that he man appearance

Ok guys, we need to talk about J.C.Leyedecker, and how its a fucking travesty that no one has made a film about him yet.

So Leyendecker was an illustrator during the 1910′s-1940′s. His work was absolutely gorgeous and highly ubiquitous at the time, and his llustrations for the Arrow shirt company created one of the most iconic images of male beauty of the early 20th century. But this icon came with a delicously romantic twist.

So this image of The Arrow Man was both incredibly macho and well built, but also ethereally pretty and dapper. But the model who the drawing was based on cropped up in A LOT of Leyendeckers work. In many he was engaged in casual social scenes with other men, in others he was shaving in the bathroom or getting dressed, broad shouldered, skin glistening, dark blond hair perfectly in place, jaw sharp as a fucking shovel, but with a slightly rounded chin. In one ad for war bonds he even appeared as the statue of liberty. This same man appeared in hundrereds of drawings, each with the same sharp care and attention to detail which makes looking at him almost feel voyeristic. 

So this mans image is EVERYWHERE during the early 20th century, and he is a fashion/lifestyle icon for men on par with the female gibson girl. He was the celebrated symbol of male strength, virility, and power. 

And man who modeled for Leyendecker’s iconic univerally adored macho man? That would be his lover, Charles Beach.  

so all this gorgeously homoerotic artwork defined the image of hyper macho masculinity during the interwar period. Leyendecker painted Beach onto the face of the world, that was his love letter. He basically immortalised the love of his life by making the whole world adore him as much as he did.

Leyendecker’s work would go on to influence the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Norman Rockwell. After his death in 1951, when people figured out that the unmarried man he’d been drawing and living with for decades, right up until the time of his death, was actually his lover, Leyendecker’s name has sadly been pushed out of the history books in favour of more wholesome characters.

And that fucking sucks

I would like to request a full length movie, with all the jazz era glamour and steamy romance that this genius deserved. During a time when homosexual men where thought of as weak deviants, this man not only had the nerve to use his lover as the model for all his great works, but he made him into the STANDARD of what it was to be a man. 

J.C. Leyendecker and Charles Beach deserve your rememberance. 


Cute past!Ardyn with his black chocobo *_*
I want to know more about Ardyn’s past life before he became evil guy…

Proof of Time Travel

Could time travel exist? Some people believe so. Look at these images and see what you think.

1. The Chinese Swiss Watch. Back in 2008, a 400 year old tomb was opened. Archaeologists were shocked to discover this small watch among the artifacts. The back of the watch is engraved with the word “Swiss”. They have no explanation of how this modern watch came to be in an unopened 400 year old tomb.

2. Charlie Chaplin Cell Phone. Viewers watching the extras section of the 1928 Charlie Chaplin film “The Circus” noted this person seemed to be talking on a cell phone. Others have claimed it was an ear trumpet, a horned device used to help those who were hard of hearing to hear. If that’s true, skeptics argue, who would she be talking to? Why is she laughing and talking if no one is there to hear but herself?

3. 1940s Hipster. This picture was taken at a small opening event in 1941.Time travel enthusiasts were quick to point out how this man stood out. He appears to be wearing a hooded sweatshirt and printed t-shirt, and holding a modern camera.

4. Rudolph Fentz. Rudolph apparently vanished without a trace in 1876. That alone wouldn’t be enough to constitute time travel, except that he turned up again…in the 1950s. Fentz allegedly materialized in a New York street, where he was struck by a car and died. Police were baffled as to what happened, especially when they found his pockets to only hold currency from the 1800s.

5. The Man in the Book. A couple was perusing an old book store when they happened across a book with this photograph included. It shows a group from 1917, but this man sticks out. His hair is disheveled and his clothing doesn’t fit in with the time period. Also note how the man beside him his staring at him, as though he too is aware of the strangeness.

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26.06.17 Harry Potter 20th Anniversary!

I wanted to write this perfect thing here about my love for the wizard who stepped into my world 20 years ago, who so unashamedly stood out when he stepped into Privet Drive. The man who didn’t care that everything from his name to his high heeled buckled boots were unwelcome on the street he had just appeared on. The man who just wanted to teach kids magic, who would have loved to go to all his ex students weddings and hold their new babies, you know, the important stuff that never had a chance. But in the end, for me, no one summed up his character better than McGonnagall:

Dumbledore would have been happier than anyone to think that there was a little more love in the world. - Ch 29. HBP

so happy birthday HP, I honestly cannot remember when you were not an important part of my life.

