Practically inviting Eddie to think about him while he did it. And Eddie did. Not for the first time, or the last. 

What is he supposed to do with any of that except want Steve even more? Sometimes he wishes Steve was just a little less- Cool with it. Not that he wants Steve to look at him with that “It’s fine, but-” on his face. It would be easier though, in a way. If Steve didn’t let him get so close. Didn’t let him press his grubby face up against the glass, so close to what he wants it’s hard to remember he can’t have it. 

Steve turns to Eddie with his fist propped under his chin. “Tell me about my charms,” he says. “What is it about me exactly that makes me so damn charismatic?” Voice playful, flirty. Dangerous. 

If there’s one thing Eddie knows how to do, it’s bluff. Hey, just joking. You can take a joke, right? “That face, mostly,” he says, putting a palm right into it, pushing Steve away with his cheek turned. Steve lets Eddie move him with an easy laugh. “And your modesty, obviously.”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, still laughing. He moves farther down the table to dump another plate in the garbage bag. He reaches over to gather up a few dice, pausing over the blue one he used during the game. He holds it up, turning it between his thumb and forefinger. He looks over at Eddie, his dark eyes catching Eddie’s. Catching Eddie staring. Eddie quickly busies himself with rolling up his battle map. 

“I don’t think I had a single roll over ten all night.” Steve gives the die a toss down the length of the table, flailing a hand as it comes up a four. “I think it’s weighted.” 

Eddie snorts. “It isn’t.”

“You gave me a weighted die. You’re a goddamn cheater.” He hides a grin behind the accusation, but Eddie plays along as if he’s serious. Who’s Eddie kidding? Half the fights they’ve had, Eddie picked on purpose just because it was fun. Riling each other up for the hell of it.  

“I’m not,” he says. “I’ll prove it.” He plucks the die off the table and shakes it in his hand. “If I roll above a ten, you have to clean up this mess.”

Steve glares, flapping the garbage bag in his hands around in front of him like a matador cape. Annoyance is his second hottest look, in Eddie’s expert opinion. Indignant color on his cheeks, eyes bright. Eddie wants to bite the petulance on his lip. “I’m already cleaning it up.”

“Yeah, but I’m helping you,” Eddie says. “You have to do it by yourself if I win.”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much to lose.”

“Shut up, I’m helping.” Eddie performatively drops a plastic cup in Steve’s bag with a bow.

“That cup wasn’t empty,” Steve huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you to dump it in the sink first. Now it’s going to leak probably and I’ll have to…” Eddie tunes the rest out. Steve’s right, he has heard it before. He rolls the die down the table with a flourish, holding up a finger in Steve’s direction like “wait a sec” and watching as it lands on a fifteen.

“Not a cheater,” he said triumphantly. “And not helping anymore.”

“One good roll doesn’t prove if it’s weighted or not. It’s about the patterns.” Steve rolls again. A two. He motions to it with attitude in the sweep of his hand.

“Fine,” Eddie says. “I’ll go again. How about I roll above a ten two more times, or hey, let’s make it three, if you really want a pattern. If I win, you have to do my laundry.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Like you’ll follow through if I win.” 

Eddie places a dramatic hand on his heart, his voice going shocked. “You’ve besmirched my honor.” 

Steve breaks, a laugh cutting through his frown. He gives Eddie a skeptical “go ahead then” tilt of his chin. Eddie rolls. An eleven. He walks backward from one end of the table to the other, to pick up the die where it landed. Makes sure to bump into Steve as he passes. “Pardon me, big boy,” he says sweetly. Steve pushes him into a stumble, but he turns sharply like a flamenco dancer. Arm coming up above his head as he slings the die back down the table. Seventeen. A shit eating grin. Another walk down to the end of the table. Another bump. He can feel the daggers Steve is glaring at him itching hot between his shoulder blades. He tosses the last roll over his shoulder without looking. 

“Blow me,” Steve mutters. Eddie turns to see the thirteen on the die. Steve’s delicious, disgruntled face. Grumpy is such a good look on him.

“If you roll under a ten again, I will.” 

Steve’s eyebrows rise. 

Jesus Christ, Eddie needs to wire his goddamn jaw shut. Steve hesitates on the edge of a laugh. It was a joke. Obviously. Whether it started out there or not, Eddie will make it a joke. But there’s something about the way Steve is caught on the edge of not sure if Eddie was kidding.

Eddie can’t resist a little push. He flashes his teeth. “Scared of a blowjob?”

“You’re serious?” Steve says cautiously.

“Why not?” Eddie shrugs. “It’s just sucking dick. I like dick.”

“Yeah…” Steve says. “But it’s… My dick.” 

Like Eddie hasn’t lovingly built a shrine to Steve’s dick in his mind. Like he doesn’t prostrate himself before it basically every time he jerks off. Eddie’s hard as shit right now, his whole body tight with wanting, his blood fizzing, just because Steve hasn’t shut him down yet. Can’t he feel how desperate Eddie is for him? It feels like it’s pouring off him in waves, like ripples of heat off asphalt in the summer. 

“Or it’s your mouth.” Eddie’s smile goes sharp. Just a little push. “If you lose.” 

Steve flushes, his eyes huge. “You would want that?” 

Jesus. Why hasn’t Steve shut him down? Why is he still playing along? It isn’t too late. Eddie can still play it off as a joke. But the way Steve’s looking at him- Steve doesn’t back down. Not from monsters, not from a dare. Would he really… Maybe he would actually let Eddie do it. “And then what?” the small rational part of him that tries to keep him from fucking himself over asks. He pays just as much attention to it now as he ever does.

“I’ll make it easy on you,” Eddie says. “You roll low, just like you have every roll tonight. You can have advantage, even. Triple advantage. Three chances. Get one roll ten or lower. I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.” It’s not so much a bet anymore, as an offer. Eddie begging behind the thinnest pretense. Please, please let me suck your dick.

Steve still hasn’t said no. He stands there with the die in his hand instead of telling Eddie to fuck off. Looking at Eddie so close, this heavy, searching gaze that makes Eddie feel like he’s one snarled knot of heat from his throat to his balls. Steve notices Eddie’s hard-on, that heavy gaze lingering for a long second. He’s still looking at Eddie as he throws the die. Eddie can’t quite bring himself to look away, listening to the rattle of it until it stops. 

Eddie has to look. Has to know. 

A nineteen. 

Fuck. He looks back at Steve. “You want to try that again?”

Steve is bright red as he shakes his head no, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. There’s no hesitation in him now. He keeps his eyes on Eddie, as he sinks down to his knees. 

---

These have been helping me get back into a writing habit, so I’ll keep it open if anyone else wants to play. The original rules of the game are you leave an ask with the first sentence of a fic, and I’ll write the next five sentences. But the rules I made up are I just write as much as I want. Five sentences minimum though.

#and they were roommates #dnd as foreplay #sex bets kind of #writing game #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #my fic #I know advantage wasn’t introduced to DnD until 5e but maybe Eddie Munson invented advantage as a homebrew #you can’t prove he didn’t

[gingersnapwolves]

the following update is brought you by the letters LMAO and WTF

so as discussed in my previous posts, the house my parents share with my brother's family is LARGE. like deadass this place has three living rooms. and one of them has a fireplace. upon this fireplace were displayed my dad's butterfly boxes. sadly, I don't have a picture but they are very pretty, and they were really the only color in the room, which is mostly white with dark blue sofas.

for those unfamiliar with butterfly boxes, they look something like this:

(source)

they tend to be somewhat expensive because they are made with butterflies that have already died a natural death (no butterflies are harmed in the making of these boxes) but obviously the butterflies in question have to be in perfect condition

my dad's looked a lot like these but they were clear glass all the way through, and the butterflies were a lot more colorful. he's had these literally as long as I can remember, so at least 35-40 years. and he had them up on the fireplace mantle.

today he emails me all in a tizzy because SIL took them down and replaced them with this:

now we all have our own tastes and opinions but wtf in the hgtv is that shit??? that is the most boring, random collection of items - that is staging by a realtor, not decoration by a real person! it looks so completely soulless. and she did this without asking him or even mentioning it to him and he doesn't even know where his butterfly boxes even ARE currently because he's been so mad that he hasn't trusted himself enough to ask lmao. I told him I'll ask if he wants, I'm ready to fight, I'm pissed. you can't just move someone's shit without asking them and replace it with stuff that you personally think looks better!!!!!! okay I'm okay I'm gonna go breathe into a paper bag until the urge to drive forty-five minutes and punch my SIL in the nose subsides

#personal #rant #feel free to ignore

[fleur-bbyy]

stupid girl /// katsuki bakugo

warnings: bakugo is a lil meanie, he gets softer. lots of f bombs, fem! reader, characters are 18+.

wc: 2.2k

listened to this on youtube while writing, kind of goes with the story i think???

don’t bite your lip or grit your teeth, just count to ten and try to breathe, you stupid bitch can’t you see, the perfect one for you is me?

bakugo couldn’t stand you.

that was an understatement, he fucking hated you. steam practically shooting from his ears like a cartoon character every time you were around. yet, he couldn’t get your stupid face out of his head.

he hated how much you were willing to give up for your friend’s happiness. hated the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. hated that stupid fucking twinkle in your eye that even stayed sparkling when you guys argued. hated how driven you were during training, even when you knew you’d lose to him.

most of all, he hated your stupid perfect face. your stupid hair. your stupid lips. your stupid stupid stupid body.

yeah. he fucking hated you.

that’s why he was marching up the stairs to his dorm, making sure he was heard loud and clear. especially making sure you heard.

