#and maybe he in fact DOES get to this point internally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 10 months

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I don’t know if you have this but please can i request headcandons of the spiderverse Boys with their lover reader wearing their (spider boys) clothing like a hoodie or a t shirt?

Miles thought he had stopped breathing when he saw you wear the jacket he has been searching high and low for the past fifteen minutes.

He had been wanting to see you in his clothes but the poor boy didn’t know how to say it without tripping and stumbling awkwardly over his words like a new born baby deer.

‘Hey, have you seen my jacket-‘ his words faltered and then later died on his lips when he raised his eyes as he entered his room, only to see you wearing the very jacket he had been searching high and low for. ‘You’re wearing it.’ His voice cracked and out of embarrassment Miles cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You’re- You’re wearing it.’

You smiled at him, finding his attempts in keeping his cool amusing, especially when it was doing something small like wearing his clothes but you couldn’t help yourself! The jacket was still somewhat warm from previous use and smelt like him, which brought you comfort for the days where he couldn’t always be with you as it felt as though you had a part of him always with you. Though it doesn’t compare to actually having Miles with you, it still brought you a sense of relief and security that you always get when with the young lad.

‘Did you want it back?’ You asked, about to take it off when Miles exclaimed ‘no!’ Making you both jump with how loud it came out but made you both laugh none the less. ‘I mean, no, keep it on as long as you want. You look great in it.’ Miles admits, running the back of his neck, highly aware of the heat radiating within of every part of his body, from the tips of his ears to his chest and even to his feet, as though it was going to burn him from the inside out.

‘Just great?’ You teased, brows raised.

‘Did I say great? I meant you look beautiful, handsome, pretty, beautiful, cosy, comfy.’ Miles rambled and you knew you had to intervene before he hurts himself, which lead you to walk towards him and hold his face in your hands, internally melting when his beautiful doe brown eyes looked into yours as though they’re the only thing grounding him right now. ‘Relax, I’m only teasing babe.’ You reassured him, thumbs stroking his cheeks as means of calming him down. ‘Now are you comfortable with me wearing your stuff because I can stop if you want.’

Just when you were about to pulls your hands away from his face so you could remove and hand back his jacket, Miles placed his hands over yours, keeping them glued to his face as he looked at you adoringly. ‘It doesn’t bother me at all.’ He tells you. ‘In fact it makes me really happy just seeing you in my stuff,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘I swear it feels as though I’m still dreaming sometimes.’ He finishes.

Miles loves it when you wear his clothes as it means that even when you were apart, you’re thinking about him, always and wishing for his safe return. He feels loved, extremely loved.

Pavitr’s day is immediately made a thousand times better when he notices that you’ve been wearing his clothes. He fucking adores it so much to the point that he’s already making plans on just letting you use his wardrobe at your disposal.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad day because seeing you in his clothes even on days where he’s mentally, emotionally and physically okay, he’s automatically made even more chipper and happy to the point he will not shut up about his rant on how cute and adorable you look in his shirt.

He’s talking about a mile a minute that you were starting to get concerned when you saw he wasn’t stopping for breath. When he does remember to breath, you were able to realise the breath that you didn’t know that you had been withholding yourself.

Probably has a multitude of pictures of you wearing his clothes and might’ve made one his lock/Home Screen or maybe both, so that when he was doing his spider-man stuff, he’d be reminded that you were waiting for you Pav to come back safe and sound.

He will shamelessly scream it from the rooftops that you were wearing his clothes and say loud enough for all those within the radius to hear. He’s not ashamed in the slightest and will brag about it until he can’t no more. His friends, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Margo were often subjected to these bragging sessions more so then anyone else.

To the point where Hobie and Miles dog pile him in getting him to shut up about you wearing his clothes for a second. Yes they get it, it’s really cut that your wearing his clothes and how when you return them to him they smell like you’ve never left.

They get it, Pavitr is an absolute sucker for you in his shirts and whilst they found it cute themselves, pav didn’t need to get all dramatic with his long winded speech about how his clothes on you looked as though they were tailored to fit you like the did him, nor how he believes that was a sign for him that you two were meant to be together forever.

Overall Pavitr gets overwhelmingly affectionate when you wear his stuff to the point where your being smothered alive by his constrictive hugs and flurries of kisses raining down on your face. He loves, loves, loves seeing you in his clothes. It makes him happier then he’s ever been.

Hobie is the definition of ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.’

So let’s say you find his vest with the pins spanning across the lapels and the spikes that traversed across the shoulders, draped over the door and decided to wear it for a while until Hobie notices it’s absence.

Jokes on you though because Hobie never left anything of his without it being purely intentional and Hobie left his vest over at yours with the intention that you’d pick it up and wear it out of your own fruition, rather then having him telling you to wear it.

Outwardly his reaction upon seeing you wearing his vest is relatively neutral but that’s only to those on the outside but you could see the smile etching it’s way across his face along with the mischievous, all knowing glint within his eyes that told you all that you had willingly fallen right into his trap, just as he expected.

You’ve been had but you couldn’t be mad because it meant that Hobie had this in mind for a while and played the waiting game to execute his little plan. He wanted to see you in his clothes that he was willing to leave his beloved vest in your hands.

Hobie isn’t territorial but just seeing you in his clothes makes him feel all sorts of things but he just chalks it down to being a spider attribute he got from the bite and nothing else.

All this cheeky fuck would say to seeing you in his vest is; ‘guess I was right, it suits you.’ Which might as well have been his way of telling you that you were more then welcome to steal his clothes but just don’t be surprised when you start seeing some of your own stuff disappearing now and then.

Can’t find your crop top?

Hobie’s wearing it the next time you see him.

Needless to say Hobie loves it when you wear his stuff, so he’s going to do the exact same but with your clothes because he loves the expressions he gets when you ultimately realises who had been stealing your clothes for the past few days.

Miguel may act cool, calm and collected with a smidge of feral his heart isn’t immune from melting at the sight of you wearing his clothing.

It doesn’t even matter how long you’ve been doing it as it always made this secret softy feel as though it was the first time all over again.

Miguel is so occupied with his work to unhealthy extent that he doesn’t realise your wearing one of his shirts, and even when he does; it takes him a minute due to the lack of sleep affecting his ability to comprehend his reality before he’s doing a double take upon realising that yes, that was his shirt your wearing.

It’s cute watching his eyes nearly pop out of his head upon realisation.

‘Is that my shirt?’ He’d ask, although already knowing the answer. He’s not against it, he’s just surprised that you’d even want to wear anything of his. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of such a gesture but it touches his heart nonetheless.

‘I missed you.’ You replied, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. ‘You’re so busy with work that I don’t often get alone time with you anymore. So whenever your away and I’m missing you, I go through your closet and pick a shirt out, and wear it for the rest of the day because it makes me feel as though your here with me.’ You finished with a shrug.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel his heart hurt upon your admittance of missing him. He knows how often he prioritises his work that he was completely blindsided by how it affect you, so much so to the extent that you sought out comfort from his clothes because he was nowhere to be found.

‘You look at home in my clothes.’ He tells you as he decided then and there to cut out some time of his day just for you and be there for you like a lover should be. ‘And I’m sorry that I haven’t been here as much as I should but I promise that’ll change.’ Miguel practically pleads to you as he holds you against his muscular chest, his hands rubbing your back, secretly loving how his shirt looked on you more so then anything.

Seeing you wear his clothes became Miguel’s favourite sight to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He takes pride out of it but the reasoning behind it will always make him upset at himself at his failings of being a partner.

It’s something he’s improved on ever since and you couldn’t help but get giddy when you felt him walk up behind you in the mornings, burying his head into your neck, greeting it with kisses, as his arms enclose on your waist, speaking to you in his low raspy morning voice about how beautiful/ handsome/cute/pretty/stunning you looked to the point where you wanted nothing then to bury yourself into his chest so he couldn’t see the dopey, lovesick smile beaming across your face.

Miguel isn’t immune to seeing you wearing his clothes and he never will be because it’s a declaration of love in its own unique way.

Peter B would find you wearing his clothes unbearably adorable.

He just wanted to squeeze you tightly but knew that probably wasn’t the smartest idea considering with his strength but that never stopped him from taking photos of you doing mundane things in his shirt or sweatpants that you had to tie up by the drawstrings.

Peter has taken too many pictures that he might as well have dedicated an entire album to you wearing his sweats, shirts or even his pink bathrobe and doing mundane things such as making breakfast, watching your favourite shows on tv, playing with Mayday and the like.

So don’t be surprised when he starts showing anyone that would listen over at the spider society pictures of his lover looking absolutely gorgeous/handsome/pretty/beautiful/adorable in his clothes 24/7. Miguel especially but Jess, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie and Margo were also some that got pestered by Peter.

Peter B is also very vocal and would smother you praise of how good you look in his clothes because what he says is 100% genuine.

For example;

‘Look at you! You look amazing!’

‘You’re so cute in my clothes, please don’t stop wearing them.’

‘How could my lover look even better when they’re wearing my clothes. It shouldn’t be possible but here you are, proving me wrong.’

This corny bastard would teasingly call you a mini version of him since you want to wear his stuff so badly.

You’ve defiantly caught him admiring you from afar when you wear his clothes. His eyes are soft and half lidded as he rests his face against his hand, he wasn’t aware that he was leaning so much to the point that before long he was on the floor. It’s so cartoonish and goofy but it’s just so Peter that you can’t help but let out a little chuckle before going over to help your lover off of the floor.

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sluttywonwoo · 2 months

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color me like you || l.jh

pairing: lee jihoon x f reader

summary: you put your heart into every piece of jewelry you make, so why does it only hurt when they're for him?

warnings: swearing, some jealousy, smidgen of religious imagery, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex

word count: 5.3k

author’s note(s): for @sluttywoozi's birthday <33 ilyyy

this was the hardest fic i've ever written ;-; idk why but it just kept fighting me the whole time // also did not mean to be so heavy-handed with the rubies it just sort of happened

“What would you pick?”

Every single fucking time. It was like he didn’t know what he was doing by asking you that. And maybe he didn’t.

Lee Jihoon’s consultations were your least favorite part of (nearly) every month. And it wasn’t because he was a rude customer or a schmuck just looking to blow his money or anything like that- but because month after month he waltzed into your place of work and bought a custom piece for someone who wasn’t you even though he never failed to ask you that god damn question.

It wasn’t like it was uncommon for jewelers to get asked that. In fact, it was rather common. Men tended to view women as a monolith, accepting any opinion from whoever was nearest as a reflection of their partners’ solely based on the other party’s gender.

But with Jihoon it’s different. It was like Jihoon actually cared what you had to say about it, like it mattered what you thought of his decisions even though you were the one designing the piece and not receiving it.

It sends you into a mini spiral every time. Every time he walks through the door, eyes automatically searching for you. Every time he sits down in front of you and leans over your desk to get a closer look at your work and you catch a whiff of the expensive cologne dotted at his pulse points. Every time you have to gaze into his deep brown eyes and swallow the jealousy rising in your throat as you bare your soul to him laid out on a satin pillow for him to take and give to someone else.

You already know who it is once you see that the VIP Room is booked on your schedule. You groan internally, cursing the man as you run through all of your preparations. There isn’t much to do because almost everything is already ready for you but you try to stay busy anyway, finding yourself checking the clock on the wall over and over again until the bell above the door finally chimes to signal his arrival.

Your back is to the door and you don’t turn around right away even though you know he’s seen you. You can feel his gaze on you. It’s piercing yet magnetic in the way things like glass and icicles are- deceptively alluring, sharp enough to draw blood.

When you do finally turn to face him, you note that he’s flanked by a security guard, not unusual for him but unsettling to you nonetheless. You don’t know what he does for work. You’ve never asked. Better not to get attached is what you told yourself, not that you were having much luck with that.

Jihoon smiles politely at you and you return the nicety, gesturing to the door behind the counter for him to follow you.

The lights in the showroom are dim as always. The dark, velveted walls seem to be absorbing what little light the decorative lamps are effusing. The walls are lined with built-in display cases, illuminating their contents and nothing else.

In the middle of the room sits a desk, with a chair on either side. You take your place behind the desk and wait for Jihoon to sit before doing the same. He’s ditched his shadow so the two of you are alone, something you try not to think about as you organize your tools in front of you.

“How have you been?” Jihoon asks, his voice breaking the silence but doing little to ease the tension between you.

“I’ve been well,” you answer. It’s an honest answer, for the most part. “And yourself?”

“Busy,” he sighs, “but good.”

You fold your hands on the desktop in front of you, letting its cold surface ground you. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat even though the showroom’s the coldest place in the store. “So, what are we doing today?”

“A bracelet,” Jihoon says.

“For you or someone else?”

You never ask your clients who their orders are for. In your profession, you’ve learned that being too nosy, even in good conscience, can be dangerous. You’ll ask if the piece is for the client themselves, if it’s to celebrate a specific occasion, and what the person’s tastes are but little else. If they offer the information voluntarily, so be it.

“Someone else.”

You grit your teeth as you ask the next question. “Do you have their measurements?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer right away.

“Not exactly. It doesn’t need to be a perfect fit. They, uh, have about the same size wrist as me.”

“Then I’ll ask you to hold out your wrist for me…”

He extends his arm across the space between you, pale skin almost translucent under your Circline light.

“Which way,” he turns his hand for you, “palm up or down?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He leaves his palm skyward like he’s waiting for you to take his hand but you wrap the tapeline around his wrist instead, bringing the magnifier closer to get an exact measurement. You make a mental note of the number and definitely not of the way his fingers are long and calloused and-

“That’s really pretty.”

Jihoon’s voice startles you out of your unprofessional thoughts, making you jump a little in your seat. He grins apologetically.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you how pretty I think your ring is.”

Your eyes flit down to the piece of jewelry on your finger, a thin gold band looped around a few times like a wiry piece of thread. In between the strands of gold are three gems, diamond, alexandrite, and tourmaline, set in what looks to be random spots. You’ve worn it every day since you finished it but no one had ever commented on it until now.

“Was it a gift?” Jihoon asks.

“No, I made it.”

“I should’ve known,” he sighs.

You want to ask him what he means by that but you know his answer will only make you more delusional.

You release the end of the measuring tape and roll it back up, replacing it in its spot in your drawer and pulling out a leather bound notebook instead. You flip to a blank page and jot down Jihoon’s measurements along with the few details he’s told you thus far about the piece he wants made.

“Do you have an idea of what you want your bracelet to look like?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. “Or should I show you some of my previous designs?”

“I think I have an idea but I don’t know how to describe it.”

