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darkbluekies · 20 hours ago

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In the hands of a madman 2024 ver

Doctor!yandere oc x reader

Summary: a doctor is very peculiar about his favorite patient, and senses a threat once they disobey him.

Warnings: yandere, poison, murder, cuff restraints

Word count: 2.4k

You gag.

“Yes, yes, I know”, he coos, grimacing and removes the wooden stick out of your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You're left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Why does he always stick that thing as far down your throat as humanly possible? You thank heavens that it’s not one of the needles extracting blood from your arm, although you’re sure that’s what’s waiting tomorrow.

“Still nothing?” you ask cautiously.

He meets your eyes and you know immediately. You sigh heavily. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

Every three months, he’s doing all sorts of tests to see if you’re getting better — or what’s what he’s saying. Every three months, Dr Kry has to check every vital sign on you to make sure that his sickness isn’t getting out of his control. But you don’t like them. They hurt. Badly.

“Will I ever get to go home? I want to.”

Dr Kry sighs and sits down on his rolling stool, coming over to your bed.

“I know you do, but you that’s not possible”, he says apologetically. “You know that too.”

“Yeah, because you keep reminding me”, you mutter.

“That’s better than giving you false hope, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that drive you insane?”

It would, but you don’t say it out loud. Doesn’t need to.

“I want to go home!” you say again, louder this time.

“Saying it louder won’t make you better or me change my mind”, Dr Kry says.

You sigh and press your palms to your eyes, trying to press the tears back into your eyes before they escape. You’ve been here for too long by now. You’ve been isolated for so incredibly long. ALl you want is to go home. You know no one, talk to no one beside him. The proper, sophisticated man who’s stiffer than a stick. Dr Kry sighs and moves closer.

“I know that you’re disappointed”, he says and puts his large hand on your shoulder. “But this is for the best. “I don’t want you to get worse.”

“I hate these fucking tests! They hurt.”

“I know.”

He glances towards the white air purifier on the shelf beside the bed. The poisoned air purifier. He’s always making sure it’s not too much, not too little. Just the exact amount to keep you where he wants you — weak and vulnerable, dependent on him.

“I know it’s hard”, he says encouragingly. “I know that you’re in pain, but you’re doing so good. You can always call for me if you need me, okay? I’m available all day and night for you.”

You press forward a smile, but can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. Why did this happen to you? Where did you go wrong to end up here? How could a sore throat get you bed bound in a hospital room? If only you knew.

“Let’s get you tucked in again”, Dr Kry says and helps you lie down in bed. “You shouldn’t be putting to much pressure on your body.”

He pushes up your pillows, having you lie in a 45-degree angle. It helps you breathe at night. He always tucks the blanket close to your body, as if you were a butterfly in a cocoon. He gives you a small smile before standing up.

“Please don’t go”, you whisper. “I don’t want to be left here.”

The man looks at you, studies you carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He wipes your lonely tear with his finger. He looks at his wet finger, thinking.

“I feel helpless”, you admit. “I don’t think I’ll ever get well again.”

Little do you know that’s exactly what he wants.

“It’s okay, Y/N”, he says. “I will take care of you. I will stay with you until you’re well again.”

He has to force back a smile.

“I don’t want to do these anymore”, you say monotonously.

“I know you don’t, but you have to”, Dr Kry says apologetically and moves closer to the bed on his rolling stool. “They’re important.”

“They hurt …”

“I know, but you’re doing so good, okay? I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a small, painful smile.

“I’ll sit here until you fall asleep, don’t worry”, he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes slowly. He fades out.

He takes blood tests the following day. Needles, pain.

“Now, you need to take a nap”, he says and tucks you in.

The daily afternoon nap. You hate it, but he insists. While you sleep, he’s out taking care of other patients that are not you. He hates it, hates wasting his time and skill on people that aren’t you. Those patients are one time patients that are there for surgeries, consultations or checkups. No long term patients that have to stay in the hospital. Everyone gets to leave after he meets them. Everyone but you. You stay.

You keep your eyes closed until Dr Kry leaves the room. Quickly, you sit up and get out of bed. After all these fucking tests, you’re deserving of something else than the tasteless cardboard Dr Kry gets you. Just one brownie. Something that has sugar. And maybe some coffee for caffeine too.

Quietly, you sneak out into the corridor. There’s something about these sterile passageways that makes the hair on your back stand on its end. Is it the dehumanized area or the fact that you’re never allowed here? Is it nerves or excitement? Whatever it is, you decide to speed up your steps and hurry towards the elevators before anyone sees you. They’ll tell him. Just as the doors are about to close, someone stops the doors. A boy dressed in a similar hospital gown as yourself forces his way into the elevator. He gives you a rushed, apologetic smile.

“Sorry”, he says sheepishly. “I am in a hurry.”

“What happened to you?” you ask and smile halfly.

“I escaped from the therapist. A real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help but giggle. The young man licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair.

“Have you met her?” he asks. “The therapist?”

“No”, you say.

You haven’t met anyone but your stiff and proper doctor.

“Don’t”, the young man advices you and leans his back against the wall. “She’s mental. I honestly think she should be the one getting interrogated — not me.” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Do you meet others?” you ask.

“In the lounge. Have you been there?”

You shake your head and lower your eyes.

“Did you just arrive?” the man asks.

You shake your head again.

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

The elevator stops and the doors open at your floor.

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” the man asks.

“Yes”, you reply.

“I’m coming with you. Maybe you can help me blend in.”

“Okay.”

The boy seems frantic, but happy. Running on adrenaline and excitement. Together, you walk through the hospital to the cafeteria and realize that you don’t have any money. Your shoulders fall. Did you come here for nothing?

“Aren’t you going to order something?” the young man asks.

“I don’t know”, you reply quietly.

Before you have the time to come up with a lie why you can’t order anything, you recognise something in the corner of your eye. A blonde man dressed in a white robe. You feel your blood run cold.

“What do we have here?” Dr Kry asks and you have a hard time reading his tone or facial expressions. “What do you think you are doing out of bed?”

He walks over to you and grabs your shoulder. You flinch. His grip is … tight. Painful.

“You’re supposed to rest”, Dr Kry says shortly.

He looks at the young man. His eyes seem to go right through him.

“Where are you supposed to be?” he asks.

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry gives him a cold gaze before grabbing your upper arm in a tight grip. He doesn’t say anything as he starts to pull you with him. His steps are quick, steady. Angry.

“Doctor …”, you try.

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry pushes you into the elevator and presses the button. He doesn't let go of your arm.

“Doctor, I’m sorry”, you say.

He still doesn’t answer. You barely dare to look at him. There’s something about his face that scares you. It's stoic, unreadable. But he oozes anger. Like a dark cloud.

The elevator stops, the doors open. His tight grip remains as he drags you back into your room.

“Lay down”, he instructs shortly.

You do, too scared to disobey. Dr Kry walks past you, to the drawers by your bed. He rips out two leather bands that look like belts for dolls. Before you're aware of what he's doing, he's strapped one of your wrists to the bed railing.

“Wait, doctor-”, you blurt out.

“Be quiet.”

He locks your other wrist to the other railing. You tug at the restraints, and find them secure.

“Are they too tight?” Dr Kry asks, still with that short tone that sends icy needles down your spine.

“Doctor, what are you-?”

“Answer the question. Do they hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He turns to his desk, ignoring you.

“Doctor, I'm sorry”, you say.

“You broke my trust”, he says without giving you any attention. “It's important, for your healing, that you do not deceive me. I need to be able to trust that you do as I say. How many times have you done this?”

“Only this time, I promise.”

He doesn't answer. You feel how your eyes fill with tears. Your body is in such a vulnerable state that your body betrays you. You didn't want to upset him, didn't want to put your own health at risk by doing this.

“I'm sorry, doctor”, you sniffle. “I didn't mean to break your trust.”

He sighs and turns his head to look at you. His blue eyes soften and he rises from his chair, coming over to your bed. He can't stay mad at you, not when you're clearly dumb. You don't understand, he can't be mad at you for not understanding. He should — and is — mad at himself for not foreseeing these situations and making sure you don't do it.

“You know that I only want what's best for you, don't you?” he asks and wipes your tears with his hand.

“Yes”, you reply.

“In that case, I want you to never repeat this mistake. Mistakes are forgivable, but they should be minimized, do you understand that?”

“Yes. Do you forgive me?”

He has to force back a smile. You're so unbelievably cute.

“Yes, I do forgive you”, he says.

“Can you take off the restraints?”

“No. I might forgive you, but I need you to know what happens once mistakes occur. This is the consequences that follow. If I can't trust you to be where I want you to be, I need to take precautions to make sure you are.”

You lower your gaze.

“Who was that, by the way?” he asks. “That young … man. Why did you speak to him?”

“I don't know, he took the same elevator as me.”

“I don't want you to speak with him again. If he's the one they're looking for, I don't want you getting influenced by his reckless ideas.”

“I don't get to speak to anyone, anyways.”

“And that's how it should be. We don't know why you're sick, and you shouldn't contaminate someone else.”

“What about you, then? You can get sick too.”

“I'm ready to take that risk.”

He's too nice, you think. All he wants is to take care of you and you put his selfless risks to hell when you decide to disobey him. How horrible of you.

“Now, you need to take that nap for real”, he says. “I will sit by my desk. If you need something you can just let me know.”

He walks back to his desk and sits down, starting to file some paperwork. You tug at the restraints. You're not going anywhere.

When you’ve fallen asleep, Dr Kry makes his way through the hospital. They’ve captured that young man and put him back into his room … and Dr Kry wants a talk with him. He opens the door quietly. The young lays in bed, sleeping. Dr Kry circles around him, taking a good look at him. Did you find him cute? Hot? Did you like talking to him? Did you think that he was better than him? Did you enjoy those ten minutes with him more than these months with Kry? Do you want to meet with him again? He glares at the sleeping man. Dr Kry walks over to the supply closet, an identical to the one in your room, and takes out one of the spare pillows. Silently, he walks over to the bed, lifts the pillow and presses it over the young man’s face. He widen his eyes, pulled out of his slumber. He screams against the pillow, his voice getting muffled in the fabric.

“Normally, I’d make this easy for you”, Dr Kry grunts as the man starts to fight against him. “Out of pity, but you don’t deserve that mercy.”

He screams in confusion, fear. Dr Kry can make out words. What. No. Help. Stop.

“Just give in and give yourself that mercy”, Dr Kry continues. “If you continue to fight against me, you’ll be in more pain.”

The man cries. Dr Kry breaks out into a smile.

“You’re going to die either way, you can choose to end it quicker.”

