#I literally do not let other people touch my hair anymore because I hate how it looks and makes me look

[vergess]

Bro my mother just straight up lied to me constantly about my own physical body and I'm still trying to untangle all that

#This message brought to you by my new haircut #Which is a style I have always avoided because I was told as a child #Extensively I mean it was absolutely heaped on me #That I had a 'heart shaped' face and I literally #I literally do not let other people touch my hair anymore because I hate how it looks and makes me look #Except psych it turns out I don't have a heart shaped face at all #And the styles that work for a diamond" are NOT!!!! The same!!!!!!!!! #Anyway I'm cute as fuck #Also she told me my hair was straight #Now listen you might think 'but vees it is visibly curly' #I get that I do #But literally every time I said I wished I had straight hair like hers or the white girls at school #She would very aggressively correct me that I have perfectly pin straight hair #And after enough years of this during my childhood #I just sort of believed it #Realizing I actually have relatively curly hair was a Very Weird Month for me #This women really enfuckled me psychologically is the point

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

#i'm back girlies #john wick smut #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #smut #my writing #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut

[matryosika]

Attraction, obsession, infatuation

Pairing — Hyunjin and fem!reader Wordcount — 7,680 words Includes — Explicit sexual content. Alcohol consumption, mentions of jealousy and possessiveness. Smut warnings under the cut. Summary — It is easier to hate than to admit loving. Alternatively, where Hyunjin realizes he might be tired of pretending he doesn't want to be more than just your toy. Author's Note — First 2024 full story! One of my New Year's resolutions was to keep on writing, since the last two years have been a bit too rough with my creativity and, overall, life. I hope I can continue posting stuff this year, but I literally can't ignore the fact that I am graduating college this June and that the adult life is, inevitably, catching up to me. Still, writing is something I love so I am determined to take this hobby very seriously, since it's one of the few things I enjoy! I hope you like this, please remember that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advanced. If you wish to support my work, please leave a comment, reblog or ask 💌 Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Smut Warnings — Dirty talk, (very) mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), face fucking and deep throating, voyeurism, female (solo) masturbation), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, marking (and mentions of pain), dacryphilia, creampie.

Humiliating.

There is no other way to describe the situation that perfectly.

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: Seems like you got yourself a new toy]

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: You don’t want to play with me anymore?]

[21:20 p.m., Hyunjin: I mean, we both know why you agreed to come here in the first place. It's not like you're the best of friends with any of my roommates, anyways.]

You hate how right he always is —how shamelessly he speaks, how pridefully he carries that ego of him. 

People say there is a thin line between hatred and love, but they never talk about how tempting it is to walk on it. Especially because said line doesn't involve any of the former—if anything, that line represents all the carnal pleasures. 

Pure lust.

[21:21 p.m., You: Please]

[21:21 p.m., You: You’re so full of yourself, you know that?]

Hyunjin rolls his eyes right in front of you, tongue poking through his cheek while he reads your messages.

[21:22 p.m., Hyunjin: That never seems to be a problem when you're in my bed]

It's a never ending bickering. A never ending teasing. 

Hyunjin has always loved the thrill of doing things he isn't supposed to —no wonder why he ended up fucking you, out of all the women he knows. 

Attraction, obsession, infatuation. 

No amount of words could describe what happens between the two of you.

[21:23 p.m., You: I’m busy, in case you haven’t tell]

His cheeks grow hotter, killer eyes darting between you and the man you're talking to; appearing all sweet, gentle, collected, and everything you're not when you are with him. Your hand lays peacefully over your companion’s thigh, playfully hitting it when he says something remotely funny. 

Your smile hasn't worn off since you entered the party, and Hyunjin genuinely wonders if you’re that happy and comfortable to be around any other man. Inevitably, he begins to wonder if you'd let him touch you like he does, kiss you like he has. He stares at you two for a little too long, and questions if you'd let that man do everything Hyunjin is entitled to do with you. 

Would you let him treat you like he can? Let him fuck you like he does?

He chugs down the alcohol from his cup and uses that as an excuse to calm his masochistic urges, walking away from the scene he has been staring at for almost 10 minutes now. 

It's like pouring lime over a wound, like pulling out a loose tooth. It hurts, but it makes him feel something.

“If you didn't hate her I would say you're totally drooling over her,” a black-haired man that smiles teasingly with his eyes is quick to ambush Hyunjin as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“What? Did your date get tired of you too early tonight?”

Changbin’s tongue pokes his cheek, and he can’t help but smile at Hyunjin’s moodiness. “She went to the bathroom, I just came here for some drinks”. 

