#spider dilf

[scoopdi-woop]

LOOK AT HIM GORGEOUS MAN

God bless Elvira for this once AGAIN

[unipacas]

please will you spare some spiderdads 🥺🤲

HELL YEAH HERE U GO ANON!!! girldads (:

[127rkives]

mind stuck on dilf!miguel being hung up on his daughter’s babysitter. :( 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

she’s such a natural caretaker and treats his little girl with such immense love as if she was hers which is more than her actual mother ever did. and miguel knows it may seem creepy, but sometimes he leaves his office and swings by, dangling in front of his own windows just so he can catch a glimpse of you feeding his toddler, playing with her for enrichment, laying her down for a nap. it becomes such a habit that even peter is left confused, bc if miguel’s not in his office at midnight wearing himself thin at the expense of the multiverse, what could he possibly be doing? 

simple answer: he’s standing locked in his office bathroom with his hand wrapped around his cock after just coming back from watching you read bedtime stories and tuck in his little girl. and it’s all miguel has in him to dig his fangs into his bottom lip for the sake of muffling his groans and airy whimpers as his cum spills from his angry, red tip at the thought of knocking up the precious babysitter back in his apartment. 

[backtothefanfiction]

20 Minutes | dad!peter imagine

A/N: just a quick one before I sleep. I saw a gif from we live in time and just suddenly became very needy for some dad Peter again. It’s been a little while, hope you enjoy. If you know the Bluey episode that inspired, you are a real one and I have love for you. Also MJ stands for May Junior

Warnings: this is just some dad!peter fluff, everyday domestic parent stuff even though your hubby is the local superhero

The moment he climbs through the window, he’s already wishing he was back in the other side of it.

“Ahhh good, you’re home.” You say cheerfully as you enter the room. “Here, hold this.” You say, holding out your two and a half month old to him, just as a cry of “Muuuuuuuuumm!” called out to down the hall.

“What? The? Huh? What?” Peter frowns at you confused as he stands in the middle of the room in his spider suite, toddler in his outstretched hands as you’re already beginning to leave the room, another call of “muuuuuuuuummm!” echoing down the hall.

“I just need 20 minutes.” You tell him.

“But I just got in.” He protests.

“20 minutes.” You reason cheerfully, like it’s no time at all and he will be fine.

“Maaaaaaaahhhhmmm!” The voice down the hall comes again and he can see the way your shoulders rise and the corners of your lip twitch at your 4 year olds whine of your household moniker.

“Daddy’s coming in just a minute!” You call back to the young girl out in the living room.

“Can I at least take the suit off?” Peter tries to reason as the toddler in his hand starts to pull at the stretchy material.

“Just 20 minutes.” You repeat to him again as you begin to back away. “20 minutes.” You say. You can hear his small frustrated huff that no doubt was paired with the famous Parker eye roll, but you didn’t care. If you didn’t get 20 minutes to yourself and a moment to go to the bathroom in peace, you were probably going to throw yourself out of the window your husband just climbed through.

Okay maybe that was a little dramatic, but in your defence he had been out longer than he said he would on patrol and MJ has regressed back into her clingy phase. As you locked the bathroom door and pulled out your phone in order to have a quick scroll through social media and a catch up whilst you sat on the loo, the reason for your husbands tardiness quickly became apparent.

There was video after video popping up of footage from peoples phones of Spider-Man saving a family from a car wreck. As you watched the masked figure swing into action again and again from different angles, watched him pull the two kids from the back of the burning car, your irritation before quickly subsided, instead making way for pride; for your husband, his family values, his care for the people of your community. Memory after memory of him sharing both special and also mundane moments with your two children flooded your mind, making your heart glow and your tummy all fuzzy and warm.

When you eventually emerged from the bathroom 20 minutes later and made your way back down the hall, that fuzzy feeling only grew as you saw him sat on the sofa with your two children tucked in tightly to either side of him. He had put on your fluffy robe over the top of his suit, the legs and sleeves poking out beneath the pink fabric comically, as he read a book to them.

As he turned the last page, MJ cried, “Again, again, read it again daddy.”

“But May, I’ve already read it to you three times. Maybe we should give another book a go.” He tried to sway her.

“Again!” She insisted and you loved the way he laughed with her as she giggled at her own cheekiness.

He looked up to you then as you leant against the door frame, hopefully. “Or maybe Mommy can read it.” He stated.