The young man doesn’t seem to get the memo. He continues to fight, cry, plead. He drinks it all in. The horror, the helplessness. The dear in headlight. He has seen the light in people’s eyes disappear multiple times during his job as a doctor. To see the moment someone becomes just a piece of flesh. He has never enjoyed it as much as now. The man stops moving. Dr Kry removes the pillow and takes a step back, looking at the lifeless body. He breathes out. Finally, he can calm down.

And now, all he needs to do is to make sure he can not be traced back.

He finds you sleeping soundly as he comes back to your room, wrists still locked to the sides of the bed. You make his heart ache. He sits down beside you, brushing his fingertips over your cheek.

I control your life, my little one. You’re going to say with me and I’ll take every repercussion to make sure you don’t disappear.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere fics #yandere oneshot #yandere oc

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impactrueno · 2 days ago

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Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice #lydia deetz #beetleposting #beetlebabes #<- added for those who would prefer to not see this stuff but i didn't intend this to be a shippy post #spoilers: it's very one sided. but it IS all from his POV so you can kinda expect him to be...him #if you're a shipper who's just checking the tag then uhhh hi! i feel like i'm intruding lmao

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monstersflashlight · 2 days ago

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Patreon Commission for anon

Request: something with an orc and a female human? Something fantasy-based, maybe human owns a tavern? I'd be fine with whatever you thought worked though!

A/N: Sorry this is kind of late, life is hectic. Enjoy!

Kissing an orc

Orc x fem!reader || accidental exhibitionism, oral sex, groping

You are kneading the bread for the next day when the knock on the door startles you. “Your favorite orc is hereeeee,” your annoying naga helper sing-songs to you. You shush them in your way to the door, signaling them to stop or you’ll kill them. They chuckle and disappear to the front, a broom already on their hands. Good, at least they would stop being a little shit while they do the tavern cleaning.

You open the door and have to swallow a gasp. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him, it always amazes you how fucking beautiful he is. All giant, towering over you, with his beautiful olive skin and big tusks framing his appetizing mouth. Good goddess you’d give all your gold to be able to kiss him at least once to know how that mouth would feel against yours.

“Hi- hi,” you stutter. You chastise yourself, trying to act composed, but suddenly your skin feels too hot and your breathing is pushing your boobs a bit too forward.

“What was all that about? Am I your favorite orc? Do you know more orcs?” He looks so confused and adorable you want to pinch his cheek, but also kiss him senseless.

You look at him completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Yes?” You aren’t sure if it’s a question or an affirmative.

You take a deep breath, thinking about all the possible possibilities of what you are about to do, but you are so fucking tired. You want to know, and if it goes wrong, you can always change hunters and find a new person or monster to bring you fresh meat for your tavern every day, right? Yeah. You can probably find somebody else, but you can’t wait more time to know how do his lips taste.

You stare into his beautiful dark eyes and answer truthfully: “Of course you are my favorite orc, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months.”

“What?” He looks so surprised you want to laugh, but the nervousness in your stomach prevents you to do anything. “But, but… I asked and you didn’t… you didn’t…” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I asked you to meet me for breakfast and you said you had to work. I asked you if you wanted coffee and said you had to work.” As soon as he says that, you can remember a few other times he asked you for coffee or lunch or some snack and you always refused because you thought he did it just because he was nice, not because he was interested. Were you really that obvious?

You look at him, your face mirroring his surprise. “Oh.”

“You are just too cute for your own good, damn it.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you breathless. “We could have been doing this for a long time if you just said so,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.

Kissing an orc is even better than you imagined. His tusks frame your mouth perfectly and his lips are way softer than expected. He is perfect and you can’t even comprehend what he’s doing when he crouches and grabs your ass, pulling you up and walking inside, the deer he caught today left there, forgotten.

He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and before you know it your ass is over a table and he’s kissing your neck, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His hands are everywhere, tracing the edge of your corset, caressing your back and groping your ass over the skirt of your dress. His hands fit under the skirt and he goes up and up until his hand is over your center and you are panting, his mouth hot against your pulse point as he touches your vulnerable place.

He caresses your legs over your underpants and asks: “Can I?” His lips move against your neck when he talks and you have to suppress a tremor.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, already pulling the skirt of your dress up to your waist as he pulls down your underpants, kissing your leg along the way.

“Have somebody ever…?” He doesn’t have to say it, you know what he means. You aren’t a blushing virgin, but you never had enough trust in anyone to let them… kiss you there.

“I never… Nobody ever… Not there,” you try to explain.

He gets it instantly, kissing your mouth until your brain is far away from your worries and his dexterous fingers find your pearl, flickering it and making you bite down on his lip. He groans and you giggle against his lips, he kneels on the floor in front of you and goes for it.

You moan very loudly as inexplicably pleasure breaks through your body, making you throw your head back and arch your back in an arch that leaves your boobs about to spill over your corset. You are sure it looks sinful from his position, but when you open your eyes the only thing you see is his face still buried between your legs, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head so strongly you are worried you are going to hurt him, but his pleased sounds are good enough to make you groan again.

You cover your mouth to avoid screaming his name as his tongue does wonders around your lucky pearl, his tusks framing your pussy in a way that leaves you breathless and ready for more at the same time. It’s wonderful and marvelous and all the adjectives you can’t even comprehend as he sucks and licks your hot center, dragging all kinds of sounds out of you.

You’ve never felt that kind of pleasure, and as it starts to peak, you don’t know what to do with all of it. You grab his hair and pull, making him grunt as his fingers dig into your hips where he’s holding you still. You are messing up his braid, but you can’t care about it as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. It’s the most intense experience of your life and when the pleasure hits its peak, you have to bite down on your hand to avoid the cry that was about to leave your mouth.

He licks you through it, until your legs are trembling around his head and your pussy is pulsating in time with your heartbeat. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps milking all the pleasure out of you with such frantic need that you can’t do anything but match it. When your second orgasm hits you, the first one was still there, joining in the middle in the biggest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He kisses your pussy and your highs, not trying to make you untie your legs from around his head. His tender caresses are a contrast with the frantic devouring he just did, but it’s the best kind of contrast. You are still breathing hard and he’s still on the floor in front of you licking you clean when the door to the tavern opens with a screech.

“Dude! That’s where I make the bread!” The annoying naga screams as he opens the door just in time to see him kissing your pussy one last time.

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cazort · 2 days ago

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This is such a great post and I want more people to read it. You articulate a lot of things that I've experienced, better than I've been able to.

I want to add one thing, which is that, under the guise of "many feminist men have no friends", I am nonbinary but was living closeted, as male, for most of my life and still am often seen as such. And some people, including both women and "feminist" men, can be really, really nasty to me when I express even the slightest disagreement with something that they have framed in feminist language, even if the sentiment itself is deeply regressive.

Examples include:

(a) disagreeing or speaking out against statements like "men are scum" or "men or trash"

(b) disagreeing with or speaking out against other negative overgeneralizations about men

(c) disagreeing with statements or defending men when a woman makes a remark that reads negative intent in his action, even in cases where I know the man and know that that was not his intent.

Some examples of this reading of negative intent include:

(1) people thinking a man is coming from a place of misogyny because he is intimidated by a woman (i.e. they assume he is intimidated by her intelligence and want women to be "dumb" or intimidated by her assertiveness and want women to be passive, but in reality the man is intimidated because the woman wields a great deal more social power than the man, i.e. often it's a woman of high socioeconomic status, or a woman who is well-connected in a subculture, and the man is of a lower socioeconomic status and/or is an outsider in the specific subculture, so the women are shaming men for perceived "misogyny" when in reality the women are actually acting out classism towards the man.

(2) a man oversteps a boundary of a woman in a way that she feels uncomfortable with, it could be something like how he looks at her, something he says to her, or a way he touches her. the woman assumes the intent was to make the woman uncomfortable and/or exert power over her. but in reality the man never wanted to make her uncomfortable and he would have never done what he did had he known the woman would have reacted negatively. the actual cause of the overstepping of boundaries can be diverse, it could be autism leading to poor reading of social norms or cues, cultural differences leading to different social expectations and norms, or just individual preferences (the man has had most women before like or respond well to the behavior, and this woman is just different), or it could be social anxiety (the man is anxious and is "lost in his head" and in doing so, overlooks or misreads social cues the woman thinks are obvious), and here's the most aggravating thing, often the woman is intentionally withholding any verbal or even nonverbal expressing of boundaries, like trying to act "nice" and "polite" either intentionally or unintentionally because women are often socialized that way in our society.

These sorts of things happen frequently, but I've noticed that it's totally taboo for men (or rather, anyone perceived as men) to challenge them. When I have done this, I've often gotten a disproportionate amount of hostility directed at me. I have people use harsh negative language, like calling me a "potential rapist" or a "rape apologist" if I say something very mild or gentle like: "Do you think there could have been any cultural differences that led this man to act the way he did?" or "Are you sure that he was able to accurately read your cues and that he didn't just accidentally misread you?" And when I say things like: "Did you try expressing the boundary to him verbally?" people practically explode at me, escalating to language talking about violence, like talking about being afraid of the man killing her, things like that, and then implying that I want women to get murdered and condemning me for it.

It's absolute batshit the way people can react.

So it's not just right-wing circles that can be hostile to men, it's a lot of left-wing circles as well.

Thankfully, I've found great social circles where my friends aren't like this. But it's a serious problem and I want people talking about it.

Thank you for your post!

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

#misandry #feminism #far right extremism #deradicalization #men's issues

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hannie-dul-set · 3 days ago

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IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.

p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.

requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.

myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.

“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”

“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”

“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”

so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.

“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.

“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”

“she threatened to mutilate you…?”

jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”

there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”

a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”

admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.

“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”

speechless.

in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.

so, reasonably— they call for backup.

“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”

“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”

“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”

a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”

“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”

it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.

but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection.

which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”

it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”

“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”

sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?

a thought enters sungho’s mind.

hold on a second—

“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”

—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?

oh my god.

“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”

“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”

“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”

this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.

“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”

hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”

“yeah, we should order it.”

“what drinks should we get?”

this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.

no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—

“huh.”

the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.

sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”

“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”

first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning.

“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.

“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”

“but isn’t his life in danger?”

“i misunderstood.”

forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#ship dynamics: insane edition #myung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #boynextdoor x reader #bnd x reader #boynextdoor jaehyun x reader #bnd jaehyun x reader #boynextdoor scenarios #bnd scenarios #bnd jaehyun scenarios #boynextdoor jaehyun scenarios #bnd imagines #myung jaehyun imagines

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allpiesforourown · 1 day ago

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Okay here's my Lan Qiren apologist masterpost

"He had Lan Wangji whipped! He's an abuser!"