“How about I show you some pieces and you tell me if they’re similar to what you had in mind?”

“That sounds perfect.”

You stand from the desk and turn around to face the display cases behind you. There’s an assortment of original jewelry pieces made by you and your colleagues to choose from but you only select ones you’ve made, knowing Jihoon would instantly be able to tell the difference. It’s happened enough times before.

You walk him through each of your selections, making note of what he points out about each of them. From his musings, you gather that he wants an argentium silver chain— thick enough to be inlaid with stones but not too thick that it would become too heavy or gaudy.

Listening to him talk about the piece made you smile despite the envy twisted around your heart. He had started to pick up on the terminology after coming here for so many months and seemed so much more confident about his knowledge of it all. It was apparent in the way he held himself now during consultations.

You get all of the initial details about the body of the piece squared away before moving on to the finer ones. Categorizing the steps like this helps you stay organized.

“And do you know which stones you want embedded in the bracelet?” you ask.

Jihoon rubs his thumb across his lips in thought. “I thought I did, but after seeing that,” he pauses to point at a necklace you’d shown him, “I’m having second thoughts.” The necklace he’s referring to is set similarly to the style of the bracelet, only gold and lined with rubies.

“What was your first choice?”

“Amethyst. Since it’s a birthday gift, I thought I’d go with their birthstone, but now I’m torn. What would you pick?”

There it was, the dreaded question. It was like he’d been holding a knife to your throat this entire time and finally decided to draw blood. Still, you answer like you always do.

“I’m partial to amethyst,” you admit, “and there’s the added significance of it being their birthstone, but the rubies would make more of a statement. It really depends on what kind of person you’re buying for. Are they a sentimental person or a flashy person?”

“They’re both,” Jihoon groans, putting his head in his hands. Then, after a moment, he sits back up. “But I think they’d like the rubies more. I feel like those evoke a more dramatic aura, if that makes sense.”

“It does. Rubies are associated with power and passion.” They’re also associated with romance but you choose not to mention that part. “In some cultures, they were believed to protect the wearers as well.”

“That’s perfect then.”

You clasp your hands together and force a smile. “Great! Do you want them around the entire band of the bracelet? From clasp to clasp?”

“What would two-thirds look like?”

“Let me show you.”

You discuss the size, cut, and spacing of the stones before calculating a price and timeline for the piece. You give Jihoon the receipt that states how much he owes today and how much he’ll owe when he comes to pick it up, circling the pick up date with your pen.

He pays with his black card, the one you’ve become accustomed to swiping every time you see him. You expect him to leave promptly after the payment, that’s what usually happens, but he doesn’t. He lingers a little awkwardly as you put the jewelry back in their display cases, hesitating by the door like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Jihoon?” you ask him eventually, “is everything okay?”

You refer to most of your clients by their surnames but Jihoon had asked you not to the very first time you met. “It makes me feel old,” he’d explained with a laugh.

Now, he laughs again. This time, it’s a nervous laugh, one that draws confusion and sets your own nerves on edge.

He swallows harshly. “I know this may be entirely inappropriate, but I promised myself I wouldn’t leave today without asking if you would go to dinner with me.”

“W-what?”

“Go to dinner with me?” he repeats, this time in the form of an actual question.

You blink. “For real?”

“Um, yes? Unless your answer is no, then no, not for real.”

You put both hands on your desk to brace yourself, unsure what to make of his request. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Why would you want to go to dinner with me?”

“Because I want to take you on a date.”

“A date?!”

Jihoon clears his throat a little bashfully. “Yes, I thought that was implied when I invited you to dinner.”

“Dinner could mean a lot of things! Maybe it was a business proposal.”

He chuckles. “I’m a music producer, I don’t know what kind of business I’d have with a jeweler.”

It doesn’t even dawn on you that you’ve finally found out what he does for work because you’re so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s asking you out to comprehend anything else. You can hardly comprehend this.

“You want to go on a date with me?”

“I- uh, I’ve been coming here for months just to see you. I mean, I was really getting gifts for people but they don’t give a fuck about what I buy them for their birthdays as long as it’s expensive... they don’t really care about the different gems and settings and shit.” You’re still processing his words when Jihoon lifts his head to peek at your reaction. “Are you... upset?”

“Upset? No, I’m relieved!”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“This whole time I thought you were getting gifts for your partner, or partners, I thought you were taken.”

You watch the corners of Jihoon’s mouth quirk up into a smile as he realizes what you’re saying. “And that upset you?”

“Yes,” you mumble.

“You like me back?”

“Yes. It’s been terrible.”

“Pardon?” he chokes out.

“Imagine the roles were reversed,” you explain, “I’m coming to you every month, getting to know you better and you’re learning more and more about me, I’m flirting with you, you’re starting to feel like we’re getting closer-”

“Only for you to buy the jewelry for someone else,” he concludes for you with a grimace, “presumably a romantic partner. Yeah, okay I can see how that would be miserable.”

“But then, who have these even been for this whole time?!” you blurt out, finally breaking your number one rule.

“I’ll explain everything over dinner,” Jihoon promises.

“But when is dinner?”

“What time does your shift end?”

Jihoon does explain everything over dinner, as promised. He gave you some time after work to get ready for the date and then picked you up from your place in a town car. He’d told you before that he’s never felt the need to get a drivers license, that public transport and ride services were plenty to get him to where he needed to go, and that he seldom left the house anyway. You offered to drive to dinner since you did have both a car and a license but Jihoon astutely refused, saying that while he wasn’t very old fashioned, he was the one who asked you out and he’s always liked the idea of a more traditional first date.

Dinner is at a restaurant you’ve never even heard of but apparently has a Michelin star. The food and mocktails are delicious, but truthfully the last thing on your mind as you stare across the table at your date. He’s dressed in all black, like usual, but had chosen an outfit that was much more formal than what you were used to seeing him in: pressed slacks and a dress shirt that was buttoned just low enough to show off a hint of collarbone, cleavage, and a chain you recognize as one you’d crafted for him almost a year ago.

He almost always wore a hat when visiting your store but tonight he’s forgone the baseball cap and swept his long hair back in a half up, half down sort of manner. There’s product in it but a few wisps of his bangs have escaped the hold of the gel and hang in front of his eyes.

You briefly wonder if he’d let you style his hair, if he’d let you braid it back. He’d look so pretty with french braids-

At the end of the meal, after he’s paid, he asks the question. Not the question, the one you’re always dreading, but a new one that makes your heart beat just as fast.

“Are you doing anything after this?”

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the watered down taste in order to keep the air of suspense. “That depends, what are you doing?”

Jihoon’s apartment is closer than yours. It’s in the middle of the city, nestled safely above the bustling crowds and chaos of the streets beneath it. You would call it a penthouse but it isn’t on the top floor of the building nor does it have a terrace- the point is, it’s bigger than the house you grew up in. You can tell just from standing in the doorway with all the lights off. The floor to ceiling windows lined all along the far wall give it away. They let in just enough light from the billboards and neon street signs below to cast shadows in the corners of the room that emphasize its depth.

There’s music playing softly throughout the apartment when you enter.

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen,” Jihoon insists as he scrambles to turn on some lamps. “I swear, I just always have music playing.”

“Sure,” you tease him, bending down to slip out of your heels.

You’re still a few inches taller than him without them on but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. You certainly don’t. “I can turn it off if you’d prefer,” he offers.

“No, that’s okay. I like having it on when-” you stop yourself mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with heat. You had been about to say, ‘when I’m having sex,’ and Jihoon seems to fill in the blank himself from the way he smirks at you.

“Really? That’s good to know.”

You’re too flustered to think of a witty response so you just pucker your lips like you do when you don’t know what to say and hope he can’t tell how insane with lust his answer just made you.

The lapse in his gentlemanly manner is brief and before things can go too far he takes your coat and purse and leads you to the couch in the living room. You sit and watch as he crouches in front of the fireplace, rolling up his sleeves. It’s a gas fireplace so all he has to do is turn the dial to the desired strength, there’s no soot or ash or really anything that would make him dirty, but you appreciate the view of his arms nonetheless.

You know Jihoon is a big fitness buff. It’s one of the first things he ever told you, apologizing for how sweaty he was as he shook your hand and introduced himself. It’s been hard not to let that knowledge distract you whenever you see him now. You’ve caught yourself ogling his biceps and quads (and ass) an unhealthy amount of times in your consultations. You can let yourself get distracted tonight, though. Now that he’s not your client and you’re the girl he’s brought home. Now that he’s got his forearms out on display specifically for you to ogle.

He joins you on the couch a moment later, creating a respectful distance between you.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks suddenly. “I don’t have any alcohol in the house because I don’t really drink but I could make you something like we had at dinner. I also have Coke Zero and water and-”

You put your hand out to stop him, relieved to know he’s just as nervous as you are. “Water would be great, thanks.”

“Ice?”

“If you have it.”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t,” he points out.

“Right. That’s... right.”

He laughs affectionately and touches your knee as he goes to stand from the sofa. His hand is warmer than you expect, making you suck in a quick breath that makes you both freeze. Your eyes meet his before his gaze shifts to your lips.

“Do you... still want that water?”

Your mouth does feel dry but for an entirely different reason.

“Maybe later.”

He’s on top of you as soon as your back hits the mattress, strong thighs straddling your hips. His hair falls into his eyes and subsequently yours as he leans down and gently cups your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, kiss me,” you gasp, pulling him into you before he does.

Jihoon groans the instant your lips touch his, grinding into you almost involuntarily. It isn’t long until you’re moaning too, practically writhing underneath him as he kisses you like he’s found God.

Everything about him is soft, except his hands. His voice, his tongue, his touch. His hands leave your cheeks and start to explore the rest of your body, grazing your chest and hips over your dress.

His fingers skim the hem of it and dip just below the seam, lifting the fabric from your thighs before letting it float back down.You don’t know if he’s teasing you on purpose but it’s driving you crazy. You’ve wanted him for so long now that his self control feels cruel, like he’s dangling himself just out of reach.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“I honestly wanted you to get more carried away,” you admit.

“Really?”

“I thought I was making it obvious.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbles through a smug grin, “and I didn’t know how far you wanted to go tonight.”

“I want to go as far as you want to go,” you assure him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You’re not typically one to sleep with someone on a first date, not for any religious, moral (or internally misogynistic) reason, you just don’t like being that vulnerable with someone you’ve just met. You’ve also found sex to be a lot more enjoyable with someone you feel connected to.

So even though it’s technically your first date with Jihoon, you’ve known him for what feels like half of an eternity and craved him for every single moment of it. You aren’t going to deny yourself what you’ve longed for for ages.

“In that case, can I eat you out?” he asks.

“Fuck yeah you can.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs as he positions himself between your legs and pushes your dress up to your hips.

“Really?” you sigh.

Jihoon kisses the inside of your thigh and then hums against it. “Mhm, every single time we were alone in that dark room I’d just think about crawling under that table and spreading your legs apart...”

“You should have.”

Jihoon scoffs. “You would have gotten fired.”

“Worth it.”

“But isn’t this much better?” he asks, pressing his tongue over your panties. “I can take my time with you and you can be as loud as you want...”

Jihoon repeats the motion with his tongue and you whimper as if to prove his point. He’s barely done anything and your panties are already soaked through. To be fair, you’ve been wet since dinner but that was his doing too. All he had to do was look pretty and you were melting for him.

“Want me to take these off?” he asks.

“God, please.”

“Here, lift up for me then, perfect. Now put your legs over my shoulders... good, just like that.”

He drowns himself in you, worshiping your cunt with his lips and his tongue and his entire being. He takes his time tasting all of you before moving on to what he knows you’re actually waiting for. You try to be patient, you know he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, and it feels good... you just need more.

He does give you more, eventually. His tongue dips inside of you when you’re least expecting it and your thighs clamp around his head in surprise. He’s completely unfazed by this, and pries them apart with ease, holding your legs open as he continues to drink you in.

He switches between tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit a few times to figure out which you like more, settling on a pattern that has his name echoing off the walls of his bedroom.

You can barely hear the music playing over the obscene sounds he’s making as he eats you out but you find you actually prefer them anyway.

His mumbling is incoherent, muffled by you in every sense of the word. Still, you can tell he’s praising you, encouraging you to surrender to the pleasure.

It doesn’t take much convincing because he has you on the edge in record time. No man has ever gotten you so close so fast, you don’t even think you’ve made yourself cum this fast and you have that shit down to a science. It’s over for you as soon as he adds his fingers into the mix. You wanted to hold off a little longer just to prove a point but Jihoon has his own point to prove.

You don’t necessarily need penetration to get off but having something to cum around does make orgasms stronger for you. He must know this, or at least have an inkling, because he pushes two fingers inside of you right when your breath catches in your throat and your body locks up and your vision starts to blur…

“Baby- is it okay if I call you baby? Are you alright?”

It’s more than okay, you think to yourself and then you realize the disembodied voice that sounds a lot like Jihoon’s is actually expecting an answer.

You open your eyes the tiniest bit to see a very wet, very concerned-looking Jihoon hovering above you.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you tell him.

“That wasn’t really the important question out of the two,” he sighs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great!”

He breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you laugh. “Aren’t we going to keep going?”

Jihoon lifts his head and gives you a look. “You just came so hard you blacked out, don’t you want to take a break?”

You shake your head. “No? Why would I?”

His lips part and he sputters, “because you just-”

“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, but I promise I’m fine. I’ve never been better.”

“Never?”

“Never ever.”

“So… I can kiss you again?”

“As many times as you want.”

The power you’ve bestowed on him in that one sentence immediately goes to his head and he spends the next several minutes pressing kisses into your skin as he undresses both you and himself.

He kisses you in between every piece of clothing that comes off, every button of his shirt that he undoes, dragging out every moment until you’re both completely naked save for your ring and his necklace (and a condom).

He’s huge, unsurprisingly. What is surprising is how hard he is already. You knew he was turned on, you could feel him through his pants when you were making out and he was grinding into you, but you didn’t realize it was like this. You haven’t even touched him and his cock is rock hard and flushed at the tip. Did he get that worked up just from giving you head? Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter...

He pumps himself a few times before easing into you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he struggles to keep his composure. You aren’t faring any better, hands flying to his biceps when he bottoms out. The stretch is more intense than you’re expecting. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your head. All you can do is lay there on the satin sheets and feel as Jihoon makes himself a part of you.

“Are you okay?” you hear him ask distantly, voice trembling.

“I’m perfect,” you manage to respond.

“You are,” he agrees.