“Orrr,” you began to counter as you saw May’s eyes light up at the sight of you and the prospect of you reading her, her favourite book of the moment for the umpteenth time that day, “we could go out for ice cream.” You suggested.

There was a piercing shriek as May got up from the sofa at the sound of the trigger word. “IIICCCEEEECREEEEAAMM!” She screeched before running off to find her shoes.

“Ice cream?” Peter asks with raised brow as he stands to hand off your youngest back to you.

“Yeah,” you say with a coy smile, “I think we’ve all earned it.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I best go get out of this suit then.” He muses.

“Oh really?” You whine. “But this is such a good look on you.” You joke.

“It’s a good thing I love you Mrs Parker.” He grins, a leaning forward to kiss your lips.

“I love you too.” You smile.

“IIIICCEEEEE CRRREEEAAAMMM!” May bellowed excitedly as she came back in the room, her shoes on the wrong feet and her jacket inside out. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You get changed, I’ll help her out.” You smile.

“I love you.” He says again as he begins to back away. “You’re my hero!” He shouted across the room to you, reminding you your just as resilient and heroic as he was- and sure, you couldn’t swing from buildings or save kids from the back of burning cars, but you could look after both your kids alone for 6-8 hours of the day and live to tell the tail; and that in itself was a heroic act too.

[scoobysnakz]

Older

ii

i know this doesn’t hit as hard as the first part. i genuinely wanted this to be a one shot so i had no ideas on how to continue this. there’s like no plot so i sincerely apologise if this is complete shit 😭

Miguel basks in the warmth that is you, plush thighs trembling and innocent eyes watery. Every soft whimper, every delicate mewl of his name sends a heat that's almost comforting down his spine and drips into his core like a sickly sweet mixture of syrup and addiction.

You look so pretty like this, he might just keep you here, his princessa, a beautiful girl who deserves to be kissed and held by a man who can look after her.

He doesn't know how long he's had you like this, core aching with your nth climax and cunt clenching for more, but he loves it.

He's still teasing you, one finger curling up so that it can hit that spongey part that makes your eyes roll. It doesn't matter how many times you try to take control, hint at how badly you crave his cock, which you just know is huge, he insists on only fingering you. With one finger.

“So fucking tight,” he praises as you cum for what must be the millionth time, “can't ruin your perfect pussy with my cock. Lemme spoil you, hmm?”

And you nod, try to anyway, your body weak and brain melted. You can't count how many times he's made you cum, your poor, overstimulated clit weeping tears of arousal and jaw hanging slack.

A soft thumb comes up to your chin and wipes away the sticky trail of saliva that leads down to your jaw as he tuts his disapproving sympathy.

“Migs,” you finally manage, trembling lips grazing his neck as you flop down in fatigue, “I-I can't.”

Hearing your sweet, fatigued voice so close to his ear makes his cock stiffen. But he can't do anything about it, not when you're a twitching mess that can't sit up straight.

Carefully, Miguel sits you upright, calloused hand gently stroking your lower back in soothing circles. You whine at the emptiness that replaces his finger as he pulls it out with a slick squelch.

You pant heavy, tired, needy breaths that rasp in your mouth and puff in your chest. A weak smile finds its way onto your lips and Miguel swears his heart stops.

He hasn't even fucked you yet you look at him as if he's responsible for the moon pulling the tides.

“‘S okay, niña bonita,” he whispers, voice as soft as the look in his eyes.

With any other girl, he would have kept his finger in, giving her a second one and maybe pepper half-hearted kisses on her neck. But with you, knowing he can only go so far before you start hiccuping and holding back tears is almost just as erotic, if not more.

You let your body ease, thighs spread wide for him to see your pulsing cunt scarcely concealed by the loose, fraying threads of your suit that he's torn. He can smell your juices and it's taking all of his self-restraint not to flip you over and lap up your arousal from your aching folds.

You feel safe in his arms, safe enough to let your stomach relax instead of sucking in, safe enough to yawn while staring lazily at him, safe enough to let your eyes slowly flutter shut and a warm slumber creep up on you.

He peppers gentle kisses against your jugular, nipping at your delicate skin and savouring the soft mewls that escape your sleeping lips.

You look so angelic like this. Lashes meshed together and flutter with every small twitch. Your arms draped over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Cunt glistening with the orgasms he pulled from you.