That was Lan Wangji's punishment for injuring 33 Lan elders while defending a demonic cultivator who caused innumerable deaths in the cultivation community. You need to remember the setting of this story: Madame Yu whipped Wei Ying half to death just because she went "you didn't do anything wrong, your general existence is just mildly annoying to me." Lan Qiren deciding Lan Wangji get one lash for every person he hurt is NOTHING in comparison to the punishment he would have gotten if anyone else was in charge and it was the only way to clear his name.

2. "The Lan sect rules he enforces are too strict."

First of all, Lan Qiren is an old Asian person. I feel like that would be enough to make my point, but I will continue regardless.

The Lans have so many rules because they have extreme self-regulation issues when it comes to their emotions. We've seen Lan Wangji's dad ruin his life by trying to atticwife his lover, but Lan Wangji wasn't any better. If you've read the incense burner extra you know he got his first crush at 15 and his brain immediately went to fantasizing about violently assaulting Wei Ying in the library. Their hundreds of rules are stifling because they're supposed to be. If the Lans don't try to contain themselves they will ruin their lives and the lives of people they care about.

Is "don't talk while you're eating" even that extreme of a household rule? Like every family has some variation of "don't do ____ at the dinner table" and the Lans having their own version is not that insane.

3. "He was against Lan Wangji loving Wei Wuxian."

I need you to spend like. 2 minutes putting yourself in Lan Qiren's shoes.

Imagine you are Lan Qiren. Imagine you find out your brother broke his family apart by forcing his wife to stay with him. Lan Qiren was just a man who was thrust into not only taking care of the Lan clan, one of the biggest cultivation sects you can think of, but also his two traumatized nephews. Imagine cleaning up the mess your brother left you while having to raise two children that aren't yours.

Then you see your nephew, who you have raised like your own son, helplessly pining after the infamous demonic cultivator who has rejected him and teased him. You watch him turn against and injure his own family members to protect a literal criminal.

Then he comes home holding the child of the man he loves and you let him keep that baby and raise him. Because you see yourself in him. You see someone who just lost a loved one who was not a good person but someone you loved regardless. How many times do you think he saw Lan Wangji raising Lan Yuan and remembered himself raising someone else's children because their father was no longer there?

And then after all that Lan Qiren had been through, he didn't even try to keep Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian apart once he found out the truth. When Wei Ying explained how he'd been set up, he was one of the first elders in the cultivation community to give him a chance to explain himself. And after that even if he was cold to Wei Ying, he didn't say shit about the two of them having nasty loud gay sex in gusu every night.

I don't care. Lan Qiren hate will always be forced to me, he did literally nothing wrong and if I was in his shoes I would not have been able to handle it

#mdzs #lan qiren #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #long post

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wonderjanga · 22 hours ago

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Code-Switching

Billy code-switches every now and then and doesn’t even realize it.

Marvel: *talking in his normal voice to Mary*

Reporter: *pops out of nowhere with a camera man behind her* “Captain Marvel we’d like to discuss with you today about the recent incident with Sivana.”

Marvel: *almost immediately switches to a transatlantic accent* “Of course!”

Reporter: *almost gets whiplash from how fast he switched* “Right, well could you fill us in on the details?”

Marvel: “Sure I can.” *starts talking with the accent and even using old-timey lingo*

Reporter: *walked away from the interview only knowing barely half of what happened cause she could barely understand half of the things he said*

Fawcitizens: “Ah yes. I see.” *understood perfectly*

The reporter wasn’t originally from Fawcett and came after to time bubble so she could get the latest scoops on Marvel.

Marvel: *comforting an abused kid with the absolute kindest and most compassionate look on his face*

Abused Kid: *crying*

Marvel: *picks kid up and gives them to their mom and heads over to the Abusive Dad*

Abusive Dad: “What’re you looking at, asshole?!”

Marvel: *kind ahh smile immediately fades and proceeds to promise to do the most torturous and gruesome things to the man*

Police: *look away like the aren’t hearing a thing*

Marvel: *looks back to the kid and is smiling again. Gives the kid a little wave*

He was under the effects of a magic spell that was supposed to mimic the effect of being drugged.

Marvel: *nearly passed out on the floor, family guy style*

Flash: “Oh my god!” *rushes over and leans down, shaking Marvel a lot* “Cap, are you okay?!”

Marvel: *thinks Wally is Freddy and frog blinks at him, annoyance crossing his face at being shaken* “Freddy, get the fuck offa me.” *literally puts his hand on Flash’s face and pushes it away*

Flash: *a little gobsmacked cause he’s never heard Marvel curse before* “Wha-”

Marvel: “Now, get outta here. Or I’ll beat you.” *shakes his fist at him before making a dismissive gesture with his hand* “Shoo shoo.” *promptly passes out*

Flash: *doesn't know how to feel about the friendliest guy he knows telling him he’ll beat him* “Alright buddy.” *helps him up and makes the long trek to a zeta tube so he can get Marvel to the medbay*

When Marvel woke up…

Flash: “Cap, you’re awake! Are you feeling better now?”

Marvel: *sits up in the cot he’s in* “Uh… yeah I’m fine.”

Flash: “You sure…? Cause, I mean, you were saying some pretty interesting stuff back there.”

Marvel: “What stuff? Did I say something weird?” *praying to the gods that he didn’t accidentally reveal his identity*

Flash: “Kinda?”

*silence*

Flash: “Yousaidyou’dbeatme.” *says super fast*

Marvel: “WHAT?” *sounds horrified* “Oh my Gods, I’m so sorry?!”

Flash: “It’s fine! It’s fine! It’s just who in the world is Freddy? And what did he do to warrant you telling him that you’d beat him for stopping you from trying to sleep??”

Marvel: “Uh…” *doesn’t really have much of an excuse other than that’s just how Freddy and him talk to each other*

Billy spent the rest of the day avoiding Flash’s questions.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #mary batson #mary bromfield #the flash #wally west

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osakanone · 2 days ago

Text

🎵 4Aesthetics

I don't believe they did copy his older works given how much of a departure most of the designs are and how much osmosis has happened since Kawamori's last contribution to Armored Core prior to 6 was Armored Core For Answer and only the NEXT, White Glint in 2008.

AC6 went in to development in 2018, which puts a full decade between Kawamori's prior work and the nature of mechanical design is like that of horizontal gene transfer: there's an enormous amount of contact inheritance, so much so that you can't really use terms like copy and instead iterate or explore is better -- which 100% happened given the length of the timegap.

Mecha evolution is parallel, as many have said before and Argonbolt recently reiterated -- though from a presentation standpoint the taxonomic format of the video feels shitposty, I think taxonomic-adjacent descriptors are a really good way to think about mechanical design, and design as a whole.

I haven't yet gotten around to a translated read of ARMORED CORE VI FIRES OF RUBICON OFFICIAL ART WORKS as I'm busy with other projects right, and I'm a lot less enthusiastic about 6th gen than 4th gen so its kind of on the backburner.

tl;dr of why I'm less enthused: I very much agree with the Steam page that AC6 is based on the concept of Armored Core, but I wouldn't say that it is Armored Core, truly since it lacks the fundamental combat calculus defined by rates which is why AC6 is so statistically biased over being mechanically balanced. This is why the combat doesn't resolve in a satisfying way, and why the meta keeps dancing around its fundamental problems. I noticed this before the game was released based on the motion footage we got that was leaked. Following the game, my suspicion was confirmed by Inveigh and SilverGlint who felt the same way, who I consider far more hardcore players of the game than me, and I got a few apologies from people who thought I was exaggerating the design issues. I'm still very sore about AC6, both its gameplay and its story. <grievences>

Moving along:

To my understanding, Kazutaka Miyatake, Takayuki Yanase, and Ikuto Yamashita were staff designing for Armored Core 6?

Kawamori only designed IBC03/HAL826 and IB07/SOL644 afaik.

Like he gets a lot of credit, but the idea that he does "all of the design" for Armored Core is a massive misconception.

I don't know if Makoto Kobayashi or Wataru Inata, Masahiro Miki, Akihiro Goto, Kaichi Satou or Tetsuya Taniyama have returned.

I don't understand the capacity Kawamori functions under when he staffs at FROM, but if I had to make an educated guess I'd say he either briefs other designers, or serves as a means of keeping other designs cohesive in design reviews. There isn't a lot of discussion about this.

Like Okawara, he's a designer who needs very strong direction to produce good outcomes, and I get this might be heracy but his newer work while more mechanically cohesive in terms of the ability to execute on it as a physical product like a model toy is far less stylistically ambitious with its forms.

It has a far more passive appearance which in 2024's design climate (especially that of twitter or pixiv) feels very strange in a post-Syd Mead and post-Yuzo Kojima era.

This is characterized by narrower hips and a greater emphasis on chasing a more humanoid form which ironically is less characterized, less recognizable and less iconic.

I consider this kind of strange, given that Kawamori's original trick was that audiences were really really forgiving of what a robot would look like despite being somewhat strict about vehicles, and he used this to his advantage throughout many of his transforming designs.

It feels like the problems of the mechaical designs and how hard they are to realize into functioning models in Macross Plus kinda... Haunt him? Like he girlbossed too close to the sun?

My personal theory is there's a habit of mechanical designers who get typecast or trapped into redesigning the same problem for a really long time: Just like neural networks can hallucinate or hypernormalize values beyond norms to chase a utility function the same is often true of design.

I think this is what Takeshi Murakami was trying to say in his sculpture, Second Mission: Project Ko^2, which is an anime style naked girl of the era and style of Studio Nue (when Kawamori afaik got his start) transforming into a fighter-plane in an act of fascinating if grotesque body horror.

aside: I wonder how Kawamori feels about Second Mission Project Ko^2 almost daily, and if I go to Osaka Expo 2025 (which two people want to take me to) I want to ask him since he has a booth but I feel it would be really impolite???

This is how you get really strange gangly forms, or structures which don't make a ton of sense, and is honestly the work image collaging AI systems were most interesting doing.

Human designers replicate this too:

You see it with the recent BMW car designs with their giant snouts, and you also see it in Apple's fetishistic obsession with less buttons reducing to one button with the iPod nano 3rd gen which was considered unusable since users had to memorize tap sequences to use it.

Its like a kind of Fisherian Runaway but for design

I think too, we also see this in some of Mamoru Nagano's work on GothicMade, where his reinterpretation of Mortarhedds has become hypernormalized.

I'd really need to think more on this.

I don't know why this giant discussion fell out of me, and I'm not even sure how "factual" a lot of it is.

I feel a lot of what I'm saying is probably rude or perhaps even parasocial on some level, and the thought of actually testing any of this or publishing properly would insult an entire industry of wonderful people I hold nothing but the deepest respect and admiration for.

That said, I still feel compelled to write.

Its very vibes based and while I'm providing evidence, I'm probably either making a massive mistake and confabulating information/hallucinating linkages as a mentally compromised individual with autism who thinks far too hard about fictional robots and the schools of design that link them together or I'm making an insight that people will talk about long after I'm dead if my blog survives.

