#it's so big but it feels more doable now

[arolesbianism]

Sier? I haven’t even met her! Laugh.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

pre hotel battle and vaggie wants to round out her gf's stat blocks just a LITTLE bit more

Vaggie: “Okay sweetie, big battle for our lives and hotel coming up.”

Charlie: “Which we are going to WIN and NOT DIE in!”

Vaggie: “Right. First battle you’ve ever been in?”

Charlie: “Technically, yes.”

Vaggie: “Still not vibing with an actual weapon?”

Charlie: “They’re all so…. Pointy and mean looking…?”

Vaggie: “So we’re sticking with the shield plan for you.”

Charlie: “I drew up some designs for one! LOOK! WINGS!!!”

Vaggie: “Really, very cute babe, it’ll look great on you. Very cool thing for any murder angels to smack face first into.”

Charlie: “Thank you!”

Vaggie: “But I’ve been thinking… well no, I’ve been having nightmares-”

Charlie: “OH NO!!!”

Vaggie: “-and if you wanna help with that, maybe you could have, like, just one kinda attack thing?”

Charlie: “Oh.”

Vaggie: “One trick up your sleeve, Charlie. That’s all I’m asking.”

Charlie: “I… I guess… if you’re worried, then…”

Charlie: “…I could… try doing the demon thing… a little…?”

Vaggie: “No you hate that.”

Charlie: (HUGE SIGH) “Okay good! WHEW. So what’s the OTHER attack thing idea??”

Vaggie: “You do have a little of the carnival magic stuff, yeah? Like your dad?”

Charlie: “Oh I love that stuff! YES!”

Vaggie: “I was thinking maybe you could do fireworks.”

Charlie: “FUN!”

Vaggie: “And explode people with them.”

Charlie: “HORRIFYING!!!”

Vaggie: “I know. I know but- just a little, sweetie? For me?”

Charlie: “Explode them, Vaggie? Into, pieces!?”

Vaggie: “I’m picturing globs and chunks actually.”

Charlie: “Vaggie!”

Vaggie: “Sorry, look-” (takes gf’s hands)

Vaggie: “This is gonna be a real battle with a lot of stuff happening. Lots of people. Lots of yelling and people running around. We’re probably gonna get separated at some point-”

Charlie: “No. You’re staying right next to me.”

Vaggie: “Charlie I swear I’m gonna try to, but that's not how big mob fights work out.”

Charlie: “We can MAKE it work like that THIS time!”

Vaggie: “Listen. I really, really want to go into this knowing you’ve got something for crowd control, alright? If a dozen angels swoop down on you and I’m not right there, I wanna know you can give yourself enough breathing space to keep that shield between you and them.”

Charlie: “But- you WILL be there-”

Vaggie: “One hit. That’s all it takes. For me and for them both, and you- please.” (squeezes hands) “They want to kill you. And they can. And they’re gonna try to.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “… I don’t want, to hurt people.”

Vaggie: “A shield to the face hurts.”

Charlie: “Okay fine- I don’t want to KILL people! Or even get close!”

Vaggie: “That’s fine, that’s the world we’re aiming for.”

Charlie: “But it’s not good enough right now though, is it.”

Vaggie: “… maybe it is.”

Charlie: “You just said…”

Vaggie: “Fuck what I said, you don’t need to detonate anyone for crowd control. You can do lights, right?”

Charlie: “Yes?”

Vaggie: “Bright and flashy ones?”

Charlie: “Obviously, those are the best kinds-”

Vaggie: “So try flashing people.”

Charlie: “Flashing?? Wh- IN THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE???”

Vaggie: “-blinding, blinding I meant blind them with flashing lights, get them to back off.”

Charlie: “Oh!”

Vaggie: “That a doable thing?”

Charlie: “Yes VERY doable! Like a really amazing sparkler!”

Vaggie: “And they wouldn’t be dead, they just wouldn’t be able to see enough to attack you.”

Charlie: “It wouldn’t even really HURT THEM even!”

Vaggie: “Sure. Unless they trip or fly into something.”

Charlie: “And you’d feel better???”

Vaggie: “Much, much better.”

Charlie: “Enough to sleep?”

Vaggie: “When you’re not keeping me up half the night with kisses, yeah. I think so.”

Charlie: “I’LL DO IT! I’ll practice weaponizing pretty sparkles!”

Vaggie: “Thanks, babe.”

Charlie: “What battle weapon-y things should I be practicing with them, in practice?”

Vaggie: “Uhhh make it a reflex, fine tune your aim…”

Charlie: “Fun!”

Vaggie: “Figuring out how to not blind everyone else too would be good.”

Charlie: “That’s a good point, hmm-”

Charlie: “-Ohhhhh I could make the lights SMALL. Very small, so they don’t do much on their own- then only someone who’s super close and I’m aiming for and who gets a face FULL of them would really be blinded!”

Vaggie: “You’re so smart.”  

Charlie: “OH MY GOSH I COULD THROW GLITTER BOMBS!”

Vaggie: “That honestly sounds terrifying. I love it.”

Charlie: “HEHEHHEHEH.”

Charlie: (smooches her)

Charlie: “We’ll stay together in the fight so you can have front row seats to the light show, okay?”

Vaggie: "... we can try to..."

Charlie: "Will. We will stay together."

Vaggie: “… and, you’ll practice hard until then.”

Charlie: “I will!”

Vaggie: (lets out breath) “Then we’ll be okay. And also sparkly.”

Charlie: “Same thing~”

[corruptedcaps]

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

“So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

[hellenhighwater]

Do you have any tips for how to not lose your mind trying to furnish one's own first apartment? I'm not talking about the 'oh no everything is expensive' thing, I know that was a topic here a while back. I'm very much looking forward to slowly, piece by piece, pick everything out when there's funds.

I'm more stressing about being so overwhelmed by how to figure out what I want my space to look like. I know what I decide on now most likely won't stay with me forever or that my preferences will change as time passes, no matter what. It's just so many options out there and for bad childhood reasons this is the first time i'm allowed to have my own opinion and likes. (I'm starting to think i'm less asking how to furnish an apartment and more how to get a place to feel safe and like home and that it's for you especially. Hm.)

I do think that things like pinterest or other bookmarking tools are helpful for that. Just browse and save anything that appeals to you without worrying about consistency, and then once you have a good selection, go through and look for common threads. If you aren't seeing a coherent style at that point, or a couple stylistic threads, eliminate things that are simply not architecturally options for you . (For example, I love big old industrial spaces and that is not an option in an 1860s wooden house.) And then, once you're seeing maybe a couple design themes that are doable in an apartment, just start trawling for some things that go with that style, see what you can afford.

But also...it doesn't have to be coherent. I certainly am not coherent in my stylistic choices; my furniture styles range nearly 200 years in this house. If you like all of the things individually that you like in the space, then you're likely to enjoy the whole. Just decide that you're not going to bring in anything that doesn't make you excited, and if you later decide you want to filter down to something more unified, you can thrift out replacements for the odd pieces.

As far as cozyness and homeyness, I think that weirdly one of the most important things is light. Our little caveman brains want warm soft light in our dens at night, so finding a way to do lots of indirect golden light can make a place feel soothing. String lights, lamps, candles, whatever, all helps a place feel soft and inviting. Avoid harsh white or blue light if you can.

[casuallyimagining]

join the circus || hjs

han jisung x reader

"would you still love me if I dropped out and joined the circus?" when your graduate work gets the best of you, han is there to help

wc: 1,369 genre: fluff, comfort warnings: grad school is hard. that's it. that's the warning.

notes: happy hannie day!!! this is a wee bit self-indulgent, but I couldn't resist posting this for han's birthday. I hope you enjoy~

When Jisung walks through the door of your apartment, he’s surprised at how quiet it is. Normally, you’re the type of person to need background noise. Whether it’s music or a show, he’s not sure that he’s ever actually been in your house where there’s been nothing. Even at night, you usually have a fan or the air con running. 

The lights are off in the entry and living room, and for a moment, he considers that maybe you’ve stepped out for a few minutes. But his shoes slot right next to yours beside the door like always, so he knows that you’re home. The apartment isn't that big. He’ll just have to find you, then.

He’s careful with the paper bag that’s in his hands, makes sure not to jostle it too much as he makes his way from the living room into the kitchen. It’s precious cargo, after all.

He’d called you earlier when he was in the studio. His eyes were hurting from staring at a computer screen, so he’d figured, why not see what you were up to? Your class had started that morning, and he knew how anxious you always were at the start until you could get into a groove with it.

You hadn’t even greeted him when you’d answered the phone. “Would you still love me if I dropped out and joined the circus?”

He’d laughed, because the question was ridiculous. “What?”

You’d sighed, and he could tell that you put him on speaker phone. “I guess the circus part can be negotiable. It doesn’t have to be the circus-”

“Sure, sure. There are lots of jobs that don’t require a masters-“

“-So many jobs that you don’t need it for. Like a pirate. Or like… teenage mystery solving hippie-“

“-Which would of course require you to be remotely teenaged-“

“You know, that somehow seems more doable than this class right now.”