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Some doodles of Henry from last night’s stream!

Still trying to draw the old guy with some illusion of consistency before I work on part 2 of the comic but he’s getting there! 

Bonus:

This is why he keeps the braid. 

i remember the first time i saw a trailer for Split in the movie theaters. i was with family and the theater was full and i’d been mildly enjoying the trailers and perked up a bit when the tell-tale ominous music of a horror movie trailer started, because i love good thrillers.

except then it was frame after frame after frame of a person with dissociative identity disorder being portrayed as everyone’s boogey man, the shrieks of the little girl protagonists as he appeared wearing different clothes and a different voice, people in the theater jumping and giggling every time they showed the man doing something horrific. and i felt frozen in my seat.

my sister leaned over to me when it was finished and said “i want to see that” with a look on her face like it was the greatest trailer she’d ever seen.

like it wasn’t a punch to my gut everytime i heard someone whisper “psycho” or “crazy” and other terrible things. like in that moment i didn’t feel like running away from all these people, like i didn’t feel unsafe and filthy. because these people getting their thrills from a demonizing potrayal of a mental illness.

and the thing is, it matters.

because if i bring it up people will say “oh but it’s not really mental illness, like depression or something. he was just fucking crazy which is totally scary haha”. yeah well, not haha. not haha because DID is a real mental illness but that’s not what it looks like. people with DID aren’t murderers or dangerous. but now, because movies like Split are all people have seen of illnesses like DID, that’s their frame of reference.

the media does it with DID, with schizophrenia, with every single personality disorder, with bipolar, with everything else that is “scary”. raising awareness for depression and anxiety is important, they’re valid and serious illnesses. but hardly anyone tries to protect people with “scary” disorders. this halloween when costumes of the main character crop up, people will giggle and buy it because it’s so creepy and cool.

i’m reminded that, although i don’t have DID, much of my mental illness is defined by symptoms that are used in other horror movies. that people who have “scary” disorders are the entertainment in everyone else’s world. and for people who do have DID, that movie is absolutely devastating.

so if you buy a ticket to see Split, please know that’s it’s not harmless entertainment or a good thrill. it’s fucking ableism and you’re being ableist if you go see it.

(please reblog, neurotypical or not)

An Overrated Cliché

Summary: That Spider-Man kiss video was definitely cliché and cheesy, which is exactly the reason that Spidey and Y/N have to do it.

Word Count: 2235

Warnings: Heights and Swearing.

A/N: casually drops this after almost a year without writing like okay!! okay!! please enjoy this (it has good format!!) :0 and thank you to @buckys-fossil for actually tolerating me and proofreading this, i love you!!! also this is a gender neutral fic!!!! if you followed me when i was strictly an aesthetic blog well then, hello i write fics too

Originally posted by kimtaeyoen

Summer weather was the worst.

Summer holiday wasn’t that much better, what with having cabin fever and all. It had been a week since you had left the comfort of your apartment and three hours since you flopped onto the couch and lay there. All of your friends had been busy, Michelle doing her protesting, Liz with college preparation. It left you with nothing much to do other than lounge around your home.

The fan placed on the coffee table was set on revolve and hit your body with cool breezes. Laying on your side and absentmindedly watching season three of Phineas and Ferb, you felt jealous that those children were creative enough to make the most of your summer. It was a big contrast to you, as you hadn’t done anything the entire few weeks of summer there had been.

A thought suddenly came to mind and you decided to act on it. Shutting off the TV and fan, you put on actual clothes and took care of your hygiene before fixing your hair and pulling on your sneakers. Making sure to had some money and the house key, you texted your mom.

to: mom
hey i’m leaving the apartment for the first time in days are you proud of me

It didn’t take her long to reply.

from: mom
Fine with me, I was about to kick you out and make you do something.

You laughed at her text before tucking your phone away and leaving the apartment and locking the door.