Then again, maybe the fact I'm even contemplating that I might be wrong might mean I'm actually covering my bases and I might actually be right? That's... The feeling I have? I wish I were brave enough to make video essays.

The thought that someone might actually read any of what I write, and even enjoy it is one of the seven thoughts that helps me keep going through my depression.

Take care.

Remember, the ask button exists.

Armored Core VI Fires of Rubicon Official Art Works

#mecha #mechanical design #mechs #mech #giant robot #armored core #shoji kawamori #Takeshi Murakami #Macross #industral design #art

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dreamertf · 2 days ago

Text

Follow the Instructions

/hello! Hope you enjoy this one, im gonna start tagging ai as #ai tf so if you dont want to see any ai images in your tfs you can block that tag. Ill also be putting a disclaimer at the top of each post that has ai.

/contains ai images & video

/includes; muscle growth, suggestion tf, straight to gay tf

"Yeah, Im feeling fine!"

Jason was tired of how weak and scrawny his best friend Max stayed throughout their time in high school and now, college. So he had given Max a new black market roid that promised to "make him a bro." He crushed up a few of the pills without looking at the instructions and baked it into a cookie he gave Max.

Jason wasn't so bad himself, 6'4" and muscular, with a charming face. Little did he know that his height that he had since he was a sophmore in highschool would be changing.

Jason stared at Max as his skin started to ripple and shift.

"Are you sure?"

"Never better, bro."

Max ripped his shirt off as his muscles swelled. A deep canyon of rippling abs leading up to two giant slabs of muscle. He flexed and stretched as his biceps filled out.

"Sorry, im feeling a little hot." Max said non chalantly. His muscles continued to grow as he flexed them.

"Oh my god it worked"

"What worked?"

"Oh nothing, dont worry about it."

"Ok brah"

Their surrounds changed from school as it turned into a living room, a living room Jason had been in so many times before, Max's living room. All of a sudden, Jason felt a pull towards Max. He couldn't stop looking at him, like literally. He traced Max's outline as each muscle became more prominent. He stared at the giant as he grew taller and taller, but something wasn't right. It was like everything around Jason was getting taller too.

Unfortunately, Jason hadn't looked into how the roid actually worked. On the back of the small blue box, it read ;

Are you tired of being weak and nerdy? We got you covered. We believe the human mind is a powerful tool, and our Bro Pill helps you to use it to your full potential! Not only does it shift your mindset to be more focused on sports and the bros, but it also changes various other aspects of your life in order to fit your new you! We recommend taking one pill weekly until desired affects.

WARNING: taking more than one pill a week may intensify the effect you have on other people

Jason panicked as he felt himself losing muscle and height. His features softened as he turned from a rugged man into a young 20 something twink. It looks like the god of Jason's creation has type cast him as his twinky boyfriend. Making Max a jock apparently didn't override his sexuality.

"What are you doing to me?"

His voice was still deep, too deep for someone like him.

"Make that voice a little higher, and can you please quit being so worried brah? Be like me, stop thinkin as much little guy huhuhu."

A wave of relief came over Jason as he collapsed onto the couch. His body continued to shrink as he lost his height, becoming about 5'6" compared to Max's new 6'8". His musculature toned down more, not as defined anymore.

"Whatever you say babe" Jason giggled, his voice much higher and more flamboyant.

"Thats my pretty boy." Conversely, Max's voice became much deeper and demanding. Jason felt himself starting to get hornier.

"I'm so happy i couldfind you. Your ass was like made for my dick huhuhu" Max said as he spread his legs wide as his pouch grew bigger. He had one more explosive growth as his shoulder broadened and his pecs filled out more. Jason shifted in his seat as his ass grew more plump and muscular.

"What do you mean?" Jason feigned innocence, turning the ditziness all the way up.

"Come here and I'll show you, slut."

#male tf #mtm tf #muscle growth tf #tf #straight to gay #ai tf

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1nthedarknessofthenight · 18 hours ago

Text

﴾ you shook me

pairing: college student!seungmin kim x f!reader

genre: one-shot, university au, smut

word count: 9K

warnings: student! and teacher! ⋆ switch!seungmin and switch!reader ⋆ choking! ⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ small!age gap ⋆ jealousy ⋆ possessiveness ⋆ fingering (f.receiving) ⋆ oral (f.receiving) ⋆ cowgirl!position ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: you were captivating, you were in his mind and his soul, taking a bite of it each time you would glance his way, you shouldn’t excite him, you shouldn’t enjoy getting under his skin, it was so wrong…so wrong that it felt good

author’s note: he wants that cookie so bad

request by @khandzilla

──────────────────────

He thinks, he has a problem and you are it. You are haunting him and it seems like you have under a spell. You are so collected, so put together, it makes him feel dirty to have these thoughts about you. You are supposed to be a person to look up to, idol in his life, not his only thing that he wants to have. You are teaching him what to do, but he can’t hear — see anything other than you. Your words are soothing, yet strong, but he can’t do it. He wants to do good, think good for himself mostly as these years are the most important ones in his life, but it seems like it stopped the moment you walked into the room.

Your body clad in fitted skirt and blouse, the click of your heels silencing whatever noise was being made in the lecture hall. He wasn’t the only one. How could he? You are perfect — an intelligent and well behaved woman that knows the power of her own words. You are so good…in a sense of teaching of course. The way you never stumbled over your words, the time you took while thinking over the question the other students around him asked…he felt sick. Maybe it’s the hormones, natural urges that keep filling his mind with filthy, filthy things.

He kept it to himself mostly, but he remembers every one of your outfits. So elegant and unrevealing it made him lose his mind. You weren’t showing anything, other than your stocking clad legs when you would wear a skirt. Those girls in his class looked primitive next to you, so not put together, still figuring things out and that’s maybe why he liked you so much. You were a woman, a little older, yet still fresh. You always held your head high, but you never were prideful. You were a natural, seductive and he wishes you would claw your burgundy nails into his scalp, so you could see what exactly it is on his mind while he is attending your class.

It really angers him that a simple pencil skirt and a fitted sweater make him so dazed. He swears that he shivered when he saw the red bottoms of your shoes, his favorite, because they perfectly showcased your success in life. You were unreachable, untouchable. The worst part was that you never acknowledged him that much. Just few glances, always making sure to rise his hand high when you were making attendance. You were so good in what you did, teaching, listening. He remembers the time, when he saw his name in your handwriting while you were giving back tests to the other students. He forgot to even write his own name down, too caught up in your pursed lips while you were going over some papers. His name in your neat handwriting never looked better.

It is so unfair — looking like that and also being so unforgiving. His eyes are staring at the paper in his hands, bright red marks all over the whole page. He sometimes wonders if you get pleasure from giving these tests every two weeks. It was for a greater good, you were just making sure that everyone knew what was going on, but this one — this test was the most important one and he didn’t score high…he never did. He wants to say it is because of you, but it is mostly, because of his own mind.

Sighing, his hand runs through his hair, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He feels his friend leaning over his shoulder, a low whistle blowing against his cheek. “That’s not good.” Says, the long haired blonde, making him look at his paper and not to his surprise he did better than him.

His eyes go briefly to you, but his vision is blocked by a bunch of student who are already making their way out of the auditorium to their next class. He always likes to stay a little behind, because it gets stuffy sometimes and mostly he just likes to wait for you to possibly bump into you…on an accident. However like all those times you are way too quick for him, already packing up your things and putting them back into your worn out luxury bag, it only highlights the distended between you two. How could you do this to him? No, how could he do this to himself?

His hand stills in his short, black hair, fingers a little sticky from gel, nails digging into his head. “I just keep getting distracted—“ He mumbles to himself, though his friend catches it quickly.

“I get it — because look-“ Felix gestures to you just as you put your bag over your shoulder. “How can you pay attention with a thing like that.”

He wants to ignore his friend’s words, but it is the truth. You are so distracting and you don’t even do it on purpose, it’s all him. “I’m gonna ask for a redo.” He sighs out, finally moving to put his things away. The blonde immediately smacks his lips, shaking his head at his statement.

“I don’t know, man. She’s kind of strict, doesn’t give second chances.”

Trailing his eyes over your slowly distancing figure, his lips lift up slightly into a smile. “Watch me—“ Standing up, Felix only raises his hands in a shudder, letting him do whatever he wants.

He wished that he could, so many things. He ignores how his heart beats just a bit faster at the thought of talking to you alone. You always spend your small break in your office — was he distracted by you that much? In every other class he thinks he does a pretty decent job, every class other than yours. And yours was to his luck the most important one. He wonders what you looked like in his years, what kind of student you were. A nerd or a party girl? No, you are too uptight for that in some way and it only reminds him the difference between you and him.

The corridor is quiet, other than the few distant voices behind the close doors he passes by. The clicks of a clock makes him count just how much time he spends thinking through his words. You are not strict, you are just great at your job, but he needs just one more chance to prove you that he is somehow the same as you. He could never be as smart as you, but he wants you think of him — think of him. His feet drags him to the door of your office, black, cursive of your name and titles glaring at him. Even just staring at the door, he can feel your energy. Knocking on the door, his hand shakes a little when he hears an immediate ‘come in’, your voice piercing through him.

Your office is a perfect reflection of you — dark, put together, but somehow screaming. Your figure is sat behind your desk placed in the middle of the room, those glasses you sometimes wore on the end of your nose, eyes staring through the lenses right at him. You look like a liquid sex to him, so naturally alluring he has to wonder if you are a siren in disguise. You are definitely leading him slowly to his end, to you. You lick your brown, matte lips, straightening your back and making your breast press against your sweater that perfectly outlines your curves. “Seungmin…here because of your test I presume?” You can read him like a book.

Nodding, he exhales through his nose by hearing his name coming from your luscious lips. Of course you know his name, you have everything memorized, but still the excitement rising in his chest is immense. He is still standing in the same spot. However you are calling to him to come closer, but he thinks if he did, he would do something really stupid. “Yeah…why did I get such a low score?” Seungmin knows why, because the reason is right in front of him. He feels stupid to even ask such question.

You drink in his frozen state, tilting your head just a little at his words. “In the test, I asked all of you to include both your explanations and the sources where you found these answers in the books I assigned you to read — and you didn’t do that.” You keep your voice low, almost sounding like you were scolding him, but he doesn’t seem to picked it up.

Seungmin points at his head, long index finger pressing into his temple. “Here’s my citations—“ Your lips pull into a smile of amusement, the move making his already raised eyebrows hit his hairline.

“It doesn’t work like that, every information comes from somewhere and you knew before hand.” He enjoys your attention that you are giving him right now, but the tone you use makes him embarrassed. “Next time keep that in mind.”