He’d cooed and put on a silly voice in an attempt to make you feel better, but by the time he had to get back to work, you’d still sounded just as dejected and frustrated as you had at the start.

It sucks when you get like this. It sucks to watch you get pulled under a pile of work and stress to the point where you’re barely keeping yourself above water. You’re in the home stretch, just five classes left. But he knows it’s still a struggle. You don’t even need your master’s–you’d gone for the degree solely because you’d be eligible for a promotion at work. He supports you. Of course he does. He just hates feeling helpless to help you.

The kitchen is a war zone. Well, not really. It looks how it normally does. But the air hangs heavy, tense and tight, like a heavy storm is gathering. You are the epicenter, hunched over the kitchen table, class materials spread out around you. Your laptop, your textbooks, a notebook that has seen better days, even his tablet, all on and open and you flit back and forth between all of them, searching for something. He watches as you sigh, propping your head up with your hand as you flip through your book.

“Jagi?” he asks softly. He stands in the doorway, unsure of how to enter your space. You jump, and your knee knocks against the bottom of the table. He winces as you swear and quickly grab the mug that almost sloshes tea all over your laptop. “Sorry, I-”

You turn to look at him, and for a second, it seems like you’re looking through him rather than at him. But then you blink, and your eyes focus on him. “You’re home early.” Your voice is soft, almost confused, and you sound utterly exhausted.

“Chan said I could.” Carefully, he places the bag down on the counter and reveals its contents.

You brighten immediately at the sight of the paper box. You’d introduced him to the bakery years ago, back when you were just friends on the precipice of something more. It had quickly become your place, its treats serving as a companion to uncountable moments in your relationship. Soft buttercreams for birthdays. Rich mousses for anniversaries. Delicate pastries for an everyday pick-me-up.

Today is a cheesecake day.

Jisung reaches down and opens one of the drawers, blindly grabbing at the utensils within before coming out with two spoons. “I thought,” he closes the drawer with his hip, “that maybe you’d appreciate some help with whatever that is.” He points at the book in front of you with the spoons accusatorily. 

“This,” you take the spoon he offers and playfully tap his hand with it, “is why you’re my favorite.”

“Aw, babe.” He pouts, forcing his bottom lip out just a little bit because he knows it makes you laugh. 

He’s mostly successful, a small smile turning the corners of your lips up. He plops himself into the chair to your left, carefully reorganizing your things so that there’s room for the bakery box between you. 

He lets you take the first bite–he always has–before sinking his spoon into the softness of the cheesecake. It’s plain, with a soft cake crust, your favorite from this particular shop. It’s quiet, and for a moment, he watches you eat. He knows you, and if he’s honest, he’s a little curious how long it’s going to take for you to focus back in on your work and the storm clouds to form again.

Three minutes, fourteen seconds, and three and a half bites of cheesecake.

“So what even is all this?” he asks when you tug your laptop closer. Lifting your textbook, he’s careful to keep his finger in the page you have it opened to as he checks the cover.

He expects you to make a joke, even a self-deprecating one, something ridiculous and overly dramatic and silly. He’s always loved how you can make a joke out of almost anything. But when you sigh and fiddle with the stylus for his tablet and refuse to even look up at him, he knows it’s bad. And his heart breaks a little bit for you.

“This is…” you pause, and he can see the gears turning in your head as you search for the right word. Finally, you find it. “It’s hard.”

“Okay.” Jisung nods. 

His brain is already in overdrive, thinking of ways he can help. He’s got no idea about anything you’ve been studying in your program, but he’s pretty good with schoolwork. For the briefest of moments, he considers calling Chan. Chan-hyung would know what to do. But quickly, Jisung shakes himself out of that train of thought. He can help. He can. He just has to figure out how.

“Okay,” he repeats. “You know some of this stuff already?” 

It’s rhetorical. He knows you do. You do it already at your job. This class should have been easy. Shame it’s not. He knows you were looking forward to it.

You nod, and he finds himself bobbing his head along with you. “Explain it to me.”

“What?”

“Walk me through your assignment. Let’s do it together.”

“I love you, Sungie, and I appreciate that you want to help, but-”

“No no no listen.” He leans forward and takes your hand, thumb ghosting over your knuckles. “The hyungs used to do it for Jeonginnie when he needed help studying. It really helped him, or at least he said it did.”

Suddenly, he’s questioning whether or not Jeongin actually found it helpful. Maybe he was just saying that to make the hyungs feel good. Should he text him to check? What if-

You sigh, and it drags him out of his thoughts. “I guess it can’t hurt.” A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and he can feel his heart soar just at the small motion.

He’ll sit at the kitchen table with you for as long as you need. He’ll listen to whatever explanation you’ll give him, ask questions when he’s too confused, nod along when something’s way over his head. Anything. He’d do anything if it helps you feel better. He’ll do anything to get you to smile again.

Hell, he’ll join the circus with you if he has to.

[cream-stew]

listennn thoma enjoying teasing naturally shy and easily embarrassed afab reader by riling them up and making a mess of them then asking them to ride him 😋 he's like 'if you want it then come and get it' i would honestly pass away

🔞 minors dni

warnings: afab reader, riding, reader is super embarrassed yet very into it

// note: here you go🤝

he loves getting you all hot and bothered without ever getting to the point, leaving you with soaked panties and no relief at all :(

you only have innocent intentions when you sit on his lap, wanting to cuddle, but he always dips his hand under your skirt so he can rub over your clothed pussy, not caring if someone sees what he's doing, and you try to at least stifle your moans so it's not as obvious :( you'll hold on to his arm, at the same time begging him to stop and to continue, but you're too shy to vocalize your naughty thoughts :((

he's not happy with that ofc he wants you to come out of your shell more😤 he'll stop right before you cum in your panties, and pull his hand back, gripping your waist instead and massaging your hips with his thumbs.

"you have to use your voice", he whispers into your ear, "prove me just how filthy your thoughts are"

but you're too embarrassed to speak!! your pretty eyes welling with tears at the thought that he won't let you cum, so you try at least to grind your ass on his clothed erection, hoping that it'll be enough to sway him…

"mmn, you know what? how about you ride me instead?", you feel him grin against the back of your neck, before he presses a soft kiss on your skin, "that way you won't have to tell me what you want, and you can just take it for yourself"

it's still embarrassing as fuck, but to you it feels more doable than just telling him point blank you want him to fuck you so hard that you'll be screaming in pleasure…

you reach backwards for his fly and unzip his pants, then your trembling fingers barely poke the bulge in his underwear… oh he's so big already… you slowly tug his cock free, and give it a few awkward strokes without even looking, whimpering at how hot and hard it feels in your grip. he laughs at how slowly you're moving, yet he encourages you and praises you for making it this far already, and you rise a bit on your knees so you can pull your soaked panties to the side and press the tip of his cock to your entrance.

you whimper when it breaches you, sobbing a lil bit as you sit on that huge cock, and he praises you again, leaving more kisses down your throat.

"so good, your pussy feels perfect around my cock. how about you start moving now, huh? I bet you'll love it, yeah, you'll love bouncing on my cock, won't you?"

you try rising up again and sitting back down, and you do love it, you love the way it stretches you so deeply inside, and the way the cockhead hits your cervix when you let yourself fall back down on his lap, moaning and panting heavily!!

you struggle to keep riding him at a good pace, but he does absolutely nothing to help you. when you're finally too tired to keep going, you're still far from cumming, and you feel yourself break: "please fuck me", you start begging him, and with a pleased grin, he flips you two so that he's pinning you to the couch cushions.

"see? I knew you could do it"

[tossawary]

Regarding "The Hobbit" film trilogy, even if I ended up personally disliking and resenting how much time and focus the elf characters (and others) ended up taking away from the dwarves whom I think deserved more focus as rich internal characters (I know that studio pressures are a factor in that terrible love triangle and so on), I still... vaguely appreciate the effort to create and include named female characters like Tauriel, when the book is sadly lacking in them. I think she's fine, actually. Comparatively, there are many other elements in these adaptations that I think are much, MUCH worse.

But still, if you want to add female characters to this story, the obvious answer to me seems to be to just make half the Company into dwarf women? (With similarly fancy beards and other facial hair! Because I think that's fun.) It's just... so much easier?

Do NOT come at me with that "dwarf women are rare" bullshit. Unreliable narration. Logistically unlikely. Also, if you believe that "men are the warriors and craftsmen, the women stay at home" is how dwarf society strictly functions (boring, honestly, on top of being incredibly sexist), I could argue that the Battle of Azanulbizar and other struggles probably left a significant dent in this dwarf group's male population, leaving behind many widows and mothers without children to pick up the work. The battlefields have come to and TAKEN both Erebor and Moria from the dwarves. I see no good reason why dwarf women would not have equal investment in reclaiming their home and the gold. Many of the Company are not presented to be formally trained warriors, anyway.