Your brows wrinkle in confusion as you try to blink him back into focus. Hm?”

He just smiles and pets your hair gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

“O-okay.”

“Am I good to start moving?”

“Yes, yes please fuck me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull his body even closer just in case he needs further convincing, gasping in relief when he finally does start to move. It’s slow at first, experimental. You’re still sensitive from cumming so every sensation is heightened. Every stroke feels better than the last and you can only hope it feels just as good for Jihoon.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, “how are you so fucking wet?”

“I really like you,” you laugh, “and you’re so good at, like, everything! It’s unfair and it’s, fuck, not my fault.”

“I really like you too,” he confesses, starting to fuck you harder. You expect him to elaborate but he doesn’t, not right away. Instead, he lets his body do the talking for him while he busies his mouth with yours. You can still taste yourself on his lips along with traces of your lipgloss and chapstick that he’d long since kissed off. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.

When he raises his head and puts a hand on the headboard to steady himself, the necklace you’d made him dangles right in front of your face, the cross pendant just inches from your nose. He grabs it with his free hand and puts the charm between his teeth so that it won’t hit you, smirking at the way your eyes roll back.

“You like that?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs, then mumbles, “God, you’re so hot. I’m so fucking close already.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, down into another kiss. The chain still in his mouth presses into your lips, the cold metal a striking difference from the heat of your bodies.

“Please tell me you’re close too,” he whispers.

“So fucking close.”

You just need a little more to get you over that edge again. You release one of your arms from around his neck and snake it in between yourselves to rub your clit but Jihoon pushes it away and replaces it with his own. He repeats the same motions with his fingers that he’d done with his tongue, begging you to cum with him.

“Let go for me, baby,” he urges, “wanna cum together. Please let me feel you.”

You don’t black out this time but you do cry, fingernails digging into his back as you fall apart under him. Jihoon fucks you through it, helping you both ride it out. He’s shaking by the time the aftershocks pass and carefully lays himself on top of you like a blanket so that you can both catch your breath.

“S-sorry, I thought I’d last a lot longer,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Next time I will. Maybe. Your pussy is crazy though so you can’t hold me to that.”

“You’ve got such a way with words,” you scoff.

“What can I say, I’m a songwriter. It’s in my blood.”

You snort and push him off you, searching your phone. Your best friend had probably alerted you missing to the authorities by now after not hearing from you for however many hours it’d been since you last updated her. You find your phone under one of the pillows and see a barrage of texts from her and the groupchat just like you predicted. Snitch. You would have to grovel later, though, because Jihoon had gotten up to start the shower and returned to get you now that the water was warm.

He helps you step into the basin and shows you how to adjust the temperature in case it isn’t to your liking before asking if you want him to stay. You do, and you point out that he needs to shower too so it would be more efficient if you showered together anyway.

He joins you without a second’s hesitation, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to gently lather your body with soap. You return the favor after he’s done with you and soon enough he’s wrapping you and himself up in plush white towels he’d grabbed from the warmer next to the shower.

“Stay the night?” he asks as he dries you off.

You don’t have anything you need with you because you hadn’t planned on spending the night. It’s usually impossible to sleep without your overnight essentials but you’re honestly so exhausted you think you could fall asleep standing up.

“Don’t feel like you have to,” he adds when he senses your hesitation.

“No, I want to,” you assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting to have a sleepover so I don’t have any of my things.”

“I have an extra toothbrush,” he supplies helpfully, like that’s the only thing that could have been preventing you from making a decision.

You smile, trying not to laugh. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

He smiles back. “Anything for you.”

this was something kind of different but i hope you liked it bestie <3 can't wait to hear your thoughts i love youuuu

#color me like you #woozi smut #jihoon smut #lee jihoon smut #lee woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #woozi x female reader #svt x reader #seventeen x female reader

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spiderlyla · 9 months

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Broken Mugs — Miguel O'Hara

🕸summery: miguel is tottally not jealous that all your attention is on the new intern

🕸warnings: mention of injury/blood. reader is fem.

🕸a.n: this was actually a req from my other blog @spider999sposts lol. hope anon likes it!

He shouldn't feel this way.

He shouldn't feel his chest tighten. He shouldn't feel his mind clouding. His claws shouldn't be digging this hard into his palm, leaving small scars on his skin. He shouldn't be staring at you this much either.

A yellow glow popped by his shoulder, hiding from sight of the other scientists. Under regular circumstances, he'd shoo her away before anyone could see her, but he was too fixated on keeping his eyes on you...and him. Why on earth would you even glance twice at his direction was his question. He'd been hired for two weeks now but Miguel never saw him getting any work down. He was just...around you. All the time. Making you laugh, touching your arm or shoulder here and there, glancing at your lips. You were as bright as ever, too nice, too friendly, but you were like that with everyone, that new intern shouldn't feel at all special.

"Boss, are you okay? Your blood pressure is going up." Miguel's claws dug deeper into his skin, while his other hand tightened around his coffee mug. The intern –whom he never really bothered to learn the name of– was showing you something under the microscope, his hand resting on your back as you leaned to look. You were laughing at some stupid thing he'd said.

"¿Qué está diciendo que la está haciendo reír tanto?" He rasped out, the burning coffee making its way down his throat. LYLA peeked from behind Miguel's ear, glancing at you. A smile crept on her face. "Oh, I get it. You're jealous."

Miguel's eyes flashed crimson, then returned to their normal brown. "I'm not jealous. That is a childish feeling, LYLA." He whispered. "I think it's a pretty grown feeling, actually." LYLA giggled. Miguel took another sip of his coffee, almost spitting all out when he saw him tuck a hair behind your ear while you spoke to him. You nervously laughed, taking a step back, but continued to talk. "He's distracting her from work." Miguel explained. He had no right to be jealous. He was not your boyfriend, nor were you dating. Sure, there were some glances here and there, occasional hand brushing, the fact that you always kept him company during lunch when everyone was too scared to sit with him, always brought him a snack when you were out to grab yourself one, but there was nothing exclusive. "She should be finishing up her research, for that promotion she wants so bad, he's a bad influence."

[What is he saying that is making her laugh so much?]

"Is he? I think he's helping her. They are at her station, you know? And that sample he showed her, she took notes after seeing it." Miguel scoffed, usually he liked being faced with the facts, but right now wasn't a good time. LYLA grinned at him, "It's okay if you're jealous, you know. You thought you had no competition—"

Miguel's grip around his mug tightened, ignoring the sound of cracking. "It's not a competition. It's not fair for him to compete with me." He grumbled, "Look at him, what does he have that I don't?"

"He's funny, probably."

"LYLA."

"Hey man, you asked."

"I don't know why she likes that damn intern so much," His eyes trailed on the two of you, and on the clock, by now you'd usually ask him if he'd like to join you for lunch break, but you were too occupied, of course you were, that trainee never shut up, did he? "He's scrawny, clumsy, and doesn't know what he's doing most of the time." LYLA popped on his other shoulder, resting on it. "Maybe she finds him cute."

"Oh, please." The mug cracked a little more, "She shouldn't be persuing an office romance. Its unprofessional. Besides persuing an office romance with an intern," He watched him look at the clock, and point at the door, he mouthed you something along the lines of 'do you want to get out of here?'

Miguel's blood boiled.

"...is stupid. And she isn't stupid, quite the opposite. She should be with someone with a stable income. Someone who will treat her good."

"Oh what, like you?"

A loud smash caught the attention of everyone in the lab. You finally looked up at him, your eyes widening at the sight. Miguel looked down, only realising what had happened after the sting of hot liquid dribbled down his arm. He'd smashed the mug he was holding into tiny little pieces, most shards stuck in his bloodied hand. The coffee he'd been drinking caused minor burns too.

"Miguel!" You brushed past the intern and ran over to him. LYLA was no where to be found, but he distinctively heard the sentence 'Thank me later.' being whispered into his ear. You stood infront of him, your face woven with worry. "Your hand, what happened?" You gently grabbed his wrist, inspecting his injuried hand closely. "The mug, had to be bad quality, broke from how hot the coffee is." He knew that didn't make a bit of sense, what a lame excuse from the 'world's greatest genius' as you called him, but he was just a man, and right now, all his focus was on how your skin felt against his, and how extremly close you were to his body.

And at how the intern looked really pissed off.

"Oh, you poor thing, that must've hurt." You pouted your pretty lips, looking at him with those beautiful eyes. "Yeah." Miguel shifted, his expression stoic but his reddening ears betrayed the facade he keeps up around you. "I'll get the first aid kit, I took a nursing class once—Or would you like me to take you to the—"

"You'll do a just fine, I'm sure."

You let go of his wrist to grab the first-aid kit quickly, and Miguel looks over to the intern, who was stomping out of the lab, grumbling under his breath.

He grinned. If this is all it took to get your attention back on him, he'd surely break alot more mugs now.

#spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #astv #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spider999sposts

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faorism · 9 months

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every once in a while, when it's a quiet moment between him and one of his partners—could be anything from a stake out to a long drive in lucille to the warm moments between making love and sleep—eliot will turn to them and say, tell me something i don't know.

parker will usually tell him secrets. the bits of history that only exist between her, bunny, and now eliot. there's a lot from living on the streets, when she was young. she tells him about training with archie; eventually, she tells him what it felt like. she tells him about loneliness and not understanding and frustration and how her hands hurt when she wants to flicker them around; when he asks her why she doesn't let them, she says to ask another night. that's too big a secret to share when another's been revealed already. he does ask, and she does answer. once, she says in a shaking voice, i love you and hardison so much, and parker feels silly because duh eliot knows that, hardison knows that, but eliot heard something deeper than she could express, so he held her tight and kissed her hair as she shivered through the weight of her confession. after sharing with eliot, sometimes parker feels comfortable enough to share with hardison, peggy, sophie, or a client who needs to know they are not alone in the mess and hardship of the world. much later, the fact that parker has shared something once makes it easier to tell her shrink as she gets on SSRIs, which she seeks out after confessing to eliot that even if it had been based on a lie to grift hurley, maybe there was something to her treatment at the second act rehabilitation center that she missed. occasionally, she'll tell him about art. he listens just as patiently as anything else she decides to divulge and she loves him all the more for it.

hardison infodumps. parker didn't press eliot for what he meant the first time he asked; hardison did. eliot had shrugged, anything you wanna share. hardison nips out a testy, so if i go off about (he paused thinking of something that would surely turn eliot off) optimal simcity street design strategies, you wouldn't mind? eliot didn't back down, even when hardison went into a two-hour spiral that branched into different iterations on the concept, including rollercoaster typhoon. eliot made a few comments here and there, asked some clarifying questions now and again, but otherwise let hardison rail on. the next time, the question was framed as what you working on? but the effect was the same. eventually, hardison stopped hesitating and started looking forward to these monologue sessions. hardison doesn't think anything of them other than he's got some quality time with his partner, until one day on a job with some leverage international trainees, eliot manages (elle woods style) to untangle the lie at the heart of a condo scam with a few pointed questions about the plumbing. when one of the trainees asked how the hell he knew that, hardison expects to hear over the comms how eliot once dated a plumber or an architect; instead, eliot scoffs, you met my partner. genius knows a little of everything. which is when hardison remembers once infodumping about sprinkler systems. eliot gets the tightest of hugs when he gets home for truly listening to hardison.

#leverage #eliot spencer #parker leverage #alec hardison #leverage ot3 #thiefsome #faorism headcanons #of hearth and home and other promises

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ncteez · 1 year

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Oh no, he’s hot (k.m.g)

The first time you drove your very trashed best friend home was because you had a crush on him. All the times you drove him home after that were because…well, his dad is sexy.

or the one where you have tension with your crush’s dad at four in the morning and maybe secretly fuck while said crush is asleep on the couch.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.

WORDCOUNT― 8.9k

PAIRING― dilf!mingyu x afab reader

CONTENT― there is no daddy kink nor is there sub/dom dynamics involved with this fic, bottom(ish) mingyu, top(ish) reader, desperate smutty stuff, mingyu is in his 40s, reader is in her early 20s (in other words, age gaps be damned, you’re both adults.)

OTHER CHARACTERS― chan is his son and ur just gonna have to deal with that for the sake of having no unnamed characters

WARNINGS― Mingyu has an internal war over wanting you because his son also wants you. Another thing, this is entirely consenting, but mingyu does mention to stop and/or wait at one point while clearly acting against his own words.

NOTE― So uh, this fic is kind of a push and pull between morality and fucking because you’re horny. There’s some backhanded stuff about Chan but ill make it up to him in a future fic, i swear. Anyway, behold, the unedited dilf mingyu fic.

smut tags under cut::

― part two here!

smut tags―his brain is between his legs in this fic, BIG DICK MINGYU, grinding(ish), masturbation, handjob, neck kissing/sucking, groping, pet names: babe & sweetheart, face riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex (just assume they’re protected somehow at this point), he’s technically the one doing the fucking but he’s very in tune with her pleasure, missionary, g-spot stimulation and deep penetration

The first time you met Kim Mingyu was an unfortunate event. One where his son was seeing three of you and four of his dad as you struggled to get him up the steps of the porch. It’s not that Chan purposely stayed out past curfew, and it’s definitely not that he forgot his gate code or his dorm keys, it’s just that he really needed a friend to get him to his dad’s house. It wasn’t out of the way, Chan promised you that, even as you drove a full ten minutes across the city line to get him to safety. At first, you didn’t mind and preferred to spend more time with him anyway, but then it was even more worth the drive. Especially after meeting his father and realizing that he’s, to put it bluntly, just as hot as Chan. If not, more.

The second, third, and fourth time you met Kim Mingyu was much the same on the outside. Internally though, each time you met him threw you further and further into a specific thought process. One that felt taboo. You’ve never felt anything towards the parent of a friend, better yet the parent of a crush. Until now, at least, especially with the way Mingyu looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice.

It’s not that you think Chan’s dad would consider you an option, the smallest possibility of that is definitely not the reason why you volunteer to take his rowdy ass home either. Before it was because you wanted to spend more time with the guy you possibly were trying to date. Now? You won’t admit the reasoning. If anything, it’s because the older man has a kind face and thanks you each time for bringing Chan home to him rather than leaving him on the lawn of some frat house.

The fact that all of this started because you had a crush on Chan was insane enough. Now look at you, going to frat parties with him, no longer to get closer per se, but so you can take him to his childhood home despite him not forgetting his dorm keys anymore.

It’s the latest you’ve ever brought him this time, nearing four in the morning as you drag his clumsy self up his front porch as he hums the tune to your favorite song at you.