You end the discussion very quickly and when you turn back to your papers, he feels himself taking a little step closer to you. It does make you glance back at him, raising an challenging eyebrow at him. He is getting desperate. “Isn’t there a way I can redo it or something? Please—“ You wonder if he realizes how much his voice got whiny at the end. You almost coo at him, but the way his face scrunches up in frustration, makes you think twice about your decision.

A short, but heavy silence spreads around the room as your unmoving stare stay at his fidgeting figure. “No.” Is your answer firstly and you take a short breath to gather your thoughts, while his shoulder start to fall in disappointment. “I do not except redos, but you can write an essay regarding this topic.” A big wave of relief washes over him, already nodding his head at your request. His enthusiasm does quiver a little at your next words. “You have till Friday.”

“But that’s like in four days—“

You don’t even shrug at him, already going back to your work, but you do hold yourself not to correct his tone with you. Seungmin should feel greatful, but you still had to make it difficult for him. You know about how tight his schedule is, but that really isn’t your problem. You dismiss him by just a quick wave of your hand, flashing your long, manicured nails at him. He watches you for a second longer, before he walks out of your office, releasing a long sigh. He already is starting to feel tired, because he knows he has to do his best in such short amount of time. However he realizes that you have given him something that you have never given before — a second chance.

────

Seungmin’s eyes were droopy, head pounding, dark circles under his eyelashes. He spend these past few days working and working and for a short while you were put into the back of his mind. He had to do good to secure his grade and the memory of your disapproving face made him work even harder. While writing, trying to get every information that was supposed to be in his head already, it in his exhausted state felt like you were looming over his shoulder. Like a phantom, he can’t lie — there wasn’t a minute that he didn’t think of you while working on the paper.

Something that helped him keep his head high was his friend’s facial expression when he told him how you did give him a second chance to prove himself, though the tiredness around his eyes wasn’t unseen. When Thursday came around Seungmin couldn’t take it anymore. He knew that he was too tired to even pay attention, so was it even necessary to be in school anymore? It was the last lecture of the day and he already had a plan to just skip the next day to finish his work. However even in his hazy state, he wouldn’t be able to make up what he saw when he left the room.

The soft click of the door shutting behind him was quiet, hallway usually filled with students now empty other than your standing figure and the other. Professor Bahng was chatting with you, awfully close to you, the pointed tips of your shoes slightly touching his polished ones. You were smiling…he has never seen you so bright before. Your voice was soft as ever and your eyes strained on the man before you, not even catching his presence. He still made his moves minimal, just not to be caught, but even if he tried really hard, he couldn’t hear anything of the conversation. Seungmin couldn’t fight the jealousy from seeing you being so close to someone and when he saw Professor Bahng’s hand rubbing softly at your arm, he had to sneer.

Gritting his teeth, he almost bites his tongue at those shared secret whisper between you two. You were too out of his league, even if Professor Bahng was successful as well he could never handle you. In Seungmin’s eyes no one could possibly deserve such an amazing woman like you, but he himself could try, he thinks. Your painted lips stretched into a smile, mirroring the man before you, before you with a small flip of your hair turn around to walk the opposite way. The man stood in his spot for a minute longer, watching you walk away and Seungmin is sure that he was looking at your ass with that big, stupid smile on his face.

The glare on his face is hard, eyes moving from you to Professor Bahng who walked pass him, not even acknowledging him. In some way, one side of him didn’t want to know what you two were talking about and the other almost made him kick his Professor’s feet so he would fall face first, hopefully wiping that stupid smile off his face. He didn’t of course, too blinded by the waves of different emotions to be able to do anything.

This small encounter made it a bit harder for him to focus, but with the last bits of strength he had left, he made it. When Seungmin send you the email with his work, he felt proud, but still just a little anxious about what you might think of it. He knows that you like to keep your work organized, he knows how quick you are with everything, he knows from the other students how you would always answer in a record time, but…you didn’t. Maybe it was the hour he send it at, but something is telling him that you are basically glued to atleast one device. You were everywhere, but now, it was like you disappeared. He knows it’s nonsense, but you not responding made him rightfully nervous. He kept refreshing his email, but nothing. He couldn’t sleep, whole saturday ruined for him, because he just couldn’t even breathe without your answer. So it made him do a very stupid thing…

A simple knock was all that it took, the noise was loud to his ears, making him snap back into reality. He can’t fight against his own thoughts anymore. This is all inappropriate, borderline creepy of him to do and when you open the door, your face full of surprise, it makes him think of all possible consequences. Your hand is around the door handle, air getting slightly knocked out of your lungs, but you quickly find your composure. You stare in shock at the man before you, eyes going up and down his lean body.

“Seungmin…” You don’t know what to say for a second and by that he slowly starts to regret showing up at your house. “What are you doing here?” You are a little alarmed by his presence and appearance, but by the look on his face it seems like he is surprised himself.

“You didn’t reply to my email.” The words fly out of his mouth, gasping almost.

Your lips parted, body invisible behind the slightly open door to your home. Big red warning sign blares in your head, though your curiosity is taking over. You are rarely surprised by something, someone and him showing up at your doorstep did make you almost double over. His question, more like a statement, hangs heavy in the air and the small hidden meaning behind it is obvious to both of you. You should feel creeped out, maybe frightened, yet excitement rumbles in your tummy. “I was busy…” You trail off, going back to your almost monotone voice, leg just barely peaking out of door. The movement makes his eyes travel down briefly to your stocking clad leg, but it is hidden again quite quickly, atleast he can still see your face. “How did you know where I live?” You finally ask, red painted lips slowly moving around your words.

Seungmin shrugs a little, trying so hard to play it cool. The truth is that finding out where you live was rather easy and he wished that he knew it sooner. “Felix told me.” His answer makes your features form into realization, eyes going briefly behind him to look into the direction of the small house few minutes away from yours.

“Of course…” You mumble lowly, squinting your eyes at him in the darkness. He is for sure bold to show up like this, unannounced, it’s highly inappropriate — that’s the only word that can summon up this whole situation.

When he sees you closing the door a little at his answer, he immediately puts his foot in the small gap left in the doorway, preventing you from closing the door. “No, wait!” There’s a big desperation in his voice and the looks shared with you are slowly turning into something way more different than before. You should scream at him, at least look a little angered, but you are still as ever. You only look at him, blinking slowly and he at that notices your dark eyeshadow, perfectly outlining your siren eyes. “Please, Miss can you look at it? It won’t take long, I promise—“

There’s a shift in the air. Your stare is hard and piercing. Seungmin thinks that he just dug up his own grave by being so disrespectful and maybe he should have just waited for you to answer a little longer, but the waiting is already eating him up. You don’t say anything, but as you open the door wider that is the only answer he needed. However no relief washes over him, on the other hand, cold sweat starts to gather at his hairline when you let him see you fully.

He has never seen you without your so called uniform, but this…he wonders if these kinds of clothes are just permanently glued to your figure. Your usual skirt however is shorter, ending just at the middle of your yummy thighs that are pushed together as you twirl around. It is like you want to show yourself off to him, a large lump forming at the back of his throat, because he knows that if you would bend over he would see everything. You let him get a short glimpse of your overly tight blouse, few buttons undone at the top. Not to mention your darker make up and pulled up hair — he doesn’t regret coming at this late hour to your house at all anymore.

Stepping in your home he gets a whiff of you, the strong, spicy, yet sweet scent you always wear. He is shaking inside, when he closes the door to your house behind him, leaving you all to himself. One thing that is definitely the most inappropriate is your outfit. He just can’t get over it and he drinks up the view of your naturally swinging hips, leading him further inside your clay home.

Seungmin almost trips over his own feet, while taking his boots off, not wanting to disturb your perfectly polished floor. Following the sounds of your heels clicking, he wonders what exactly got you all dressed up at this late hour. There’s no way you actually prefer staying in your work clothes, nor wearing these high shoes in your house. When you lead him through the small corridor to your lightly lit living room, he sees a coat thrown over the couch, your handbag laying on your black coffee table.

“Do you—“ Seungmin trails off, following you with his eyes as you stop at a small desk with a computer. You do take your work home in some way. “Have any plans…Professor?” Watching you pull out a chair for yourself to sit at the table, you finally look at him. How are you so good at making him feel so unseen, while also making him completely drunk of your presence alone?

There is a subtle smirk on your face, that he thinks is only imaginary, when you turn to your computer, your hand under your chin blocking his view. “That doesn’t concern you.” Your voice sounds unbothered by his small prying, but it still pokes at his heart.

“Just trying to make a conversation.” Seungmin says, though he starts to grow concerned about what you might be doing after you dismiss him. All dolled up, surely it’s not only for yourself. His own thoughts are soon answered, just as he goes around your couch closer to you.

You click away on the screen, watching him by the corner of your eye how he goes to sit at the edge of your grey cushion couch and he almost falls backwards with your next words. “Yes…I’m going on a date.” You say it so smoothly and unbothered, while he on the other hand freezes in his seat.

His worries were just confirmed. His hands form into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands. The raging jealousy fills his field of vision and if you would turn your head to glance back at him, you would see it in his eyes. Were you surprised by him, just because you were expecting someone else? Someone else to talk to you, listen to your voice — touch you? It’s sick, you are older than him, you have the whole right to go out and have fun, then why does he feel so absolutely betrayed. His lips are set into thin line, stare unmoving from you and he already forgot about what is and what is not appropriate. Well, he was just trying to make a conversation…

“With whom?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, tasting your lip gloss. Your fingers move across the mouse, eyes going over the text before you. He is so easy…you have to bite down at your tongue. Your small silence is making him shake and you thrive in it, enjoying it a little too much. Your eyes, body is facing the computer, eyes flying over his work like you haven’t already read it, however he has your full attention. You feel Seungmin’s eyes on your lips, watching you release your bottom lip from your mouth. “Professor Bahng.” Your lips move slowly, tongue rolling and with his eyes, he sees the answer before he hears it.

Heavy coat of rage falls over him, suffocating him with such jealousy he has to hold himself back. The fact that what he saw in the hallway really was something more than just a friendly conversation is making his blood boil. You were smiling at him, agreeing to go to dinner at such a late hour. It is obvious why, but he just doesn’t want to imagine his filthy hands and mouth all over you. “Mr. Bahng? He is like forty!” His voice is loud, but he doesn’t really care about his behavior.

You click your tongue at him, tilting your head into his direction and flashing your glimmering eyes at his fidgeting figure. “And? Age is just a number.” You are inviting him in, with your change of expression and posture. Was his mind already playing tricks on him or were your words laced with a deeper meaning?