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The sexualisation of Tom Holland has made me so uncomfortable and it’s been really hard for me to put into words for a while. I haven’t been able to put my finger on why this all makes me so strange and concerned since this guy was cast as Spiderman.

It was only when I read tweets like these that I realised why Tom Holland being treated as an object of sexual desire has made me so uncomfortable. If I was 16 and watched Spiderman: Homecoming, I might have fallen desperately in love with Tom Holland and he might’ve been my new obsession and I really don’t care that other 16 yo’s are treating him as sexy and attractive and whatever. It’s the realisation that it’s not just adolescents seeing him in that way. If 16 yo me googled Tom Holland’s age I would’ve been like “Yes he’s only 21 that’s so close to me, I could have a chance (however improbable) with him!”. These people google his age and think “Yes, he’s 21 and it’s not illegal or wrong to feel sexual desire for him!” which just grosses me out.

I don’t know if I feel uncomfortable because he was cast just when he turned 19, or just because he’s the same age as me and it’s unsettling to realise that if people sexualise him, people can sexualise me too. Maybe it’s the fact that they admit that they were worried that their sexual feelings aren’t OK until they made sure that he was over 18. It could be the fact that it’s so rare to have actors portraying teenagers when they are or have just been teenagers that it’s upsetting and jarring to me that people sexualise them. 

I could just be overreacting, but seeing all of these fucking adults saying “hey the kid who looks 17 and is playing a 17 year old is actually 21 so it’s okay to want to fuck someone 10 years younger than me” is just so fucking gross and ugly to me.

4

#married

4

“What beautiful gardens, Monsieur Poirot. It is so good of you to escort me.”
“I wanted to bring you somewhere that was worthy of you.”
“You mustn’t flatter me, Monsiuer Poirot. You will make me cry.”

Eat that - Peter Parker x Reader

Prompt: Y/N meets the Spider-Man one night when he saves her life. Her friends don’t believe her story until certain spider comes to her rescue.

Featuring: Flash, Ned, Liz {kinda}.

Word count: 1250.


Y/N slapped herself mentally for allowing her mind to lose track of time and having to walk the dangerous streets of New York by herself late at night to get home. Walking as fast as she could, but not too fast to avoid looking suspicious, she turned into one street, finally three blocks away from her destiny. She felt relieved when she catched a glimpse of the tree from her house. She had made it safely, or so she thought.

“Night, kid.” A voice called seductively at her, sounding unknown and intimidating to her as a guy with a black hat on his head and a bandana tied over his nose, covering half down his face paced quickly to reach to her. Y/N’s eyes widened and she started running, but was soon caught by the man, who threatened her with a knife. “Just be quiet and you’ll make it out of this alive.” He promised, though it didn’t sound too real. Y/N fidgeted and squirmed, trying to free herself from his firm grasp, to take his hand away from her mouth and scream for help.

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Me Against You

PART 1, PART 3

A/N: The positive feedback for the first part of the story has been overwhelming, and I am so happy that you guys liked it! It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but there will be a total of six stories set in this verse before I post another story!! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like this installment!! 


Your recent fight with Peter makes it difficult to come back to the airport. Your talk with him about trust and friendship haunts you, and you try to imagine him fighting. Who’s winning? Is it us, or them? Since when had there been an ‘us’ or a ‘them’? Is he getting beaten up? You know it’s ironic, considering that you’ve just shoved Peter out a window, but there’s still a small part of you hoping that the others will go easy on him.

Try as you might, you can’t just erase years of friendship with a snap of your fingers.

Those traitorous tears well up again, and you swipe them aside impatiently. There will be time to cry later, to mourn what you have lost. Now, you have to keep yourself from falling apart so you can give your best in the fight.

A large jet sits in the middle of the hangar floor, large enough to carry at least ten people. It vaguely resembles a shark, with a sharp nose, sleek body and wings for steering. Ex-agent Barton had explained earlier that for each ship, there’s supposed to be a pilot, co-pilot, two wing-men to control the computer-aided blasters, and a flight leader to check the route, communicate with the team leader and base, and carry out other administrative tasks.

“The hatch, get the hatch open,” You mumble to yourself, your fingers finding the button on the side of the jet.