Then you wake up, a soft yawn escaping you as you stretch your delicate arms, blissfully unaware of the fact your panties are ripped in half and Miguel’s fingers are sticky with your arousal. You bury your head further into his neck, eyes glued shut as your brain fights off fatigue and the urge to recollect the reason why you feel so lightheaded.

A large hand smooths your spine while a second one rests on your shoulder. You’re warm and tired, a combination that is dangerous in situations such as this. “Miggy.”

That one’s new. It's more teasing, sickly sweet and wrapped in the sugar dusting that's your voice. It's not as blunt, playful and innocent as ‘Migs’, something about it is more… intimate.

He lets it sit for a moment, not answering your call and toying with the way it settles in his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. After a few seconds he gives in, “Go to sleep, princessa,” he instructs, and you obey.

Something about the way you melt into him makes him smile. His entire life has been void of physical contact but as soon as you turned up he's had nothing but small hand squeezes, warm hugs and the feeling of soft skin against his as you lean against him.

And for that, he owes you everything. He's willing to do it, buy whatever, fix whatever, kill whoever. If it makes you happy then it makes him happy.

Miguel decides he likes this, being allowed to be so protective over you. No one is here to give him looks of disapproval and jealousy as you follow him around like a lost puppy. He can just hold you, imagine a life of spoiling you and coming home to you with open arms, ready and waiting for whatever he craves from you.

He can buy you all the clothes you gasp at as you walk down the street, peering through the reflective glass windows and trying to hide how badly you want it.

He can watch you give him a mini fashion show, parading the new frocks he's bought and twirl you round and round.

He can help you with your career, you're a smart woman and he doesn't want to take that from you. You deserve everything you've worked hard for.

He can hold you just as tightly as he is now but in his, no, your bed, your shared bed. And kiss your rosy cheeks, nuzzle into your neck, walk his fingers up and down the arch of your back.

You shift in his lap and his hips involuntarily buck up, something that makes his gut twist with guilt. He's reminded that you are clinging to him, trusting him after he's turned your brain into slush. And that he should make you a new suit.

Reluctantly, he stands up, you held close to his chest and your arms hanging limp. He knows he should take you home, leave you in your bed for your asshole roommates to find you and get woken up by your alarm. But he doesn't want to.

He takes you home, to his home. Where he can look after you.

This might be kidnapping but it wasn't exactly against your will, not when you were cumming all over his hand not long ago.

You mould into his apartment so easily that it's impossible for him to remind himself that you don't actually live here with him. The subtle smell of your body wash mingles with his floor cleaner and fabric softener, so, so perfectly, as if you've been there since he's moved in.

It's all come full circle. He's dreamt of this so many times and here you are, curled up on his sofa, a blanket draped over your sleeping form and head propped up by pillows.

He runs the backs of his fingers along your arm, smiling warmly as your arm jerks at the contact. The dim light from his lamp illuminates the contours of your features. It's an almost ethereal glow that highlights your beauty, your innocence.

That guilt finds its way back into his gut. The beautifully weak position you've pulled yourself into by default is painful for him to see. Part of him feels as though he's taken advantage of you, pulled too hard at your emotions, warped your young mind with his wicked ways.

Yes, you snuggled into him before but that's because you don't view him as someone to be feared. But he is.

The sacred being that is your intricate soul chose him to follow around and regard as a role model and he's taken advantage of that. A sick, twisted part of his loves that.

That corrupt and messed up part of him wants you to worship the ground he walks on, wants you to feel like nothing without his praise, wants to be so toxicly possessive over you that it drives his morals over the edge. He wants to fuck you good and rough, pull tears from your rolling eyes and needy moans from your stuttering lips.

Before, when you sauntered in with his lunch and that incandescent smile on your face, he didn't expect it would end up like this- admitting his most perverted desires.

You fuck with his mind in ways someone your age shouldn't. You make him crave the most horrific things, drive him to an insanity he never knew existed, and create dirtied thoughts that make his skin crawl and cock harden.

Sighing, he pulls himself off of his sofa and slumps down on the floor next to it. Maybe when you wake up you'll panic, not knowing your surroundings but instantly calm down when you smell his heavy Cologne. Or maybe you'll hit the roof. Either way, he wants to be near you so he can experience each and every one of your emotions.