Seungmin trails his eyes over you, but you don’t tell him enough to know that he isn’t imagining it. Are you flirting? Maybe it’s just you, he knows that even a simple word from you makes him shake. He hates it, just as much as he loves it. “Maybe it is…” You look back at him briefly, but you don’t give him much of your attention. You are making him go crazy with your unbothered behavior, you for sure have to know the power you have over him. “But you realize that he just wants to fuck you, right?” The words flew out of his mouth so fast, he almost cringed, but to his surprise you don’t scold him.

You actually laugh, the sound short yet real and he melts into the material of your couch. “Yes, I am aware — that’s why I’m going.” Of course his own cheerful demeanor doesn’t last long, because you just love to play with his emotions. The fact you are letting him use such language, letting him in your own personal life is big for him. He thought you would be more careful about what you say, but when you let him in your home, something changed about you. You are no different, still somewhat cold and collected, but with this light burning in your eyes.

“So…you are really just looking for a booty call, Professor?” Humming, he finds it hard to keep it together. His words are not meant to disrespect you, but they are still really, really bold. Such a question to ask your teacher…The whole situation, how you are letting him talk to you like this, made him for a second forget about his jealousy, because you look very much unmoved by the fact that you were getting ready to get bend over. Seungmin feels spit gathering in his mouth at the thought. Your hair pulled back by his hand, makeup smeared across your face, drool running down your cheek — he really is done for. “I thought, you were not the type.” You do look like a proper lady on the outside and with you being his mentor it shouldn’t bother him what your preferred way of having sex was. You are however captivating, he just can’t help himself. He lost the control over his whole body moments ago.

Your clicking stopped a long ago too, just staring blankly at the last passage of his essay, reading the same sentence over and over again. Looking back at him, you think about what to say next. You want to play with him a bit more, maybe embarrass him, but that seems unlikely. Seungmin never once was truly embarrassed by the choice of his words. Even if he looked spooked a little by his own statements, he still was confident and stood by what he said. Maybe he is just lying to you and to himself. His lean body is hovering a little over you, even if you are sitting a little far away from him, but you both know you has the real power here.

You let your own curiosity win again, putting your hands before you on the table and the subtle push of your breast is instantly noticed by him. “What type did you think I was?” Pursing your red lips, your hair falls slightly into your eyes, but you still see the small flash of bashfulness in him.

Shrugging, he tries hard not to tremble at your stare. “I thought you would be already dating someone...” He swallows the lump in his throat, even though he looks quite collected, it’s like you can still see right through him. You watch him closely, how he swings forward and then backwards in his seat, like he will jump into your direction at any moment. He looks a little lost in thought — well, lost in your cleavage. “Also…I think you need something more than a quick fuck—“

You can’t lie that you didn’t look forward to your little date, but it was more of a conference with a promise fling right after. You also can’t lie that Professor Bahng isn’t attractive and yummy in his round glasses, but you are not too into him. The young man before you is basically offering, but still subtly. Your crossed legs tighten around each other a little, you can’t play blind for that much longer. “Language, Seungmin. You are in my house.” You warn him, but the small smirk on your lips is telling him that it doesn’t mean much. “Besides…everyone has needs that they need to fulfill, even if it’s not in a preferred way.” The light coming from the screen of your computer reflects in your glasses, so he is unable to see your small awaiting look.

Seungmin does make you look at him again as he sits up, putting his hands in his pockets. It seems like you are always waiting for something. He loves your mature tone that you always use, even when you have a smile on your face. Your sultry voice is taking over his body quickly and he has to make fists in his pockets to hide it. He shouldn’t feel so hopeful after hearing you say that you are single. He is naturally surprised, but also not — you are a maneater. “You are saying there’s no one?” He voices out his words slowly, emphasizing on that one specific word. He loves having your attention, even when you would get quiet, he is drowning in your aura. He is already shaking with the possibility that is growing right in front of him. He has to remind himself that maybe you are actually the one making a friendly conversation — but then why are you letting him take a few steps closer after his statement.

You look up at him a little, eyes glaring at him through your glasses. He is already closer than ever before, even back in your office, even when you opened the door for him. He never really realized the distance between you two til now — till now when there is almost none. Your voice stops him from leaning on the table, standing before you with eyes staring right into your open shirt. “Your work…it’s good.” You say, looking between him and the screen. “Atleast from what I’m reading—“ You are not necessarily denying that his other passages are not good, you just can’t help yourself.

The fact that he went to your house mainly because of his essay is long forgotten, but he still feels relief wash over him. “Thank you.” Both of your voices get quieter and it’s chilling. The tension can’t be ignored anymore, he knows you feel it too, there’s no way you don’t.

His brown eyes travel over your body, at your pushed up breast and then your legs. The skirt you are wearing is almost at your waist, because of your crossed legs. Even in the dark he can see your muscles spasming just how tight they are pressed against each other. Seungmin mouth is dry, when he looks back at you. You are battling your eyelashes, your pretty, glossy lips looking good enough to eat. He doesn’t hold back anymore, it’s now all clear to him — you want him to make the first move.

You are still sitting in your spot, when he walks around the table to stop right at the corner. He is still leaving some space between you two and he swears your breathing started to got a little faster. This is all becoming so difficult for him and even you — why does the most forbidden things taste the most delicious? You have him wrapped around your pretty little finger. The smile you are wearing is anything, but innocent and the way you twirl around to face him fully is making it hard for him to even breathe. Seungmin leans closer to you, hands still in his pockets and he has to wonder if you can tell why exactly he is doing that. “Are you still going on that date?” He asks and he somehow knows that even this thing and marking his work already flew over both yours heads.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You think something changed my mind?” Your eyes are droopy, tilting your head at him. He has to laugh drily, because you are starting to drive him mad with your tactics.

“Fuck — stop playing with me…” The smile disappears from your lips, but you don’t look any moved, on the other hand you look even more amused. There is something about how you shuffle a little lower on your chair that really sets him off.

You really are just playing with him and he lets you regardless, however he has enough of it. Your breathing is heavier, lips parted, while he watches you uncross your legs. His hovering body over yours didn’t make him feel like was the one above things. Seungmin gasps softly at the sight of your inner thighs, skin still covered by your black stockings, the dark material masking everything to his displeasure. He truly is the one who made the first move, but you make the first touch — with your leg outstretched, you poke at his thigh, heel perfectly piercing his hand in his pocket.

The move makes his knees buckle, sweat gathering at his hairline when you lay your foot flat, pushing right into his bulge. You swear you can feel him pulsating under you. The one prominent vein pressing against the thin skin of his neck is telling you all that you need to know. He’s been hard since the moment he saw your mini skirt, his cock leaking and making an absolute mess. The groan that leaves him is loud, cutting through the thick air in the room. His eyes momentarily close at the relief, cock jumping from your touch, but when he looks back at you, it makes you stop.

Your leg falls down, your touch leaving him way too quickly. Your movements made your skirt just barely graze your upper thighs and he knows if you would open your legs, he would see your soaked cunt. In his hazy state, he has to stabilize himself with a hand on the table, so close to yours. You smack your lips together, him following your eyes that are staring right at the prominent imprint of his cock. “Well, look at you…” Your voice is breathy, feeling your arousal coat your skin from the sight of the dark spot on his pants.

He is trying to catch his breath, fidgeting in his spot and he is using all his might not to touch you without your permission. “I will make you feel good, better than him…I promise, I will not stop till you say so—“ He just barely leans forward, but you stop him with your leg again, now heel digging at his stomach preventing him from coming closer to you, but it is enough to catch a whiff of your perfume.

You are shaking inside from the look on his face. His usual styled hair is fluffy, soft looking and you can’t wait to run your hands through those strands. “You boys, think you will have a woman at your mercy with a small promise?” His eyes close for a second at your tone, knees buckling under him.

“Please, let me…please…” He hates how much control you have over him, but he soon will realize how much it is the opposite. If it meant to finally feel you, oh he will even beg…

You smile at his whine voice, leg moving up and down his lower tummy, heel catching at his belt. “Never thought you would be the type to beg, Seungmin, but it does look good on you—“

Shaking his head, his gaze is slightly hidden behind by his short hair, but it still feels intense as ever. “I can be anything you want, need…” Seungmin is getting desperate, looking like a hurt puppy, but still like a man that is willing to do anything to please a woman.

There’s so much that a person wants, but you want only one, simple thing. “I just want it to be you.” You say, voice clear and letting him hear the permission he so desperately needed.

His legs are already weak, so when he falls to his knees before you, it feels like the only right thing to do. His move makes you gasp softly, leg that was once on his stomach now on his shoulder, but still your legs are closed. “You won’t say anything—“ You say it like a demand, but there is a genuine concern in your voice. This is all so wrong, being attracted to each other — so forbidden. “You don’t want me to lose my job, do you?” The risks you are taking are high, he knows that and he is more than willing to take this whole interaction to his grave.

Seungmin shakes his head, the risk of getting caught is awfully arousing to him in some way. He would do anything to show your date just how much you love someone younger taking over you. He watches you slowly part your legs, the soft light of the room, making your basically uncovered pussy glisten. His mouth falls open at the sight, nothing other than the thin material of your stockings is his way. “Fuck…no way you were going to walk out like that.” He sees your eyes darting away from him and his cock jumps at the small move. You are both gasping when his hands travel up your legs, nails creating tears in your stockings and you don’t feel even a little frustrated. His hands are hot, warming you up and making you melt under him. His long fingers stop at your pubic bone, eyes meeting, just as he tears the middle part of your stockings.

A groan leaves him, mixing with your sharp gasp at his action. His eyes are drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt, left hand that is wrapped around your leg digging into your skin. “He could never deserve you.” With his words his mouth stays open, leaning closer to your center and the only thing that stops him before he could lick a long stripe up your folds is your hand his hair.

“You think you do?” There’s a genuine smile on your lips, feeling you play with the short strands of his hair.

“I’ll work for it.”

With that said he leans to catch the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth. The material of your stockings is tearing around his teeth that nibble at you. You sigh in pleasure, head rolling back as he makes his way up your leg, right to your cunt. You feel your juices sliding down your ass, creating a pool under you and he can’t help but grab his covered cock. He is making a mess just like you and he doesn’t waste any time, finally licking at you and moaning at your raw taste.

Seungmin is pent up and just as much he wants to make you feel good, he wants to make you tremble in the same way you do with him. His muscle lays flat against you, running it over your hole, lips, before stopping at your twitching clit. The soft sounds you make are like honey to his ears, making him slurp all of your sweetness into his mouth. The nasty sounds are making you moan louder, tugging at his soft hair, just as moves his tongue from side to side over your bud.

“Seungmin…” He moans with you, watching just as your head rolls back to meet his gaze. He wants to take his time with you, but seeing your glassy eyes is too much for him. “Oh!” You hum in pleasure when his fingers follow the sticky trail left by his tongue.