Now, ideally, we could do way queerer stuff in terms of both romance and gender here, but we know cowards with veto powers would not let this happen. Still, I feel like basic genderbending would have been a very doable move and is, actually, a very reasonable ask of an adaptation that would have added some depth to the story even if you didn't acknowledge the change at all.

Like, preferably, this would be an adaptational change that would be directly addressed. Maybe all of the Company appear male at first due to traveling that way (and assumptions made by humans and hobbits), then Bilbo might learn that some of the Company are dwarf women when he becomes closer to all of them. We could have a brief scene acknowledging that dwarf women are fighting these battles for their pasts and their futures too. It doesn't have to be a big thing! They can just be there. Existing. Participating.

I even think it would be fun if two of the dwarves were actually an older married couple traveling together, instead of brothers or cousins, because loving married bickering and battle couples are fun. You can have running jokes in the background about how Smaug's invasion ruined their wedding day, and going back and forth with "you never take me anywhere nice" @ each other whenever they're stuck in Goblintown or the Mirkwood dungeons. (I like seeing good marriages & partnerships in fiction and established couples going on fantasy quests together. I just think it's neat.)

But another (sillier) direction is that you could just cast some actresses in beards to play some of the dwarves, then leave the fact that some of these characters are probably dwarf women (traveling as men) as a fun detail for the audience. Bilbo is either too oblivious to notice or much too polite to bring it up at all. It's canonically compliant to the text this way!

Now, obviously some few people would have complained that Tolkien's work was being ruined by "political correctness", but they complained anyway about Tauriel (when there are MANY other bad choices in these movies), and what worthwhile arguments could they have possibly made against genderbending some of the THIRTEEN dwarves? Like, most casual fans I know cannot NAME the entire Company, who get so little character development in the book that the films had to come up with unique designs and backgrounds for most of them anyway. Bro (directed towards someone objecting to the idea of including female dwarves), be real, there's no way that you honestly cared this much about "Nori the Dwarf" before right now.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Click HERE to read Chapter 1!

Click HERE to read Chapter 2!!

Click HERE to read Chapter 3!!!

Chapter 4 - The Ritual

“Do you want a mask?” Savannah asked, pulling her diaper/book bag close to her. “It really helps with the smell.”

Jack was on his back, sprawled on the floor with the gaggle of girls seated around him, his wife kneeling between his legs. 

“That’s okay…” Marianne replied hesitantly. Her voice was a bit shaky, staring down at the large, loaded diaper before her. The smell was already quite pungent, but she wanted Jack to be able to see the entirety of her face throughout, she thought he would like that, and she wanted to show that she wasn’t too intimidated by the task—even though she was. “I can handle it.” She said to the crowd, but probably more to herself. 

“They have these things called ‘Devrom’ tablets.” Trinity explained, “crush up a few and put them in their bottles and it takes away the smell like magic.”

Brooke looked shocked. “It doesn’t stink at all??”

“Girl, I don’t even bat an eye.” She scoffed, “ but without them I’m fucking dyinggg”

The girls all laughed and nodded in agreement, now deadset on trying it. 

When the giggles finally died down, all eyes focused on the grown man wallowing in his own filth before them. Marianne felt the heavy expectations weighing on her again. She could easily pass the task off to one of the other girls, she was sure they would happily oblige. But this was her husband, her responsibility. No more dilly-daddling (as she liked to say) the time was now. 

She could feel how hard he was when she pressed her palm to the landing zone of the diaper, holding it down so she could grip the tapes with her fingers and pull them off one by one. 

1…

2…

3…

4…

The front of the diaper flapped about once the fasteners were freed. Marianne gripped the front, then felt a hand to her shoulder. 

“We’re here with you,” Claire smiled reassuringly , “now take a deep breath, and open it up.”

Marianne smiled, happy to have the other girls around even for this moment that would otherwise be intimate. There would be plenty of time for that to happen between just her and Jack in the future. For now, it was time. 

She peeled the front of the diaper open. It wasn’t quite as horrific as she’d imagined, but it wasn’t exactly a pocket full of posies either. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if they didn’t make him mush it around with his humping, but it was still doable. The smell punched her square in the face, she had to clamp her watering eyes shut and turn her head to catch some fresh air and keep herself from gagging. 

Brooke handed her the package of wipes. Marianne pulled out several, then several more. It was probably going to take even more than that to get the job done. 

“Use the front of the diaper to clean the majority of the mess,” Savannah said helpfully. 

Right. She knew that. She’d changed many-a-diapers before, just not one so big and defiled. Pulling the front flap of the diaper, Marianne pressed down and worked much of the mush down his bits and crack to the bottom of the diaper. That took care of most of it, now she would only need a few wiped for the cleanup.  The girls on either side of Jack’s legs grabbed his calves and lifted them up to her so that his ankles locked together in her palm. She raised his legs so that she had an easier access to his crack, which she cleaned with a few wipes as well as other areas that got a little messy. By then, she was more or less nose-blind to the smell. Overall, it wasn’t too unpleasant of an experience, but not exactly her idea of a picnic either. She pulled the soiled diaper out from beneath him, rolled it into a ball, taped it up, and set it to the side. She immediately wanted to wash her hands, but Val already had a tube of sanitizer ready to go. 

“I know how it is,” she said with a shrug and a grin before squirting a healthy dollop of the liquid into Marianne’s palm. 

“Okay,” Marianne sighed, clapping her palms back and forth triumphantly, “that wasn’t too bad!”

Jack and all the girls smiled. The latter gave her a proud little clap. 

“You did so good!”

“Great job!”

“I almost puked my first time!”

“It only gets easier!”

Marianne was so flattered by their words of encouragement that she almost forgot what she was doing. Luckily, the girls were there to save the day again, handing her a fresh diaper, powder, lotion, and all the other essentials. 

“Wait!” Savannah exclaimed once Marianne had the new diaper splayed out beneath Jack’s bottom. “Are we gonna…practice first?” She asked suggestively, then shrugged when the other girls eyed her. “What? It’s part of why we came here isn’t it? The exam isn’t just written, it’s practical too, we’re going to have to demonstrate that we know what we’re do—“

“But we can’t do that if Marianne doesn’t feel comfortable.” Brooke interjected. 

“No,” Marianne said, silencing the room, “No…it’s…fine.” she sighed, “It’s why you all came here in the first place, right?”

The girls collectively shrugged, not wanting to impose, but also a bit stressed for the test. Marianne smiled in hopes of giving them some relief. “Worry not, dears! He’s all yours! Savannah? You’re up first!”

Even though Marianne had reservations about letting other people touch her husband, being able to be a strong leader for other people was always a strong passion of hers. It was hard for her to not have a matronly affection for this group of budding women. She wanted to see them succeed just as much as she did her own. 

Savannah quickly switched places, looking more than a bit nervous. Marianne was happy to see someone else be the center of attention (other than a naked Jack) for a change. 

“Gloves,” Marianne reminded her, handing her a set. Savannah smiled, accepting the nitrile gloves and putting them on her hands ever so slowly. Jack quivered on the floor, the diaper beneath him crinkling, he looked so scared and helpless, but his dick betrayed him. It was sticking straight up in the air, twitching and bobbing back and forth with a hefty amount of leakage. The girls, including Savannah and Marianne especially, cackled in amusement.

“I grew up in a very conservative family,” Savannah explained as she squeezed a dollop of lotion onto two of her fingers. “I didn’t even know about the prostate and the supposed ‘p-spot’. Hell, they wouldn’t even tell me about the female G-spot! So imagine my surprise when I found out men could cum this way!!” She brought her hand downwards between Jack’s crack, poked around for a bit, leaned down to check to make sure she’d found his hole, checked again, then pressed inward. 

Jack immediately clenched, arms and legs splaying upward as Savannah entered him. The other girls, including Marianne, immediately gripped a wrist or ankle and pressed it back down to the floor, holding him still. 

“Shhhh!! Just relax little Jackie!” Brooke cooed. 

“It’ll be okay!”

“Just a little poke!”

Val looked to Savannah. “Did you find it?”

“I’m not sure…” Savannah said, screwing up her face and looking up at the ceiling with concentration as she prodded around inside Jack’s rectum. 

“Up and back,” Trinity explained helpfully.

“Behind his wiener.”

“Give the ‘come hither’ motion.”

“I’m trying…” Savannah said, “but I just can’t–”

Unnghhh!!

It was Jack. He’d let out the most pathetic, high-pitched squeal.

“Oh!” Savannah smiled salaciously, “Well I guess that’s the spot then, huh?”

She spent several seconds working her finger in and out of Jack’s hole. Practicing finding it again and again until she was sure she had it down. When she was satisfied, she pulled off the gloves and set them next to his rolled up dirty diaper, leaving Jack a heaving mess on the floor.

Brooke picked up the next set of gloves, despite being one of the more experienced ones in the group. “Doesn’t hurt to practice, does it?” She shrugged with a smile.