“I told you,” Chan slurs through his humming, stopping you from knocking on the door and leaning his weight on you even more. “I have my keys this time. Why are we at my dad’s house again?”

You shake your head at him, adjusting your body better to accommodate his dead weight on your right side.

“Curfew. Do you want to be written up for a noise complaint again?” You look at him, watching him tilt his head and remove himself from your side to stand in front of you in an immaculate show of how uncoordinated he can be.

“You take such good care of me,” He slurs again, smiling at you from under his messy fringe and struggling to adjust his eyes to meet yours properly. “Y’know, Soonyoung said you have a crush on me–”

You cut him off, stepping forward and knocking against the door as loudly as you can to avoid the fact that you might’ve had a crush on him before, and perhaps you still do. It’s just– his dad, y’know?

“Why’re you ignoring me?” He smiles again, leaning lazily against the door frame as you knock.

Honestly, on any other day, you’d probably be blushing. You’d be floored by Chan being so forward toward you, especially in his cute drunken state with his sparkling eyes and stupid messy hair. It’s no wonder you have–had– a crush on him. With a face like that, a voice like that, a body like that, a dad like that.

“I’d rather talk about this when you’re sober, Chan.” You deadpan, knocking again and wondering if it’s taking his dad a while to get out of bed because it’s too early in the morning to be handling a drunk son.

Chan looks at you for several seconds with his crooked and lazy smile, nodding to you and blinking out of sync. You do think he’s charming, even like this. It’s a shame, really, that you can hear the door unlocking because you probably would have grabbed his face and kissed him at that moment. Mingyu be damned. Even more of a shame that your variable crush on him fizzles out the second you see his father time and time again.

Mingyu stands there behind that thin layer of glass with his sweat pants sitting low on his hips, shirt nowhere to be seen, with a face of both disappointment in Chan and sleepy fondness towards you. On instinct, you remember the first time you saw him and every time after that. No matter the change of lighting, time of night, or the way he has his hair– he never looks to be old enough to be Chan’s father. To put it bluntly, Mingyu doesn’t appear to be any older than his mid-twenties. Still, any sane person would be chasing after his son, much like you were but, here you are, wanting nothing more than to chase after the forty-something-year-old father of a cute drunken idiot.

Chan watches you stare at his dad but isn’t quite sure if it means anything because his drunken brain is telling him that you’re just tired or something. Still, he leans from the frame and immediately clings to you, his state offering little to hide the feelings he’s grown towards you. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt his nose nuzzle against your neck, with his alcohol-scented breath blowing against the skin there. You struggle to not lean into him.

Mingyu opens the door upon seeing Chan acting like a fool in love, much like he would have done at his age in the same state of bliss with a pretty girl by his side.

“Chan is very drunk again,” You laugh apologetically, looking away from the Mingyu and feeling Chan’s hands grip your waist as he hugs you. You try not to think too hard about his hands gripping you too, mostly because he’s never actually been this forward or clingy towards you. Truly, if he had done this before meeting Mingyu, and without being absolutely trashed, you’d probably already have asked to be his girlfriend or gone down on him, at the very least.

“Should I lead him to the couch?”

Mingyu nods, looking at you with a gentle smile, well aware of the fact that you bring Chan here for reasons other than giving his son a place to lay his head. He knows Chan keeps his keys on him now, and he’s known since the second time you dropped him off. Especially considering he scolds him every morning after a drunken party, and each time, Chan proves that his keys were with him. He also knows his son well enough to see when he takes a liking to a girl, the issue is that you make it very very obvious that you’re more interested in him rather than Chan. Which is flattering, incredibly cute, equally as dangerous, and such a fucking shame for his son.

Here’s the thing. Mingyu is a good person with a stable head on his shoulders. He’s a good father, a hard worker, and a gentle soul, but he gets horny just like any other man. Unfortunately, when a woman who he finds attractive, even if he swears he isn’t interested, starts throwing signals his way– it’s hard to ignore them and even harder to control himself when he hasn’t so much as gone on a date with another woman in at least a year. Much like his son, maybe he’s taken the tiniest liking to you too. To make himself feel better though, he swears it’s because he’s proud of his son for finding such a pretty girl that puts up with him.

After all, he would never sleep with a woman that his son is fond of. Even when you look at him the way you do, even when you bend over in front of him for a second too long, making it obvious that you like it when his eyes land on your ass. Mingyu’s got wisdom in terms of bedroom eyes, and he would be terribly mistaken if the way you look at him wasn’t exactly that. It started eating him up inside from the second time you stepped foot in his house, and shamefully– he’s maybe thought about you in ways that he shouldn’t. Not only does Chan seem to be around you a lot, but you’re the same age as his son.

Of course, he feels bad. He feels like a pervert and a creep when he finds himself warming up at the way you look at him. Then he thinks hard enough about it to wonder where things could lead if he were to be selfish for once. It’s hard to find you attractive, especially when you appear to make excuses to stare at him. When he’s in his head about it, usually for several hours after you’ve dropped Chan off, he thinks about how you’re both adults and you are not obligated to cater to Chan, nor are you obligated to cater to him. You are a whole person with your own interests, and if your interest happens to be him– and if he happens to take an interest in you too, wouldn’t that just be two consenting adults? The dilemma of Chan liking you is what fucks with his head.

Tonight, it’s even worse and it’s becoming more and more difficult to brush you off or avert his eyes. Again, he would not ever sleep with a woman that his son is interested in but, he happens to be a bit touch-starved and you happen to be flaunting yourself at him. So, he’s allowed to at least, like, think about it, right?

“Ah,” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck with one hand and takes a step to the side to let you in. His shirtless body warms up when your eyes continuously scan him. You appear more interested each time you come by, and he can’t help but think that this is already reaching dangerous territory. There’s a clear reason why you keep coming to his house, using his son as an excuse to play innocent.

“That should be comfortable enough,” he comments in a sleep-shrouded rasp, watching you plop his son down on the couch. He closes the front door and grabs a lap blanket from the back of the couch to throw over him to help get him situated. “More comfortable than the bed in his dorm, I'm sure.”

“Ah, his shoes.” You comment to yourself, pulling at Chan’s laces and slipping his shoes off of him before lifting back up and preparing to head to the door. The visit to look at Mingyu is always only five to ten minutes, but you enjoy the ogling session nonetheless.

“Hey,” Chan slurs out, reaching out and pulling at your arm. “It’s pretty late, just crash here with me…”

You stumble a bit, losing your balance and landing against him, but you’re quick to pull yourself back up with a laugh. God, why does he have to be the one with a hot dad? Why couldn’t he have done all of this before? Why do you have to be single and ready to mingle with a man twice your age because of Chan?

As you stand back to your feet, you look at him as his heavy eyes start to close despite the shenanigans he just pulled. He’s already falling asleep and surely he won’t remember this by morning, so you gently back away with a soft shake of your head before heading for the door and placing his shoes on the rack there.

“He’s right.” Mingyu manages to say, stepping in front of the door and crossing his arms. He’s a bit unsure of why he’s offering this but ultimately plays it off. It’s not because he’s trying to play cupid and hook you up with his son either. Selfishly, it’s because he wouldn’t mind you staring at him for a bit longer.

“It’s already too late, and I’m aware that your campus is a bit of a drive…” He trails off, trying to not act exactly like Chan towards you.

You pause, noting that you were about to immediately agree despite rejecting his son’s offer. Looking at Mingyu, with his broad shoulders and sharp jaw, you shake your head much like before, hoping that he offers again so you can pretend to not seem so excited.

“Maybe I shouldn’t, I still need to shower and I don’t have anything to change into–” You try to make excuses, but he shakes his head, putting his hands out in a defensive kind of way.

“No, no. I insist. It’s not safe, I’m sure I’ve got something lying around that you can put on for the night, there are extra toothbrushes too.”

Well, you’re not gonna fucking argue that.

“Okay,” You offer a soft nod and a smile, stepping away from the door and looking to the floor. You feel elated right now. “Where’s the bathroom then?”

Mingyu, for some reason, is trembling as he suddenly feels entirely naked in front of you even with his thick sweatpants covering the bits. He smiles back at you, reaching out as if you should grab his hand.

In reality, it was just to be polite but you did grab his hand. He panics a little because your hands are so fucking soft and warm, and god it’s been way too long since he’s looked at a woman this way. Such a fucking shame that Chan likes you, he knows he can’t be thinking like this.

Mingyu reluctantly leads you down the hallway to the bathroom, softly and quietly pointing out the towels and extra tooth brushes before stepping out and immediately walking away. You didn’t get to inquire about said pajamas he was going to offer to you, and in all honesty, he definitely forgot the second he realized that he was thinking too hard right now.

He stands against the closed door of his room until he hears the water in the bathroom start and the shower curtain closing. That’s when he realizes he forgot to get you those fucking pajamas and curses under his breath before rushing out of the room and towards the laundry room. He’s sure he has some of Chan’s clothes here that he’s always leaving behind.

Thankfully, he finds a pair of boxers and a ratty old t-shirt stretched out far past its original sizing. He’s sure this will do fine as he hastily grabs them and heads toward the bathroom again.

He stands outside of the door frozen, unsure of if he should knock or just leave them at the door. His brain is running a mile a minute at how to navigate thinking intimate things about you behind that shower curtain. Naked. The fact that you’ll be putting on his son’s clothes, probably without panties because you appeared to have made a point that you needed to change out of tonight’s clothes– oh god. There it is. There’s the shameful arousal he’s been fighting since the second time you brought Chan home.

The water turns off after several minutes of him standing there, and he can hear the shower curtain move as you step out and presumably dry off.

The softest of knocks known to man can be heard on your side of the door and that’s when you, yourself, get pulled out of your thoughts of Mingyu stepping inside this bathroom and wrapping your legs around him. As you look around, you should probably ask about those pajamas, and surely that’s Mingyu on the other side of this door knocking like the most polite man in the universe.

It’s dangerous, really. For Mingyu to be feeling this desperate for the touch of an attractive woman, whoever it may be, and you on the other side of this door desperate to touch him. You wonder if he will reject your advances, or if he will at least pick up a hint or two. You wonder if you’re about to put his clothes on you and if you’ll be able to smell him on you when you intentionally go home in them tomorrow after you wake up.

You creak the door open, holding the towel loosely against you as you make eye contact with him. You’re confident enough to seduce a man, but seducing Mingyu is new ground for you. Will your usual antics work on an older man? Guess you’ll find out, because right now is a better time than any.

He’s still shirtless, his sweatpants seem to be sitting lower on his hips now too. You can’t help it when you trail your eyes down, shamelessly taking in his image before meeting his eye again with a sly smile.

That little smile kind of solidifies it for him. The look on your face is easily recognizable to him, considering he’s seen it time and time again back before he had an entire child with someone. So, he pushes the door open a bit more, smelling the soapy scent of what you used to wash with before immediately taking a step back as you take the clothes from him. It’s not that he wouldn’t step inside and make advances on you, but he’s really trying to control his urges right now. Simply because his son likes you.

“They’re Chan’s,” he comments shortly, his own eyes trailing down without intention and watching a water droplet fall from the dip of your shoulder to seep into the towel loosely hiding your chest. “That's all I could find.”

You watch him stand there, despite having taken a step back from the doorway, he appears to be planted in place without hiding the way his eyes take you in more than they ever have. You’re purposely holding this towel against you in a revealing way for him. So, you’re feeling pretty good that it seems to be working, and he’s even picking up on your energy toward him.

“Oh,” you finally say, looking down at the clothes in your hands. “I thought you were going to give me something of yours to wear.”

Mingyu swallows hard. He was almost going to ask if you’d prefer to wear his clothes, but he controls himself yet again.

“Ah, I didn’t want Chan to think anything.”

You perk up at that comment, playing off of it.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a playful tone to your voice. “You’d just be helping me sleep comfortably like a good host.” You smile as you keep eye contact with him now.

“Ah, well,” He laughs awkwardly with you, now imagining you in his clothes. The arousal only grows at the image of you in one of his old ratty shirts rather than his son’s. This is not okay though, he cannot be thinking these things while you’re less than a foot away from him with just that loose towel covering you.

You notice his lack of words after that, so you trail your eyes down again to see if you’re truly the only one here considering things to do that Chan would find suspicious. He’s so broad, honestly, he’s big enough that he could trap you against the bathroom counter behind you and have his way with ease.

“Are you,” You pause for a moment, narrowing your eyes before glancing up at his eyes again, “turned on?”

Mingyu freezes only for a moment before putting his hands in front of himself and turning away from you while whispering a small apology.

“Sorry, it’s not intentional,” he goes to say, feeling his cheeks warm up at the fact that you so bluntly asked him such a thing. “I’m gonna–” he doesn’t even finish his sentence before he points to his room with his thumb, rushes down the hallway, and closes the door behind him.

You’re left standing there in silence with Chan’s clothing in your hands. You slowly back yourself into the bathroom and get dressed with a mischievous smile on your face, opting to leave your clothes in his laundry just to try and be sneaky in order to have a reason to stop by on your own next time.

By the time you exit the bathroom after brushing your teeth, you’re left wondering if you should squeeze up against Chan and actually just crash here, or if you should go cause more tension with his dad, who is very clearly still awake in his bedroom because you can hear his television in there. Unsure of if you’ve crossed a line or not, your confidence is at an all time high after seeing him apologize for getting hard while looking at you. Clearly, you’re not tired, definitely not after that. He appears to be taking an interest and yes, you’re gonna see just how interested he is.

Taking a deep breath, you pad down the hallway and knock gently at his bedroom door. You think up any excuse to give him when he creaks the door open, but thankfully you didn’t have to try too hard.

“Where should I sleep?” You ask in mock-shyness, rubbing your thighs together and noting that he appears to be slightly out of breath.

Mingyu, mid-jerk off session, was not expecting you to actually keep approaching him. He is entirely too weak now, as if he wasn’t already. He still has precum against his palm when he opens his door, and you’re standing there staring up at him with damp skin and his son’s loose ass shirt hanging over your legs– jesus.

“Um,” Mingyu clears his throat, looking down the hallway and listening for any sound that could indicate his son was awake, “Where ever you want?” He calms himself with the silence, wanting nothing more than to sink back into his bedsheets and release himself of these filthy thoughts of you.

“In here then.” You boldly state, pressing a palm against his door and staring directly at the wet spot against his hastily pulled-up sweatpants.

“Wait, hold on,” Mingyu whispers as he stops you from opening his door any further. “What are you trying to do?”

He didn’t expect you to actually answer that question.