With a hiss, the hatch pops open, and a ramp slides out. You run inside, keeping a careful eye on the doors to the hangar. You’d managed to wrench them shut with a flick of your hand, but there’s no telling how long it’ll take before someone gets them open again.

Inside you find walls that are black where they aren’t covered by grids upon grids of back-lit buttons, all different colors and sizes, as well as switches and meters to measure pressure, missile inventory and engine heat. There are three radar screens, each on a different scale, a blinking ship schematic, and seats with sleek black helmets on each seat. Fully realizing that your actions mean life or death to your team, you sit in an unfamiliar cockpit, flex your fingers over the controls, and hoping you remember everything that you’ve been told.

The main steering, if you remember right, is essentially simple: A joystick for direction and levers for speed and nose angle. Examining row upon row of buttons before you, you crank the engines on to full power. There’s no ensuing explosion, only a quiet whir that fills the cockpit. It’s safe to assume that you haven’t set off any laser beams or worse – the self-destruct sequence. You press a few more buttons, stowing the wingtip blasters and lasers to make the ship as sleek as possible.

Done.

You rise from the cushy driver’s seat, only for your rear end to plant itself back on the chair with an anticlimactic umph! Your left arm is pinned securely to the armrest, held firmly in place with a length of white string that’s a lot stronger than it looks. You squirm in your seat, trying to wriggle out of the sticky mess coating the length of your arm, but unless you want to walk around with a chair glued to your arm, it looks like you’re stuck in place.

And for the second time in an hour, you scream in frustration. “Peter! Let me go!”

(Y/n), please,” Peter’s voice is soft and familiar. At least it’s him, and not that scary-looking guy in the black cat suit. Your heart swells in relief when you see that he looks relatively unscathed from his abrupt tumble out the window, but the sight of him makes you feel sick all over again about what you’ve done, what you’ve said – and his willingness to toss aside years of friendship for Tony Stark. “We need to talk.”

“You have the worst timing,” You snap, baring your teeth at him. “We’re in the middle of a fight!

“I know. You just shoved me out of a window.”

It was meant to be a joke. It would be so easy to laugh. But you don’t. You can’t.

“You were beating Sam and Bucky up! I couldn’t just stand aside and let you!” You retort, eyeing the webs gluing your arm to the chair. “How do these even come off?”

“Well, you have to use a cleaner – But that’s not the issue here! About me being Spiderman … I wanted to tell you. I really did. But there wasn’t a good time, and it wasn’t safe. If – If people knew that you knew, well –”

You should be touched that Peter’s looking out for you, that he’s concerned about your safety. It was as he’d said; if people knew about his friends, they might be tempted to use them against him. But you’re angry at him for lying. It wasn’t as if the omissions were harmless. If you’d known, you could have done something. You could have helped. You could have avoided many a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, worrying and fretting about what your best friend was getting up to. And you wished that he’d given you a say in the matter. Surely you were more than capable of making up your own mind about what was dangerous and what was not.

“I can take care of myself,” You say instead, staring at a black-tinted helmet and making it hover a few inches in the air. It bobs up and down, held in place with the power of your mind. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

It’s enough to coax a laugh out of Peter. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh since you’d gotten to Germany, and your heart feels lighter almost instantly. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t know about those, either. Until today. How long …?”

“Not long,” You lie – if he can, then so can you. “Discovered them about a week ago.”

You’ve had them for as long as you can remember. Your parents had discovered that you had a strange and startling ability – you could move objects with your mind. Your mom first realized it when you’d held out a hand, and a toy had floated up from the floor and into your hand. Since then, you’d quietly worked on developing the skill, as a game at first, and then more seriously, when it had become clear that the world was changing.

But you’d never used your powers to hurt anyone before.

Until today.

“Uh, what about you and Captain America?”

“He asked for my help. I couldn’t say no.” Gracelessly, the helmet drops to the floor with a thunk, rolling under one of the seats. “What about you and Stark?”

“Oh, uh, Mr Stark dropped by the house, and –”

“– And bribed you with a brand-new suit in exchange for your help?”

Peter protests weakly, “It wasn’t a bribe! He just saw a couple of those videos on YouTube, and he kind of discovered who I was –”

Blackmail? If you survive this, you’d like to slap Tony Stark, something you’ve never done to anybody in your life.