“you totally like her, dude.” kiri said, slapping the back of bakugo’s shoulder. he could of killed his friend red-headed friend. especially for saying something so ridiculous as that in the common area where other people could hear.

“fuck you just say?” bakugo turned to look at kirishima, looking like he was ready to commit murder. his brows that seemingly were always perpetually furrowed somehow pulled deeper into his face. his eyes so sharp he could probably barely see through the squint.

“woah no need to get hostile, man. i’m just saying. you never quit yappin’ about her, even if it is about how much you hate her. plus, you’ve been in a mood ever since she beat you during training today.” kiri slowly removed his rough hand from his best friend’s shoulder, scared it was finally his time to face the fury that is bakugo’s wrath.

“of course i’m fuckin’ pissed. she’s no better than deku and she beat me!” he was seething. how dare the guy that’s supposed to be his best friend suggest such a foul, horrid thing. you? of all people? that stupid girl? that stupid, beautiful girl? “you don’t know shit about fuck. say something like that again and i’ll snap your neck.” and with that, bakugo stood up from the common area couch and began to stomp to his room. not before kiri could get one last sentence in,

“yeah, okay man. come talk when you’re ready to show some manliness and actually talk about your feelings.” katsuki didn’t acknowledge him, only stomping away harder. making sure to slam the doors he came in contact with during the short trip to his room. kirishima’s words felt like a hard punch to the gut. maybe it was because he hated you. hated the idea that people think he likes you.

maybe it was because he knew kiri was true. maybe it was that he knew he wasn’t hiding it well, either.

that’s how he ended up in his dorm room doing practically anything to calm his racing, lovesick mind. blasting music, occasionally playing his drum set along with the song, but most of the time he boxed the punching bag in his room. trying to kill the energy his anger built up in him. stupid incessant anger and stupid fucking girl.

he screamed at the punching bag like it was a living, breathing person. like he could hurt it’s feelings. he didn’t know exactly who he was imagining it as, just as someone to scream at. he wanted it to be you, but he couldn’t stand the thought of making you cry, even in his imagination. he already felt guilt for the amount of times you’ve cried over him in the real world, though he’d never admit it out loud. how could he did that to you in the dream world too?

and that’s how you ended up practically in tears in your neighboring dorm. you just wanted to finish this dumb math assignment from class. “why do we even need this? we’re becoming pro-heroes for gods sake, not damn mathematicians?” you thought. you grabbed your pencil and tried to solve another problem, but the muffled voice of eyedress singing jealous and your neighbor’s unrelenting yelling making your brain short-circuit faster than denki using his lightening.

sighing, you threw your pencil somewhere into the abyss that is your desk and picked up your phone, putting your headphones on to try and drown out some noise and texted your pink-haired friend.

is bakugo always this loud?

girly if you’re just now figuring this out, i’m worried for you

i’m serious mina. i cant even hear myself think and if i don’t finish this math, aizawa will have my ass.

calm down, you’ll finish it. try going over there and knocking. maybe he’ll tone it down?

mina be so astronomically fr right now

me?

go to the guy that makes it very known that he can’t stand me’s room?

bffr

yea yea he acts like he hates you, promise he doesn’t. just go over there and if something pops off, call me and your personal chihuahua will come over and get him. he’s probably just mad you beat him today

okay i’ll trust you this time but if i die you’re not getting anything from my will

then don’t die! :)

you left her on read, slipped your house shoes on your feet, and removed your headphones. carefully placing them onto your desk. you were trying your best to mentally prepare yourself the go over to the blonde’s room. in your three years at ua, you’d never been so scared of your neighbor. the last two years in was always kiri and shoji that neighbored you. something happened with the lists this year that had you and kirishima switching dorm rooms, placing you next to thee katsuki bakugo.

“god, please please please don’t let him explode me to hell and back.” you whispered as you stood at your door. taking a deep breath, you left your room and walked the few feet over to his and knocked on the door. thinking about how fast you could bail and make a break for it back to your room, just in case, of course.

it only took a few seconds for him to come and open the door. the once muffled music now flooding into the halls and into your eardrums. his tanned skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat that started to soak into his black tank top and sweats. his right hand rested on the doorknob and his left held a pair of drumsticks. he scowled down at you as if you were scum to the earth.

“you just gonna stand there and stare all day? whad’dya want?” you felt your body tense at his sharp words. you tried your best to relax your muscles so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing you were uncomfortable.

“um yeah, by any chance could you tune it down a bit please? im having a really hard time working.” you twiddled with your thumbs behind your back like a child would if they were caught in lie. his face unfazed and unchanged.

“did you forgot that I can’t fucking stand you? why would I do that shit for you? why would i do anything for you?” you weren’t gonna lie to yourself, his words hurt. everytime he hurled insults at you, a small piece of your heart broke. you were a sensitive girl, you always have been. anytime he did it in front of your class, you pretended to take them in stride. once you were alone, you let the tears spill.

“look bakugo. i know you hate me. i know you can’t stand me. i know you’re mad you lost to me today. all i’m asking you to do is be a decent fucking human and turn your shit down. i never play my music this fucking loud so have some consideration.” you really didn’t mean for the words to come out. a mix of your frustration and sleepiness with an added splash of the intimidation you felt standing in front of the blonde. you had to admit, he was attractive. you would go as far to call him beautiful.

but none of that mattered now that you knew you were going to die by the hands of king explosion murder dynamight at the ripe age of 18. your eyes widened his shock like it wasn’t you that said the words but some other person. his eyes mirrored yours with his own surprised face. but his shocked expression quickly returned to a seething anger only violence could solve.

but a few looks at your pretty face and he couldn’t bring himself to pummel you into oblivion. his clenched fists relaxed.

he didn’t hate you. he hated the thought of not hating you.

“yeah I can’t fucking stand you,” he began to move closer to you, “I can’t stand the drive you just have to succeed.” you wanted to back away, but your feet wouldn’t move.

“can’t stand how supportive you are of others, even if it means they get ahead.” he dropped his drumsticks. he cares about those things like hatsume cares for her inventions. and he dropped them like they were nothing.

“grind my fuckin’ gears when you try to shake my hand and smile after we spar, even if you just got your ass handed to you. breaks my fuckin’ heart.” he was inches away from you. you still couldn’t find yourself able to move away.

“and it really gets me when you act all tough in public. dishing my insults back at me, but crying your perfect damn eyes out right next to me in your dorm. y’know how paper thin these walls are? i bet you didn’t even notice that most nights i was tearing up with you.” he was right, you never did. either he was an extremely quiet cryer or you genuinely were that loud when you sobbed. you had no idea bakugo had the capacity in his brain the feel guilt. you also never noticed how tall he really was compared to you. it’s too hard to miss now that you’re eye level with his huge, built pecs.

“why didn’t you ever say anything, bakugo?” your voice sounded more meek and mousy than you intended it too. when you traversed to his room, you were expecting at the least a door slammed in your face and to maybe return to your room with a few less teeth than you had when you left. not a goddamn love confession.

it’s not like you didn’t enjoy it, though.

because somewhere in the back of your own scattered mind, you felt the same about him.