“I thought I made that obvious?” You admit, now feeling your confidence break a bit because you really thought he was also sending signals.

“You did, but I can’t just let this happen.” Mingyu follows up with his own admittance, noting the way your face falls, and instantly he feels fucking bad about it. A face so pretty shouldn’t be looking so defeated by a mere rejection out of pure moral stance, he really shouldn’t say anything more.

He watches as you slowly nod, accepting his rejection and preparing to turn around and probably get in your car to go home. Against his better judgment and allowing his weakness to take hold, he speaks up again.

“Wait, wait, it’s not that I wouldn’t,” You perk right back up as he talks. “I just– I can’t do that to him.”

“Do what to him?” You tilt your head at him, lifting your palm back to his door to try and press it open again, shockingly, he lets you this time. “He and I aren’t dating, he’s never even tried anything with me when he’s sober.”

Mingyu thinks hard about this now, stepping back from his door and knowing for a fact that the moment you step into his room it’s over for him. He didn’t expect you to be like this, but god it’s doing something for him. Are you this forward towards his son, or would you be this forward toward him if he actually made a sober move on you? No, no. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, with the way you’re clearly trying to come onto him.

“That isn’t the point, I’m not that kind of person.” Mingyu tries to argue, eyes boring holes through you with lust that doesn’t match his argument at all.

You don’t want to push him if he’s genuinely not wanting to do this with you, but god, you’ve imagined this far more than you’d like to admit.

“Would you though? If the circumstances were different?”

Mingyu appears to be totally lost at this point, standing there as he watches you step through his doorway, looking so….touchable in his son’s clothes.

“Fuck, yeah.” He sighs out this time, blatantly staring you down before realizing what he just said, and he struggles to take back the words.

You watch as his sweatpants move along with the twitch of his length beneath, and you do little to sway his break of control. If anything, you make it harder by stepping closer to him.

“If I asked you to touch me right now, would you?” You ask him, closing the distance and practically feeling his warmth pull you in.

If he wasn’t in the middle of pleasuring himself when you knocked, he would be able to turn you away, but he was so fucking close. And now you’re actually in this room with him, much like he was imagining.

“I shouldn’t,” He whispers in defeat, all while his hand reaches out to yours and trails it straight to his clothed cock. “This is not something I should want to do–”

You feel him twitch under your palm, warm from his arousal. You wonder if he was in here thinking about you before you knocked.

“Were you jerking off to me?” You ask bluntly, squeezing him and watching the way he releases a sigh before his eyes fall back onto yours, darker than before.

“Close the door.” He says, ignoring your question and stepping past his own boundary line.

Even when you pull away from him with a wicked smirk, his hips chase your palm until it’s out of reach and you’re silently closing his door. You approach him quickly this time, reaching between his legs without a hint of fear as you squeeze around him to make him release a sigh similar to the one before.

“Were you?” You ask again, jerking your hand up a bit and feeling the thickness of him, rubbing your legs together once again. This is really happening this time, and it was almost too easy.

Mingyu nods shamefully, reaching to grab your wrist and halt its movements.

“Wait,” He warns, throwing his head back for a moment with a frustrated groan. He’s arguing with himself in his head, sending mixed signals of what he wants and then immediately pulling back. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

You pause, looking at him and the way he rolls his head forward to look at you again. You say nothing and your hand remains halted against his length as he makes a mental list of the pros and cons of this situation. It’s entirely silent, and you smile when he bucks his hips up against your palm, seemingly making a decision.

“Shit,” he groans with a breathy chuckle, rubbing himself against you. You can see his bicep flex as he holds your hand there, and you honestly expected him to be more in control of his body. Somehow, it’s far more sexy to see him fight himself over you.

“Let me,” you comment gently, trying to move your hand and feeling the way he relaxes under it with another low rumble of a moan. “I want to.”

He’s already crossed his moral line, and the guilt that could come from this is replaced with arousal. The thoughts he had of you from before all could come true at this moment, and possibly only happen just this once.

Mingyu’s eyes are drawn to your hand against him and he bucks his hips towards the warmth on instinct. It feels so good to be touched by someone other than himself. He’s going to let himself have you, just this once. Hopefully, Chan won’t find out, and hopefully, this won’t happen again.

Your hand moves so gently over his length that despite barely feeling it through the thick sweatpants, it somehow sends shivers down his spine. He can’t keep his hips from moving, and he can’t stop breathing out little sounds because it genuinely feels like he’s fucking melting at your touch. Sure, it would probably be this way if anyone were to touch him like this after so long of being alone, but the fact that it’s you… for some reason has his head spinning. Out of anyone on this planet that he should be doing this with, it’s you.

You switch between watching his face to watching his hips. A man so broad and intimidating in stature is acting much like an inexperienced man being touched for the first time, and it’s throwing you for a loop. Just a little bit. After imagining him pinning you down, tearing you apart, and talking down to you so many times– it’s a bit of a shock seeing him do everything but that.

The look in his eyes is reluctant but his hips move with purpose against your hand. It’s cute. Watching him somehow seem so composed but unraveling all at once over your hand alone is something you’ve never experienced, so you were more than happy to snake your hand under the waistband of his sweats and watch him shiver at the sensation.

When you feel the warmth between his legs and the slippery beads of precum dripping out of him, it was easy to grasp him and imagine the weight of his cock inside of you. That alone blew your pupils out as you stare up at him, learning the ways in which he prefers to get touched.

His hips don’t stop moving towards you, and even at this angle of simply standing in front of him, you can feel the desperate force behind his movements. It’s so insanely hot to be doing this with Mingyu at all that you think you’d accept just about anything from him at this point.

It only took less than a minute of jerking him off beneath those sweats when he dips his head down. You can feel his breath against you, fanning against your chin until it’s replaced with his hand, skewing your head away so that he can attach his lips directly to your neck.

God, it’s something he’s doing. Holding you there, breathing heavily as his tongue swipes your pulse point with little muffled sighs as your hand grips and squeezes him. You can feel his hips continue to speed up, fucking into the circle your fingers make around him. For a solid moment there, you thought you were dreaming, but his raspy voice pulls you from that idea, planting you back in reality.

“I’ve thought about this a few times,” he whispers, kissing his way to the other side of your neck. “Have you?”

You nod, feeling more pre-cum drip from him. Your hand glides up and down his length perfectly as he moves his hips in sync, laying sloppy and breathy kisses just below your ear.

“I’ve thought about this since the first day I saw you,” you admit, leaning your head back a bit to try and get him to look at you, “I didn’t imagine you being this big though, Mr.Kim.”

Mingyu does pull back at the name, his lips slack and puffy as he looks at you with disapproval.

“Mm, don’t call me that, sweetheart. Mingyu is fine,” he pauses as you nod to him, and winces a bit at the way your fingers tease the head of his cock so beautifully. He has to breathe through his nose to keep himself from shoving you to the floor and spreading you open on him. “I’m not turned on because of a power dynamic–” He admits with a sigh.

“Oh?” You question, pressing yourself up against him and gaining a new angle for your wrist to begin flicking around his length. “Why are you doing it then?”

You are curious as to why he’s found an interest in you, though you refuse to question it. If it’s like it is in porn, where it’s strictly the age gap or the idea of having the power of another, so be it. It appears though, that Mingyu has other reasons.

“Because I want to know how you sound when you’re drenching my cock and saying my name.”

Oh, there’s the Mingyu you imagined so many times before. Saying filthy things already, making your legs feel like jelly at the sheer image of him letting you drench him. You felt those words hit you right in the core. Your entire body tenses out of pleasure. You’re fucking tingling, and instantly pressing him forward to see if he really meant what he said.

Mingyu isn’t used to talking dirty these days though, but he can see the way you react to those words. Being led to his own bed by you says enough about how that made you feel.

When he falls back on the bed, you see the way his darkened pupils overtake the fond smile on his lips, and when you pull your hand from his pants and try to crawl on top of him, it confuses you when he stops you.

You look down at him, tilting your head in question before he speaks.

“Take his clothes off first, I want to see you,” he mumbles, his own hands rubbing down his abs and his fingers tucking under his own sweats.

You nod, backing yourself up and sliding Chan’s boxers down your legs. You watch the way Mingyu watches you, seemingly treating this like a show as he slips his hand under his sweats and resumes to himself what you had been doing for him before. The hidden movement under those sweats ignites a fire inside of you, the reality of Mingyu pleasuring himself to you taking off his son’s clothes hits you so fucking hard. You feel desired by a man that shouldn’t desire you, and it makes you feel so fucking sexy.

He’s watching you hard and even lets a small and choked-out moan fall from his lips when you begin to lift the shirt off of you.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he compliments, blatantly squeezing his palm around the base of his length and imagining that it’s you sinking down on him. “Come here.”

As he reaches his free hand out to invite you on top of it, the words he said make you buckle into a world of shyness. You almost want to hide your face from his fond and darkened eyes, especially as he continues to palm against himself even as if you sit on his thighs.

You watch the movements under his sweats until your eyes are torn from the act, his warm hand pressing you up further and then guiding your face down to his. There, you expect to share a kiss with him, but he just ghosts his lips over yours, eyes falling into a half-lidded look. Your own eyes flutter closed, parting your lips for him– but instead of feeling him kiss you, you only feel his words come out in sighed mumbles.

“How do you feel about feeling my tongue on you?” he whispers, flexing his arm at your side as he fucks into his own fist harder now that he has you on top of him.

You open your eyes to look at him, noting his dazed smile, pupils blown under those half-closed lids. You’ve never ridden a man’s face before, despite having been eaten out several times. You’re a little nervous, but he nods an encouragement out to you as he attempts to guide you further up.

“Don’t be shy, babe. I want to taste you,” he pauses to look at your face, trying to show that you can say no, even with your pussy already nearing where he wants it to be. “Yeah?”

You give him a shy nod, scooting up until you’re sitting on his chest and leaning back a bit. You’re trying to remain confident enough to do it yourself, but he continues to guide you, all the way until you’re propping yourself up with your knees on either side of his head. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against your thighs when you hover, and he starts kissing the flesh there, giving you no reason to feel embarrassed at all. It feels almost ticklish, and it makes your legs shake at the sensation.

As he continues to kiss against your thighs, you can feel his free hand move to grope your ass, spreading you open just a bit and rocking you just inches from his mouth. The pressure of waiting to feel his tongue on you is one thing, but feeling his big hand guide you to sit a little closer had you obeying instantly.

Still trying to remain confident, you look down between your legs and can only see the mess of hair fanned against his mattress, you kind of love the image. Knowing that it’s his face down there, and that’s his tongue working its way on your thigh and closer to your core. You jolt slightly when you feel the warm muscle tease at your folds, flicking gently before his hand begins to rock you against it, encouraging you to grind.

You’re very reluctant at first, even upon feeling his tongue travel to your clit when he guides your hips back. It’s only when he leans his head up a bit to close any amount of space between his mouth and your pussy, that you release a shaky moan. His tongue circled your clit before sucking hard against it, and it really did make it difficult not to sit harder against him.

Within seconds of that little sound, you hear the snap of his sweats against his abdomen and you feel both of his hands grasping at your ass. You’re seeing stars instantly when he presses you down all the way and instantly begins to part your pussy with his tongue, grinding you harshly against his mouth until he’s the one sending vibrations of moans through you.

He lifts you up momentarily after a moment just to look at your pussy over him, and rolls his eyes back in an even filthier-sounding moan.

“Do you even know how wet you are?” He asks, staring directly at the way your pussy pulsates above him. “Had no idea you wanted me this bad.”

Mingyu doesn’t even let you answer, flattening his tongue before licking a long stripe up your slit and forcing you to sit against him again with those strong hands. He moans again through your sigh of a response, unable to speak as he guides your body on him. His tongue is working wonders on you, causing your head to spin at the way he flicks his tongue against your hole before swirling it all the way up to your clit over and over again. No part of your core feels neglected, and the sensations he’s giving you is something you want to cling to.

For him, he wants nothing more than for you to use this to your advantage. He wants nothing more than for you to grind against his tongue and force the taste of you on him until he never forgets the feeling of your pussy on his lips. But this. This is enough, especially compared to how bold you were being before. Feeling your legs shake around his head only drives him to keep going. He wants to hear you, taste you, feel you. He wants you to know what it’s like to have a real man pleasure you.

He opts this time to grind your pussy forward until his nose is nuzzled against your clit and his tongue is teasing your entrance and he leaves you that way. Frantically moving his hand back to his cock and letting out a filthy groan against you as he finally gains his own friction again. You barely notice, feeling jolts of pleasure shoot through your body as you grind without intention this time, chasing the feeling in the same way he was guiding you.

When you do that, you feel him nod with a growl before slipping his tongue into you and tasting the way your walls clench even that. He sounds filthy and the fact that he seems to really enjoy that you’re doing this? It only drives you to actually ride his face, sliding back and forth, fucking yourself against his tongue until you slide all the way back just to see his face.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, your pussy clenching at the image of him.

He doesn’t respond and instead looks at you with a face driven by arousal, his tongue dipping back into his mouth to taste, then sticking it out again for you to continue your pleasure on. When you don’t, he shakes his head and clears his throat a bit, attempting to answer you.

“Fuck, no. You could go harder sweetheart, come on.” He urges you, moving his hand faster against himself when you shyly blink at him, hovering your core above him just enough for him to lift his head and do it himself at your reluctance.

He frantically licks against you in a way that he’s never done before. Tongue slipping in and out of every crease and crevice to taste the entirety of you before fucking his tongue in once again when your weak grinds allow it. You watch his head move between your legs and you do your best to commit this image to your memory. You really get to sit on this man’s face, and he’s really just— fucking going insane for it like this?

Moaning out once again, you can feel your legs shake each time his nose bumps your clit, and you clench around his tongue each time he tries to essentially fuck you that way. It’s a lot, and god you’ve never been with a man who eats pussy like this. The way he moans through it, the way you can feel his arm jerking himself off, the way he occasionally tries to look up at you.

“Mingyu, I–” you try to say, letting your legs buckle and sitting flush against his tongue again, resuming the weak grinds you had offered before. “You should stop, before I–”

He taps your leg, causing you to lift a bit before he speaks out in an even raspier voice.

“Do it. On my tongue.” He pleads without letting you answer, shoving you by your ass directly back onto his mouth and somehow, licking you with even more pressure.

You can feel him nod when you jerk your hips on him, his free hand guiding you back and forth in a harsher way. His tongue fucks into you a few more times before he’s holding you in place, attaching his lips to your clit, and sucking so hard against it that you feel that wave of pleasure hit you like a bag of bricks.