His rings click against each other, middle and ring finger circling around your hole. For a woman that made him fall to his knees, you sure are becoming a complete whimpering mess. Your glasses are falling from you nose, red lipstick a little faded from your nonsense biting at your lips. His neck is hurting a little from this position, but the pain is all worth it with the whorish moan you let out when he finally slides his fingers into you.

You are warm, dripping, sucking his digits right in and he can’t wait to fuck you on his cock. He needs it, you have to let him fuck you — he has to prove it you. His fingers curl up, scissoring and trying to find that one spot that makes you shake. He can feel your nerve endings pulsating in your clit as he wraps his lips around it, sucking just right, making you slide down your seat. You help him with his neck pain by putting your leg onto the table, pushing your hips up and he doesn’t even move away from you as you change your position.

His mouth is glued to you, fingers fidgeting till he hear a soft whimper, as his fingertips press against the squishy softness inside you. Your nails dig into his scalp, rutting against him, when he starts to quicken his movements. Your mouth is open, eyebrows furrowed, completely impressed by how good he is at reading your body. “Keep going — just like that, fuck!” He never heard you talk so loud and your curse is echoed, when he feels your walls contract around him.

Seungmin is letting his spit mix with your pleasures, drooling all over you. Your erratic movements are making him dizzy, eyes unmoving from you. He is so lost in you, he literally nibbles at your mound and to his surprise you only pull him closer to you. The squelching noises coming from your cunt every time he would move his fingers is making him ache, his other hand palming at his rock hard cock. A drunk smile spreads across his face when with a particular suck at your abused clit he hears you moan wildly.

You are so close, tasting your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. His fingers are in you so deep, fucking you with them so hard that you feel them in your throat. When a small whimper leaves him, your leg falls down off the table, ass lifting from your seat, your trembling legs wrapping around his head. The sound of your moans is slightly muffled by your thighs, but thankfully he still sees how your eyes rolls into the back of your head. He feels how your pussy tightens around his fingers, how your clit jumps between his lips and he has to take his hand off himself not to cum with you.

Your release coats his face, your legs and the hand in his hair pushes his nose right into you and he just takes it. You are shaking in your seat, moan getting caught in your throat at the waves of undying pleasure. You can’t get enough of it however. Your walls are sucking his fingers deeper, almost reaching your cervix and when your legs fall from his red, ringing ears, it’s clear than you are yet not done with him.

Your hand tugs at his hair, his mouth leaving you with a pop, heavy breaths tickling your soaked center. The look on your face is pure ecstasy, your hair messy, glasses fogged up. You glance at each other for a second longer trying to catch your breath, but then you abruptly stand up on your shaking legs, him slightly helping you find your balance with his hands digging into your thighs. He has to hiss when you tug at his hair again, his scalp stinging, when you pull him up to his own feet. “Sit.” The demand makes him groan, letting you twirl him around and push at his chest to only fall into the same chair he just eat you out on.

Seungmin manspreads on instinct and you bite your lip at the sight of him. He looks so dirty and so ready to let you do anything to him as long as he got to touch you again. You don’t keep him waiting for long, when you go to sit down on his inviting lap. “You are so hard…does it hurt?” Cooing at him, his mouth falls open at the feeling of your bare cunt on his clothed cock.

“Fuck me…” Groaning, his hands immediately find your hips, helping you ground on him. His face is leveled with your tits, before his eyes look up to you, watching you take deep breaths through your lips. His eyes linger on them, looking up at you with big eyes.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?”

It’s evil how you smile so sweetly while moving on top of him like this, each thrust growing harder and harder, the material of his pants rubbing at your swollen pussy. He can feel you soaking him, fingers going up to your waist to hold you closer to him. He would loved that actually — he will lose his mind otherwise. Your perfectly pouty lips are so close to him, breaths mixing together, but you don’t lean in. “I’ve been good…” His voice is soft, swallowing harshly by the addicting rolls of your hips. He can feel everything — your taste on his tongue, your pussy leaking and soaking his pants, your manicured nails piercing his shoulders…

You can’t help it, but moan too, your hand caressing his cheek, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. “Yes…you are.” Your praise is silenced by his lips on yours, tongue already pushing into your mouth. It’s all spit, loud smacks of your mouths echoing around your living room and you think you would be satisfied with just that, but there’s nothing you want to see more than his face when he is finally inside you.

Seungmin’s hands fly to your face, palms pushing and squishing your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. Your glasses dig into his nose a little, hands hungrily grabbing at you while yours do the same, stopping at his belt. Your nails click on the metal and the sound wakes him up a little, helping you unbuckle it. When he feels your hands on the skin of his stomach he is already gone, though something comes over him. “I don’t have a condom—“ Seungmin pulls away from you, trying to catch his breath.

You don’t even stop pulling at his pants, tickling him a little with your touch. “It’s alright, I’m on the pill.” He puffs out air, small shock striking him at your words. Seungmin is literally trembling, not even thinking twice before he lifts you up from his lap slightly to let his cock to spring free. The cold air kisses his leaking tip and he hopes you are liking what are seeing when your eyes travel downwards.

You can’t see much of anything, but wrapping your hand around his length told you everything. He is long, veiny, hot to touch and the short trimmed hairs at the base makes you wonder if this was his plan all along. You however can’t really think straight with the faces he is making already and the painful ache in your core, makes you level his mushroom tip to your entrance. You are so fucking hot right now, it’s suffocating you. Just smearing his precum over your hole has you shaking, gripping tightly onto his shoulder as you slowly slide down on him.

Seungmin chokes at how tight and perfect you feel and he knows that he won’t last long. However that makes you even more aroused. Something about him not being able to handle you, already looking so overstimulated just by feeling you slide in and out of you is so good. “You are so fucking hot—“ His eyes are big, going all over you, while leaning back into the chair to give you more room. Your moves are smooth, hips rolling, rising before bottoming out again. Your slick is sliding down to his balls, the sounds of your bodies colliding together filling his ringing ears. He is breathing heavier, hands dragging across you till they stop at your bouncing breasts, smushing them together.

His touch feels in a way possessive and glancing at his face, the pull at his dark eyebrows is making your legs tremble. His cock hits your cervix every time, soft hair scratching at your puffy clit. Your glasses almost fall from your nose by your erratic movements, but he thankfully catches them before they could fall on the ground. He marvels in your beauty, loving the way your lipstick is smudge across your parted lips and he just knows his are stained as well. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest, his hands grappling at your shirt so roughly you can hear it tearing. You don’t even care anymore — you are going to end up a complete mess either way.

He observes you so closely it’s almost nerve racking. Seungmin’s darkened eyes go to your neck, so bare and inviting, his hand gripping at your hip to jerk his hips up a little. It makes you gasp, stopping for just a split second, but when he does it again your legs gave up around him. The more you stop moving the more he fucks up into you and you have to hold back a loud whine from his hard thrusts.

He curses under his breath, when your head tilts back, body arching into him. Your hair is a complete mess, shirt popped open, letting him see the black lacy bra wrapped around your pretty tits. He almost growls at the thought that he almost let someone else see you like this, make you crumble and cry like this — they wouldn’t be able to. The fact you are basically wearing something he would maybe see you in school is making all of his fucked up fantasies better — now it’s a reality. His senses are so heightened that he can even hear the sound of your heels scraping against the floor, trying to find your balance.

He can feel himself slowly falling over the edge, his own legs shaking from lifting you up to bounce you on his cock. The way your sighs get whiner is making it difficult for him to keep his composure. “You are so fucking distracting with your little outfits — c-couldn’t stop thinking about you like t-this–“ His voice is so shaky, he almost thinks you didn’t even hear him, but then he can see the smile even from your head being turned away from him.

“I know, I noticed.”

A gasp leaves you, eyes shooting open when you suddenly feel his hand on your throat. “Say it again.” With glassy eyes you meet his crazed ones. Your face scrunches up, hand flying over his, but you don’t move it away from you. The pressure he applies next, makes you drool and he catches it with his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

That is probably the most unexpected yet hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. The sudden change of dominance suits him so much, you are not having any trouble at succumbing to it. His mouth his so close to yours that your every word bounces of his lips. “I noticed you…” Mewling your hands fly to grip at his t-shirt, tugging it closer to you to maybe stop him from going so hard on you. When his long fingers tighten even more around your neck, skin burning under his rings, you start to feel the very familiar rumbling in your lower tummy. “S-Seungmin—“ The sound of his name coming from you, while you look so fucked out, makes him crumble.

“Please, cum for me.” Seungmin’s hand around your throat pulls you closer to him, shaking hand squeezing between where your bodies meet to find your clit. “I w-want to fill you up so bad, but I n-need you to cum first.”

He rolls, pinches at your bud, your body jerking up with just his movements and the show of power. The way he can be everything you want, how he can read you, your body and heart makes your last sound of pleasure form into silent scream. You are shaking wildly, sweating as the rope snaps in you, throwing you over the edge. In your state of euphoria, you don’t even hear how his breathing becomes rigid, but you do feel the nearly painful thrust of his hips.

You swear his tip breaches your cervix, the move, making your eyes open, just in time to see his frown of pleasure. A pathetic whimper falls from him, closing his eyes, body slumping against the chair as his cock twitches wildly around you, filling you up with his release. “S-so good–“ You lick your lips as you feel his cum painting you, it was so much that you can almost immediately feel it leaking out of you.

Seungmin head is empty for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he stares with wide eyes at the ceiling. The realization of what just happened — what he did, makes his orgasm feel even better. He feels your body slump forward, falling against his and he shouldn’t smile so much when he sees your eyes peaking up at him. He removes your hair from your hot face, flashing you such a sweet smile that seems laughable after everything that happened. “Will you…go on a date with me, Professor?” His question makes you laugh, smile not leaving your pretty face.

Your own hand pulls his short hair back from his forehead, losing yourself way too quickly at the stars in his eyes. “Call me by my name and sure, pretty boy–“ He grins even wider than before, pulling you up on his body to kiss you. However it does make you both moan in overstimulation, because his cock drags across your walls. With the look you two share next it’s clear that maybe a silly date will have to wait…

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muletia · 1 day ago

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obsessive!optimus x human!reader

guys, guys!! let me cook. we all know the famous robot-fucker june darby line 'and i wore heels and everything'. so!! what if you're in the base when she says it. at first, you’re like: haha, funny, june has a crush on optimus. there’s no way that kind of relationship could ever happen haha... ha.., but!!! the next time you see him, her words pop back into your mind, and you start watching him more closely, basically doing a role reversal. btw, 101% chance you’ll catch him staring at you at some point, so your eyes are definitely going to meet. you’re embarrassed, he’s surprised but also happy that you were checking each other out (he’ll definitely start getting delusional). the best part is, june was totally right, because optimus is hot, and you end up losing sleep over this whole situation, realizing that this alien, inside whom you’ve spent countless hours riding around, is attractive and would probably treat you better than most of the male population.

the next visit to the base will be a nightmare for you, because you literally can’t look him in the face without blushing and trying to keep your thoughts on track, as they’ve suddenly started to go in very inappropriate directions. poor optimus will have no idea what’s going on :(( he’ll blame himself. he must have done something wrong; otherwise, you wouldn’t be acting this way. did he make you uncomfortable when he looked at you? did he say something out of line? but when he tries to talk to you about it, you can barely meet his optics, and your face is even redder than usual because you’re just thinking about how nice his baritone is, how well he treats you, and that he’s just plain hot. basically, everything is a mess.

things will get awkward between you two, at least until it all gets cleared up, but ratchet is going to be so, SO tired of your bullshit 💀 he just had to deal with optimus’s weird fixation on you, and now you’re starting to return it??? he’d literally rather launch himself into orbit than watch you two fail to confess your feelings for each other for another few weeks/months.