“because you’re a stupid, stupid girl that couldn’t figure it out yourself. and yeah i guess i’m a stupid guy f-“ you cut him off before he could finish. grabbing the blonde by his sharp jaw and slim cheek to bring his lips to yours. they were soft, felt as if he applied chapstick before your came over. his breath smelled like the fresh mint sprigs he added to his water bottle.

he surprised himself and you by actually locking lips back. the way your mouth fit his felt all too natural for him, as if he was really supposed to be meant for you and vice versa. he grabbed you by your waist to pull you closer to him. he never wanted to let go, never wanted this moment to end. he wasn’t entirely sure it was real until you pulled away. a small string of saliva still connecting the two of you that verified to him that this actually happened.

the two of you stood in a fat silence. taking in the others features. neither of you wanting to speak up and ruin what already felt perfect and serene. curious hands wandered the other’s bodies. curious eyes darting back and forth to soak up every detail of the moment. after a few more moments of silence, you decided to speak up again.

“what do we do now?” you asked. not too sure if you were asking him or just asking yourself out loud. he looked at you in a puppy-dog kind of quizzical way.

“we wait for when we’re not exhausted to talk about it.” you had always admired how level-headed his decisions were, no matter the situations. from plotting murder to simple group projects to saving a city, he could always make a good, quick decision.

“tomorrow?” you replied. beginning to pull away from katsuki’s embrace. you hated the cold that began to spread across your skin where his arms were just warming you.

“it’s a date.” he gave you a smile. not the half-assed katsuki bakugo smile. a real, genuine one where you could see his singular dimple that adorned his left cheek. you returned the gesture and turned to walk the few feet over to your door. he never left his until he knew you were back in yours, safe.

now sufficiently calm, he turned his music down and replaced the loud love songs to more calming, sleepier ones. he decided in the hallway he’s gonna allow himself to go to sleep with the music still on. so the calming music could waft into your room and either help you concentrate or fill your pretty head with thoughts of sleepiness, too.

he still couldn’t stand you. but now not in a hateful way.

he couldn’t stand how perfect you are.

and he couldn’t stand how you made him fall for you so hard.

he couldn’t stand the fact that he fell for such a perfect, stupid girl.

#bnha imagines #mha x reader #bakugo fic #bakugo imagine #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo my hero academia #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #mha fluff #bakugo fluff #fleur bbyy

[octuscle]

looooong loooooong time ago you gave away some magic suitcases. I'm looking for a timeout as a badboy maybe with a racial change cause my life is so straight: graduation last summer, wedding this summer and so on. I want an adventure!

Yes, I still have a suitcase from OTP. I couldn't assign it to anyone. The case was closed a long time ago… If I give you the suitcase, no one will notice.

There's not much in the case. A uniform. A few sports clothes. Protein powder. Energy drinks. All very neatly packed. Looks militarily neat. And even though the suitcase is from Romania, everything is obviously from Russia. At least that's what the flags and coats of arms on the uniform and the Cyrillic characters suggest… Actually, you would have expected something like this in a sports bag or an army backpack rather than a boring Samsonite suitcase. You can't really do anything with these things. But you wanted to go to the gym today anyway. Whatever's in the energy drink, you give it a try.

Shit, that's strong stuff. But you have the feeling that you could tear out trees. You go to the treadmill to warm up. You set the speed to 20 km/h. You wouldn't last a marathon at that speed. But 30 minutes is no problem. You're drenched in sweat. But now you're just getting started. You stand at the punching bag and punch and kick at it as if you've been practising Thai boxing since you were a child. And you have. Just like taekwondo and judo. You are a machine. A killer. Not just in the figurative sense. That's why you were dishonorably discharged from the army. The Serbian one, by the way. Not the Russian one. I admit, as an American you can confuse the flags and the language. Prokleti Amerikanci. Imperijalistički seronje! You spit at the thought of being mistaken for an American. Srbija Srbima. That's not just for decoration on your chest. It's your motto. And that of your comrades. Of course you would have liked to remain a proud member of the Serbian army. But in the end, you're better off with Srpska čast. They embody everything you stand for. Glory and honor for the Serbian people!

Of course you have to get married next summer. Bring good Serbian fighters into the world. But actually, women's asses are too soft for you. You'd rather fuck the asses of real men, well-trained fighters. Just like you are.

I found this awesome picture @zakucavanje. I would like to emphasize that I do not approve of paramilitary and separatist organizations. But I imagine their members to be similar. And the idea makes at least me horny.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #race change #military tf

[simonsdoll]

⛓️POSSESSION⛓️

PART: SIX

WARNING:angst,possessive/obsessive behavior, jealously,stalking and kidnapping

DISCLAIMER: NSFW CONTENT AND MDNI

PAIRING: Yandere Ghost x fem!reader

A/N: I want to make this very clear that I do not condone this behavior. This is written for military fem!reader. The yandere behavior will gradually get more intense so please be aware. Again please be aware that this is a touchy subject. Hope you enjoy!❤️

10:23 am

That morning you woke up with a headache and everything around you looked blurry and didn’t seem to hear the heavy knocking at your door and faint talking. You looked at the alarm clock which took you a little too long to see clearly. Your eyes widened and you rubbed your eyes to make sure it was really that late. The banging was getting louder by the second and you recognized the gruff voice behind the door and it was Price. You quickly lifted the covers trying not to tumble over them and you opened the door. You already knew what you were to expect once you opened the door. As you opened the door, Price was asking question after question and it only sounded faint and you rubbed your temple by how loud Price was shouting and yelling at you for being lazy and forgetting about your work.

He took notice of your unusual and incomprehensive state to which he stopped arguing and quickly held you and took you to the medics office for evaluation. Once there, Price was pacing back and forth wondering why all of a sudden you got sick when you were perfectly fine the previous day. The medics took a look at you and eventually let Price know that you consumed something that did you bad but that you were perfectly fine. Price kept looking at you and came to terms that you would be by his side for a while just to keep an eye on you. He walked you to your room and waited till you changed so you both could get yalls day started.

Ghost was in the training room boxing vigorously trying to get rid of the electric and exhilarating joy out of his system. As he kept punching with such force he got exhausted and hugged the punching bag. Heavy panting and sweat fell down his face and a devilish smile came upon just from getting flash backs from last night. Wondering if you got scolded by Price for waking up so late and not remembering your duties. He just chuckles knowing he had you all to himself that night and he wishes you were actually responsive so you could see and hear all the things he wishes to do and say to you if you just took a chance to give him what he wants. How you had him a blushing and shy mess with just the touch of your fingers. How that kiss he gave you felt so real even though you weren’t awake to feel and know how soft your lips were when he held your face so gently trying to savor and remember the touch and warmth of your skin.

Ghost thought to himself that last night would always be a night to remember and no longer a dream. It was the first time you both held hands…the night he got to confess his feelings to you…and the night you both shared your first kiss. He was the only person who would even be allowed to do those things he thought to himself and if anyone tried to come in between y’all he would do the indescribable and the most inhumane things he could think of to them. You were his everything. No one deserved you. You were made for him and he was sure you liked him back from the compliments you gave him to the friendly innocent smiles you would give him when he would compliment you or say something funny just to see you smile for him. In his mind, no one would be capable of protecting such a beautiful soul like yours and no one deserves your attention nor compliments. “All I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

To small debriefs and being stuck in Price’s smoke filled office, he gave you a small pep talk about staying focused and staying on top of your duties and he finally let you go since he saw your headache went away and you were back to normal. You made your way to the mess hall because Price didn’t let you eat until you were ok first. You grabbed lunch and made your way to a nearby table and sat down enjoying your free time. Ghost was looking for you and was wondering if you were back to a normal state after drinking what he gave you last night. He peeked through the metal doors and he found you all alone sitting down enjoying your lunch. He looked to his sides to make sure no one was near to disturb y’all and so he walked inside and he sat down infront of you.

You welcomed Ghost with a smile and Ghost couldn’t keep his composure while smiling under the mask to see how happy you were to see him. You were so clueless and he couldn’t stop himself from getting flashbacks from last night just looking at those same lips he kissed so gently and softly. Those hands holding the fork were so the same ones he interlaced his fingers with and wished to keep them like that forever. After making some small chit chat with Ghost he brought up that he didn’t see you all day and he asked you where you’ve been.

You were explaining to him how last night you strangely felt really sleepy and that you woke up super late because of it and was woken up to Price’s shouting. That you had to be babysitted by Price all day because you weren’t feeling good. Under the mask Ghost was smirking and feeling so much pity for you when he knows deep down it was all him who caused this. His hypocrite self recommended you get more sleep or to just relax more because he doesn’t want you sleeping on the job. You take his words of advice the best you can and just resume eating. He wouldn’t want you being scolded by Price but if it meant having some alone time with you while your unconscious for hours, he would do it over and over again until you finally come to terms that he loves you and that he would do anything for you because you belong to him and he would go to the extremities of killing anyone for you. To protect you. “I love you so much, you have no idea to what limits I’d go to prove that to you.”