“And you’re still fighting for this guy? Peter, come on!” You turn your head and gape incredulously at him, almost unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. “How can you be so blind? Do you know what’s really going on here? Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

Spiderman? More like Mr Stark’s Little Lapdog. And why didn’t his Mr Stark tell him about the five other assassins on the loose? Or doesn’t he think it’s important?

“Mr Stark isn’t the bad guy here! It’s you, and –” He breaks off, swallows. He doesn’t want to start a fight; he’s purposely skirting around words that might set you off. “There are rules, there are the Accords, you can’t just ignore them. You can’t. That makes you –”

Dangerous. A criminal.

You stare. This isn’t Peter. It can’t be him. For one moment, your mind flashes forwards to the situation, rapidly spiraling out of your control. You want to close your eyes. You want to cover your ears, and you want for all this not to be happening. You want to wake up in bed. Instead, a hysterical laugh bubbles its way out of your throat.

Peter’s still talking, but his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “– But Mr Stark said that if you and the others surrendered, he could work some kind of deal out.”

He doesn’t understand.

Is he even listening to himself?

The chasm within you that Peter’s opened up grows wider, wider, and more blackness sweeps inside. You could almost drown in it.

Arrest me, then! Lock me up and throw away the key!” That sour surge of satisfaction comes back all over again when Peter flinches away from the rising inflection in your voice. Causing pain with words is new for you. You wonder if this is a new power of yours. “Just don’t come running back when this is all over!”

The anger is white-hot, scorching and burning everything in its path. It’s almost enough to wash away all the guilt that you feel for shoving Peter out the jet and into a concrete wall.

Almost.

Call Me Mistress – River (M)

Summary: The Mistress spends an evening with “River”, a young stockbroker who serves as her obedient pet.

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut, a touch of fluff

Word Count: 10,405

Warning: Sub!Namjoon, Domme!Reader, sex work, BDSM, femdom, petplay, foot fetishism, cumplay, praise kink, roleplay, handjob, sexual themes, profanity, and I ruined more food for you guys.

Series: Call Me Mistress

A/N: This series as my sandbox to play in, where the journey is more important than the destination. I am expecting that some of the content in this story (and in this series) will make some readers uncomfortable, so please be mindful of the tags and remember this is fictional. Special thanks to @war-of-hormoan for agreeing to beta in my hour of need!

If you haven’t read the Prologue yet, I suggest reading that first, as it immediately precedes this story. Enjoy!

Client List: Prologue | River (Namjoon) | Ramen, Pt. 1 (Jungkook) | (more forthcoming)

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relaxation

A/N thank you so much to @you-broke-our-spirit for writing this with me lmao i wouldnt be proud of this hc without you!!! also what are titles? and plot? who needs plot??

Warnings/tags: bottom!whiny!dan masseuse!phil, massage porn, lots of hickeys and praise, idk, no homo howell at first, shitty plot/set up, possibly shitty porn

Dan had a lot going on lately with the BBC. He was their lead host now every week day and spent most of his days stressing out and having panic attacks in the office bathrooms during lunch break. When Dan’s girlfriend, Lucy, saw how stressed out he was she decided that he needed to go get a massage.

Every time Dan came home from work he looked beaten down and tired. And every night, without fail Lucy always said in her matter of fact voice, “Baby, you’re so tense, come on, you need it.” Lucy even got her friends to nag Dan, and his mom! Every week he was getting calls from his mom telling him to listen to his girlfriend and “just go get the damn massage.” Dan was through with listening to their complaining after three months and finally gave in.

“Fine, fine, stop whining. I’ll go get a stupid massage,”

“Come on Dan, it’s not stupid it’s for your benefit,” she jokingly punched his shoulder and made him schedule an appointment online for some “hippy dippy massage place somewhere downtown.”