He made it happen so fast, legs squeezing around his head as you jolt and stutter against his tongue that flattens out and bumps your clit. You hold yourself there, swirling your hips and drenching his mouth entirely. You clench around nothing, orgasming solely from clit stimulation and it makes your ears pop and ring as you work through it.

And by the time you’re done, you panic. Is he okay? You’re sure you squeezed his head with your legs too tightly, you sat too hard, and you rutted against his tongue until he couldn’t breathe.

Quickly, you slide off of his face, feeling embarrassed and quite frankly, apologetic that you did that but instead of finding a nearly choked out man, you see him lying there with a glistening face and a filthy fucking smile.

“You ride so well, sweetheart,” he compliments, quickly pulling his hand from his cock to prevent his own orgasm, “ you sounded so pretty like that.”

He thinks hard about this, knowing that this is probably what his son wishes he can do for you, but at this point, he’s not even sorry. The way you choke out quiet sobs of pleasure, the way your legs were shaking around him, the way you fucking tasted against his tongue. No, he gets to be selfish. Fuck all else, he’s going to let you ruin him.

“Lie back, babe.” He says gently, waiting for you to adjust yourself comfortably against the bed before pulling his sweats off of him and shivering at the cold air that hits his pre-cum soaked length. He looks at you as you lay there, grabbing a pillow and adjusting it under your head with a soft smile before touching your face.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, leaning to hover over you and running his hand down your waist.

Your eyes trail straight to the cock you hadn’t been able to actually see yet, seeing the way it glistens and twitches with the need to be touched. You want nothing more than for this man to plunge himself so deeply inside of you, that you can only say his name when you get fucked by anyone else.

His eyes watch yours as you stare between his legs and he easily slots himself between yours, fawning over the way your body heaves as you continue to catch your breath from that last orgasm.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, yet again gripping himself and pumping against his own length as he waits for you to answer.

You nod, rolling your hips and bumping your warm, saliva-soaked, pussy against the knuckles of his hand as he pumps himself. He loves how your neediness matches his own, and he coos at the way you say nothing but communicates solely through grinding against nothing for him to fill you up.

The chuckle he lets out at you is another thing you had thought about time and time again. Being laughed at, degraded. Mingyu is everything and nothing like what you imagined him to be, but he’s also making you feel better than you imagined too. You blink up at him, trying to muster the words for him, wanting to see the fire in his eyes ignite further than it already has.

“I like it rough, deep.”

Yeah, that did something for him, you can tell with the way he drops his head and immediately positions his length against you.

“How deep, sweetheart?” He asks, teasing your hole with the head of his cock and pressing in only slightly.

You roll your hips forward, enveloping his tip and smiling at him. You think he loses himself right then and there, pressing into you with one long and languid thrust, committing the feeling of your inner walls hugging his cock tightly to memory, pulsating around him until he bottoms out with a released sigh.

“So fucking deep,” he says more to himself then to you, holding himself above you and bracing one hand at the side of your head and the other on your waist. “Deeper.” He coos, angling himself slightly and pressing into you more somehow.

You can’t fucking breathe, feeling him, seeing him, smelling him. You’re actually fucking the Kim Mingyu right now. All of your wet dreams compiled into one fucking instance and it’s happening to you right now in the early morning hours while your recent crush is dozed off in the living room.

You clench, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep yourself from moaning as loud as you’d like to right now.

He waits for you to adjust, twitching inside of you and working up a sweat as he attempts to control himself until you’re ready for the second half of your request. You wanna be fucked deep, and you wanna be fucked rough? Lucky him, because he’s about three seconds from ruining the both of you out of sheer desperation to feel your pretty hole squeeze him through orgasm.

“And rough?” He whispers, leaning down and whispering against your ear. You can feel his grip on your waist tighten when he pulls his hips back, relieving the pressure inside of you before pressing in again.

The moan he lets out against your neck is honestly the best thing you think you’ve ever heard, your nipples perk up at the sound of him fucking you, and you do everything you can to encourage him to do just that.

You nod with a broken moan, desperate enough to have him pulling back to look at you as he slides out again, and then plunges into you once, hard. The way your body shifts up as his hips meet your thighs is enough to have him doing it again, and again. A string of hard, deep, and pointed thrusts sending little yelps out of your throat each time his hips spread your legs a bit more for him.

The hand on your waist moves up to your left nipple and he pinches it slightly before falling forward again, bracing himself on both arms at either side of your head. His rhythm sends him over the edge and makes him fuck into you even harder as he breathes out and rests his forehead against yours.

“Sweetheart?” he lets out between deep breaths, the sound of slapping echoing to the point that you hope it doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy in the other room, “hold onto me.”

You don’t know why that does it for you, but it fucking does. You didn’t even realize you needed something to hold on to until you released you were gripping the covers with tightened knuckles. Releasing the blankets, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Legs too,” he chuckles, licking against your bottom lip in a teasing kind of way.

Your legs shoot around him too, squeezing his body and pushing him to thrust into you in a way that keeps his cock almost completely buried into you, thrusting tightly. Only an inch or two leaving you before the head of his cock bumps the deepest part of your inner walls.

Feeling that, knowing that Mingyu’s cock is reaching where no cock has gone before, you tilt your chin up and connect your lips with him. The first heated kiss sends shockwaves through your body and causes you to clench so tightly around him, that he fucking growls into it rather than moaning.

His pointed thrusts grow tighter, faster, and your arms continue to hug and squeeze against him as your tongue swirls around his. Teeth clinking, his sweat dripping a bit to the point of even tasting a bit of that salt fall past his lips and against yours.

Both of you are fucking gone, deep breaths and deep thrusts, his cock is pressing against that spot inside of you and all you can do is fucking– you let go.

Your mouth falls slack against his own, and he continues to lick into your mouth until he realizes. Your pussy jolts around him and he pulls his head back, watching you fall into a state of bliss before he’s instantly shoving his hand between the tight space of your bodies and harshly rubbing your clit.

“Oh, baby,” he coos out in his own moan, the image of actually seeing you come sending him over the edge himself. “That’s it,” he moans again, chasing his own high and feeling dangerously close already, “So pretty, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

And there he goes too. You’re still riding out the last of your high when you feel him still his hips and press himself impossibly closer to you. He can feel your walls hug him, squeezing his come out of him in such a filthy way that he can’t help but whisper and babble out nonsense to you. Words of, you feel so good, i wanted this so badly, fuck yes–, fuck, fuck, just going to let me come in you like this?, fuck, oh, god.

It was a lot of nonsense, but to you and your dazed-out thoughts, it sounded like a mantra.

Even as the two of you laid there, fucked out and out of breath, neither of you felt any guilt. Why should you? Because you have (had) a crush on Chan? You’re not dating him, you’re an adult, and you can fuck whoever you want. Mingyu’s thought process is similar, though he’s sure the guilt will hit him later if anything were to happen.

The guilt did hit him later. He’d say around the time you stopped by three days after you spent the night to pick up your clothes.

Did he fuck you again? Yes. Right up against the washer in his tiny laundry room. Just as deep, but not as rough.

Is he only growing more weak towards you? Absolutely. Especially when you continue to find reasons to see him without Chan around.

Unsure of what the future holds between the two of you, Mingyu tries not to think of you as anything more than someone he casually has sex with. If you and Chan start dating, that’ll be fucking awkward, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to believe that will ever happen. Not when he’s already had you moaning his name, not when you wrap your arms around him the way you do.

― part two here!

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader

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brightbertalt · 3 months

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just please teach me

michael gavey x bimbo!reader

authors note - i can’t resist this man…..he’s so nerdy and hot. also meant for female!reader

warnings - dumbification, kinda mean michael, a little praise, degradation, perv!michael, the word slut, breeding kink, accidental breeding?

god michael couldn’t wait for this.

it was your first tutoring session with him. after your failed your first math test of the semester, you decided to get some help from the smartest man you knew, who also happened to sit next to you.

“hey, you’re like super smart right?”

you asked him, peeking over at the 100% on his test. he turned his head, internally surprised you were even talking to him.

“uh, yeah. yeah i am. do you need help?”

you nodded, pouting and practically shoving your test in his face.

“i can’t even believe it! i got a 53% on this test, it was like, super hard!”

you complained, crossing your arms; which just so happened to push up your breasts. they looked so good in that tight tank top you were wearing.

“you’re asking me to tutor you?”

you scoffed out of frustration.

“duh! i don’t wanna fail!”

he was going to be your tutor. it sounded like music to his ears. michael gavey was going to be personally teaching the cutest girl he knew.

and annoying.

you yourself weren’t annoying, but the fact that someone like you, who probably didn’t even know which direction an x axis pointed, could get into oxford university. probably on a huge helping of daddy’s money is what he thought. unlike him, who actually earned his place. nonetheless, he would tutor you.

he could have some fun with that.

he saw this situation in porn all the time. dumb schoolgirl goes to someone like himself to get help, and they end up fucking like rabbits. he didn’t have any experience with women in person, but he figured porn was close enough to the real thing, right?

he wondered how sweet your voice would sound begging for him.

“sooooo, does my place sound good? i have such a cute setup it’s like, unbelievable! and im free around 6 tonight.”

“yeah, of course. i guess ill be over then..!”

he knocked on your door, trying to stop his hands from shaking. he adjusted his glasses, waiting for you to open the door.

“mikey! you’re here!”

you opened the door and hugged him. he tried not to audibly moan from the sensation of your boobs pushing against him.

“just michael is fine!”

he blurted out, nervous that you were this close to him. would he even be able to survive this night?

“i dont have any extra chairs, so we can just study on my bed! how’s that?”

you asked, walking in your dorm and sitting on your bed.

he wouldn’t be able to survive. you said that so innocently, as if you didn’t understand what two people could do on a bed. as he walked over to your bed, he didn’t expect anything different. it was adorned with pink pillows and a huge fuzzy pink blanket. it was so you.

“the thing I wasn’t really understanding was number seven. i don’t even know where to start!”

he nodded, grabbing his supplies out of his bag. how could she not understand this one? it was the easiest by far. nonetheless, he explained it in the most basic way he could. you nodded, pretending to understand.

“okay, now you try.”

you smiled dumbly, attempting to try it on your own. you stopped shortly thereafter, flipping the pencil in your hand.

“i just don’t get it michael! maybe math just isn’t for me..”

you leaned in closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. you felt defeated. defeated by some numbers on a page. he sighed in annoyance. he did like this feeling, but he didn’t like your dumb little brain. maybe he could take advantage of that. he only dreamed of that, though. tricking you into pleasing him. giving you a ‘reward’ for finally get 100% on your tests. you’d probably love that too.

“ill probably drop math. its too hard! i dont know how you do it. you’re so smart michael.”

“well you’re not even trying are you? you just have to think, y/n!”

“i am so trying!”

you loosely hugged michael. he could feel himself starting to get hard. why’d you have to be so handsy with him?

“thanks for helping me though! you’re so smart michael.”

he felt himself twitch in his pants. he couldn’t take it anymore. he couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

you felt his lips press against your own soft, glossed lips. he pulled away quickly, already preparing for the worst. you would push him off your bed, throw his bag at him and yell at him to leave. instead, you grabbed his sleeve.

“please don’t leave mikey.”

how could he refuse you?

he moved closer to you, going in for another kiss. you were an aphrodisiac. so irresistible. made for him to fuck.

you shook your head, kissing all over his face.

“it’s totally fine, please just stay here.”

he gently pushed you down onto the bed, kissing and sucking on your neck. fuck, you were so nice. your skin was so soft and plush, and your voice sent him into a spiral.

“is this your first time mikey?”

“y-yeah. i know you probably think that’s pathetic or weird or-“

“mikey. please just fuck me. i don’t care.”

those were the sweetest words he ever heard. he could cum right then and there.

“god, fuck, can i ask you something?”

he asked.

“are you on birth control?”

you shook your head. fuck, for some reason that was even hotter.

“ill pull out, don’t worry.”

you nodded, noticeably absentminded. you were so dumb, and it was so cute to him. he was known around campus for his smarts and talent in math. and now he had, which was quite possibly, the dumbest girl at his university under his thumb. it felt so good.

“i trust you mikey.”

he smirked as he pressed continuous kisses into your neck and chest, experimentally pushing his hands underneath your cute tank top and groping your breasts. you whined underneath him, taking your top and yanking it over your head to expose your chest.

“you’re so cute. just let me take care of you, okay?”

he licked and sucked on your chest, trailing his way down your body until he got to your little cute shorts. god this boy was a freak. you helped him get your shorts off of you, exposing your bare cunt to him. you squeezed your legs together, a feeble attempt in covering yourself.

“why be shy now? you already teased me for half the semester.”

you nodded at his remark, leaning your head back. he teased, kissing up your thighs. michael’s smirk was criminal as he placed a gentle kiss on your pussy. you bucked your hips and moaned on him. he gently prodded your entrance with his long fingers, slowly inserting two of them inside you. he chuckled as he moved his fingers in and out.

“mikey i-“

“you’re what? wet as a bloody fountain? because you are.”

you let out a pornstar-esque moan and feebly grabbed in his direction. you needed him inside you.

“mikey please just fuck me! please!”

you shouted out, rocking your hips into his fingers gently. he grinned and stood up to take off his pants, as well as unzipping his coat.

“i don’t get it.”

you said bluntly, looking up at him.

“what?”

“your shirt. I don’t get it.”

you pointed to his shirt.

‘not all math puns are awful. just sum.’

you shared a moment of brief awkwardness.

“it’s like how the result of an addition-“

“i didn’t ask for more math! just come over here michael!”

he quickly nodded and took off his stupid shirt, leaving it on the floor next to the bed. he climbed over you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“are you sure?”

“please just do it already mikey!”

you whined. he always knew you were bratty. he would love to put you in your place though. he slid himself into you, gasping at the warmth and tightness of your pussy. he slowly slid all the way in, swearing under his breath as he did. you were definitely made for him. so warm, so soft, so perfect. he placed a hand on your lower stomach, feeling himself inside you.

“you’re so warm holy fuck, I can’t believe im inside you right now.”

he blurted out, slowly starting to move. michael was definitely a little above average. so goes the trope of nerdy white guys. the largeness of him made you feel so full, so stuffed. you couldn’t handle it already. tears pricked at your eyes as you slung your legs onto his shoulders. michael wasted no time fucking himself into you, letting out all sorts of lewd noises.

“can’t believe im the one doing this. always thought you’d be with someone like felix, fuck.”

he grabbed at your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock. another loud, indecent moan was let out of you.