From there, it was a merry-go-round of the different girls snapping on the medical gloves and probing Jack’s asshole like they were looking for buried treasure. Some of them worked it more than others. Val specifically seemed to get enjoyment out of how much leakage she could force out of Jack’s cock without him having a full-on orgasm. 

While the other girls were waiting, someone suggested they give Jack a makeover.

“He’d look sooo much cuter as a baby girl!!” They cooed.

Marianne was reluctant at first, but once they all started painting the nails of whichever extremity of Jack’s they were holding, she had to admit it was quite fun, and he did look rather cute with what was left of his graying hair tied up in a little fountain pigtail at the top of his head. Brooke even had a ruffly pink croptop to put him in. “Always bring extra outfits in your diaper bag, I always say!” she toted over the hysterical laughter of the other girls. 

“It’s back to you, Marianne.” Trinity said while applying mascara to Jack’s lashes. Val hardly needed to apply any blush to his already rosy cheeks, but she did it anyway.

“Well I think we’ve all got it down now, don’t we?” Marianne asked the room, they collectively nodded, feeling pretty confident. “So if that’s the case, I don’t see why we need to go any further with–”

“M-mommy?”

It was the softest of voices. The circle of girls all looked down to the center, where the helpless man in his 50’s was squirming with his made-up face all scrunched up in desperation. 

Marianne eyed the rest of the girls, then her husband, “What is it, dear?”

It was Jack’s eyes that danced around now, side to side, his squirming intensified. He tried to bring a hand up to his face, to do literally anything with his hands, but Trinity gave it a sharp slap so he didn’t ruin his make-up.

“Use your words!” she barked sternly.

It was like watching someone try to speak for the first time. Jack mewed and cooed but no discernible words came out. Until he finally found his voice and said “C-can I cum?”

The girls, including Marianne, roared with laughter. 

“Awww!! Wittle baybee wants to make cummies!!”

“Is somewon fwustwated??”

“Poor wittle guy!!”

“Don’t you mean gurl?? Hahaha!!”

When the laughter died down, Marianne spoke with her leadership voice. “Hmm…watta you think girls? Should my hubby here get to cum?”

The room seemed entirely against it, but Claire at least seemed to consider. “Maybe if he begs…”

“Ooh! I like that!”

“Yea! Let’s hear the wittle baybee say pweez!”

“Use the magic word!!”

“Beg little bitch boi!” Trinity immediately caught her breath at using such language, turning to Marianne, but she immediately shook it off as nothing.

“Go on,” she nodded at her husband.

Jack’s powdered face turned scarlet, but he’d already come this far, he just had yet to cum…despite being fingered, teased and tortured by a bunch of beautiful college girls.

“P-please Goddesses…” he said in the highest tone he could muster, “C-can I pweez make cummies?”

The question hung in the air for several seconds, drawing out his desperation.

“I didn’t hear him…” Claire finally said, “Did you hear him?”

“Nope…” the girls shook their head in unison. “Maybe he needs to say it louder…”

“PWEEZ can I make cummieeeessss” Jack whined desperately.

“Tell us you’re a princess!”

“A pamper princess!”

“Suck your thumb!”

“Wiggle your hips!”

“Shake that clitty!”

It was a pitiful sight. Jack with his thumb planted between his glossy lips, swishing around in his new pink top, whimpering and whining and pleading for pleasure while he smacked his throbbing, leaking cock to and fro from thigh to thigh.

“Watta you say girls?” Marianne asked again, “Do you think he’s earned it?”

This time they nodded, some having to wipe away tears from how hard they were laughing. 

“How should we have him do it?” Brooke asked, always the planner. They looked to Marianne expectantly, but she just shrugged, unsure.

“Humpies?”

“Na, too boring.”

“Let him stroke it?”

“Even more boring!”

“I know!” Claire exclaimed, quieting the room. They all leaned in intently. “I heard…that for last year’s final exam, they had to make a mannekin cum without any penile or anal stimulation. Maybe we could work on that!”

“So, you mean, just make him…cum himself? Without touching him at all?”

“You can touch them.” Claire clarified, “Just not on their naughty bits.”

They all exchanged glances. “Sounds impossible.” Trinity scoffed.

“Yea, no way.” 

“I’ve made them cum in cages,” Val shrugged, “But I always use plugs or vibrators. We can’t use those either?”

“Nope.”

They all bit their bottom lips in thought, contemplating. 

Finally, Marianne broke the silence: “Well…we can always try. And if we don’t get it, no harm no foul, right? I’m sure Jack can wait for another time!”

He didn’t seem thrilled about that at all, but he also liked the idea of them trying to make him cum, so his frazzled brain just sat there drooling instead of making up its mind on how it felt about the situation.

“Soo…” Brooke intoned, “how should we start?”

******

Jack was a mess of panic and excitement. He quivered like a cornered puppy within the circle of six women. Marianne found herself surprisingly aroused by how helpless and exhilarated he seemed.  She could feel the pheromones radiating off of him. 

“It’s okay Jack,” she said softly, running her hand affectionately up his leg, “we’re going to take good care of you…”

The girls giggled and hummed, like they were all in a cleansing ritual of some kind. Their hands traced the skin of whatever body part was closest to them, arms, legs, neck, chest, ears and feet. The pressed their perfect, perky tits out and into his line of sight, bouncing them, squeezing them together, bringing them centimeters from his face only to bounce them away again.

Marianne continued to move her hands over his legs, up and down, up and down, feeling his body tense and relax rhythmically. His cock was standing straight up in the air, bouncing and bobbing as he clenched, pre-cum raining out and down his shaft. It was working.

Jack’s eyes closed and rolled backward, Trinity didn’t seem satisfied enough with that, though, pulling a blindfold out and placing it over his balding head, depriving the one sense so as to intensify the rest. 

Brooke took a pacifier out and brought it to his lips, gently running it over and around them. Jack opened his mouth to receive it, breath catching and releasing desperately. Soft, squeaky moans creaking from his throat. He tried to reach blindly for the rubber nipple with his mouth, but Brooke deftly pulled it away each time, making him even more whiny and desperate.

Savannah ran her nails along the ruffles of his princess shirt, tweaking his nipples until he let out a gasp, then a bit harder until he yelped, but he didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, it made his dick swell and twitch even more.

Marianne didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband so turned on. She used her finger to circle around his pubic region, making sure not to touch any of his private parts, even though she wanted to. She knew if she could just wrap a hand (or even two fingers) around his pulsing shaft, it would all be over in seconds. He raised his hips and wriggled desperately over his diaper, searching for her hand, trying to get any sort of stimulation to his cock that he could, but Marianne just smiled and dodged it easily. 

Val brought Jack’s hand close to her breast, looking to Marianne for approval. She gave a definitive nod. Jack would be eternally grateful to her for this experience, and he would be thanking her in plenty of ways later. He gently squeezed Valencia’s boobs, and Savannah’s too.

“Squeeze his thighs,” Claire whispered in Marianne’s ear to where Jack couldn’t hear, “I do it when I give my boyfriend a blowjob and it drives him crazy.”

Marianne obliged, gripping his inner legs while he gripped the girls’ boobs. His breathing intensified, his thighs shook beneath her grasp. Trinity and Brooke were whispering and nibbling at his ears, breathing down his neck, Brooke still dangling the pacifier ever so slightly away from his puckering lips.

Jack was getting stimulated in every single one of his erogenous zones and then some, with the exception, of course, of his penis. His groans were gutteral, then high-pitched and needy all at the same time. Six pairs of hands circled his skin, rubbing, poking, pinching, scratching, tapping. Jolts of electricity coursing through him. Marianne had never seen him so turned on, she didn’t think she had ever been so turned on, just by seeing her husband turned into a pitiful, whimpering, whining puddle right before her eyes. 

“You’re gonna be our little fairy boi” Trinity whispered in his ear.

“Our little loser we’ll parade around town” Brooke continued.

Jack shook his head back and forth, as if trying to block out the sounds that were making him so incredibly aroused.

“We’ll make you our little bitch!” Val said, joining in.

“Everyone’s gonna know how pathetic you are.” Savannah intoned.

His breathing got louder, crescendoing. His body tensed, spasming. He humped the air, rubbed his ass over the diaper below, making it crinkle. Brooke shoved the pacifier in his mouth, he sucked it like it contained the nectar of the gods. Marianne squeezed his thighs, forcing him down. So did the other girls on his extremities, pinning him down like they were worried their little ritual was going to make him levitate up to the ceiling. 

Marianne smiled, they had him, he just needed one last little push. She leaned over so that her mouth was inches away from his dick, to where he could only feel her hot breath upon it: “...and all of it while you are wearing a big, fat, diaper.”

Then, to all of their surprise, with one last, powerful grunt, his dick started erupting. A huge shot of semen soared through the air, then another, and another. Marianne backed away as soon as she saw it go off but, being between his legs, caught the most of the onslaught. Sticky juices rained out of her husband’s penis, showering the front of her shirt. The girls continued to pin him down while he spasmed and suckled his pacifier, air whistling through his nose as he had one of the most powerful orgasms any of them had ever witnessed.