Careful not to wake you, he leans up and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Your scent fills his nostrils and he has to force himself off of you.

“Qué duermas bien, Princesa.”

Taglist: @lauraolar14 @miguels-aranita @fruitychae @miyaluvvsyou @friendlyserial @tashames @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

[reallysaneguy]

slowly making up for the art I've never posted

[luckyshinyhunter]

You gotta love J.K. Simmons for when he plays a character you know or love!

[cupajoscafe]

just some dilf meegle to soothe the soul 🥰

[themisterhip]

ATSV CHARACTERS x MY STYLE!!♥️

[nocontextdilfs]

Andrew Garfield photographed by Liz Collins for Port Magazine, 2024

[scoopdi-woop]

What Miguel looks like under the suit

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Dilf!miguel and Milf!reader hcs? 🥰

bet

Adding in daddy and mommy kink, so reader calls Miguel 'daddy' and miguel calls reader 'mommy'

Dilf!Miguel HC

Definitely a dad bod

hairy with a big belly that you wanna nibble on

at least in his mid 40's

scruffy beard with white streaks in both his hair and beard

makes those dad noises in the morning. you know, the AAACK!! COUGH COUGH BLEEEGH

blows up the toilet and the bathroom stinks for at least ten minutes

older and more experienced and knows how to please a woman in bed

which with reader, he loves devouring her pussy

his beard is soaked in her delectable essence, tongue lapping up at her juices

"yeah? you like it when daddy eats your pretty pussy? hmm, taste so fucking good"

loves it when reader is on top, because sometimes his hip aches LMAO

big, warm cuddly teddy bear hehe

Milf!Reader HC

belly, wide hips, chunky thighs, stretch marks everywhere, big boobs that point down to the floor

she's kind and loves baking cookies

in her late 30's to early 40's

the kind to add extra dryer sheets

adores her sugar baby Miguel (he's like 27)

enjoys pegging the shit out of Miguel

leaves when he's rocking up and down the bed as she fucks into his asshole, listening to his erotic moans and mewls

or sometimes will press her foot into the bulge in his pants, rubbing against it and saying "oh, want mommy to fuck you? then beg."

[pandoramyst]

Can we get more Jake x reader with their children it’s so cute!

absolutely <33333333 glad u liked my little drabble

it was awfully difficult for you to hide your swooning for dad jake. the way he held tuk in his arms until she feel asleep and how he watched her lovingly as she wrapped her tiny hand around his big thumb. or how he made sure nobody went to sleep angry, and that any problem you ran into was resolved before the sun went down.

you, kiri and tuk were sitting around the fire, kiri braiding her hair and tuk in your arms looking up at you as you cooked the fish you had caught that same morning. the boys were gone, out hunting and jake had left a while later to fetch them. it didn't dawn on you that they were gone for a while until you heard jake's voice in the distance.

"you hungry, tuktuk?" she cooed before giggling playfully. her eyes squinted and you admired her adorable expression. you enjoyed moments like these were you took care of jake's children. your children. it made you feel whole. you wished you savored this moment as you heard your husband's voice from afar.

"jesus, you must be some real geniuses to not know how to follow direct orders," he grunted as he walked towards where you three were sitting. your town sons were following him, heads down as they knew what they did and what was coming. Jake stood in front of the fire, hands balled up into fists as he stared at his two sons that were now standing behind you.

you held tuk closer to your chest as to not scare her and looked between jake and your sons. kiri was alarmed too, staring at her two brothers.

"what happened?" your legs remained crosses in front of you as you awaited for an answer. jake laughed sarcastically and pointed at his two sons.

"these two knuckleheads thought I would be a good idea to sneak up on a Thanator. Practically got killed." jake said looking away from his guilty sons. at this, you stood up. still rocking tuk in your arms, you faced your sons, scanning to make sure they weren't wounded.

"are you hurt?" you went to both of them, caressing their cheeks as they gave you those saddened eyes, those eyes filled with guilt and fear.

"we're fine, mother" neteyam said, assuring you with a smile. jake walked towards them, pointing a finger at them while doing so.

"I told you to stay away from obvious threats, you are not trained for that yet. why do you not listen?" he hissed at them and their faces contorted at their father's screaming. lo'ak opened his mouth to speak but neteyam beat him to it.

