defined shoulders

it always confuses me when superman gets drawn burlier than batman. i mean we dance around it but superman is basically super strong due to space magic. he could be a weedy lil string bean and he’d still be able to lift a bus. i’m not saying the muscles don’t help, or that he doesn’t probably have magic space muscles. i’m just saying, all of batman’s strength is muscle-dependant. he has no space magics. in my head he is the more burly of the two just out of necessity. i know he’s kind of got the gymnast thing going on but like. i imagine bruce wayne as more barrel-y and clark kent as more dorito-y. i don’t know why i’m telling you this except that i’m dealing with the realization that this is not the standard assumption.

Headcanon I

It’s sixth year and Harry is just that tiny bit more observant in his stalking of Draco Malfoy.

At first everything seems so ordinary that it is almost boring, the blonde swaggers casually around the castle, a sneer plastered to his face , his personal goons following behind him. But secretly Harry knows that watching Malfoy will never be boring for him because there’s a certain magnetic pull that the Slytherin has.

After some time though, just as Harry is considering giving it up, he begins to realise things about Malfoy. He begins to pick up on how his shoulders slump immediately and he let’s out a long breath that such a thin (and was he always that thin?) boy couldn’t possibly have held as soon as he’s alone. He begins to realise how defined his shoulders and ribs and cheekbones are and how hollow and dark the bags under his eyes are. He takes in the way he begins to let go of and then lose completely his former swagger and how he never seems to be in anyone else’s company anymore.

This continues for a few weeks until Harry knows something is definitely wrong. Draco no longer wanders the halls of Hogwarts like a self-proclaimed prince, instead he lies on his back with his arm covering his eyes on the grass field behind the school or stares blankly across the school grounds from the astronomy towers.

And he is always alone.

In class he’s always absent, Harry notes. He stares forward in the direction of the teacher but he always seems to be looking through Professor Snape. There’s something wrong with his eyes as well, they’ve lost their usual malicious gleam and seem to have rusted over (not that Harry stares at his eyes or anything regularly). His hair is much too tousled and his gaze when he sees Harry staring at him from across the great hall is much too passive.

The blonde is reduced to hardly anything more than a skeleton at this point and soon Harry realises that he isn’t stalking Malfoy to stop what ever the fuck he’s doing, it’s so that he can keep a close eye on the slowly deteriorating boy because no one else is.

No one else is seeing what he is seeing.

No one else is realising that Draco is slowly dying.

No one except for him.

It’s suddenly Harry’s unspoken mission to make sure Draco doesn’t suddenly slip past his fingertips and disappear completely because then who will he have to call a git and chase around the castle long after his anger has subsided and his chest hurts from running and a strange burning sensation?

One day, instead of heading up to the astronomy tower or behind the school, Draco Malfoy leads a determined Harry up to the owlery where the howling wind and beating rain is much more menacing. Harry is shivering under his invisibility cloak and he can see that Draco is too, all he’s wearing is his now-soaked button up and his school slacks.

Harry is confused (and all too relaxed, he tells himself after) until Draco’s stiff body begins to move towards the stone wall and he lifts a leg onto it.

What’s he doing? Is all Harry can think.

But then Draco is lifting his second leg and it all clicks.

The Gryffindor throws off the invisibility cloak and sprints over to grab Malfoy’s wrist and pull him away from a premature death.

Malfoy spins around and even through the rain, Harry can tell he’s been crying. The Slytherin is too stunned for words as Harry throws his arms around his waist and pulls him close in a bone-crushing hug.

‘Pot-’ is all Malfoy can manage before he starts crying again.

He can feel Harry’s warm breath on his neck, repeating over and over that it’s ok and that he shouldn’t do this.

He can feel Harry’s tense muscles against his chest and around his middle.

It’s Potter. Of course it’s Potter. It’s always Potter. Is all Draco thinks as he succumbs to the shorter boy’s sleep-inducing body heat and rests his tired head on his shoulder.

Harry would’ve loved to be the taller one in this situation so that he could rest his chin on the blonde’s head, but he does the next thing he can think of which is to play with Malfoy’s hair as he hiccups into Harry’s shoulder.

Malfoy slowly wraps his arms around Harry, appreciating the warmth the latter seems to be radiating.

Harry can feel all too well each and every rib of Malfoy’s and though that in itself isn’t a nice feeling, having a raw, vulnerable Draco in his arms is.