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp

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neferaskingdom · 1 day ago

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♡ Good Luck Charm | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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Summary: If this was just supposed to be Casual, why is he acting like this? Why is he holding her close as if he never plans to let go? [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

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Part 2 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist: Part 1

It had started out as a casual thing. A friends-with-benefits arrangement, nothing more. At least, that’s what she told herself at first.

But Charles made it difficult to keep things casual. There was an undeniable charm to him, a sweetness she hadn't anticipated. He didn’t just text her at night or call her when he was back in Monaco. Instead, he called regularly, sometimes even when he was across the world for a race. He’d ask about her day, make her laugh with stories about his travels, and always ended with some version of, “I can’t wait to come home and see you.”

And then, there were the little things he did that went beyond what she’d expected. He’d bring her favorite coffee when they met up, remember small details she’d mentioned in passing, and leave her cute voice messages when he found something that reminded him of her. Charles was effortlessly thoughtful, as if caring for her was second nature.

One evening, after a tough qualifying session, he called her, his voice a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You would not believe how bad the setup felt today,” he complained. “It’s like the car just… refused to cooperate.”

She listened as he vented, offering encouragement and making him laugh with a few lighthearted comments. By the end of the call, he sounded calmer, even managing a smile in his voice. “You know, you’re good at this. You make me feel better even from thousands of miles away.”

“Well, someone has to keep you sane,” she teased.

“Oh, you’re doing much more than that,” he replied warmly. “Really, I wish you could be here. You’d probably make the whole race go smoother, just by being around.”

“Is that so?” she teased, her heart swelling at the thought. “And how exactly would I do that?”

“Your mere presence would calm my nerves,” he insisted, the playful lilt in his voice making her laugh. “You know how competitive it gets. If I could just look up and see you, I’d feel so much better.”

“Maybe I’ll have to make an appearance then,” she said lightly, but in her heart, she felt a pang of longing at the thought of being close to him, sharing those moments in person.

As the weeks passed, the calls became a comforting routine. He’d check in after qualifying sessions, asking her opinion on his performance, or he’d call after a disappointing race, needing to vent. It was during those moments that she began to see how much he truly valued her support.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to come in tenth?” he grumbled one afternoon, his voice low and strained as he paced in his hotel room.

“Pretty frustrating, I’d imagine,” she replied sympathetically. “But it’s just one race, right? You’ve got more coming up.”

“Yeah, but it’s Monaco next! I can’t mess that up. It’s my home! The pressure is insane.” He took a deep breath, and she could almost picture him running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I need to win this one.”

“Then you need to focus and stop overthinking it. You’re talented, Charles. Trust your instincts. You’ve got this,” she reassured him, her voice firm.

“You always know what to say. I can’t wait to come home and see you again.” He sounded lighter, a smile evident in his tone. “Maybe you should come see me race sometime.”

She laughed it off, but Charles was relentless. Every few days, he’d bring up the idea of her coming to watch him race. “Come on,” he’d say, “Just one weekend.”

But she kept brushing it off, always with a half-serious excuse. “Charles, I have a job, remember? I can’t just fly out to some random country you know”

One evening, he finally pulled out his best argument. “Monaco,” he said with a grin she could practically hear over the phone, “that's literally our backyard. No excuses this time.”

She groaned, pretending to resist. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“But charmingly so,” he countered, voice teasing but hopeful.

Eventually, she caved. “Fine. I’ll come. Just because you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”

His laugh was practically a shout of victory. “You’re going to love it, I promise. And I’ll make sure you have the best seat in the house.”

When she arrived at the paddock on race day, Charles was waiting for her at the VIP entrance, practically bouncing on his feet. The moment he spotted her, he broke into a grin and quickly made his way over.

“You came!” He wrapped her in a hug, holding her close like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I told you I’d be here,” she laughed, squeezing him back. “Though you owe me big time for putting up with all this noise and chaos.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to make it up to you,” he replied with a smirk, keeping his arm around her as he led her inside. “Let me show you around.”

Charles walked her through the paddock, his hand resting possessively on her lower back as he guided her past the hustle and bustle of team members, mechanics, and engineers. He introduced her to some of the crew, who greeted her with warm smiles, and she couldn’t help but feel the pride radiating from Charles as he spoke about the work they put into the car.

“See that guy?” he said, pointing to a tall man with a headset who was deeply focused on the monitor. “That’s my race engineer. He’s the one who helps guide me during the race.”

She nodded, genuinely interested as Charles continued to explain the intricacies of the race preparations. “And this,” he said, leading her to the Ferrari garage, “is where all the magic happens.”

As they entered at the Ferrari garage, Charles spotted his brother Arthur nearby. “Ah, you have to meet Arthur,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “You’ll love him.”

Arthur approached, giving her a friendly grin as he shook her hand. “So, you’re the ‘lucky charm’ Charles keeps talking about,” he said, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t start,” Charles muttered, clearly embarrassed, though he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat up as she shot Charles a playful look. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation around here.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Arthur chuckled, giving his brother a knowing look. Charles just rolled his eyes and nudged him away, muttering something about “family being an embarrassment.”

Before long, Charles was called back for his final preparations, and he turned to her, his expression softening. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“Front row seat,” she promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The race itself was a whirlwind of emotions. As the lights went out and the cars roared to life, she felt her heart racing in tandem with the engines. Each lap was a rollercoaster of tension and excitement, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Charles. He navigated the track with grace and determination, every move calculated, every turn precise.

With each passing lap, the anticipation built, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, she couldn’t help but scream with joy. The entire atmosphere erupted in cheers, but for her, it was all about Charles. He’d done it. He’d won!

As he climbed out of the car, sweat glistening on his forehead, he scanned the crowd until his eyes locked onto hers. A wide smile broke across his face, and he hurried over, not caring about the cameras or the noise.

“Did you see that? I did it!” he shouted, wrapping her in a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. She could hardly believe it as he peppered her face with kisses, excitement spilling over. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“I think you had it in you all along!” she laughed, overwhelmed by the joy radiating from him.

“Not without you here,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You make everything better.”

She laughed, still wrapped in his arms, as he planted quick, enthusiastic kisses all over her face. “Charles, everyone’s watching!”

“Let them watch,” he said, not even caring, still grinning as he peppered her face with kisses.

The celebration was in full swing when they stepped into the club, Charles was surrounded by friends, team members, and fans who were all there to revel in his long-awaited Monaco victory. The energy was infectious, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride watching him receive endless pats on the back, his grin wide and eyes gleaming under the flashing lights. He never let her stray far from his side, keeping a steady arm around her waist as they moved through the crowd.

"Finally won my home race," he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the music, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. "It still doesn’t feel real."

She nudged him lightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "You sure it happened? You’re not dreaming right now?"

"Guess I’ll find out if I wake up," he said, laughing as he twirled her in place, pulling her back against his chest. "But you’re here, so I’d say this has to be real."

They both laughed, the shared warmth and excitement washing over them like a wave. He kept her close as they moved through the club, accepting congratulations and raising toasts with anyone who approached. But every few minutes, his hand would slide back to hers, squeezing her fingers or pulling her back to his side. His eyes would find hers, that familiar spark of mischief dancing in his gaze.

Eventually, they found themselves tucked into a quieter corner of the club, away from the crowd. Charles leaned against the wall, tugging her closer until her hands rested on his chest, his grin turning cheeky as he looked down at her.

“So, you’re not disappearing on me tonight, are you?” he teased, his fingers tracing a lazy line up her arm. “I kind of like having you around.”

“Disappearing?” she laughed. “Please, Leclerc, it’s like I’m glued to you tonight. You’ve barely let go of my hand.”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to her waist as he pulled her even closer. "Can you blame me? Best night of my life, and I want you right here."

The sincerity in his voice softened her, but he quickly masked it with a grin, tugging her back onto the dance floor. They spent hours laughing, dancing, and talking between sips of champagne, the atmosphere around them filled with lighthearted banter. Charles was in his element, his joy contagious as he celebrated with everyone around him, but his attention kept circling back to her—small glances, soft touches, lingering smiles.

At one point, he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Come with me."

Before she could respond, he was guiding her toward a secluded corridor at the back of the club, pressing her gently against the wall. His hands settled on her waist as he looked down at her, his gaze intense and filled with an energy that set her pulse racing. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal parts heated and sweet, his fingers tracing her sides as he held her close.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur. "Thank you for being here tonight. Wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate with anyone else."

The words made her chest tighten, and before she could respond, he was kissing her again, a soft laugh escaping his lips as they stayed wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world outside their small bubble.

Later, as the night wound down, they left the club together, Charles’ hand never leaving hers. Back at his apartment, he pulled her inside, his smile turning playful again. "One more toast, maybe?"

“Isn’t that what you said after the last toast?” she teased, following him into the kitchen as he poured them each a final glass of champagne.

“What can I say? It’s a big night,” he said, winking. They clinked glasses, his eyes never leaving hers as they sipped, and when she set her glass down, he was already pulling her close, his lips brushing along her jawline before settling on her lips.

They drifted into his bedroom, Charles’ touches growing more insistent as he held her close, a mix of laughter and whispered words filling the space between them. He was relentless, the intensity of the night fueling each kiss, each lingering touch as they stayed wrapped up in each other.

Finally, as the early hours of morning crept in, they lay tangled together in his bed, the celebrations fading into a comfortable quiet. Charles lay beside her, his face nestled against her neck as his breathing slowed, a soft smile on his face.

“Perfect night,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

She smiled, her fingers running through his hair as she whispered, “Yeah, it was.”

In the quiet that followed, she felt his breathing even out, his arm around her tightening slightly as he drifted off to sleep, holding her close as if he never planned to let go.

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Taglist: @dullypully @wintterily @sageskiesf1 @firefirevampire @eloriis

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