“im the one fucking you, no one else gets to have this dumb little cunt.”

he tilted his head up, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“im all yours mikey, please just keep fucking me!”

you cried, grabbing onto his hands on your hips. he grabbed your right hand with his left, pressing it right next to your head. his face was right next to yours as well now.

“nothing in that stupid head, huh? nothin’ but me fucking you right now. i always knew you were so simple.”

you clenched around him, leaving him to chuckle under his breath.

“you like that? me calling you dumb? knew you were a slut.”

michael’s smartass attitude definitely never left him. you shook your head unconvincingly. you did like it, but being a brat was so fun.

“i know you like it. you already feel like you’re gonna cum on me. poor little thing. probably forget everything you learned this semester just from this.”

he said with fake sympathy. it was true, you were close. you could feel his thrusts getting more erratic and needy, so you knew he was too. you just remembered you were supposed to have a math lesson today. oh well. you could always just google the answers.

“I don’t think im gonna be able to pull out, you’re so fucking warm and tight I can’t-“

you immediately came to your senses. you were admittedly dumb, but not dumb enough to let michael cum in you.

“michael please pull out-“

“i- fuck!”

he abruptly came inside you, his jaw slack as he aggressively rammed his hips into yours a few more times. the sensation of his filling you up was too much, and your orgasm shortly followed. he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily.

“im so sorry y/n, you just-“

“ill figure it out mikey, just hold me.”

and he did. he laid on his side as he traced his thumb on your belly. you fell asleep soon thereafter, together.

#fanfic #fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn x reader #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #saltburn smut #michael gavey smut #ewan mitchell

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camplease · 7 months

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i feel like this is a hot take, but it's clear to me that so much of ianthe's outward projection of superiority is a deeply ingrained — really, formative — sense of inadequacy. it's to prove to everyone, even the people who were supposed to love her, who were supposed to inherently value her, that she does actually have value — in fact, she has the most value because look at what she can DO!

and i don't even think she's entirely internalized that, but that kind of projection kind of falls apart if you show even a moment of self-doubt

and i know ianthe isn’t supposed to be sympathetic here, or at least i’m assuming she’s not to most people, but can you imagine the body horror of being inextricably tied to and irrevocably altered by the guy you grew up with and didn’t even really like and who didn’t like you either (but who served you because that was his Role, and, who, even though you’ll never admit it, you maybe even cared about a bit because at a certain point that’s kind of unavoidable - i know she tried to convince palamedes she didn’t, but she is a known liar prone to sentimentality), but it was fine because you knew you were better than him, too?

except now you're not exactly, not entirely better than him, because he's not just fueling you, you didn't get to just use him to become someone who matters. instead, he's part of you, and you still don't matter?

like from what she says about her parents' reaction to the canaan house aftermath, even that part didn't work. she didn't earn mommy and daddy's validation, admiration, anything

and she's running his empire, but she's still third place to surrogate daddy, too. if she even places!

ianthe naberius is very much the consequences of her own actions, i’m not going full apologia here, just imagining being in that position and. goddamn

#ianthe tridentarius #the unwanted guest #naberius tern #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #ianthe naberius #tridentarii #cw ianthe #m.tlt #tlt #anyway #†#i say all of this when actually i may be entering my ianthe apologist era i have a whole in defense of essay in my head that #i haven’t been up to articulating so far 🤡#like boo hoo poor her but like also KIND OF MAYBE IDK IDK LISTEN IM JUST SAYING #people have so much sympathy for harrow because of her childhood trauma but i feel likeeee. ianthe’s childhood sounds profoundly fucked and #neglectful even from the small glimpses we’ve gotten into it so far #doesn’t excuse her at all and also yes obviously harrow has taken concrete steps towards becoming a better person even having spent less #time being an adult i'm not discounting that at all i'm not saying they're exactly the same #just ALSO!#you know etc etc i’ll get to it eventually maybe

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absolutely-esme · 4 months

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What if Tim was the Ghostliest Bat

Lots of DPxDC crossover writers have Tim Drake being the one non-liminal Bat, or becoming liminal late in the game. This is probably due to the fact that most of them have died and come back and Tim hasn't.

It makes sense, but, hear me out, what if Tim was actually the most liminal and had been liminal for the longest.

The other Bats had a more standard type of death and resurrection. Afterward, they are simply living people.

Tim's parents are archeologists and bring back artifacts from all over the world. At least some of these artifacts are kept in the house. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think that some of them have something ghostly to them.

The specifics could vary. Perhaps the artifacts just steadily release ectoplasm into the environment. Perhaps they thin the veil in places and Tim wanders in and out of the Ghost Zone, getting as much socialization from ghosts as from the living, if not more. Heck, maybe one of those artifacts was meant for travel between realms and Tim accidentally opens a portal on himself and becomes a halfa at a young age.

However it happens, Tim grows up exposed to ectoplasm day in and day out. He adapts to the environment he spends his formative years in. He gradually becomes more ghostly. No one notices for a while because no one around him recognizes the signs and Tim is a quick study at keeping up appearances, at least to surface-level observation.

Tim knows how to behave around strangers and distant acquaintances. That said, he doesn't necessarily realize that his more ghostly tendencies are abnormal and not simply something that etiquette dictates is not shared with strangers.

Tim pays relatively little concern to his own safety because some part of his subconscious knows that he's already assured an afterlife that's familiar and comfortable to some part of him, though he is still conscientious and considerate of the health and safety of others.

He obsesses over The Bats, follows them around and takes pictures. Ghosts tend to be fairly intense about what's important to them, so it doesn’t seem wrong to him. After all, he's not trying to force himself into their lives, and he makes a point to be unobtrusive with his photography so as not to impact them at all. By ghostly standards, he's being quite reserved by keeping his distance and taking care not to bother them, and his human social knowledge doesn't extend far beyond surface level.

He doesn't interact with the Bats at all until Batman's mental health becomes a public safety issue, and even then he tries to get them to resolve the matter internally, first. He only begins directly inserting himself into their lives after recieving express permission from a member of the family.

Once he does become one of them, however, he is intense and unreserved about it in the way that ghosts tend to be about everything that's important to them. He pays close attention and remembers everything. He goes above and beyond with anything they might ask of him, and even with some things they don't ask for but seem to need. He cares in a way that's just a bit uncanny.

No one talks to him about some of his more extreme tendencies. Maybe they just don't have the emotional bandwidth because they're still grieving. Maybe the Bats refrain from commenting on Tim's stalking and general over-the-top-ness because stones and glass houses.

Tim doesn't understand what went wrong in his relationship with Steph because human behavior standards and boundaries are not intuitive to him, nor has he been taught about them. Grief-stricken Bats are not a good resource when it comes to behavioral norms. For all that she's certain he'd never intentionally hurt or upset her, Tim is creepy. Sweet and caring, but creepy.

He also doesn't freak out when Steph comes back and pretends to be a hallucination. The deception doesn't work at all because his subconscious ghostliness means that his brain doesn't automatically reject the idea of a dead comrade being back. He just goes straight into "Hooray, you're back!" mode without stopping to question it. Steph doesn't take the deception any further because he's already caught onto it and he's so happy to see her.

They remain friends.

Jason comes back from the dead and Tim immediately latches on. He doesn't care if Jason is attacking him. Jason is one of his, and he's back. He grins and keeps his banter friendly and gushes about how happy he is to have Jason back through the entire beatdown at Titans Tower. He doesn't actually start sounding worried until Jason begins walking away after writing on the wall with his blood. Tim begs him not to go. The whole experience freaks Jason out.

Tim initially has a bit of an issue with Damian, not because of the murder attempts (which Tim doesn't especially care about), but because of Damian's insistence on not allowing Tim to remain in the family, and because his apparent goal of being Batman's only family member makes him register as a threat to others Tim cares about. Eventually, things settle a bit once it's made clear that Damian isn't going after anyone else and will not be allowed to kick him out.

The other Bats are equal parts wary of Tim (because he's creepy and unsettling in ways that are difficult to define) and worried for Tim (because he doesn't seem to have a sense of self preservation).

Lots and lots of Tim being spooky without realizing it and freaking everyone out with no explanation. No one understands what, exactly, is so off about Tim that makes him so unsettling, until Sam Manson gets dragged to a gala in Gotham and immediately clocks him.

Do with this as you will.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #Prompt #Liminal Tim Drake #Halfa Tim Drake

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thechekhov · 3 months

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Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH45

Slumber party!

Fair, but consider: She deserves a little murder. As a treat.

Kabru be like "IS THAT MY BACKSTORY???"

That sure is....a ship. With no one on it.

Ah, shit the Americans are here.

Two things: Toshiro being tended to like a pretty pretty princess is hilarious.

And also, the fact that they think the elves can kill Falin......... hmmm.... Pressing X to doubt.

............... oh. Laios. 😂

But also like. How was he MEANT to keep it silent? Put a little something in it? I thought since it was a magic bell you could code it to only ring when it's shaken with INTENT?

Fancy ass house.

Also, Namari...........are you hitting that yet? Both of that?

Oh, it's backstory time.

Okay one: that's fucking tragic, it sounds like the Elves are just forcing the dungeons closed with no regard for how the ecosystem compensates and what people suffer by being in close proximity......

And another thing: Kabru. Kabru, isn't that what YOU'RE after? Having all the power?

Why is this so much like that one meme where the girls at the party are looking at you.

It's the same picture.

Kabru that's. That's maybe not the way to go about it. you're going to give them MORE reasons to go in.

Nevermind the governor not being into this 'good boy, now sign' talk, Toshiro's kinda right. Ya fucked up Kabru.

No matter how far Laios runs, he cannot escape other people trying to tell him how to live his life. Poor guy. But at the same time...

Is this real? Or a red herring?

Laios' father and mother seemed to be living relatively pious lives. They clearly had a good house, but it didn't seem like they were extremely rich. Then again, perhaps he's just a cousin of royalty? Is that why his parents wanted him to have children?

They want to.... halt the growth of the dungeon? Is this another part of the natural ecosystem of things? Dungeons growing seems to point even more towards the idea that it's a gigantic, fleshpit-like creature instead of simply a construct.

Then again, constructs CAN be creatures. Like the golems.

Elves not understanding how old humans are continues to be hilarious because like.

As humans, we HAVE this same concept of variant aging. Like. Dogs. We understand that dogs live less than us, and mature a lot slower. But this is.... COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Most people do not make it into adulthood without understanding that dogs mature within 1-2 years of their birth.

The fact that elves, a species with FAR more time on their hands, who have lived alongside other races for AGES....... have STILL not got the general concept of aging down....means their education is atrocious. Or they're all not paying attention.

.......this. THIS is the most fascinating concept in this chapter.

The fallen.... turned into MONSTERS.

We know that dying inside the dungeon doesn't mean permanent death. But dying above-ground does.

We know that dying in the dungeon doesn't mean your body turns into a monster (aside from ghosts and ghouls?) ..... but dying aboveground.... DOES......?

WHAT'S THE TRUTH.

👁👁

Hm.

If Kabru and Laios fused, they could almost make one functioning human being.

Senshi just beginning to speak in the middle of his own internal monologue is so real.

...... what's going on there with the expression, buddy?

Bread.......are they STILL carrying around flour with them?! How are they getting bread?!

Also, it's awesome that the eggs are canonically hard to crack, because it makes sense that they don't break during their many fighting events.

Izutsumi really said ◉_◉

Don't tell me Laios, who is sensitive to ghosts has ALSO been seeing things?

Not gonna lie, that's highkey terrifying.

Props to that ghost that's been following Laios around, not ever giving up hope that it can bother him into acknowledging it.

And also - hey, it already saved them once! that means it's probably not evil!

That, or it's the king of the bloody dungeon. Wouldn't that be something!

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #dungeon meshi liveblog #chekhov reads dungeon meshi

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dahliadew · 1 year

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Danny Fenton assistant to the stars (dp x dc fanfic prompt)

After leaving Amity with little to nothing to his name and refusing any help from Vlad, Danny knows he needs a job, a home, and maybe some health insurance that would be really cool. So Danny applies to as many places as he can, barely looking at the job listing, just putting out as many resumes as possible. And just before he gives up entirely, he gets a callback! Who cares if it's from some shady place called Lex Corp? At this point, a job is a job; all he has to do is work as some weird rich guy's assistant. Great, he can do this; no one is worse than Vlad, and hey, the chances of another billionaire being a supervillain are like super low……. Right?

So Lex has a problem, and that problem is PR; with all the trouble with superman and the justice league, his public perception has been in the toilet lately, and well, he needs to do something before his stock prices fall even more. After looking at different ways to endear himself to the public, he looks to his neighbors across the bay in Gotham. Bruce when from the front page of every trashy tabloid to the face of parenting with his numerous adoptions. And well, he doesn't necessarily want to adopt a whole child but an intern that could work. So he puts a listing up looking for high school to college-age individuals who want experience in business management. Most of what he gets back is worthless until he gets a resume from one Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. Not only is he the son of two mad scientists, he had an early entry into the junior NASA program, but he's also the godson of one of his supervillain colleagues, Vlad Plasmius. So if he does hire him, he wouldn't have to hide any of his supervillain activities the lad may even be able to contribute to them.

However, in the background, Clack has been monitoring Luther's activity, and once he sees the innocent young man that he has coned into letting him parade around, he becomes concerned. And well, the daily planet has been looking for some new interns. Maybe he can convince the kid to work there instead. It would be for the best anyway, and it has nothing to do with the kid's incredibly slow heartbeat or may or may not have lifted some concrete off of someone during one of superman's battles. Ok, maybe it has something to do with the fact might be another surviving Krypton who was being taken advantage of by Luther. Or he might be a clone, but who knows? Either way, he's going to try to help the kid if only he would stop running away from him.

#dc x dp #dp crossover #dp dc crossover #dp prompt #dp fanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #lex luthor #superman #clark kent #dcu #dcu fanfic #dcu prompts #fanfiction prompts #fanfic

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colorisbyshe · 9 months

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A lot of the response to Oppenheimer criticism has been "Clearly, you haven't watched the film, it isn't celebrating him! It shows all the things he did wrong" and I have to say... that's... still... missing the point of the criticism.

Oppenheimer occupies the same space as all the war films--like Dunkirk--that say "War is hell." While these films could and do skew towards "War is bad, let's avoid it," they still often... really end up saying "War is hell but let's pity the warriors and maybe consider the ways in which it was worth it."