‘It’s ok.

It’s ok.

You shouldn’t do this.’

Malfoy nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck and breathes in his scent.

'Thank you Harry.’

It was too much for Lena.

She suspected it.

Because Kara’s neck was way too defined and her shoulders were broad even though she always hunched her back. Plus that time Kara wore a backless dress to one of the galas Lena invited her to. Lena would be lying if she said she didn’t tripped over her own feet when she saw the rippling muscles.

But when she was picked up and placed on her desk in her office… Lena was sure she just died a little bit inside. Then she practically torn the shirt off of Kara, hungrily devouring the blonde’s body before her. She shuddered, watching taught and defined abdominal muscles shift and flex with every labored breath Kara took.

Guessing that your girlfriend worked out was one thing. Knowing, seeing and feeling it was a completely new experience. (Lena would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little jealous of Kara’s metabolism. Because she could eat whatever she wanted and however much she wanted. And Lena silently cursed all the galas and dinners for her soft stomach and thick thighs.)

She watched the muscles roll as Kara shrugged the shirt off, tearing Lena’s blouse in return, buttons flying everywhere; hiking the pencil skirt, bunching it around the brunette’s hips, before pushing Lena back to lie on the table.

She looked up at Kara, eyes heavy, chest heaving with deep breaths. The blonde was looking down at her, dark blue eyes and panting, hands sprawled on Lena’s thighs.

“I really hope that your office is soundproofed.” Kara rasped before bending down and placing wet open-mouthed kisses all over Lena’s stomach.

The CEO gasped, fingers tangling in thick blonde hair, before biting her lip and arching into the touch.

She couldn’t, for the life of her, remember if her office was indeed soundproof.

Or if they’d locked the door.


I’m sorry. I’ll stop.

For my FTM friends looking to form a more "masculine" body type

This is the formula to the fastest masculine body recomposition:

1. Train and eat to lose excess fat. This slims the hips and legs and defines the abs. Create a calorie deficit in a way that is not excruciating to you. Use a systematic program with compound lifts. Always lift more weight or the same weight for more reps at each consecutive workout. Stick to your schedule, don’t continually change your program, and give it time. Consistency is often the missing factor.

2. Train and eat to pack on muscle once you’re already lean. This expands the chest and shoulders and defines the arms, back and shoulders. Create a slight calorie surplus on training days (300-400 extra calories). Eat at maintenance or just below maintenance on off days. Use the same program, but lift more. Size and strength go hand in hand.

3. Wait. The longer you’re on hormones, the more masculinized you’ll become naturally. If you’re on a solid nutrition and training protocol that you stick to faithfully, your changes will come even sooner and your aesthetic will be infinitely more appealing.

Jealous, A Harry and Emerson One Shot

This is a oneshot based off of Nick Jonas’ Jealous.

Setting Harry and Emerson's first holiday together right after they made 

their relationship official.

DISCLAIMER: THIS FIC IS EXTREMELY MATURE AND SEXUALLY GRAPHIC.PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN YOUR AREA. (TYPICALLY 16+).

The room was booming with noise: people laughing, jingle bells tinkling as party gifts for the guests, and the Jackson 5 christmas album booming classics from the vinyl player and through the sound system. Harry and Emerson were throwing a Christmas. It was their first holiday together and Harry’s New York loft was finally set up the way he wanted, so he obviously had to celebrate. They’d invited their closest friends and told them to bring whoever they wanted. The more the merrier, pun intended.

 

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Respect Me (Skate Maloley)

Can you please please please do a Nate imagine/preference where you’re saving sex for marriage and how he will react to it
– Thanks for your request! Sorry this took me for-fucking-ever to do, I had to really think about it over the last couple of days! Just because it could be relationship deal breaker and I’m not quite sure how he’d react! - Bri x 

His lips caress the hollow of your neck, your eyes flutter closed in bliss and suddenly you find yourself losing every moral and ethic you believed in to the faint smell of aftershave and drug-like euphoria that Nate Maloley presented. He kisses your neck until you start to moan quietly, as your fingers twine through his hair. You were losing yourself to him, and you felt as if you enjoyed it too much. The angel and devil on your shoulder was always a cheesy thing you never believed in, but with each kiss to your defined shoulders you found your mind battling with your body. Could you really go through with this and not regret it in the morning? It had absolutely nothing to do with Nate, he was respectful and affectionate and so understanding. You loved him. 