All of them were wide-eyed, exchanging glances, like they could not possibly believe what they just saw. Jack’s jism was everywhere, he just came a gallon’s worth–and they didn’t even touch him. The girls checked their arms and legs to make sure none of it got on them, then they erupted in genuine, surprised laughter. 

“I can’t believe he did it!”

“We did it!”

“I didn’t think it was possible.”

“If we can make a creepy old man do that, imagine how easy a horned-up college boy will be!”

The girls released Jack, who was still panting on the floor, eyes glazed from his orgasm. Marianne returned to the task at hand, bringing the diaper upward. She didn’t bother cleaning up his goo goo, the diaper would absorb it, and he’d probably be wetting it soon anyway. Speaking of wet, a slight shifting of Marianne’s thighs told her she had enjoyed that little ritual too. Why had such a scene been such a turn on? And why was she starting to come up with more ways to degrade and humiliate her husband? She was enjoying all of this quite a bit more than she ever would have thought.

To Be Continued

I just released Chapter 6 - Diapers and Dommes - on my Substar!! I'm pretty proud of it, so I hope you'll decide to join and read it. Your support goes a long way to continue to keep a roof over my head, and provide electricity to write more! ALL of my stories are available to Bronze subscribers and up!

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about The Spot and the kinks he likes to indulge in | 18+, MINORS DNI

When the accident had occurred and his body changed form, he deemed this new body to be a curse, destined to be unloved and shunned from the world.

That was before he met you who quickly showed him he deserved to be loved like anyone else and who never deemed his body to be uloveble or strange.

Getting intimate wasn't one of the things you had on the list when you decided to get into a relationship with him, mostly because you didn’t think it was a doable thing. Not that you minded it anyway, you were happy that you could be with him in every other way.

However Spot wanted to try it, had been thinking about it for the past couple of weeks and decided to mention it while the two of you were in the middle of watching a movie.

“I was wondering if we could try something today- something we haven’t really tried doing? Only if you’d be okay with that, of course”

You’re surprised at first, harshly swallowing down the popcorn that had gotten stuck in your throat while wondering if he’s that bored with the movie to ask that question

And maybe just maybe you’re just as bored with the movie as well because it doesn’t take much for you to turn off the television and put the popcorn away, ready to do whatever he wants to at that very moment.

You’re now sat in his lap, back flush against his chest as his big hands skid along your neck, down the planes of your chest and inching closer to the spot between your legs.

It doesn’t take much for you to turn into a panting mess, hips bucking up into his hand as a string of moans and pleas escape your lips.

You’re so lost in his caresses that you almost miss the fact that he’s accidentally opened up a portal. But the whirling sounds coming from it catches your attention and as you turn your head to look at it, you get a perfect view of a balcony, full of people, with their backs turned to you.

Spot is horrified, muttering apologies while hurriedly trying to close it.

But instead of feeling embarrassed like you should be you grab onto his hand and turn to look at him. “Let it be“ you say, words slurred and voice so low, he almost misses it.

Although he has no face to show how surprised he is with your request, you can still hear the disbelief coming from him when he says “Are you sure? They’ll see, you know?”

“Let them” you say sounding relax as ever as you lean further back into his embrace, eyes falling shut as you await for his hands to return to your body.

After a short beat he resumes his movements and once again you open your eyes as you turn to look at the oblivious onlookers, all while enjoying his caresses.

It hadn’t been the last time a portal had opened up while the two of you were getting intimate. But instead of having it happen on accident, he’d do it on purpose (as per your request) and each time it happened it got more riskier.

You’re once again sat in his lap, one of his hands is buried between your legs while the other hand goes to rip a hole into another dimension.

His face is obscured from view while you’re on perfect display for anyone who might look your way.

You’re sobbing and moaning in his embrace, legs spread wide and thrusting into his hand, uncaring of anyone who can see or hear you in this very moment.

As you inch closer to your release, you feel yourself lose control over your hips, head burying in his neck and moaning uncontrollably.

“Nuhu sweet thing, let them see how pretty you are like this” Spot says, roughly grabbing your chin and turning your head towards any potential onlookers to see.

Just as he says that you happen to lock eyes with someone. The range of emotions that flashes across their face and the way their eyes trail from your face down to the spot between your legs is all you need to be pushed over the edge. However before you can give in to your release, Spot pulls his hand away and with that closes the portal as well.

“No, no, why why?! “ you cry out as you fall back in his embrace. Despite having no face you just know he's amused by your reaction, can even hear it in his words when he says “oh come on, you don’t want this to be over yet, do you?”

And just like that you know you’ll be in for a long night.

Eventually it’ll get to the point where Spot will have you bent over or down on all four, thrusting his strap into your aching hole as lanky fingers go to open a portal before he shoves your head into another dimension.

You’ll pop up in front of strangers, eyes half lidded, fat tears rolling your cheek, and mouth agape with drool dripping from your chin

The onlookers are usually disgusted, or surprised but lately you’ve come across some who are curious enough to touch, something you enjoy quite a lot.

Unknown hands will wrap themslves around your neck, stroke your cheek or even trace your lips,probe your mouth open and shove fingers down your throat while he mercilessly thrusts into your aching hole.

Just as you’re teetering on the edge of your release, he’ll pull you back from the stranger’s hands and close the portal up.

“Sorry sweetheart, I want to be the only to see you when you cum”

[osakanone]

"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance. 

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

OR

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

--

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

[insomniac4000]

Right Person Wrong Time A Willne fic

Will sat there, his blue eyes brimming with tears as he stared at the photo. You were there, big smile on your face, eyes listening, nails manicured to perfection as the diamond and sapphire ring sat on your forth finger of your left hand you held up so proudly. The problem? The man in the photo next to you wasn’t him. He was tall and with dark hair but that was where the similarities ended, his eyes were dark not only in colour but Will always thought there was a dark tone to them and he didn’t like the way he was holding your left wrist in the photo, it was possessive in nature like he was telling the whole world to back off, it was like it was a specific message to Will to leave you alone.

The first time you had introduced Will to David it was a polite meeting but awkward, it would have been obvious to anyone else that the pair took an immediate dislike to each other but were putting aside their differences for you. That was only eight months ago, a month before Will and Mia broke up and now only eight months later you two were engaged, it was moving quick, too quick for Will’s liking but he knew he had to be the supportive friend, the role he had played to you since you first met at uni.

“Come ‘ere,” Will managed to say when you had come home after your weekend away where the engagement took place. He opened his arms and you fell into them giggling, still on a high from all the excitement.

“All we need to do now is find someone for you, we’re thinking of getting married in December so you’ve got a little while to find a date,” you explained to him as the pair of you let go of the hug and made your way to the sofa.

“December?” Will asked his voice going a little high.

“I know, I know it’s soon but David said it’s doable.”

“I thought you always wanted to get married in summer,” Will replied crossing one of his long limbs over the other, his grey tracksuit bottoms riding up his ankles as he did so.

“I did, but David said doing it on our first anniversary would be sweet, and he doesn’t want to wait,” you shrugged.

“What about what you want?” Will asked. For the past few months he had grown tired of watching you bow down to David’s every whim. He knew he didn’t like David but this was more than that, he had slowly started seeing you change and he was worried for you, he had never thought David was right for you and now other people were starting to see the same thing which had only increased his worry, it had proved it wasn’t just Will’s dislike of David clouding his mind there was something happening and it only increased his concern.

“It’ll be fine, it’s just a compromise,” you explained fiddling with your hair, a habit you had since you were very young.

“Y/N a compromise means you both have to give up something. Look I’m not going to dictate anything to you but it just seems to be you’re the one giving up stuff more. You’re moving in with him even though that means giving up your dog, now he’s planning the wedding? Something just makes me feel really uneasy,” Will told you earnestly. You looked at your lap in embarrassment, Hercules was your six year old black Labrador whom you adopted four years ago. David had managed to convince you it was the best thing for you to move into his rented home rather than he move into your house which you owned, you can’t remember how it made more sense to do this but it did. The saddest part was there was a no pets rule so in a couple of weeks time Hercules was moving in with Will.

“If you’re having second thoughts about taking him then I can make other arrangements..” you suggested causing Will to shake his head furiously.

“No, I’d much rather have him here where you can see him and know he will be looked after, I just think it’s sad you’re having to give him up,” Will told you in earnest, you nodded in both understanding and in agreement as you let out a small sigh. Your life had changed so much in the last few weeks, you remember pleading with David to let you keep him, you had even argued about it, in trying to make it up to you he had booked a last minute get away to the Maldives which is where he ended up proposing. Your mind was in a spin, you had so much you needed to do and sort out and very little time in which to do it in, you didn’t know whether you were coming or going most of the time now and spent a lot of your days confused. Usually it was spending time with your friends including Will which gave you some much needed down time but right in this moment you were feeling more confused than ever.