Let me know if y’all want a part 7!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Check Masterlist for more

#ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mwii #ghost modern warfare #cod mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #tf141 #tf 141 #simon riley #ghost riley #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #mwii #call of duty mwii #obsessive yandere #possessive #cod mwii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #cod mw2 x reader

[infernalodie]

Nate's ex dl hook up getting jealous of Maddy and his relationship and decides to see what she's all about

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 || 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳

"𝘞𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵-𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘓𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣"

Inspo: Kehlani - Can I

Pairing: Maddy Perez x Masc!Fem!reader

Summary: After you and Nate stopped doing your weekly hook ups, you changed. But when you find out he stopped getting with you to get with Maddy Perez, you decide to see what all the fuss is about.

(gif used is not mine)

Warnings: Smut, pet names, fingering, squirting, sub!Maddy, and Dom!reader

Words 1453

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

It wasn’t your fault for being here. Like, for real, you wouldn’t be here if Nate hadn’t decided to end things. You’d probably be in the nearest classroom, hoping to not get caught by your coach for trying to skip the gym. But here you were, benching a far larger weight than you likely should be able to with the curious gazes of girls in your class burning your figure.

When you were hooking up with Nate, it was like you had been pulled from a special box. This wasn’t just your analogy, you knew many girls that felt the same. Nate chose specifically when it came to chicks he either wanted to fuck or date. And with that in mind, there had to be something special about you that made him decide to choose you. You had been somewhere around 5’9- tall to most, but still tiny to Nate who stood at a whopping 6’4.

But around that time, you had felt the need to try and keep him around. Willing to lose fat that wasn’t there to satisfy this boy who fucked you and left. For a while, your consideration of destroying your body and mind had worked. He stayed around, gave you light conversation, fucked your brains out, and then went off with his days. But as per usual, he left you in the damaged state he influenced you.

Long story short, you got fucking jacked. Like, fucking jacked. To the point that you had joined the boy's football team and were now playing with Nate on the team. So, that was a huge slap in the face to him. Going against the expectations he had set for girls like you. Now, you were tackling him and knocking the wind out of him whenever he decided to be a stupid cunt on the field.

Although it felt nice to get back by hurting him physically, there was still the need to do more. To ruin the last thing that could give him the semblance to comfort. Which is how you found out about Maddy Perez.

Now, you didn’t hold it against Maddy that Nate chose her over you. Because let’s be honest, Maddy Perez was a beautiful girl and a girl you wouldn’t mind bending over the hood of your car. But you knew Nate could never be satisfied with a girl, especially ones like you or Maddy who couldn’t be controlled so easily.

So, that led to you coming up with a (likely heartless) plan to fuck Maddy and send a video to Nate. Simple at first, but a fucking convoluted mess like the entire essence of Sucker Punch. But there was some form of a path in your mind through all the bullshit you can follow.

It may have seemed selfish and petty to go after Nate and ruin everything in your life. But unlike anyone else, he deserved this fucking treatment. Hellfire could rain down on him and you wouldn’t even bat an eye. Besides that, when you first saw Maddy, you knew you wanted a piece of her.

Then again, who didn’t want Maddy? She was hot and rather aggressive to others who tried to harm her pack. But you knew more was to be desired underneath that perfect smile and snarky attitude. There had to be if guy after guy wanted to fuck her. Then again, guys usually thought with their dicks, so you had to take that into consideration.

Sitting in the change rooms after a P.E. class, you dug through your gym bag. Nothing exactly being of importance to you but waiting for the few other girls to leave. Glancing to your left, you spotted Maddy’s figure in the showers. Steam rising and clouding the view you had of her. It wasn’t much, just enough for you to get a view of that beautiful ass of hers.

As the moments passed, the few girls leftover slowly filtered out. Leaving you to start unchanging from your gym clothes. Being extra slow with your movements when you heard the shower shut off with wet feet padding across the room. Your eyes followed her until she was on the opposite bench to your left. Silently getting her clothes on as you watched her from the corner of your eye.

“You single, Maddy?” You asked abruptly, startling Maddy who stared at you for a moment.

“Uh, no,” she sassed, expectedly. “I’m with Nate.”

You hummed, pulling your shirt off and leaving yourself in your shorts and Nike sports bra. “That’s disappointing.”

Maddy raised a brow. “Why’s that?”

“Because I know I would fuck you better than him.” Your deadpan left no room for Maddy to suspect an amount of teasing. Just brutal honesty.

It rightfully left Maddy speechless. Imobolizing her from your advance towards her where you stopped barely a breath from her. She felt your hand brush a few strands of hair from her eyes with you cupping her cheek. “I know he doesn’t,” you stated. “You act, don’t you? To get what you want? I used to do it as well. He used to buy me everything I wanted as long as I made it seem like he could fuck good.”

Your lips twitched into a grin as you leaned down to her ear. Maddy sucked in a harsh breath, feeling the warmth of your lips against the shell of her ear. “But I could give you everything you wanted in one sitting, princess.”

Maddy couldn’t breathe. She was suffocating from the mere adrenaline of your lips on her neck. Your three fingers pounding into her with vigor. She was lost in the heat of it all. The wet sounds coming from her core were embarrassing, already adding more to the flush of her cheeks. Rolling her hips greedily, she was met by a slap on her clit, yelping in painful pleasure.

Staring up at you where you were positioned between her legs. Her completely naked and you still have your bra and shorts on. Muscles flex with every thrust of your fingers. You looked so hot from this angle. Far better than any other guy she had fucked in the past.

But the same could be said about Maddy as you looked down at the writhing and whining girl below you. She looked so adorable like this. So dishevelled and silently pleading for you to give her more. It would be something she deserved after having boring and repetitive sex with someone like Nate.

A breathy laugh fell from your lips at the pathetic sound. “Don’t be a brat, Maddy,” you husked. “Unless you don’t want to walk after I’m done with you.”

She had no choice but to listen and endure the onslaught of your pleasure. Allowing herself to try and just be still and enjoy it, because she was. She was loving every single bit of it. But from your fingers curving perfectly and diving deeper inside her, there was no stopping her hips from shooting up with her crying out. A stream shot out from her as your amused laughter filled the air. Leaving the girl a whimpering mess as she panted, moaning when your fingers thrust back into her.

“P-Please, I can’t take anymore-” Maddy’s cry was silenced by you shoving your free hand in her mouth. Causing her to whine and gag around your fingers that pressed down on her tongue and explored every crevice of her mouth.

“But you look so cute like this, Maddy,” you said with an evil grin. “You look so gorgeous so fucked out. It will only get better the more we go, right?” Her tongue obediently swirled around and in-between your fingers, making you chuckle. “I know that’s what you want after all.”

You were quickly realizing what you had been missing out on. Maddy’s body and how reactive it was is addicting. It enthralled you how easily she could come apart from the simplest touches. From the love bites that were scattered across her body from her ankles to her neck. You had made your claim and weren’t planning on letting something so special get far. Not when it satisfied the hunger in your stomach and got back at your ex.

By the time you had relented and stepped away from Maddy, she was destroyed. Her body twitched, lips parted with drool escaping the corner of her mouth. Her body was flushed while her chest rose and fell rapidly.

Crouching in front of her, you pushed your thumb past her lips. Humming in amusement when her lips closed around the digit, sucking it eagerly. “I can’t wait for us to do this again, Maddy,” you whispered. “Tell Nate I said hi.”

#maddy perez x fem!reader #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez #euphoria imagine #alexa demie #maddy perez smut #fuck nate jacobs #euphoria #euphoria hbo #maddy perez fanfiction #euphoria x fem!reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader #buff chicks are the hottest #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez x masc!fem!reader

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

possessed, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x (minor) yoongi

summary: Burning hot. Freezing cold. An all-consuming addiction to subspace that dominates every centimeter of Jeon Jungkook's mind. There is nothing to stop him when his favorite psycho demon bitch is just as crazy as he is. He'll do anything to get his fix.

collared au chained, yg | tainted, jk | twisted, jk+yg | wicked, jk+yg | burned, jk+yg

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - [!!!!] dangerous temperature play, do not attempt! I warned you, this is fiction, I am not responsible for your dumbassery; JK is dangerously deep in subspace and, if you feel like him, you need to take a step back and reevaluate; intense D/s smut (fem reader, fire play, pain kink, hair-pulling kink, marking from burns / bites, mentions of m-masturbation, spit kink, ice play, nipple play, handjob, m and f-receiving oral, cock-and-ball torture, forced orgasms, overstimulation, face-sitting, cum-eating, humiliation kink, voyeurism); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader + surprise sub!Yoongi at the end; JK's POV ad he's an extra subby pain slut; can be read alone

--

“You like fire?”