"dad, we thought we had it. we wanted to-"

"wanted what, huh? wanted to get yourselves killed? jesus, one of these days you are gonna give me a heart attack. go to your rooms. go!" he yelled and gestured them to go to their hut. you sighed and nodded at them as they walked towards their rooms.

you turned around towards your husband who had his hand on his forehead, sighing heavily.

"I'll go help them" she stood up, fixing her newly braided hair.

"thank you, kiri" you told her and kissed her forehead before she followed her brothers. you stared at your husband who was huffing and puffing, fuming at his son's behavior.

"what am I gonna do? no matter what I say, no matter how I scold them, they always step in harm's way" he threw his arms up as a gesture of "giving up". a bad thing about being a father was the worry he constantly felt for his children. lo'ak and neteyam took from his father. they had his ambition and his curiosity. his warrior like mentality. it was certainly a challenge to keep them at bay, but it was much more difficult for jake to handle that, than it was for you.

you were feisty enough to keep him at his feet when you first met. always going about things in an aggressive manner. but you had been pregnant for so long that your body's condition calmed jake, made him less worried. but his sons sparked a worry in him that he had only felt with you. the worry of losing someone. thankfully, he had you to relieve him of his worries.

"Jake.." you walked towards him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"they are ambitious, like you. hard-headed but they are warriors like you. you can't blame them for that. they have your nature." he looked at you with pain in his eyes. you knew he was scared. as proud as he was to admit it, you knew as soon as you looked into his eyes.

"thought we lost them," he laid his head on your shoulder, staring down at your daughter in your arms. you put your hand on the back of his head, caressing his hair.

"I know, hun. but they're fine, they're alive. we are all alive," he sighed, looking back up at you. he rested his forehead on yours, breathing in your air.

"just wanna keep em' safe, you know?"

"they're safe here jake, you can stop worrying now." he leaned in to kiss you and you let him, caressing his cheek. the baby in between you was making gargling sounds to express disgust. you both pulled away and looked at her, letting out a synchronized giggle.

"you don't worry about that now, go to sleep, honey" he planted kisses on her cheeks, prompting her to giggle loudly. he tickled her sides and you admired his change in attitude. you stared into his eyes that were filled with admiration. the young child under him, opened her eyes wide as she stared up at her father, grabbing at the air and reaching out for her father.

"oh, this is what you want? hm?" he reached at the back of his head, pulling the hair tie that held his hair in a ponytail. he let his dreads fall loose for his daughter to grab, as he knew she loved to play with them. you placed your hand on his cheek, pulling his face up to look at you.

"I love you," you whispered through a smile. his eyes softened and he intertwined his fingers with yours.

"I love you too, kid"

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD and RYAN REYNOLDS

Behind the scenes of "Actors On Actors" photoshoot

[scoobysnakz]

heyy girl i think if u haven’t what abt u write a dbf miguel x reader ik i see so many but theyre so gd to read they get me so invested every time🤷🏽‍♀️

summary: you’ve just come home from college for christmas but there’s a stranger in your bedroom

a/n: dbf as in dads best friend or dad boy friend? 😭 i’d do either but for this i’ll do dads best friend bc… yh. also tysm for the request it means sm 😚😚😚 also I guess this is a fic now? Bc I kinda hate one shots bci can never cut down on lore and stuff.

❤️

You hadn’t realised how easily college had managed to seep its way into every aspect of your life, pulling you away from both your family and social life, until you came home for Christmas.

Everyone looks so different, your mum is more colourful and chirpy, your father is healthier and your brother is surprisingly mature. But what takes you most by surprise is the lack of silence that has taken them by storm. When you had come home for the summer most of your stay had been filled with an uncomfortable but unfortunately familiar silence following you around but now, you can’t shut them up.

The entirety of the drive home from the train station is full of chatter, and for once they include you. They seem so genuinely invested about you that you don't even question the randomness of their questions, ranging from the journey home and the local shops that surround your campus.

“I heard that there's one of those pretentious, hipster coffee places nearby,” your dad claims from the driver's seat, not bothering to look around at you.

“Vegan?” you offer dryly, unsure of it he knows you work there or not.

“That's it!” he clicks proudly, resulting in both you and your brother sharing a sigh.

Part of you hopes that it’s because of you; that maybe they realised how much they loved you while you were gone and now feel overjoyed at your return. There’s a feeling of doubt floating around in your mind, telling you that this is just a random occurrence, but you push it to the side, wanting to focus on the positive and unrealistic.