You had cut that visit short, you genuinely had a headache but there was also a slight discomfort being on Will’s sofa that you hadn’t felt before. It was a mix of feeling there was something wrong with you being there mixed with not feeling as welcome as you had before but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Really you had mainly gone there to pick up Hercules as Will was looking after him during your break. When you got to your house you were a little surprised to see David sitting on the sofa on his laptop, he had told you he was going to work most of the day so assumed he would be at his own flat.

“Hey babe, great news,” David smiled. You frowned at the sight of his feet with his brown shoes on resting on your coffee table, it was one that you had picked up from Marketplace and had antiqued yourself. You house was small, two bedrooms and one bathroom but it was yours. You had scrimped hard to gather enough money together to buy it and you had a hobby of making furniture and interiors unique so everything in that house meant a lot to you, now you were thinking about it you were very sad that you were going to have to say goodbye to all of it.

“What?” You asked clipping off Hercules’ lead before sitting down next to him, you tapped his legs in an attempt that he would get the hint and place his feet down but he never did.

“I’ve found our wedding venue, although the only date they had was November 20th which is a little earlier than planned but we’ll sort it all out.”

“What?” You managed to choke out, to say you were in shock was an understatement, you had only been engaged for less than twenty four hours and hadn’t even talked about potential venue ideas.

“It’s the country club a friend of my uncle owns, I didn’t want to wait considering we want to get married so soon, it’s an old family friend so we can get a great deal but still need a deposit to secure the date.”

“David, please PLEASE tell me you didn’t put a deposit down?” You asked, you ran your hand down your face as you watched his mouth slightly twitch into a scowl. A country club would be way down on your list of places you wanted to get married, not that you had anything against them say but you preferred old buildings, or something a little bit different, something with character.

“Why wouldn’t I?” David replied nonchalantly not seeing the problem.

“I would like to think we would make big decisions like that together!” You exclaimed raising your voice a little, you were angry and hurt. All of the excitement over the engagement had just washed away from you, it was like all of the fun, joy and anticipation had been taken away from you.

“Well I’d like to think that my fiancée would be a bit more fucking grateful I’m actually helping out instead of sitting on my arse!” David snapped back, causing you to physically step back a little, you had never heard him that angry before and in your opinion he didn’t have a right to be.

The following day Will made his way into the office, he was filming with James which he loved, despite the challenges that came with it but he was struggling to muster up any excitement.

“Hey man, how are you?” James asked with a concerned look on his face as the northerner walked in and slammed his backpack on the desk.

“Fine,” the Geordie sighed but the musician frowned and placed a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“I saw on social media. How are you doing?”

“I was okay, she came over to get her dog and she was just so different, he’s going to control every aspect of that wedding and then her life and then I’m never going to see her again.” Will sighed in despair.

“Do you really think he’s that bad a person?” James asked, he had only met the guy once and although David seemed a bit stuck up there were no major red flags.

“He’s making her give up her dog James, the guy’s a prick. Let’s film this video,” Will added sadly taking off his hoodie to start the shoot.

Everyone in the office was worried about Will, from Mikey and Orlaith whom he saw for multiple hours a day, to Jim who saw him once a week when he travelled up to film, to other people he shared the office building with such as Chris, Theo and Chip. On multiple occasions Chris asked Will to go out with him to see if they could get him a girl and he could forget all about you but Will never took it up. Will was honest when he went onto The Fella’s podcast and said all he did was go to work, go home and watch the TV. His mind was always clouded by you, mostly the thought was were you okay as he had a feeling that deep down you weren’t happy, and Lord knew he was miserable. The two of you had met first year of uni in the halls, he had the room opposite you. He was a hapless eighteen year old who didn’t know much of anything, you taught him to cook just a few basic recipes but it stopped him from living off kebabs and vodka. When you had to move out of halls the two of you moved into a house share together with two other friends but Will then broke your heart when he  announced he wasn’t going to pursue his degree anymore. The two of you had one drunken kiss one night but when the two of you both admitted it was a mistake and you were better off friends in order to save face and that was that. Will then got a girlfriend and from that moment the pair of you had never been single at the same time. When Will got with Mia you honestly had thought that was it, they had drifted apart a couple of months before the split but by that point you had started to date David and you assumed that they would get back together. The moping shocked you a little as you had never seen Will like that before but little did you know Will wasn’t just mourning his relationship with Mia, he was also starting to mourn his friendship with you.

Will sighed when he heard a knock on the door, it was seven pm so he assumed it was some kids messing about or something wanting to sell something, the sound of the football match flowing in the background, Will wasn’t sure what the score was or who was even playing, his mind too preoccupied with other things. His phone buzzed, to his surprise he saw your name flash up, he scrambled off his sofa when he read the words ‘it’s me I’m outside’.

He opened the door, the rain hammering down causing your hair to be stuck to the side of your face, Hercules was by your side and similarly soggy.

“Come in out the cold, what’s happened?” Will asked rushed, noticing the suitcase by your other side.

“We had an argument. Will…” you started but couldn’t continue as you watched the tall man walk straight over to the kitchen. He placed the kettle on before shuffling to the bathroom, not a minute later he reappeared with two towels, throwing one in your direction before placing the other one over Hercules who thanks Will with a good shake.

“Did he hurt you?” Will asked not looking at you once, he couldn’t take it if you said yes and he could see something.

“No, well he grabbed my wrists to try and stop me from leaving,” you explained. If Will wasn’t touching your dog right now he would have balled his fists up, you continued to talk after some silence, it being evident Will wasn’t going to fill it.

“You were right Will. He’s all wrong for me, he tried to tell me it was because you were jealous but I don’t care of that’s true or not. He organised the whole wedding without me, I can’t believe I almost let him give up Hercules, I mean how stupid can I be,” you started wail, you weren’t just upset you were angry at yourself. The mullet haired man embraced you as quick as he could, the pair of you stood there swaying from side to side for a while enjoying each other’s company. You two hadn’t hugged like that since your grandmother had died.

Very few words were exchanged that night, one of the things they really treasured about their friendship was they could be in each other’s company and know exactly what the other person wanted. The spare room was offered without question, tea was drank and coffee was purchased the next morning. You thanked Will as the pair of you sipped your beverages, hot for you and cold for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” Will proposed as he swivelled in his seat to face you.

“Shoot,” you replied giving him a small smile, so much had happened over the past few days all you wanted to do was cry but you were determined to keep a smile on your face, it was just who you are.

“You said yesterday that you didn’t care if I was jealous of that arsehole or not, I just want to know what you meant?” Will felt guilty for doing so but the thing that made him up most of the night was because he was playing that part of the sentence over and over in his head, he needed to know.

“It’s not important,” you shrugged it off taking another sip of your coffee.

“It is to me. I know I was right about him but I have to be honest, part of me was jealous,” Will admitted sighing, he felt like he was going to burst if he kept it in much longer. Your eyes widened and jaw dropped as you took in the information.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You exclaimed, you’d had enough of men lying to you and using you and never thought Will would be part of that list.

“Because I’m a selfish bastard and can’t wait until you meet someone new and I go through all of this heartache again. I’m also a gentlemen and know you’re far from in the position to go down the road again, I just need you to know.” There was silence after Will spoke which was deafening to him.

“If only you had told me this five fucking years ago. You’re right Will, I need some time to get over all of this, but when I do you’ll be the first person I call,” you said placing a hand on his knee. The right time will come.

[shdo-xplosion]

☼masterlist☼

02 <- ☼ -> 04

warnings: 1.6k, captivity, restraints, non-con, forced orgasms, forced lactation, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, toys, fisting, gape, orgasm torture

notes: this one took me a while because i could not find a good place to write it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) but here ya go! this is gross! (also i have zero experience with lactation, but this is sci-fi so let’s just pretend)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13 @kaidabakugou @kiarathace @kllrkitty @itachiwho @siempre-entre-dos-opciones-blog @clerdecat

let me know if you would (or would not) like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

You don’t know how long it is before Kat returns, no way to tell when it’s day or night (or even if this planet has days and nights, how long they may last). A different alien had come in some time ago to clean you, or so you assume. It had spread some sort of gel over the exposed parts of your body, the substance tingling then drying by itself.

The creature had also given you something, held a gun shaped object to your thigh, aimed right at your femoral artery, and shot you with what you guess to be sustenance considering the way your appetite was suddenly satiated.

Despite not feeling as drained as before, headache and stomach cramps having subsided, your heart drops when you see Kat walk in followed by two others that you vaguely recognize from when your crew had first arrived.

He thinks their names before you have to ask, and the closest you can get is Deku and Kiri. Both are even larger than Kat, a fact that makes you swallow nervously. He had told you he would find better ways to stretch you. Is this how? Are they going to…?

No. They’re just here to watch.

Also scary but not as bad as it could be.

Kat fiddles with the panel behind you again, tightening restraints, spreading your legs, just like last time. You already know that any struggling is useless, so you focus more on your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

The device on your chest has been active for some time, and though Kat doesn’t adjust anything on that, he does uncoil two clear tubes—the ones you saw attached to Kendou, and connects them to the smaller ones that sit right over your nipples.