“Well, get to it,” Hyunjin commands, stretching his shoulders in an attempt to release all the build-up tension over them.

“Man, you've been acting so out of your element lately,” Changbin remarks, placing a bottle of vodka and another of pineapple juice aside with two red solo cups. “You’re always in a fucking mood, this is actually the first time I see you outside your bedroom in like... a while”. 

Hyunjin won't admit it, but he is sulking. 

Because of college, because of work, because of things he can't begin to fix and because of you.

“Just busy, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry I can't spend all day sticking my dick in different holes and doing an 8-hour shift at the gym”. 

Changbin scoffs bitterly under his breath, nose flaring at his friend's harshness. “Maybe that's exactly what you need,” he nods, pouring a drink for himself and his date, “a good fuck”.

He rolls his eyes. 

Yeah, maybe he needs that, but he also needs for you to stop touching your date's thigh, laughing amusingly loudly like you want him to hear how much of a great time you're having. Maybe Hyunjin needs to relieve all his anger on you, or he just needs for you to spare him a fucking glance because you haven't even looked at him since you walked in.

“Yeah,” he finally exhales, stealing the vodka bottle from Changbin’s grip to pour some onto his cup. He chugs it down quickly, and clears his throat when he feels the liquid burning inside, “that’s what I need”. 

Changbin pats his right shoulder and abandons the kitchen when he spots his date closing the bathroom door behind her. And Hyunjin is left alone once again, wondering if it's time to ditch the party and lock himself inside his room or if he should hurt himself a bit more to get a grip on reality.

Inconveniently, he chooses the latter. Resting his hips against the kitchen counter, and turning his back on the full view of the living room, Hyunjin begins to thread a line of questions that may never have a proper answer. 

Had he met you in another context, and in a distinct light, would things be different? Would your dynamic be different?

Maybe he would've apologized when he had time, for all the useless bickering that always took place between the two along the friend group. Had he surrendered to your stubbornness, rather than putting up a fight like it's typical from him, would the anguish be less?

Now that he reflects on it, Hyunjin can't even tell why you two hate each other these days. He never questioned it, the hatred you felt for each other, but he no longer knows why it's still there. Maybe it was a first impression, maybe it was a dumb comment or joke he cracked when you were introduced to the friend group. Maybe it was the fact that you two are so alike, personality wise, that you never seemed to get on.

Maybe you keep on hating each other because that's how it always has been, because there hasn't been a room to question the "what if's". 

Or maybe you hate him just for being him, and the only thing you've come to mend with is the fact that he is nothing more than a good fuck.

His heart aches because of this last thought, and he stares at his phone screen for a bit too long, hoping to get a text from you. But you're busy, you said it yourself, and he is just feeling out of place. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice it's enough for him to lift up his eyes from his phone, encountering a sheepishly grinning, red-eyed Jisung. “Changbin told me you’re in a mood, again”.

“He should put his mouth to good use,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. 

“He is worried about you though,” his friend says. “We all are, you know”. 

Hyunjin sighs, “I’m fine”. 

“Dude, come on,” Jisung drags his words lazily. “It’s about her, right?”

He shoots a killer gaze at him, “about who?”

If Jisung hadn't been higher than the fucking Empire State, he would've considered Hyunjin’s gaze a threat. But his mind is not precisely paying attention to any social cues, so he proceeds to say your name as a response. 

"You should stop smoking that shit ever so often, you know?" he spits in annoyance, "it's making you delusional".

“Yeah, right man,” Jisung nods. “And you can keep being angry with the world just because you can't be angry with her”. 

It disgusts Hyunjin how poetic that sounds, but his friend isn't too far from the truth —he would much rather project his anger and annoyance onto everyone else before you.

Because if you call, if you look for him, if you text him and ask him to see you, he will always be available. Even when he is not. Even when he has a ton shit to do. Even if all you want is his dick and a couple of dirty words. 

Every time you ask, Hyunjin will give you anything you want.

“We don't have to talk about her though. Just wanted to check up on you,” his friend continues after an excruciatingly long silence, patting one of his shoulders like Changbin did before. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, anyways,” Hyunjin says.

“Are you on, like, bad terms?” 

“We’re not on any terms,” again, the urge to deny everything. It's always easier to pretend nothing it's going on than admitting there's a huge fucking elephant in the room. “We fuck, occasionally, and that's it. Not friendship, not intimacy, not trivial conversations about each other's days”. 

“Well, that's some sort of the ideal to a fuck buddy relationship,” Jisung tilts his head. “It’s supposed to work”. 

It should. 