The "war is hell" films end up completely missing the "anti war" mark because they choose to focus on the people waging the war, painting them in a sympathetic or at least humanizing light even when they're in the wrong. You feel bad when a soldier has to kill a kid on the other side--even if the kid is unarmed or begging for their life--because it's sooo sad that the soldier was driven to that point. And because... well, what else could they have done?

A much more effective "war is hell" film would be focused on the people whose land is ravaged by bombs. The civilians. The families. The people who lose their homes, their schools, their hospitals, their lives. Not in waging war but just in happening to live where war is happening. THEY are the real victims. They are not victimizers who might come to regret it (like warriors, like Oppenheimer) but like... actual victims.

In choosing to make a film about Oppenheimer and not about his victims--the people of New Mexico, the people of Japan, people forced into internment camps on US soil, and broader even then--you are saying "This man is responsible for great evil but let's humanize him too. Let's recognize that he didn't really have a choice or that maybe he felt bad about it. It was out of his hands."

Beyond humanizing him, it gives this history an element of inevitability. He HAD to do it. This HAD to happen. It's horrible that it happened but it was always going to happen.

If you focus instead on all the people victimized, you see all the reasons why it didn't have to happen.

And if Christopher Nolan isn't equipped to tell the story of New Mexican civilians who weren't given protective gear when the only jobs they had left were at all the labs or the stories of what a Japanese child does when his family is ravaged by American war crimes... he doesn't have to tell that story. The option isn't "Tell Oppenheimer or tell an intimate story he can't at all relate to." He could just... not tell this story.

Some stories really are not meant to have entertainment value. Some stories are not meant to be human stories but rather just facts on paper. Or told from the other human side. Sort of how like documentaries on serial killers often get it wrong but the fictionalized tv shows exploring ~what made them serial killers are ALWAYS wrong.

Some perspectives don't really need to be explored, is what I'm saying. Oppenheimer shouldn't be a grey or even dark protagonist. Some atrocities do not need to be humanized in any way, even if the humanity mostly culminates into "He was still wrong, though."

There are more efficient, less troubling ways to explore the motivation (the greed, the nationalism, the racism, the hatred, the warmongernig) behind bombings and wars like this. That would be better tools at realizing how we are repeating history, right now, in 2023.

That don't involve having to paint atrocities and the people behind them as grey or human or pathetic or pitiable.

#wrote this at 2am #whoops

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crowcravesmore · 24 days

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At First Sight (Homelander Drabble)

(aka: Knock em' off his feet) Homelander x F!Reader (18+)

+ His first time seeing you. Actually, he's seen you in his peripheral a handful of times. This? This is when he gets a good, long, look at you. He's a little stuck to say the least.

Words: 657 (Short & sweet, I just couldn't help making a point.)

A/N: Oh how I LOVE down bad man. You can't watch the show and not know that whoever has his affection HAS him. This is my first fic on this blog, I've written a lot before, deleted my blog, and came back, Maybe this will bring me back in, who knows. (Ask box open).

Warnings: Cursing, Homelander craving you, a little too wanting.

+ + +

Homelander likes you. No, listen, Homelander likes you. These days he’s so brazen with it, and you can hardly walk into the same room as him without buzzing under his stare. However, I wanna start it off a little slow at least. He started it off slow at least. Kind of.

It’s your third week in when he takes a good look at you. A rushed mission brief is called and Ashley, idiot, decides now is the time to try out a new presentation method. Handouts. She’s so fucking proud of herself when she steps to the front of the room and says, “I want to ensure everyone has a thorough analysis of the plan, as well as some facts about the landscape that I think—“

Oh please, he’s so close to asking her if she was shaken as an infant when he notices you. Supe by supe you walk around, placing a sheet of paper in front of everyone, & God the sight of you. You know how hard it is for someone to catch him off guard? You do it instantly, unknowingly, unabashedly. Honestly, it’s your eyes – wait – your lips. He can’t stop looking at your lips. Then you smile at The Deep and he has to sit back in his seat a little bit, scooch down, and lean over, chin in hand just to get a good look at you. You’re just about to reach Noir when Ashley musters up the gumption to ask, “Homelander, how would you feel about starlight leading this mission while you stay as backup?”

He’s almost too slow to take his eyes off you, but he does & laughs incredulously at Ashley. “Why would I do that?”

She actually quick steps towards him, hand extended holding a sheet of paper, & places it in front of him before you can make it. “We’re working to establish your image with our female audience, ages 25 through 45, as a softer protector.” She says softer with a wince, like she can hear how fucked it sounds. He’s annoyed, and has to deep breathe his way out of showing it. What the fuck is he reading? It's a mess of statistics and a – quite honestly –l ameass excuse for a game plan that he’s happy to pass on to StarLight. Ashley finishes with “Currently you’re doing amazing with our male audience, but we’d like to shift towards a team player, lover of women image.”

He’s a lover. Through and through, and sometimes hard to find. It’s there though, eventually you’ll get it.

You walk behind him, and reach beside him to place a sheet down in front of Queen Mauve. You smell good. He tilts his head just enough to catch a sight of you without being too honest about it. You’re a sight. You know that? It’s enough to make his eyes drag down your body, stopping at your ass and then making a slow track down your legs. He’s a dog about it, and internally says fuck it, because then his eyes are back up and locked on yours.

He hears your heart jump a little, but you’re a pro, because you just smile it off —fuck, you’re beautiful — and say “Good morning.” Before walking away.

Fuck off, ‘Good morning’ , he’s salivating.

“Good morning” he says kindly.

He hasn’t been this turned on, this quickly in a long time. For a human at that? You’re a new feeling, one he can’t even tell if he’s comfortable with. So he’s gotta lock his eyes back on Ashley and pretend like he isn’t gonna think about you later. “Yeah, absolutely –” He waves his hand, & smiles, “– let’s show some girl power, huh?”

One last glance at you, and you’re looking right at him. He doesn’t even hide his stares this time. His dick jumps a little at the fact that you don’t look away, and he makes a mental note to get your name after this.

+++

A/N: *Screams in wanting him*

#the boys #Homelander #The boys fic #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #the boys series #the boys tv #Kash Writes #fanfic

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lucrezianoin · 8 months

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Dark Urge and Astarion romance (spoilers for both quests)

So I have a lot of feelings about the Astarion romance route while playing Dark Urge. A LOT. I feel like the two (and in general Shadowheart's personal quest too actually) feel very complementary.

TW for everything involving Astarion's past, and general violence.

Keep in mind that this is going to be a long post and it is going to have SPOILERS for the whole game, till the very end. In general this is a long happy rant about how happy I am about Dark Urge path and Astarion romance together. Also keep in mind that this is about my feelings of the two, not about "which one is objectively the best romance for Dark Urge". This is more of a "please if you liked astarion romance as tav romance him as dark urge too" than a "if you play as dark urge you need to romance astarion".

Also keep in mind this is ONLY about redeeming Dark Urge and their good path! In the post I will only talk a little bit about the bad ending.

General points

In general, I just wanted to talk about the theme of the urges/hunger, the theme of family and escaping from your family, a little bit about the evil choice and the whole theme of rebirth that both characters have quite explicitly. In this order!

Urges

The first point of connection between the two characters is the fact that they are (sometimes) both driven by a certain hunger for blood or violence. As Durge you will be able to see how your companions react to these black outs, and you will worry about it, and Astarion seems to be among the most accepting. Maybe it is just his need to keep on Durge's good side, or maybe it is just the fact that he has experience on it.

In later scenes, Astarion will draw parallels between Durge's experience and his own. If Durge is cursed to succumb to his own urges, then Astarion will directly connect that to the times Cazador's has driven him feral and mad with hunger.

During the extra Durge specific romance scene, Astarion makes another direct connection to the violence in Durge and what he previously did. He does not have a completely clean conscience (that is clear, and not just because of Cazador), and he is not as "good" at making the good nice choice as other companions.

He understands the hunger and losing control over his body more than others, so he can empathize with Durge and what they are going through. He jokes about it, sure, but he is genuinelly worried.

Another option in the dialogue has him saying "If anyone understands an internal voice forcing your hand, I do. But that's not who we are now. We make our own choices, and you made the right one last night." He is the only companion who uses the "we".

Other points of overlapping are, of course, the fact that both characters have gaps in their memories. Astarion because of trauma and Durge because of physical trauma (torture and well, violence). Their past is one of violence, for both of them, and while Durge operated it a little more voluntarily than Astarion, this NEW Durge, the blank state we get at the start of the game... well, in a good playthrough they try to resist their need for violence just like Astarion is resisting his hunger and his thirst for power.

Reciprocal saving

Astarion is literally introduced as a damsel in distress. He is the only companion whose quest NEEDS to be completed before the tadpole is removed or he will become a slave again (other companions might have other consequences, but nothing that cannot be solved after the tadpole removal, and in case of Karlach there is no limit, she is destined to die or return to Avernus). He does need help, he cannot face Cazador alone, so we all know his plan for protection.

The first scene he appears him is literally him asking for help to try and lure the player and get some answers out of them.

As a player with companions characters, we are all used to helping them in their quests. But as I said, Astarion's help is kinda on a ticking clock based on the end of the game... and well, he is the one who is clearly less involved with abilities and fighting. In story, he is the only one who is out of place. Gale is a great wizard and Mystra ordered him to take care of the brain, Wyll is a legendary hero, Karlach is a legendary warrior, Shadowheart is on a mission for Shar, Lae'zel is also a warrior and she will be on her mission for Orpheus soon, Halsin is a powerful druid who wants to break a curse directly connected to the brain etc. etc.

Astarion is... a guy. Who was a slave. By accident he has been chosen by the mindflayers and freed. His only connection with the group is the tadpole, he could not care less about, well, the "mission". His own mission is remaining free and getting rid of Cazador. And he needs the player character for that (we know he is recaptured if he leaves the group).

I could go on a rant about the angst of it all and the power imbalance this create and the fear that surely drives him through act 1, but for now I wanted to talk about this "be saved by the player character" and how with Durge it finally becomes reciprocal.

This is more than "let's help each other on a quest". This is two characters who are on a path of possible evilness and destruction, promising to save each other.

I think some of the imbalance in a Tav's playthrough, where Tav is good and helps Astarion out of their good heart, disappears in a Durge one.

Durge NEEDS Astarion as much as Astarion needs him. Astarion directly promises Durge to save them from becoming a slave to their urges. One of my favourite options as Durge is replying "I will be the person you want to see in me". Because for ALL the complaining, all the times Astarion says he wants power... the person he wants to see in Durge is still someone sweet and kind, a good heart.

You have two possible bad people who end up being each other moral compass and saviors, equally. And I think it makes the story so much richer. Of course, in the case of Astarion it is a direct persuasion check from the player (as long as you make him face the consequences), in the case of Durge is more metagaming, given it is the idea of wanting to be the person Astarion sees in you (and your friends and companions).

Both Astarion and Durge need to be seen for the good parts they have in them.

After the Durge questline, when they refuse Bhaal, Astarion will say "But somehow by your side I still only ever saw you", which echos what he says to Durge (in his romance scene) that he feels seen by them.

Family

For all the violence and the horror, the quests of Durge and Cazador are presented as family. Durge's family was what led them to violence, their father basically cursing them to a life of hate, then they were betrayed by their "sister" and made into a blank state.

Cazador constantly swings between considering his spawns as children or pets/dogs, putting himself in the role of the almost father. The spawns call each other siblings.

While the two families are quite different, they both end up with Astarion and Durge having to make a choice about choosing or refusing the "father"'s power, one to be stolen and the other offered.

You were also both made by them. Cazador often remarks on Astarion being his and being made/his creation. Bhaal directly considers Durge a puppet he made, and if Durge does not agree with his plan then he will make another.

The evil choice

I found it pretty interesting that there is only one quest among companions that have a full on evil choice, and that is Astarion's. Shadowheart's two choices are both painful and very hard to decide upon, Gale's choice of giving back the crown is seen generally as a good choice but it also involves giving back to Mystra who abused her power on him. Karlach, Minsc and Jaheira don'r really have choices. Lae'zel's choice of queen vs Orpheus is a clear path to Orpheus (as in, I think she decides that on her own if she sees him) but the real choice happens at the end, where she has to choose between Orpheus and living for herself - what is the good choice there? Helping free her people or live her own life? Wyll's choice is also hard and almost equal in pain/gain, one is saving his father and being stuck in the pact, and the other is freeing him but knowing Mizora will come for his father again (even if you save him in game). I think it is telling that the choice is hard because Wyll never says he regrets making the pact in the first place, it was a hard choice he had to make.

Astarion and Durge are the only personal quests that have a clear and defined evil ending, and interestingly enough it is similar...

Both glowing in red light while accepting the cursed power given by their "fathers". Both will come out of it with glowing eyes and evil smiles. The bad choice makes them the worst version of each other, as they both failed to be anchor for their good selves.

I really dislike ascended Astarion, and he clearly has a bigger impact on his personality, given Durge is a player character, but I still found it a good parallel, just the fact that these are the two in the party who can be REALLY evil, who can truly go towards the worst possible path. And not a path of "evil together", but a path of domination and reciprocal destruction.

Astarion becomes everything Cazador's was and wants to take control of Durge, and Durge has to follow Bhaal's plan and take control of the brain... which ends up with Astarion just where he started, as a puppet controlled by that person who (as the Butler once said) he should have feared the most.

Rebirth (the good choice)

NOW TO TALK ABOUT MY FAVORITE POINT. Both stories, both quests, end in an explicit rebirth symbolism.

We have Durge literally dying, and being resurrected by another god of death, coming back to life to find out that he has been given a second chance. The urges have gone, they are free, they are a new person forged by the experience they went through during the path to Baldur's Gate.

In the same way, Astarion is also forged by his experiences with the group and Durge, by what they all went through. So much that if the player does not allow him to confront Sebastian and show him that he is driven by fear, that he, deep down, feels compassion for the spawns... then the player will lose the ability to persuade him to stop the ritual.

Astarion is also reborn, so much that we have a whole scene where he writes a new date on his tomb, it cannot be more explicit than this.

In both cases not only the theme of rebirth but of responsibility is stressed. Astarion talks about freedom as a place where he (and his siblings) are responsible for their choices, good or bad. And the same can be said about Durge.

So yes, I think playing as Durge puts so much more into Astarion's romance, because creates an almost parallel path of these two people who could easily become the worst version of themselves, and if Durge pushes to stop their urges, in a good playthrough, they do become each other's anchor and key to break the cycle.

#astarion #meta #dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #durge #spoilers #durge spoilers #bg3 spoilers

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