Fuck, Jeon Jungkook liked anything if his favorite crazy bitch was doing it to him.

“You bring the match and I’ll be the kerosene,” he breathed into her intoxicating kiss.

She laughed and he swallowed it.

His friends had been telling him he had become quite cool these days. He had changed his fashion a bit, going for the heavy black jackets and ripped jeans and old band t-shirts. He used to think he needed to uphold a façade in public, but now he realized that he didn’t care that much. He cared a lot more about how she viewed him. On sore says, Jungkook wore baggy athleisure and made sure his hood was up to hide the marks from his collar.

He was wearing his sweat sets a lot these days.

He pulled away, wanting to look at her again.

They stood facing each other. She grinned. Mischievous, sexy, and an extra psychotic glint in that fashioned heterochromia stare. Left iris covered with a flat white contact. Right iris as real as it got. He bit the side of his lip, feeling his second lip piercing press against his teeth. He had stripped his hoodie off like she asked, leaving him in only his mesh shirt in her cold studio office. The door was locked, leaving him at her mercy.

His nipples hardened as she held up the box of matches.

Who was she?

His lover. His maker. His lifeline. His only reason to exist was to be her sexual punching bag. Fuck doll. Cum dumpster. Whatever she wanted him to be on that day. He could be anything. Better if it was with malice and to his detriment. This wasn’t a game to him anymore. This was everything.

She.

Was.

Everything.

She struck the match against the sandpaper, grinning wider as the flame burst into life.

He could feel the heat against his chin.

The excitement.

The anticipation.

The arousal seizing his blood, searing downward to his cock, making it swell and pulse.

Jungkook used to feel guilty about his fantasies. After all, they were born from despair and a need to be someone he wasn’t. But his past haunted him. His dreams of love had been burned against his will, turned into scorched earth by someone he used to have faith in. He had loved someone will all his heart and she stomped on it, took a shit on it, and threw him away. Cheated on him with multiple partners and laughed in his face. When he left, he vowed to become a different man, but that turned out to be a lot more difficult than he thought. It seemed impossible to escape the constant daily misery. He questioned everything he did, his actions for others marred by her taunts, reminding him he had been so easy to take advantage of, reminding him constantly that he believed in all the wrong things.

Love.

Truth.

Heaven.

But, then, a goth bitch from hell changed everything.

He had to thank Min Yoongi for that.

She brough the flame closer, exhaling so he could feel her hot breath and smell the cinders.

He craved his penance for having faith. He craved to forget. He craved to make the constant loop of self-deprecation stop. It was all a mistake thinking that love couldn’t be foul poison. All snakes concealed themselves in good intentions. He craved to feel something besides the sadness, vowed to replace it with something stronger. Something rawer. Something innate, even more so than that poison called love. He learned it was okay to make mistakes. He learned to be was okay to be fractured, because there was something that could make him whole.

Pain.

Pain made him perfectly, completely, blissfully whole. He adored excruciating pain most of all. The more unavoidable and unbearable, the better.

She struck the flame across his collarbone and he gasped.

The match snuffed out with the speed.

A thin tendril of smoke slithered in the air, indicating the end of the fire, but he could still feel the sting on his skin. The heat had melted the threads of the thin mesh. The glint in her eyes, maniacal. Devouring. Eating up his reaction like it was feast. She flung the used match away and, before it had the chance to hit the floor and snap, he was groaning in agony as her fingers tore at the still-hot burn, the hurt slicing through his body in an erotic shudder.

His shirt ripped.

Jungkook looked down, seeing a red-hot mark on his chest.

If pain was beauty, then she was about to turn him into a pretty, pretty bitch.

His head snapped back up.

The corners of his lips rising, matching her insanity.

Her eyes glowed as she lit another match.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot when you want pain,” she snickered and struck the flame over his chest again.

He moaned, lustful and grateful.

Why should I struggle to find someone to walk through hell with me when I can just find hell and burn in it of my own free will?

He moaned at the pain, shuddering against the wall as she tore his shirt again, exposing the blistered skin. Match. Melt. Nearly burned. Torn away. He could feel the intensity radiating off her gaze, eagerly consuming the marring of his body. Building the hunger. His breathing shallowed as she traced an unlit match against his tense abs, leaning forward. Her lashes lowering, savoring the way his chest rose and fell shakily as he felt that rough pinprick drag across his skin.

Why fade when I can burn?

She raised the matchstick, holding it in his view.

Broke it in half right by her cheek.

He whimpered, longing for the torture. She dropped it, breathing out hotly over his trembling lips. The burns were significant enough to hurt for a couple days, but shallow enough to not leave a permanent mark. Somehow, she knew just the right pressure. His blood boiled. A rehearsed action? Practiced? On who? Then despair bled in. Not him.

He wanted it to be him.

He whimpered, tangling his fingers into the holes of his shirt and tearing at the irritated skin more, pain ricocheting over his nerves, his body screaming at him to stop, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He didn’t care if his body could take it or not. He didn’t care if he bled. He wanted this.

He needed this.

Jungkook used to feel guilty about his fantasies, but the desire to be abused was so much stronger.

She lit another match with a raise of her eyebrow.

Flicked it over his fingertips.

His hand recoiled reflexively and he cursed his body for rejecting the flame. He wanted to cover it with his palm, feel his skin blister as he snuffed out the fire, but she danced the light away from him, shooting it across his left forearm. Instantly, the piercing discomfort made him cry out, and then again the threads were torn, nearly ripping the sleeve clean off. He could almost, almost feel the individual tugs each melted thread, and his eyes rolled back at the thought.

She slapped his arm, right across the singed skin.

His knees buckled in fiery ecstasy.

His hips thrust up and into her crotch. The bulge in his jeans caused the hem of her short skirt to flip upward. He was so hard that it was embarrassing. Deliciously shameful. His cock ached for more. He wore jeans on purpose so he could feel the frustration of the metal zipper struggling to cage him down. He heard the sound of her stepping forward, a weighty clink of chains and heavy sole, and her body practically pinned him to the wall, one of her legs jammed between his. Tilting, making him wince as her thigh collided with his erection, but she didn’t seem to notice or care, cocking her head and leaning back to light another match.

His breathing was so shallow that he was nearly hyperventilating.

Staring at her, wide-eyed and unsatiated.

“The fuck you looking at?” she spat, her lip curling.

Then she grabbed his face with her left hand, forcefully turning it to his right, the matchbox in her palm cutting into his cheek. He gasped at the force, and then froze as he felt blazing heat against his exposed neck, right above his racing pulse.

She leaned forward.

She was crazy.

He loved it.

“You’re so fucked up, Jungkook.”

Yes, he was. He was. Burn me. Burn me, he wanted to scream, but her hand was clamped over his mouth and his entire body was vibrating uncontrollably. The flame right above his neck. The moment must have lasted less than a second but fear and anticipation turned it into another lifetime, suspended in terror before known pain, and then.

A swift, cool puff of air.

The acrid stench of cinders.

Tendrils of smoke swirling around his face.

It took him a moment to realize she had blown out the match but before he could comprehend the despair, she sank her teeth into his neck. He choked behind her hand, mostly from shock, his hands flying up and gripping her waist. The flimsy distressed sweater barely covered her bra, let alone block his hands, and he was able to grip skin-on-skin, digging his nails into her flesh as he moaned behind her hand, flourishing in the anguish, delicious pain radiating from her ravenous mouth biting and breaking blood vessels under his skin, bruising him.

Marking him.

Turning him into her possession once again.

He heard the audible crack of the used match next to his ear. Three of her fingers hooked into his open lips and pressed against his tongue, her almond-shaped nails digging into the wet muscle. He groaned, tasting burned air and iron at the back of his throat. And the pain, the pain. Her mouth moving all over his neck. A necklace of bruises, followed by her drenched tongue creating a thread of saliva to connect them, her spit mixing with his sweat and running down his chest.

Oh, how he wished he could watch himself being abused right now.

Sometimes, that was all Jungkook could think about.