However, you knew that if you made this decision tonight you would stop loving yourself and you would resent him for it. You didn’t want that. 

“Nate,” you complain, “Nate, you’re going too far.” You warn, shifting underneath him in an uncomfortable and awkward manner. 

He immediately breaks away, and rolls off of you, making eye contact to see if he was in trouble or not, “I-I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to.” 

You shake your head, moving to sit cross legged in front of him, “I need to tell you something.” He peers at you with a perplexed expression and goes to open his mouth to say something witty and sarcastic but you shush him, pressing your finger to his lips, “I made a decision a long time ago, that I wouldn’t do /that/, until I was married. It’s a decision I plan to keep.” You explain, his facial features soften and you try your best to not break the eye contact. You were embarrassed, and it was clear in the way you presented yourself. 

“Okay,” Nate begins, “I’m going to try to understand where you’re coming from.” He nods his head and soon goes into a deep thought, with a blank expression he stares at your blankets for a few moments, “just so we’re clear…it’s not because of me?” You shake your head, of course it wasn’t him, “and you’re not telling me this now because you feel like I’ve been pressuring you.” Again, you shake your head. 

Nate sighs deeply and sits up as well, “I’m sorry.” You apologize, you had no reason to but you felt like doing so anyway. It was going to impact your relationship immensely, and obviously Nate who was far from a virgin. 

He shrugs, “you respect things about me, you respect that I like to smoke weed, and that I chose a career that has an amazingly high chance of me failing at. This is something that I need to respect about you, no matter how hard this decision may be.” 

“It’s not like it’s going to be forever.” You offer, placing your hand on his shoulder, “I just, I want it to be special.” 

“I want it to be special for you too.” He murmurs sincerely, looking up at you with such light in his eyes you found yourself falling all over again,”I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too Nate.” You lean down, and he leans up, and you capture lips for a few lingering moments before breaking away. Your lips were tingling, and just by that tiny bit of intimacy you believed that you both knew the wait would be worth it, no matter how long the way may be. 

“First of all, we’re getting out of your bed because it’s teasing the fuck out of me. Second of all, I’m throwing all of my condoms away so I don’t even get temped. Third of all, hand me that laptop so I can start wedding ring shopping.” He remarks playfully going to stand up, he pulls you up with him by your hands and again, gives you a lingering kiss followed by an affectionate kiss to your forehead. 

“Or, you know, we could go get chicken nuggets?” You offer and he chuckles. 

“Way better than sex.” He retorts sarcastically, draping an arm around your shoulders. 

It wasn’t going to be easy, for either of you, but it was a decision you were more than willing to uphold, and you were so grateful to have a boyfriend that respected you the way Nate did, it was a rarity, and you knew it. 

This is super short…but I honestly was going to have nate get super mad (like a lot of boys do nowadays) or get him to be super supportive…and I went with the supportive just because it’s cuter and more Nate-ish. I can’t say for sure if any of the guys would be that supportive, but damn a girl can dream! - Bri x 

punk!luke in high school in which he’s the intimidating, quiet guy with a piercing in his face and a chain clipped to his black skinny jeans and this resting, daring smirk always plastered to his full lips that you often tend to avoid until it’s a Friday and you’re trying to rush an armful of last minute assignments to your english teacher while balancing your backpack and car keys and you’re struggling to get the double door to the hallway open when suddenly a muscular arm snakes out and snatches the door, holding it open for you and there’s none other than luke hemmings with his black snapback and all time low tee and defined forearms and wide shoulders and prominent smirk as he drawls lowly, “let me get that for you.” and you’re hesitating briefly on his icy blue eyes before brushing past him as quickly as possible with a soft “thanks” to which he’s simply humming in reply as your elbow brushes against his stomach and he has to suck in a sharp breath to prevent himself from knocking everything from your grip so he could press you against that door and make you forget about some stupid english essay

the morning before

…the brits 

A/N - a quick little blurb in which phil plays dress-up in dan’s mcqueen jacket. i wrote this in like half an hour and decided to post it because you know, today has been wild for all of us.

previewDan’s hands slid up Phil’s chest and out across his sharply defined shoulders underneath the fabric of his McQueen jacket. “Give me that, it’s not going to be any easier for me if I’ll have to walk around with the smell of you on my jacket all evening.”

~ 998 words

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