As the week progressed Dan sort of found himself dreading the massage. I mean a stranger rubbing his back with oil for two hours? Personally he didn’t see that as “heaven”, he saw that as torture. Not to mention the fact that where most of his stress is centered (his neck) is the same place as his g-spot, that has not had attention from anyone since his high school days.

~~~

A week of complaining and moping later and Dan was walking into the massage place. He contemplated just going to get some pizza to eat instead, and just tell Lucy that he got the massage but he remembered what she said and just tried to think of this as something he was finally doing for himself.

He needed this. Yes. He definitely needed this after all this bullshit with work.

When he walked in he was immediately hit with the scent of burning lavender incense. It was calming but overwhelming all at once. Maybe he should’ve just ditched.

After another useless internal battle he checked in. While he was waiting he bounced his leg up and down in the waiting room, just wanting to get this over with.

That’s when his masseuse walked out. Dan felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. He was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Dan had ever laid his eyes on. He had striking blue eyes and jet black hair swept to the side while sporting a form fitting black shirt on that Dan could clearly see the outline of his stomach through, and Dan would seriously kill for abs like that.

Of course Dan was thinking of this man as a goal for his own appearance. He couldn’t be attracted to him. Not at all. Dan was straight. Dan had a girlfriend. All of these thoughts were no homo thoughts. Yeah. Yeah, no homo.

“Hello? Dan? I’m Phil, your masseuse today,” the man grinned and Dan swears that the room lit up. No homo though.
“Uh- yea- uh- Dan- yeah- um -touch my body now- i mean- like a massage- yeah- haha."Now Dan has always been a formal, calm man. He has absolutely no idea what this ‘Phil’ was doing to him.

Phil giggled- fucking giggled- at Dan’s nervousness and led him to the back, where all the massage rooms were.
"Now before I 'touch your body’ I need to know certain things Mr. Howell. What kind of pressure would you like? What are certain problem areas,” Phil went on with the list of things he needed to know but all Dan could focus on was those damn, pink lips moving up and down a mile a minute –curling around each word. He was mesmerized, and when Phil finished talking he licked his lips and handed Dan the form to fill out, Dan fumbled and dropped the pen since he was so focused on Phil’s lips. When he got the pen back he filled out the stupid paperwork about what he wanted out of the massage.

“I’m going to leave you to get undressed now. Of course you can leave your boxers on if you’d like but they usually get in the way of massaging your thighs so if you’re comfortable with it, please take them off,” Phil then silently strode out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Dan started to strip quickly, trying to ignore both his existential crisis and his semi hard on. He folds and lays his clothes down on the chair in the corner of the room and slips off his shoes. Then he walks over to the massage table and awkwardly crawls inside, trying not to give his dick any friction so his hard on doesn’t get worse. It’s nearly impossible though, and when he lays flat on his stomach he slowly grinds against the table until Phil knocks on the door.

When Phil walks in he’s carrying different essential oils and he places them all on a table near Dan’s head. “Okay Mr. Howell-”

“Please, call me Dan. No need for formalities here,” Dan said, having regained his composure somehow.

“Okay well Dan, I’m gonna start off with your back and then I’ll move to your legs and then later I’ll have you flip over onto your back and do your arms and shoulders,”

“Sounds great, I’ve really needed this for a while. It’s a two hour session right?”

“Correct, and don’t feel bad if you fall asleep on the table,” Phil laughed, “You wouldn’t be the first person to do it and you definitely won’t be the last.”

Their banter carried on for a view minutes, Phil asking Dan where he works, Dan asking Phil how long he’s been a masseuse, random things like that; that was until Phil touched Dan’s neck.

“Dan, you need to relax, you have a lot of knots up here in your neck and I need to work them out,” Phil complained.

Dan tried his hardest to relax but it was hard when a hot guy that had already managed to make him question his sexuality was touching his number one g-spot. Phil pushed down on the major knots and worked them out one by one. When he switched over to the other side of Dan’s neck and started working on a knot at the base, Dan let out a loud embarrassing moan and immediately relaxed.

"There you go, good boy Dan, “He praised. Dan swears he heard Phil wrong. Yeah. He had to have said good job. Right? Oh well. Forget it.