Like an addict chasing for next high, and the next, and the next, never enough. When they couldn’t meet, Jungkook would look at himself in the mirror, naked, and trace the marks she left. On his neck. Over his chest. Decorating his thigh. Along his hip. Purple and red and pink, including those with the nasty green-yellow twinge on the way to recovery. Wanting more. He had scars on his heart, so why not on his body too? That was why he got the tattoos and the piercings. He loved to see her eyes light up when he got a new one, pulling him closer to inspect him, closer to feel her breath on his skin, turned on by his pain.

He even liked knowing he wasn’t her only one.

He would touch himself, running his fingers over the marks, over his hard nipples, imagining any second that she would walk up behind him. Hoped she could witness how greedy he was for the pain. Aching to feel her long fingernails clawing over his chest. Red lines of sin. His own fingers curling inward, attempting to mirror her force, gripping his cock and rubbing the head until it was red and raw, reliving the memories, drowning in them, his black hair falling over his glazed-over eyes, breathless shudders escaping his open mouth, watching his reflection fall apart and wishing she could see it too, waiting for that heterochromatic stare to rise behind his shoulder, one dark eye and one stark white.

Her rough, harsh whisper heating his shoulder.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she growled down at him.

She had grabbed him and thrown him onto her desk, sending pens flying, his back colliding with hard wood and his legs hanging off the side. His torn shirt tore even more. His hands had flown down, gripping the zipper of his jeans and pressing down.

He froze at her command, raising his head slowly, eyes wide.

She forced his knees apart.

He gasped, his swollen cock bulging even against the thick fabric, too hard to be confined. She stepped even closer, her short black pleated skirt bunching up, and she reached down with one hand to blanket it over his crotch, making the tent all the more obvious and contained.

In her other hand, she held a glass full of ice.

So that was what was sitting on the minifridge when he walked in.

She smirked.

A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.

“You're runnin' hot. Let me help you with that.”

And, even though Jungkook knew it was coming, even though he could see her pick up an ice cube with her fingers, even though his body was aching from bruises and burns, he still nearly screamed when the ice cube was shoved into his hard nipple, shock shooting throughout his nerves at the cold, moaning as she rubbed it back and forth, rapidly melting water mixing with sweat and spit.

He fell back against the desk with a dull thunk, writhing, trying to move away and trying not to move at the same time, his back arching towards it. Sinful pleasure rising to new, uncharted territory. Her low laughter rang throughout the room, swiping the ice cube over one of his fresh burns, and Jungkook bit back a howl, his hands flying up and grasping his hair, pulling at it, adding pain on shock.

Her name dragged out of his throat, desperate and raw.

The melted cube slid off and hit the floor.

Neither of them cared.

“What’s the matter?” Her rough voice was deeper than usual, slipping into her satoori. “Can’t take it?”

She ran another all over his neck and his head hit the desk, ice to bruised skin, freezing his sudden goosebumps, his depraved moan directed to the ceiling. Cold liquid seeped down onto the nape of his neck, into his hair, onto the desk under him, into the remnants of his mesh shirt, and then the ice travelled back down, abusing his other nipple. Hard nub to cold stinging, morphing into wicked pleasure, turning him on so much that it was intolerable.

His hands flew back down to his jeans.

This time she didn’t stop him, grinning, dragging the frozen cube down, down.

Over his tightened core, the melting ice making his cut abs glossy and glistening.

She swept it around his lower belly as he fought his pants, gasping and squirming, his cheeks burning as he realized his boxer briefs were soaked with pre-cum, nearly sobbing as his erection was freed. The heavy, pungent scent of semen hit the air, accompanying the burning smell. His jeans were heavy with his belongings and instantly clunked to the ground. His boxer briefs tangled by his calves, sliding down from her opening his legs wider.

He looked down.

Thick, dark red, his stiff cock sticking upwards.

Begging for it.

He gripped his tense thighs, knowing what was coming and not wanting to stop her.

Her wrist flicked.

The ice cube plopped into her palm and then she gripped his cock, pressing the small hard object into his even harder cock, stroking up and down without hesitation. His head snapped back and he nearly saw stars, his fingernails digging into his thighs, the cold point overcome by her hot hand, shock and pain and pleasure and immoral desires all rolled into one.

She hovered over him, grinning madly from ear-to-ear, delighted by his reaction.

A demon of lust overcome by her power.

The small remainder slipped out of her palm and hit his balls, sliding off with a prickling line of ice-cold water, but Jungkook was trapped by her wild eyes, absorbed by their shared insanity, panting hard, her punishing grip deliberate and intense, his hips bucking to every pump of his cock, his tongue sliding out, tasting the air. Pre-cum, cinders, her bittersweet perfume. Losing himself to the uncontrollable shivers all over his body and the prickling latticework of his nerves attempting to keep up with the piling sensations. Nearly crying when she stopped jacking him off, pulling away so he could see how swollen he had become.

Squatting down.

Her piercing stare above the throbbing, purple-red tip.

The glint in her eye.

Sadistic.

She was so beautiful, just like this.

He heard a clink of the glass touching the floor. Another ice cube appeared in her left hand. Wordlessly, she brought it to his length and pressed it to his hot shaft. Jungkook winced, clawing at the insides of his thighs to stop himself from flinching away from the cold, and then watched in fascination as the veins become more prominent, his length reddening, violently turned on by it, his cock twitching and pulsing, his body too confused on whether to back down or continue being aroused.

The ice cube slipped down, to his balls, and he bit back a yelp, immediately feeling them pull closer to his body, but she gripped his cock again, pumping him hard and fast, smearing freezing circles over his balls at the same time, causing cold water to drip down his legs and onto the floor, the fat droplets creating audible plop, plop, plops.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

So good that he could only moan helplessly and thrust up into her hand. She gripped him, tighter, spitting onto her fingers, slicker, wetter, hot and cold and the unbearable ache between his legs, his shoulder blades pressing into her desk, his spine arched to the brink, begging, pleading, d-don’t s-s-stop, the pitch of her name becoming feverish as the ice slipped and skidded over the floor, but it didn’t matter, didn’t matter because she grabbed his balls instead, wrapping her fingers around them and squeezing.

“H… H-Harder…!”

His hair was stuck to his face, his eyes rolling back, his tongue hanging out of his open mouth, forcibly pushed to orgasm with the punishing clamping of his balls, and it all came down with a crash, the air crushed out of his lungs with a carnal cry, his cock violently jerking, shooting out a stream of thick cum that was quickly covered by her mouth, sucking it off with a lewd slurp. His hips snapped back from the whiplash of overstimulation but there was nowhere to go and he found himself wetly begging, almost sobbing, k-keep going, make me cum a-again, please…!

On the brink of agony and dependent on it.

“Please, don’t s-sto– oh, fuuuuuuuck…!”

Her mouth completely covered him, now two hands on his balls, tugging them in different directions, her knuckles closing in, locking. Pulsating around the delicate skin and sending him into blinding pleasure, on the edge from her wrapped tongue and steady abuse, and somehow she knew the exact amount of cruel pleasure to inflict that was almost, almost too much. Up and down, her punishing tongue pressing him to the roof of her mouth. Down her throat. Tight. Wet. Suffocating. Sucking. Spit leaking out and dripping down to his balls. Sticky, milky from his cum. The head of his cock was so sensitive that he could feel every ridge on the roof of her mouth and the pinch of her slippery throat muscles choking him.

He came so hard that his vision went black.

Hoarsely screaming her name.

She stopped moving her head but sucked him dry, swirling her tongue around and around and around.

His skin burned, his chest tight, his crotch ice cold.

Jungkook blinked hard, trying to come down, mind foggy and hazy from the back-to-back orgasms that had expended his consciousness. Blurred vision, shaking hands, his knees buckling. Coldness. He could hear clunking, sense movement, but his vision was blurred by his own tears, distracted and disoriented by his high.

Then his vision went black again and her bare pussy collided with his open mouth.

He gasped under the unexpected weight, her knees by his head and her hands clutching his hair, pushing the crown of his head back, pressing her wet pussy into his face. Sweet slick smeared onto his lips and slipped down into his mouth, and he was obsessed, possessed, latching on and thrusting his tongue inside, her skirt blanketed over his head. He couldn’t see anything. He didn’t care. She sat on his face, her thighs pressed to his cheeks, and he clawed up his own body, sinking his hands into her soft ass to put more of her weight on him, moaning into her wet folds, covering himself with her juices.

It stuck to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.