And it did, for a while —when the feelings were minimum and could be repressed, when the anger only translated to hatred and annoyance, and not jealousy and possessiveness.

These days, it's just not enough.

“Yeah well,” Hyunjin scoffs bitterly, holding the almost empty bottle of alcohol to his lips. 

Thank God he isn't a light weight, because he would've been screwed by now. Vodka isn't his greatest match, but neither are you and he knows he has to sacrifice something tonight —whether it’s his rationality or his heart. 

“Alright,” he finally exhales, pushing the empty bottle away from the edge of the counter. “I’m going back to my room”.

"Already?"

“That's the beauty of people using your apartment to host a fucking party, I guess,” Hyunjin says, leaning down to one of the kitchen pantries to grab his favorite bottle of wine. “You can just walk a minute and be in the comfort of your own bed”. 

“Haven’t you drunk too much?” Jisung asks. 

“Definitely not enough,” the dark-haired replies, grabbing both the bottle and a glass with one of his hands. “Tell Jeongin to kick everyone out by 2, I’m not paying for another noise complaint again”. 

And as he makes his way to his room, it's inevitable for Hyunjin not to spare a glance at the couch you were once sitting on. But his eyes meet Changbin and his date instead, without any trace of you or the man you were with. And he doesn't know if he should feel relieved or worried because you're no longer in his eyesight, and as comforting as that thought should be is nothing more than anguish-inducing.

He says goodbye to some of his friends, and also deals with Changbin’s insistence to stay around before he is able to lock himself inside his room. It was, at best, a 3 minute situation from the kitchen to his bed, but it felt like ages. Mostly because his eyes kept on scanning the whole apartment, hoping to find something that could tell him you're still there and you didn't leave the party with that man although you probably did. 

Much to his surprise, when he opens the door to his room, he finds you sitting at the edge of his bed.

You don't say anything, and neither does he. So you two stare at each other for a while before Hyunjin closes the door right behind him, leaving the wine and glass on a small table by the door.

“Wine? At a college party?” You finally interrupt the silence, using that playful, teasing tone you always use when you want to get on his nerves. “You really are something else”. 

Typical Hyunjin would think of a comeback rather quicker than the speed of light —he has always been witty and good with his words, and that's something you find utterly, despicably attractive in him. 

But after 4 shots of vodka and an unamusing mood, all he wants it’s to kick you out and plop down onto his bed. 

“Weren’t you busy?” he asks in a murmur, too lazy to make himself be heard. But it is loud and clear for you to hear, even with the bustling coming from down the hall.

“He bored me,” you admit. “Kept talking about his football team, and how he is going to work at his father's company once he graduates”. 

Hyunjin lets out a bitter and quiet scoff, giving you his back while he pours some wine onto his glass. You can’t fool him, even if you try like right now.

But he attempts to ignore his rapid heartbeats by keeping a nonchalant, even annoyed countenance, albeit a part of him can't ignore the fact that you're in his room. 

Just you and him, finally.

“Are you going back to the party or…”

“I’m tired,” he cuts you short, chugging down the wine like it's a shot of anything else. Can't care less about etiquette when all he wants is to lose his sobriety along with his rationality. “I want to sleep”. 

“It’s 10:30,” you tease him, cocking one of your eyebrows and giving him that look that always makes him feel ridiculous.

On any other day, that would've been fuel to erase that smile off of your face by pushing it onto the pillows while he fucks you from behind.

Tonight, though, it just blatantly stings. 

“So?” The coldness in his voice makes you shudder, and when he doesn't respond like he usually does it's when you realize there's something different going on.

You and Hyunjin don't share that kind of intimacy. You don't tell him your problems, and he doesn't tell you his problems either. You don't comfort each other through words or romantic touches. You don't give words of encouragement and you don't talk things through.

If there's something to say, you do so through sex. 

But right now, that you've interrupted his night, you feel somewhat compromised to ask if he is alright.

“Bad day?”

Bad week, bad month, bad year, a bad fucking life.

“Don’t have to act like you care,” Hyunjin says, resting his hips against the furniture while he pours himself another glass of wine.

The comment catches you off-guard. First and foremost, because you're not quite sure you don't care about him at all. And second, because he is making it seem like you are the reason behind his bad mood.

But if he doesn’t want to talk, you’re not going to force him to. After all, you’re in his room for one reason, and one reason only. 

“Shit, sorry for asking,” you murmur, gripping the edge of the bed sheets with both of your hands. It's a common ground you've walked in, thousands of times. You've been in his bed for far more times than you can remember, and you've fucked a lot more than you can count. So you're not afraid of asking the question: maybe you should release some stress?