Dan let himself relax after that point. Letting Phil have his way with all of the knots in his neck and moaning obscenely at each touch. Phil kept praising Dan for some reason, which was only turning Dan on more.

With each praise that slipped out of Phil’s mouth Dan moaned louder and subtly ground his hips into the table beneath him. He got all whiny and shallow breathed when Phil had finished working out all the knots in his neck.

"Since you seem to enjoy this so much, I’m going to focus more on your neck, even with all your knots being gone now,” Dan moans as a response and sinks into the table –shamelessly grinding into it now. Not even caring if Phil saw. Of course Phil noticed though, a fact unknown to Dan himself, but if anyone else were in the room they would’ve seen the way Phil froze and bit his lip.

Phil’s hands become hesitant for a second, and then Dan feels warm lips kissing the back of his neck.

“Oh my gosh, Dan I’m so sorry! That was so unprofessional of me!” Phil goes to apologize more but Dan just stares up at him with the most wrecked look in the world and lets out a small plea of “more.”
Within seconds Dan’s being flipped onto his back and Phil is diving for his neck, pressing kisses all around it. Phil pulls off Dan’s neck and kisses him roughly, slipping his tongue in without warning. Dan moans in response, kissing back feverishly and grabbing the back of his neck. Phil does wonders with his tongue, swirling and rolling it all around Dan’s mouth, knowing exactly what to do and how to make him squirm. Dan becomes pliant and tries to grind up into the dominant boy on top of him who just keeps pushing his hips down and making out with him. When they pull away Dan’s panting and his eyes are wide and dark.

“Phil, please, I need more. Bite me. Suck on my neck. Mark me. Please~” Now who would deny a request like that? Certainly not Phil. He goes back to Dan’s neck with a renewed energy and immediately begins to suck on a sweet spot at the base of Dan’s neck. He lets out a loud moan and Phil groans in response to the loud boy. Thank god these rooms are soundproof.

As Phil left a mark the size of a golf ball on Dan’s neck, Dan writhed against him, trying to push his hips up but Phil held them down. Holding him off from any type of release momentarily. He begins to suck another mark above the previous one. Dan should’ve been paying attention and told him to stop before he had to wear a turtle neck to work tomorrow, but he couldn’t think straight. Dan moaned and struggled for friction beneath Phil but he wasn’t given anything. Every time he groaned in annoyance Phil chuckled and just went back to sucking on his neck. He bit and nibbled and sucked as if his life depended on it.

“Phil- Fuck, you have to gi-ve me more, please I’ll d-do anything please jus-just let me grin-d-d against your th-thigh,” Dan whined as Phil smirked and just kept marking up his neck.

“Oh but princess, earlier you were begging for me to mark you up, so I’m going to take me time doing that.”

“But- Philll~”

“Daniel, if you want to be fucked I suggest you stop whining. I only fuck good boys”

“Fi-Fine”

Before Phil could carry on, he rid himself of all of his clothes and climbed back on the table.

Phil continued on gingerly with his marks. He watched Dan writhe for a while before deciding that 5 hickeys on his neck was enough for now and that he needs to move onto somewhere else. He slowly moved down to his chest. Reaching up to rub on Dan’s nipples with both hands he attached his mouth right on Dan’s collarbones. He left a few bright red love bites all over them before moving down to leave more dark hickeys. Circling Dan’s nipples with both hands and sucking hickeys in random places was a lot for Dan’s needy little body to handle and he begged Phil to get on with it.

Finally giving into the writhing boy below him, Phil ground down his giant cock onto Dan. Dan let out a shout and his eyes rolled into the back of his head from finally being satisfied. “What do you want baby? Hmm?”

“Want you t’ fuck me, please Phil! Please!”
Dan desperately rolled his hips up, just wanting more and more.

“I don’t know. You haven’t been to good Dan,”

“No! Please I have! Phil you have to fuck me! Please!”

Phil chuckled lowly and brought his mouth down to Dan’s chest again. He kissed down Dan’s slightly chubby stomach quickly and pulled the blanket off of his lower half. Dan’s aching cock was now on display, he was leaking and flushed. Phil had a rush of sympathy because he made the boy wait so long for any type of satisfaction. But no, now wasn’t the time for sympathy. He kissed the tip of Dan’s dick and licked at his slit until he heard Dan once again pleading for more.

“God princess you’re so needy, so loud,”

Phil mumbled against Dan, making Dan groan from the vibrations on his cock.