***

Your brother helps you lug your suitcase into the house claiming, ‘It’s the least I can do’ which is surreal coming from someone who hasn’t written to you the entirety of your time away. You hand him your antler clifton all the same, glad you didn't have to carry it across the drive as well as up the stairs.

The warmth from the house welcomes you in, the softness of the heated air a stark difference from the harsh bitterness from outside. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread candles lures you in so soothingly that you don't even notice the extra pair of shoes neatly paired together with the rest by the front door.

“I'll leave it here,” your brother mutters before sliding across the floorboards towards the living room on the heels of his feet- not as mature as you presumed. You smile half-heartedly with a small nod, jealous of how easily he can dismiss himself.

And suddenly you’re alone again, left to your own devices as your parents go start dinner and your brother now yelling into his mic from the living room. It hurts slightly, moments ago they were all over you, so invested in you and your life that you forgot what they're truly like. It's the way it always been and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.

You scold yourself for being so naive as to believe that they'd changed, that they weren't as self-absorbed as they used to be, before pulling yourself away from your sea of negative thoughts.

You stare at your suitcase, bright white light shining on it from the lamp hanging above your head, and decide to leave it there, too tired to carry it upstairs to your room.

The steps creak under your weight as you slouch up the stairs, one hand idly dragging across the chipped bannister. You can't count how many times your dad’s tried to repaint it, how much money he's spent on overpriced glosses and varnishes, how many hours he's spent sanding the thing down.

As you cross the landing, thick carpet dampening the sound of your steps, you the bathroom door left ajar and the soft heat emanating from it. Which is… weird because both your parents and your brother are downstairs. But you shrug it off, too fed up to care, and drag yourself over to your bedroom, head drooping downwards with fatigue.

Casually, you push your door open, expecting the room to be empty and your bed freshly made as it often is when you come home for the holidays. Except it isn't.

Soft jazz music hums throughout the room, playing from a speaker you can't quite place, and the smell of an intoxicatingly strong aftershave clings to the air. Your walls are still decorated with the wallpaper you had when you left but it's covered in various posters. Some are boring and presumably scientific based on the array of symbols, whereas others are insanely niche but you don't really put too much effort into trying to understand them- you're too distracted by the man standing in the middle of your room, half naked and dripping with water.

He's tall, intimidatingly so, but the soft dimples that form in his cheeks as he smiles down at you soothe your nerves- slightly.

“Hey,” he grins down at you, head now cocked to the side and pats his ear causing water droplets to drip onto your carpeted floor.

You blink at him, completely dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. “What the fuck?” you breathe shakily, palms clamming up as your brain desperately flickers between arousal and fear.

The man’s brow furrows at your anxious tone and his smile falters slightly. “I think I should be the one cursing here,” he jests, tone annoyingly light, “you’ve just walked into my room without knocking or anything.”

“You're room?” you scoff, arms folding across your chest. “You're the stranger here, not me.”

He grins at your attitude, those dimples presenting themselves again. “I’m offended, has it been that long since you've last seen me?” he questions, large hand splayed across his chest feigning offence.

You pause for a moment and let your gaze scan him for a moment. He looks familiar, dark slicked back hair and mahogany eyes that are simultaneously scrutinizing and sympathetic.

“A la mierda, querida, have you really forgotten me?” he teases.

And then it clicks. You feel so embarrassed now, for not recognising him. Miguel, your dad’s best friend who you haven't seen for years, is finally visiting again.

He does look different now, though. He's still tall and his face is as chiselled as ever, though there are creases in his skin from when he's smiled too often or squinted too hard at the sun, but he's bulked up a considerable amount. His biceps look bigger than your thighs, tensing and relaxing with every slight movement and shining with the shower water in the yellow light of the evening sun. In fact, his entire body is covered in muscles, and what you can see of his lower half is toned, covered in dark tufts of hair, yes, but the curvature of each muscle is still visible.

He clears his throat and you realise that you’ve been staring longer than intended, shame burning hot on your neck.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “about not recognising you.”

He shrugs off your apology, which irks you slightly but you push past it, and smile once again. “I look different, old age is catching up on me.”

That's definitely what's different.

> next

[telestoapologist]

blunt rotation with them (it's a blunt rotation bc they're taking turns beating my ass with hard objects)