He curled his tongue around her clit and coaxed it with licks, hearing her growl in satisfaction, her grip tightening in his hair. Grinding on his face, smothering him, but he didn’t care, wanted it, needed it, licking, sucking, drinking down her slick, straining his neck to close his lips around that elusive bundle of nerves and making it his.

Hard, primal exhales up above, riding his face and chasing the high.

“You’re such a pain slut.”

A man’s voice.

Raspy and smokey.

Amused.

Jungkook became highly aware that he was mostly naked, legs trembling from tension, spent cock bouncing in the air. On his back and pinned to a desk with pussy molded to his mouth, half-crushed by being sat on, his face covered by a short skirt and his hands molded to the juicy curve of her ass.

And he liked it.

No.

He loved it.

He ached for it.

He made an effort to be more noisy, more obvious, licking and sucking, his wanton moans muffled in his chest, rolling his body up into hers, earning another tug at his hair and a dark laugh some ways away, the Daegu satoori slipping out due to arousal.

“Yeah? You like me watching?”

She snickered, wicked and husky from approaching orgasm.

“Of course. He’s a fuckin’ freak just like you, Yoongi.”

He could hear the heavy tap, tap of boots. He felt her arch, a soft moan emitting from her lips, and he whined under her as her pussy spasmed and spilled onto his chin, her taste becoming sweeter, less viscous, stark. He sucked it all up, noisily, his forehead damp with sweat, but not stopping, running his tongue up and down her slit, shoving his tongue into her pulsing hole.

“Listen to him. He’s so desperate to make you cum in front of me,” the low, deep voice of Min Yoongi hummed. “You really gonna show me that face while he’s doing dirty things to you?”

Her teasing voice was daring, cold.

“Yeah, I am.”

Jungkook couldn’t see and could barely breathe, but he could hear just fine.

“Come here, then. Take out your dick. Prove to me that you aren’t hard.”

She curved her hips and Jungkook released the strain on his neck, gulping down a sticky, much-needed breath, and then he had to blink hard as light suddenly flooded his vision. Something brushed up against his upper arm. Rustling fabric. He heard a wispy sigh, and looked up to see the dark, cat-like eyes of Min Yoongi narrowed down at him, framed by long strands of black hair.

Jungkook stared right back and pressed his lips to her clit, making her moan with his tongue, her cum seeping down his neck.

Another stare joined Yoongi’s. One dark iris, real. One fake iris, vivid white. She grinned, sending another flare of wicked want through him, acutely aware of the indecent position he was in. A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy. Her left hand gripped her skirt, bunching it at her waist, and the other was on the desk, allowing her to hunch over him.

She licked her teeth.

Carnivorous.

“Guess what, Jungkook?”

His eyes widened as he felt fabric slide down past his arm.

“Yoongi’s hard watching you eat me out.”

There was the audible slap next to his head, right onto her thigh. She rolled her hips into his mouth, and he opened up, sucking on her clit as he heard a soft hiss, seeing the shoulder of Yoongi’s black long sleeve move. Hearing the back-and-forth slaps. Smelling the scent of pre-cum once again, but someone else’s, smearing right onto her quivering thigh next to his head.

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened, biting his lower lip, fixated on her clean-shaven mound rocking onto Jungkook’s needy and willing mouth.

“Makes you fuckin’ hard watching him between my legs, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook whined at her icy, heated tone.

The older male’s breathing was growing thin, the repeated noise of hand on flesh getting faster, louder.

“S… Shut up…”

Her hand hooked around Yoongi’s head and she dragged him to her face by his hair. There was a flash of shared gaze and Jungkook saw it – desire clouded by sin, an insatiable hunger for pain – and he witnessed Yoongi moaning into her face, succumbing to her brutal kiss, her hips picking up the pace as they made contact, prompting him to suck harder and lick faster.

Close.

Jungkook could now barely see the angry red head of Yoongi’s cock slipping in and out of focus, a peripheral blur from that strong pale hand wrapped around it.

Close.

His legs shook, threatening to give up on him.

There.

His eyes shut tightly as her hips flinched and she snarled, vicious and guttural in her chest. Heady and sweet cum flooding his mouth, over his chin, stifled moan bubbling in his throat as he tipped his head down and hungrily lapped it all up, covering his nose with her orgasm. Thrusting his tongue into her throbbing, shivering hole. Swallowing as much as he could, and then he felt the sudden hot, dripping stream of thick semen painting his forehead, a streak of Yoongi’s scent painted onto him, and then another, dripping down her thigh and into Jungkook’s sweat-soaked hair.

It was so wrong.

It was heaven.

The ache in his core pulsated, devastatingly turned on by the defilement.

She got off him and now Jungkook could finally breathe, but his surroundings were a blur. The sudden oxygen flooding his brain left him out of touch with reality, still drunk on lust, pain, and near erotic asphyxiation. Wet. Warm. He melted in her hands as she licked off his face, hot tongue slurping off his hyung’s cum and leaving sloppy kisses along his temples. He trembled, teeming with past sensations. His body sore and sticky with various fluids, his and hers and his, and this was it, this was everything he wanted, fashioning his new self from his guilty, masochistic fantasies.

Feeling truly, blissfully, painfully alive.

Yoongi was breathing hard, holding something out to him.

A black leather collar with a silver chain wrapped around his hand.

“You want yours?”

Yes.

Yes, he did.

Jungkook reached out and grasped his collar tightly. Brain muddled. Body electrified from willfully inflicted agony and the voracious want for more. More. Those dark cat-like eyes narrowed. Deep voice dropping to a wary rasp.

“Careful, or the headspace will possess you and take over your life,” Yoongi warned.

Too late.

Too fucking late.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #yoonkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi smut

[honey-words]

sparring partner — pro hero!sero hanta x pro hero!reader

word count: 588

“Rough day?”

You sigh, not even bothering to turn towards the voice. “Yep. You?”

“Yeah,” Sero replies, grinning at you and taking his position behind the punching bag, bracing himself.

It’s your second time seeing Sero at the gym that week, so you can only imagine how his weeks going. Yours, not so great.

You tell Serp about it as you hit the punching bag, and he adds in his own comments. You smirk when he actually stumbles back at one of your stronger kicks, and he just rolls his eyes at you.

You met him a year ago, when he was training by himself on one of the simulator dummies they had at the gym. He was beating the hell out of it, and you could tell he was bored. So you offered to spar with him. Offer him a real opponent.

You’ve worked out and sparred together at least once a week since then, catching each other up on gossip from your respective agencies.

“She totally slept with her,” Sero said as you switched spots. Now it was your turn to listen as he hit. “There’s just no way they haven’t done it,”

“What are you, a teenager?”

You regret goading him, because he punches the bag harder than he normally does and it’s your turn to take a step back. “You asshat.”

He laughs, and you have to look down at your shoes. The way his eyes crinkle up when he laughs, how wide his smile is, his goddamn eyes—it’s his fault you have a massive crush on him. Getting to punch him once a week definitely helps channel your rage about it.

You’re looking forward to boxing with him and you hurry him along to the small ring in another one of the rooms. He’s talking about an event he has to go to for his agency as you both put your gloves on, and you’re so focused on putting them on securely that you barely register the question he asks you.

“So, want to be my plus one?”

You pause in the tightening of your gloves before maintaining your composure.

“To the gala?”

“Yeah! Could be fun. There’s an open bar, and a few other agencies go. Denki will be there, you can finally meet him and he can suck it because he’s convinced I made you up,” and he’s smiling at you again, and how can you say no to him when he’s looking at you like that?

“Okay, I’ll go with you,” you smile back at him. “If you can get five hits on me.”

“You better start planning your outfit,” Sero smirks, and you just laugh as you both make your way into the ring. “I’m going to date the hell out of you this weekend.”

“Oh so it’s a date?” you ask, putting your arms up and raising your eyebrows at him. “Thought I was your plus one?”

“My special plus one,” he says, still smirking at you. “I look hot in a suit, there’s no way you’ll turn me down when I officially ask you out at the gala. Think of it as our warm up date.”

“Five hits,” you remind him. But you can’t stop smiling and picturing him in a suit, because you’re positive he looks great in one. “I’ll go easy on you.”