Phil started kissing down Dan’s cock, to the base and once he got there he slowly tugged at Dan as he whined and thrusted up into his hand. Phil licked and marked Dan’s balls while he thumbed through his slit and occasionally ran an agonizingly slow hand down his length.

"Phil I’m gonna cu-”

“No you aren’t. And if you do you’ll definitely regret it. I can promise that.” Dan shuttered at Phil’s words and grabbed a fistful of the blanket beneath him. Trying to edge himself had always been an issue with Dan. He always got excited too quickly and went too fast with himself to a point where he always came easily.

“Just get on with it- please Phil I’m begging you-”

“Shh baby, give me a second.” Phil stood and got the essential oil that still sat on the table near Dan’s head. That’d be efficient lube right? Oh well. Close enough. “Turn over baby, I’ve gotta prep you.”

Dan obeyed and flipped onto his stomach once again, except this time he stuck his ass in the air. His head rested on his forearms and his knees were bent and sitting on the table, giving him the perfect back arch. Phil’s first thought was that he’s never seen an arch like this outside of porn, and his second thought was “damn I’m lucky.”

As Phil gently rubbed circles on Dan’s hip, he thrusted one finger in. He felt how tight Dan was and needed to know something, “Oh princess are you a virgin?”

“I- I mean- No- I-”

“Daniel have you ever been with a boy before? What about stretching yourself?”

“Once in college I had a one night stand with some guy, but other than that no. I’ve always thought I was straight until-"Dan cut off feeling embarrassed,” Until I saw you,“

Phil chuckled deeply and just went back to thrusting his finger in and out of Dan’s hole. Dan groaned and tried to rub his hard on against the table, bit Phil was holding his hips up. Once again denying him any temporary pleasure.

As Phil stretched Dan he left kisses and nips everywhere. He kissed his inner thighs, his lower back, his hips, his ass. Almost every inch of Dan had been grazed by Phil’s lips by the time he was done. Dan had been whining the whole time, begging for the process to be hurried up, pushing his ass back against Phil’s fingers. But Phil was just taking his sweet time, praising Dan every now and then.

When Phil declared Dan prepped, he started to push in. Letting out little praises with each inch sinking into Dan. "Good job baby, taking me so well, so tight and perfect for me.” Dan bit down on his knuckles to conceal his moans.

Once Phil bottomed out Dan let out a whorish moan and begged him to move. His wish was granted and Phil began to slowly thrust in and out of Dan.

“Please Phil! More! Give me more!”

“God Dan, so needy,”

Dan looked over his shoulder in the sexiest way possible with the awkward position and pleaded, “Phil, I need you to fuck me. Make me feel this for weeks. Make it so I never forget your name. Fuck me until I can’t walk please~” He blinked up innocently and saw Phil throw his head back and thrust hard into him once. Thank god.

Phil started to fuck into him hard enough that Dan’s legs gave out beneath him. When he found Dan’s prostate Dan screamed beneath him and let out little pleas, although he was already getting everything he wanted. Phil gripped Dan’s hips hard enough to leave marks as he heard these pleas. Dan moaned and bit the table beneath him, completely blissed out.

“Beg me for your release Dan”

“God- Please- fuckfuckfuck Phil I need it, let me cum- please!” he panted out between thrust.

Phil released his grip on Dan’s right side, and reached forward to pump Dan’s cock.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you want it that bad. I think you could beg a lot better than that baby boy.”

Dan fucked himself back on Phil’s dick and shamelessly called out pleas, as his dignity was long gone at this point.

“There we go, that’s more like it, good boy, cum for me.”

Dan listened and came with a shout right after the comment had been made. He felt a shock of pleasure run through his body and shuttered, relaxing down onto the table again and letting Phil finish inside him.

When Phil saw the completely blissed out boy beneath him he moaned loudly and came inside Dan. After a moment of euphoria he pulled out and sat Dan up so he could clean up the cum off of him.

“Well baby, if you’d like to do that again, I could give you my number?” Phil winked and handed him a card. A business card.

Dan blushed - he left with his body completely relaxed and mind whirring. How was he going to tell Lucy?

A/N: im also accepting prompts all the time so like if u want u can request anything u want

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Me coming to the abrupt realization that Johnny Seo is the most caring, corniest and loving man out there and therefore the Best Man Alive™ and I can’t BELIEVE I exist on this planet at the same time as him

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