I’ve never been pregnant… you won’t be able to get anything from me, you try, knowing damn well that pregnancy isn’t the only way to induce lactation.

I’m sure we’ll get plenty, Kat thinks with a huff.

You feel the machine initiate a light suction that makes you bite your lip, and when Kat walks around you to take up his place between your legs, you can see the smirk on his face.

A new set of tools is brought out this time, similar balls and speculum but other items that vary in size. They look very similar to a certain kind of toy you used to pleasure yourself with at home, except you never tried to use anything as big as some of these. Two of the oblong shapes look doable, but after that they start to get… intimidating.

You tense at the first touch, fingers tracing up and down your folds.

You either relax now or I make you, he tells you. Threatens you, more like.

You don’t doubt him. He learned how to unravel you last time, and judging by the way his finger lightly circles your clit, he retained all that information.

He teases for a little while, speaking to his comrades in their native tongue. Part of you wishes you could understand what he’s saying while another part is glad you can’t. Who knows what he’s telling them about you and your pussy?

You want to cry when you feel yourself throb, know that Kat can feel your wetness when he pushes a finger into your heat.

Like I told you… relaxed. He must be referring to the way your legs stop trembling.

It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel good, you repeat more to yourself than to him. Natural reaction, biological response. You need these reminders. You need to know that it isn’t the alien who’s making your skin hot, making you want more.

Kat adds another finger, scissors them, pulls out only to stretch your hole with different digits. He grunts something and you hear heavy footsteps, the other two creatures coming closer in order to watch, to look inside of you.

You clench your muscles as if it’ll do anything to hide your intimacy, but all it does is make the first bit of slick leak out of you. All three aliens make curious noises, something more appreciative coming from Kat when he rubs a finger through your folds, gathering the liquid.

To your horror, he raises his finger to his face to sniff it, examining it for a moment before poking his forked tongue out and licking it.

Deku and Kiri are suddenly shouting at him in alarm. Maybe they think it’s poison, a defense mechanism. That’s an amusing idea.

Taste good, Kat thinks, and you’re horrified at the pleasure that rolls through you. You don’t want him to enjoy the taste. Fuck, what if it makes him want to eat you?

I just might. His mouth is lifted up on one side, the edge of a fang poking out.

He uses the speculum first, stretching you slowly, so slowly, until your hole is opened wide enough for him to slide one of the long shapes inside of you. There’s even room to spare, prompting him to switch the tool for a bigger one. You feel the speculum against your walls rather than the insert, but that changes when Kat removes both to replace them with the next size up.

You moan, eyes squeezed shut. This is all I can take, you think to yourself. I can’t fit anything bigger.

Yeah, you can.

Kat moves the tool in and out of you, fucking you with it as your noises rise in volume and pitch. Oh, it feels good. It feels too good, and it only gets better when he flicks your clit. Your arousal streams down your folds and ass followed by squirt when Kat begins moving faster.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” It comes out as a whisper. You don’t want any of them to hear. Not that it matters since they—or at least Kat—knows what you’re thinking.

Another, girthier tool (at this point you feel they’re more like toys) takes the other’s place, and tears prick your eyes as you feel your flesh stretch even more. You have no idea how wide your hole is at this point, but you do know you’ve never had something this big inside of you. You also know you’ve never experienced the sensation you’re feeling in your tits.

Kat has enough understanding to go slowly, keep working your muscles and not just shove into you. You’re embarrassingly wet, letting the toy slide in and out of you with ease, and soon you’re even trying to buck into it.

You’re close to an orgasm. You can feel it building inside of you. And then it disappears when Kat stops pumping, leaving the tool inside of you and watching as you whimper and clench around it.

Push it out, he commands. I wanna see your cunt work.

You whine out loud and sniffle, unable to mask your shameful thought: but I don’t want it out of me.

Push it out and I’ll make you cum.

Bearing down as best you can, you groan and push, again feeling how large the object is as it slowly slides out of you. When it falls between your legs you let out a sob, inhaling raggedly when Kat touches you again. Fingers delve inside of you but it’s only to open you up. No part of his hands are touching, and though you can’t see what he sees, you know you must be stretched obscenely wide.

The three aliens peer into your guts, and you’ve never felt more exposed. You’re morbidly curious at your state, what Kat has done to your pussy, and in a silent answer to your question he releases your folds and begins pushing fingers into you. Two… three… four… oh god, five… and you take another without issue. You must be gaping, loose enough to—Christ, he starts fisting you. His whole hand is inside of you, making squirt splash out of your cunt. The way your body greedily takes what he’s giving you is absurd, and the way it makes you climb closer to your peak is even more so.

Wanna feel you clench around me. Can you do that?

You nod, back arching. He’s literally bruising your insides, and you’re loving it.

When you cum, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Your hole opens wider as if begging for Kat to push further, and a geyser of fluid sprays from between your legs. At the same time, you feel a tightness in your nipples as milk is pushed from them. Your jaw drops open in awe as you watch the white droplets get sucked up the tubing attached to you. He was right. It actually worked.

Could play with your cunt all day, Kat thinks as you take a shuddering breath. I think I might.

You feel weak as you raise your head to look at him, your face sticky with drying tears. I don’t…

He wiggles his fingers inside of you, cutting off any argument you thought you had.

There’s no way to tell how long he’s there with you, long enough for Kiri and Deku to grow bored and leave, but Kat stays, making you cum again. And again. And again.

The table is drenched and so are you and so is he, your juices dripping down his chest and into his lap. You cry and beg him to stop, so lightheaded, so sore. Every orgasm is paired with lactation. The first couple climaxes only produce drops at a time, but eventually you’re spewing enough milk to coat the tubes. All you want to do is hold your tender breasts, cover your nipples and soothe them, but it’s not an option. Instead Kat just keeps making you cum, keeps milking you, until all that’s left for you to do is pass out.

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

[dazachi]

Theory time on the whole "ADA member transfers to PM" deal and why I genuinely think this was part of Dazai's plan (loooong post):

Based on what we have, I actually think we can assume that Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Dazai, all of the higher ups in the PM, and the govt. are aware of the deal and that Dazai will go back. Here's why:

Prior to Fyodor's arrest, Dazai had been maintaining an essentially crimeless record (and if he does do something morally questionable, he either had government backing from Ango, or was done in a way that can't be pointed back to him).

However, before anything could progress in S4, Dazai purposely put himself out in public to get arrested. I'd even argue that he had Ango purposely release some of his old crimes rather than it being written on the ripped page of the book (and if it was actually written in the book, then Dazai must have anticipated it in the first place because he knows Fyodor would do that).

This idea is further cemented by the fact that Ango, Mori, and Chuuya are actually aware of what Dazai is doing (more than the ADA even). Dazai had contacts in and out of Mersault ready before his arrest.

To make these plans in the first place, Dazai had to have talked to (at least) Mori and Ango. This would have to be roughly around the same time as when Mori and Fukuzawa made a deal. What if all of this was just one meeting?

Because let's face it. Fukuzawa only saying "except Yosano" was such a red flag moment. If there was anyone Mori would have wanted back in his control, it would either be his angel of death or his demon prodigy. The conversation must not have ended there...

Also, why was this deal even created in the first place? I feel like there could have been a different agreement, and this just looks like an excuse to get Dazai to go back. Fukuzawa agreeing with this deal is weird because he knows what the PM is like. Why would he subject his employees to possibly experience working there?

Dazai may have actually purposely put himself up for the taking in preparation to a future enemy that needed him back in the PM- back in his hometurf with all the manpower he could command and to give soukoku the free reign they had once again (without the limitations of the law on Dazai).

So anyway, now we have Dazai with his crimes leaked, which would have been fine alone because it could be played off as part of what was written on the page, but then he kills some guards in Mersault and commits jailbreak, along with several other crimes in just 30 minutes. In addition, he is clearly shown to be working with Chuuya, a well-known criminal, who has also committed several crimes while there.

Say what you will about Mersault security (which is actually good but just couldn't keep the demons on hold lmao), but they would 100% have records of what Dazai had done there. Even if he could be considered crimeless before, he can no longer be called crimeless again now. His actions here are beyond the manipulations of the book. To have these crimes (in France) erased would require the government to have an agreement with another country and to have Dazai go into hiding for some time again (doable, but troublesome).

That leaves us to the fact that Dazai is back to willingly committing crimes and partnering up with Chuuya as Soukoku for an extended period of time. All of these acts are known to Mori and Ango.

This implies that the choice had been made prior to S4, and this is why Dazai could do all these crazy schemes.

This also clears up why Ranpo and Fukuzawa no longer consider Dazai in the ADA roster recently. Not because they don't care for him, but because he is secretly no longer part of the ADA in the first place, and Dazai's safety is now under the concern of the PM.