He takes you shopping later that week, and you pick out matching outfits for the gala, where he does ask you out and where he does ‘date the hell out of you.’

masterlist

#sero hanta x reader #sero x you #bnha x you #mha x reader #sero x y/n #bnha fanfiction #mha x y/n #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #sero fluff

[fictionalmenxyn]

Can I humbly request 141 and los vaqueros maybe Koenig to reacting to reader being trained in Muay Thai like Annie Leonhart style

Okay imagine

Reader is already very muscular(👁️🫦👁️) and is known for being super tough but training rolls around specifically sparring and again eren and Annie situation she’s underestimated then absolutely

D E C K S T H E M

She just fake jabs then throws them over her shoulder then restrains with her thighs 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Sorry if this is to vague it’s just an idea I’ve had in my mind for a while 😅😅

Of course! Sorry if this is a bit inaccurate to the Annie Leonhart. I’m not really into that type of stuff but I do know some stuff about Mauy Thai.

Ghost

So you were currently about to go spar and ‘gain more knowledge on techniques’ as your boyfriend would say. So you grabbed your small duffel bag with your drink, hand towel and gym necessities inside. You walked into the almost empty gym the only soul being there was Simon.

You dropped your bag by his and he turned around hearing your bag. He spoke “ready, love?” You nodded and walked over to him.

You had been sparring and such with Ghost for a while. He would easily find a tactic to knock you down or get you into a weak headlock. So you were getting annoyed at yourself and decided to show a side that you have never showed before.

You both got into a stance and you threw a fake jab, which he threw a real one. You moved to the side, you dodged another Ghost punch then you shin kicked him in the side of his leg right by the back of his knee. Causing him to go down. Then you saw he quickly got back up, you grabbed and managed to flip him over you. You got on top of Simon and you used your legs to restrain him and then put him into a fake headlock.

Once he tapped, you rolled over and looked at him. He said “since when could you do that?” You replied “since I learnt Muay Thai” he looked at you as if you had just said something outrageous. He asked “when did you do that?” You answered “since about seven?” He said “and only now you tell me?” You nodded and said “well, I don’t really do it much anymore” Ghost quickly said “you should” you smiled and gave him a kiss.

Soap

You were in your room when you heard a knock. You beckoned them in and it was Soap. He spoke “come on, we got sparring” you rolled your eyes and got up leaving your phone on your bed.

Once you two got into the gym you both went over to the boxing ring. You spoke “ready?” He nodded and you both started throwing punches and tactical moves.

You saw he was about to throw a punch so you put your forearm up and then dodged his punch and then you followed it with two elbows and then kicked him in the calf. He stopped for a second and said “what was that?” You responded “Muay Thai?” Making more of a question for him. He asked “you do Muay Thai?” You nodded and he said “damn, that’s badass” you smirked and said “why thank you” as you two sparred he’d ask about you and Muay Thai.

In the end you ended up teaching him a few moves of your own.

Gaz

You weren’t actually training, well with one of the 141 boys. You were training with a recruit who knew Muay Thai. You stumbled across the girl and found it fascinating when you saw her practicing. You loved that another woman was doing something you did so you offered to teach and spar.

They mentioned they were slightly knew to the sport so you offered to train them considering you had been doing it for years. So today you asked if she wanted to do it and she happily agreed.

You two were in the ring for a while when you both heard the door open. But you two continued to do your thing. You didn’t realise it was your boyfriend Gaz.

He watched you in awe as you did your thing. He always did, he loved how focused you can get and how much you always put your energy and effort into things like this.

Once you told her she could have a break. You turned around to see Gaz, you smiled and waved considering you had your gum shield in. He asked “how’s it going?” You took your gum shield out and answered “great” he said “what are you doing? I thought it was boxing at first but you two started kicking and shit” you replied “Muay Thai” his eyes widen at the fact his girlfriend does such a badass and lethal sport.

He asked “since when did you do that?” You answered “since I was a kid, I got videos and everything” he smirked and said “could I watch some of them, then?” You nodded and said “even got photos.”

After your sparring you two went to your room and you showed a small photo box of you in oversized shorts since you were so little. You showed him photos of you with your parents. You then cuddled up on your bed as you two watched younger you do Muay Thai.

Price

Once again, you were actually training. You had been trying to teach the new recruits stuff. But the boys being boys didn’t behave or really listen. It made you annoyed since you had to take time out of your day to try and teach these boys who only messed around and made inappropriate comments about you.

So what you always did was go to the gym late in the night and take your anger out on the bag.

You were in the gym when you heard a door open. There were only a few people every so often who would train as late as you did. But it wasn’t someone who wanted to train, it was Price.

You stopped when you heard “love? What are you doing?” You turned to see him walking over. You looked down at the ground. You whispered “taking my anger out” he lifted your chin up and asked “how come?” You answered “those boys I had to teach today, they did my nut in. All they did was taking the piss out of everything and making snarky comments about me.” Price spoke “so you did?” You said “take my anger out on the bag.” He asked “right, but were you actually doing? it looked different to what you actually do” you said “Muay Thai, I grew up on the sport but since the army I don’t do it as often.” He raised an eyebrow and asked “you did Muay Thai? Never thought you did that? Come on let’s go get some tea and you can tell me how you got into the sport” you smiled knowing that Price knew exactly how to make you better when you felt angry or sad.

That’s why you love him.

Alejandro

You both were actually home, you were in the make shift gym you both had.

You were sparring on the punching bag, once you did that for a bit you decided to do some shadow Muay Thai.

Alejandro was on the phone with his mother when she had mentioned of a family bbq and she wanted Alejandro and you to go. Since she first met you she loved you. And she will invite you to anything. So she asked if Alejandro and you wanted to join the family cook out. And he said you two would go.

So he went to the gym where you currently were. You were still shadow boxing when he came in. He shouted “mi amor! Madre was wondering if you wanted to come to the family cook out!” As he walked in he saw you Muay Thai boxing was was shocked. He never knew you could do such martial art.

He called out “Y/n!” You finally heard him so you turned around. You smiled and waved. Taking your gloves off you walked over to Alejandro and said “what did you say? Sorry I was too focused” he smirked and said “it’s fine, was you just doing Muay Thai?” You smiled proudly and spoke “yeah, you know about it?” He nodded and said “an old friend of mine used to do it.” He asked “since when did you do it?” You said “probably five years? Maybe six?” He nodded and said “my mother asked if you wanted to join the family cook out? I told her we’d go” you smiled and said “of course! Is everyone going?” He nodded and you smiled. You loved his family they were so close together and did everything together you loved it.

Rudy

It was once again another sparring session with Rudy. He always went easy on you, he didn’t want to hurt you. Although you were very muscular you still had feelings, that was his excuse.

But today you told him to go full force on you. You spoke “forget who I am in this sparring session. Pretend I’m a massive man you need you fight off” he nodded hesitantly.

So sparring had begun, you started punching him and he punched you. It went back and forth for a while.

But half way through you could feel him starting to be more gentle so you smirked and rolled your eyes. He was about to through a punch but you were quicker. You kicked him in the rib and then round housed kicked him. You then followed that with knee to the stomach.

He looked at you as if you had just murdered someone. He was gob smacked, he asked “where on earth did you learn that? Querida” you answered “I do Muay Thai” he asked again “since when?” You said “uh two years?” He nodded and decided it wasn’t a bad idea on not going soft.

König

König never thought you had wanted to go against him in a spar. Not just because of your relationship but because you two are completely polar opposites. He was tall and you were short, he had a wider range of arm motion and you didn’t but did that stop you from asking? No.

So you both got into the ring and started, you had a good few punches to the face from König but he felt terrible. He stopped and said “should we stop? I don’t want to hurt you, maus” you shook your head and spoke “I’ll have my comeback don’t you worry” he hesitated and started back up again.

What he didn’t know was you were about to pull a move he never knew you could pull. You kicked his calf twice and jumped onto his thigh and got your legs on his shoulders and got him into a head lock with your thighs.

Once he tapped he got you down and you said “sorry if I went rapid mode on you, I was wondering if I still had it in me” he raised an eyebrow and asked “where did you learn that?” You answered “I used to do Muay Thai” he said “how come you didn’t tell me?” You said “I would’ve but it never really came into conversation” he nodded and you started to tell him everything as you both walked out of the gym.

Hope you enjoyed!

Ik some of these most likely aren’t actually moves in Muay Thai so I apologise if I offended any Muay Thai people or anything. Once again I don’t do the sport so I don’t have much knowledge on it.

Have a good day/night!🫶

#task force 141 #cod x reader #task force 141 x y/n #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #platonic task force 141 x y/n #y/n mw2 #konig mw2 #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #alejandro mw2 #rudy mw2 #price mw2 #gaz mw2 #price cod #gaz cod #soap cod #könig cod #Alejandro cod #Rudy cod #call of duty #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare x you #modern warfare #modern warfare 2