Scarily enough, this could also possibly set up Dazai as the next boss of the PM in preparation for the next big enemy. One thing some people in the fandom noticed was that Mori had mentioned before that Dazai would become the boss when he turns 23. This fits in the timeline well because Dazai is several months (or maybe even weeks) closer to his 23rd birthday (or he may already be 23 right now). All of this may have been pre-planned for longer than we think.

Also, as a personal opinion on the other possible transfer candidates, they actually have better hold on the ADA and would not function well in the PM.

The PM would clash with Kunikida's ideals (though it would be interesting to have the future leader of the ADA be put in the PM the same way the future leader of the PM was employed in the ADA)

Tanizaki would be a great candidate, especially for his skills (and it would be interesting to have another redhead in the PM hahaha), but I highly doubt Naomi would take his transfer sitting down (Naomi would probably even attempt to join the PM) and, in turn, Junichiro would hate to bring his sister in the PM as well. Tanizaki's entire shtick involves his care for his sister, and taking that away brings him back to having no motivation to go crazy.

Atsushi is actually my 2nd option. Moving Atsushi to the PM would make him learn more about how the PM functions, and this allows SSKK to spend more time building their relationship. Chuuya could watch over the two of them as an aide to Dazai's mentoring, and this could lead to more character growth for Atsushi. Unfortunately, this voids Atsushi's plans to learn how to fight under Kunikida's tutelage, and the "no killing" deal with Akutagawa slightly lessens its impact because they would now be in the criminal organization rather than the opposing one (I'd rather have Akutagawa join the ADA tbh. This would further cement the "no killing" idea that Atsushi demands of him and build the SSKK partnership.)

Kenji is also a good bet, but the PM already has Chuuya, which makes having Kenji redundant. Kyoka would not return without an all out brawl and would actually waste all the efforts from S2. Ranpo would be insufferable lmao, and he is not made for Mafia types of strategy (he's smart! But he is not here for the manipulation and long chess matches. He doesn't have the patience for that when he can get straight to the point), and I'm not sure who in the PM he would have synergy with yet...he works best as a detective.

NOW, I may be wrong, because who knows what Asagiri will pull on us, and all of this is based on what is shown (I'm not sure if we could trust it lol), but this is the theory I came up with based on my understanding of events. Dazai planned to go back, and the tripartite knows of it.

Before anyone says this is a waste of Dazai's character development, I'd argue that there may be a misconception as to what Dazai is actually here to learn.

Odasaku knows that good and evil does not matter to Dazai. Dazai choosing to save people is not Dazai's character growth because he has ALWAYS been capable of that despite his unconventional means. The real character growth that Dazai needed was that there was a world beyond the darkness that he insists on putting himself in, and that he is capable humanity. Mori realized this too by proving the humanity in Dazai by chasing him out with Odasaku's death. Dazai has also realized this, and is now ready to return to his hellhole as a new man touched by the light. He is ready to be a leader, not the tyrant that he would have been without this lesson. Mori just prevented another insane mafia boss from taking the throne.

In addition, the PM has repeatedly been defined as the organization that protects the city in the dark. Being in the PM does not hinder Dazai from saving people (again, they've done so before while there). This might actually give him more power to move around and defend Yokohama more efficiently.

I guess this is it for now. I may have missed some things, but these are my main arguments for now hehe

[lynxgriffin]

OKAY there were a lot of asks specifically for the most recent comics, so I figured it'd be easiest to just try and respond to all in one big block rather than clog up your dash with multiple asks!

Yeah, the problem with where Kris is now is that no one's really going to discourage them from going on a revenge quest, and there's no one around to really help them process the feelings of what happened. Not a good headspace to be in!

I would say they are about 17 now, so a little older than I would have them be in canon. So yeah, they were already living with the Dreemurrs for a few years.

He would be happy to share a cup of tea and some cake with friendly humans!

Maybe he's got a lot of practice at it! And yeah, usually not a good sign when a demon prince wants your soul.

Yes, the ceremony done incorrectly could have sent a human to the wrong place in the Dark World. The mark they put on Kris's forehead to show "who the gift was intended for" was actually very important in getting Kris directly to Ralsei.

Yeah, I suppose that may be inevitable since UT and DR themselves have so many overlapping elements! And some folks do think that Kris is DR's version of Chara (although I have my own thoughts on that, personally). At least with Chara, Asriel was there to dissuade them from actually carrying through on their intentions!

I think you mean Ralsei, but yup, he's just trying to be helpful!!

Kris at the moment doesn't have reason to suspect that Asriel was a part of the cult or the plan, but is also definitely primed to act rashly. Unfortunately, they probably can't actually talk until Kris gets back to the light world.

Yes, Ralsei would have let Kris stay at his castle as long as they wanted. Might have been all right, but after awhile Kris probably would have gotten bored and angry enough to want to leave.

Yes, they do, which is why they were suspicious of Ralsei offering them a bunch of desserts at first.

Well, hopefully parenthood (or adoptive parenthood) isn't the same as soul ownership! ;P

Thank you! I admit, I'm a giant sucker for that imagery.

Aaaand now they've lost that, too. Oops!

Ralsei is just all smiles about this arrangement!

There really is nothing quite so demonic as fine print, honestly.

Well, they quickly read through the main part of it. They may have skipped over a lot of the fine print, though.

Ralsei's just like... "Ambitious, but doable!"

It's more about what Kris now is to Ralsei than the other way around!

Oh Kris didn't exactly trust Ralsei fully, but was pretty much like "well, this seems like my best option, so I'll just take what I can get and worry about the consequences later."

Ralsei is being honest when he says that he wants companionship from Kris. The problem is is what "companionship" looks like to an immortal demon prince may not always be mutually beneficial for Kris. And there's no distance restrictions now; Kris can move as far away from Ralsei as they want, and Ralsei's still the one with power over their soul.

[devsgames]

On AI-Driven Conversations In Games

The AI gang really shot themselves in the foot by leaning so hard into capitalist exploitation angle, because now whenever they present a use of the tech that is actually moderately interesting the baseline reaction people have to it is just going to be hate because it's associated to AI in any way shape or form.

I mean, obviously I understand why people react this way, because most of the practical applications of AI are just a veil for replacing of labour and increasing profit margins for the executive levels. But I feel like nowadays you'll also just see a lot of people hating an idea because it's implicitly tied to AI in any way, despite the core conceit of the idea actually being fairly interesting. (Remember when Spiderverse used Machine Learning to generate some of it's incredibly labour-intensive frame-by-frame effects and then a bunch of people got mad because it used Machine Learning for that?)

People have been pointing to the use case of "what if you could talk to an NPC in a game and have their reponses generated via AI", and laughing at it like it's the dumbest suggestion ever, but honestly in my opinion I think that's the exact kind of system AI was practically designed for! To me that feels like an excellent application of the tech that is now just marred by the mention of AI in the first place.

Anyway, to ruminate on the concept a bit: I see that use of AI enabling a dev to fill out a world with more NPCs who help it feel more populated, as well as potentially give them incredibly varied responses that are more relevant to the NPCs immediate context of the game. I imagine instead of replacing full-on player choice dialog it would instead replace the throwaway barks of awkward and out of place open-world NPCs who look at you and say "I have nothing to say to you" and giving them something to directly say about your adventure or the context around them instead.

Instead of having the intern narrative designers be forced to write little barks and blurbs like "I have nothing to say" (which I understand narrative folks usually view as grunt work and hate writing in he first place), they'd be writing little prompts for that system instead. End result is when you talk to random farmer NPC #344 outside of town they say "Crop's doing well this year, here's hoping a dragon doesn't attack us" instead of "I've got nothing to say". I think on paper that's a genuinely good and interesting way to improve an antiquated open-world problem like that. Should it be helpful? Probably not. Would it be interesting? No. Would it be a little more flavourful than what we currently have going on? I think so!

It's not an AI shill fever dream, I can see exactly how it would work and I'd bet money that there's a studio doing something like it in R&D right now. I imagine it'd also probably be pretty adaptable between projects too, so the similar system could be applied to different areas of the world.

Should it be trusted to give the player directions or do any sort of leading that a narrative designer should do? Almost certainly not because it would be inconsistent and have too big a possibility window, and AI is nothing if not horrible at performing essential tasks that might block progress.

Should it be done with the tech as it is now? Hell no, unless you want to wait five seconds for every reply to be generated and for it to be tied to some server bank that's guzzling all of Arizona's water. Also it would probably need an internet conncetion to work, which is asking a lot for an open world game.

Should it be done by these studios who are more interested in using it to replace labour and make the end result cheaper to make so they can keep more profits off he top? No, and that's the real reason why the applications of this tech sucks - because spoiler alert they'd all love to save money.

Obviously this concept isn't doable right now, but I wouldn't be surprised if it ships in a game in some form within 5-10 years tops.

Again I get why at this point in capitalism there's almost no applications of machine learning that are easy to trust, nor should we ever believe studios are doing it for any reason outside of trying to make development cheaper. I just think when it comes to tech it's worthwhile to keep execution in mind separate from intent; Tech isn't implicitly evil, it's the system it's built under that is. :)