Hyunjin knows what you mean. He knows the sexual connotations of it, and knows that’s exactly the reason why you're in his room. 

On any other day, Hyunjin would've taken your word. But right now, when his eyes can only focus on the crimson bruise on your neck, the proposition enrages him.

He walks towards you, completely towering over your figure. One hand holds the glass of wine, while the other cups your face and maneuvers it harshly, leaving the hickey for him to see. 

“He bored you?” The way he spits such a question makes your heart skip a beat. Don’t leave a rough mark, you told the guy, just a faint hickey. Of course he wouldn’t care, and neither did you —otherwise you would’ve checked yourself in the mirror before approaching Hyunjin wearing someone else’s lovebites, “or he just wasn't the one you wanted to fuck tonight?”

You move your head away from his touch with a swift movement, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against yours, "does that even make a difference?"

But it doesn't.

In the end, you only look for him because you want a good fuck and it seemed like your date just couldn't get the job done.

Not because you want him, particularly. 

“No,” Hyunjin replies coldly. “But you should at least have some decency, you know?”

You know he isn't teasing you, like he always does. He is not saying all this to get a reaction from you, and that unsettles you.

He is acting and saying such things because he means them. Because he feels like them.

“Since when do you care about what I do or I don't?” you ask him, the tone in your voice increasing as Hyunjin’s gaze intensifies.

“You can do whoever the fuck you want,” he murmurs, uncrossing his arms to grip at the edge of the furniture behind him.

“Well, I want to do you”. 

“Maybe tonight I don’t,” Hyunjin gulps down the wine, having a way harder time swallowing the euphoric sensation of his ego rather than the alcohol coming down his throat.

 And you stare at him like he just said something controversial. Something weird, something unusual coming from him.

“You’re lying,” you say, darting him a challenging look. “You always want me”. 

“Why would I want something that everyone can have?” 

It’s his anger talking. His rage, his uncertainty, his jealousy. 

You're not wrong. He wants you, he always has and most likely always will. 

But he is too proud to admit it, both to you and himself. Especially after you’ve walked into his room with the ghost of another man’s hands and lips, wearing a mark on your skin that will never compare to how Hyunjin has been allowed to mark you.

“So that’s the issue?” you defy him, standing up from the edge of his bed to walk forward. “You’re acting like this just because I was with someone else?”

Your mocking tone makes it seem like it's something ridiculous and irrational, but you've aced your initial hypothesis.

You are the reason behind his bad mood.

“Just get out,” Hyunjin says, tense jaw and cold eyes locked into yours. “You're getting on my nerves”. 

Your tongue pokes through your cheek and you look at him in disbelief —you feel taken aback because of how he is acting, and you want to blame it on the alcohol he has ingested throughout the night. But he looks sober, and way more serious than his immature facade has ever made him appear.

“If I wanted to be with someone else tonight, I would’ve left your apartment a fucking hour ago,” the boldness in your voice only challenges Hyunjin to this staring contest he didn't know he is playing. Without blinking, without parting his gaze away, all his undivided attention is on you, and the way you're spitting your words like you're truly the one with a reason to be angry. 

Needless to say, your audacity only infuriates him further.

“If you wanted to be with me, you would’ve come into my room the second you step a foot into the apartment,” he shoots back, straightening his body against the furniture and causing it to move an inch closer to you, “I mean, you know the way well, don’t you?” 

He raises one of his eyebrows, and it’s embarrassing. 

Pathetically embarrassing. 

Stupidly idiotic.

“You've crawled on all fours from the door to my room before,” Hyunjin continues, tilting his head while his gaze falls from your eyes to your parted lips, “I'm sure that was enough for you to remember the path fairly well”. 

It was one time, you say to yourself. And you'd rather die than having to admit such a humiliating thing to anyone other than him. 

You'd rather die than having everyone know what you allow Hyunjin to do to you. You'd rather disappear into thin air than having to deal with the judgemental gazes from all of your friends.

The Hwang Hyunjin? The one you say you can't stand? The one that gets on your nerves because of how childish he is? The one you tell your friends you'd turn down a thousand times even if he was the last man standing on earth?

“Go fuck yourself, Hwang,” you're so close to him you can practically taste the red wine off of his lips. You're breathing the same air, hearts beating at the same rate.

You want him worse than you wanted him before —you like the feeling of his jealousy and his possessiveness. You like it when his hatred towards you transforms into hatred to anyone who dares to touch you; no one is allowed to have you like he is entitled to, and no one is allowed to hate you the way he does.

So he leaves the empty glass of wine behind, and guides one of his hands to your heated cheeks. He caresses it, pushing away the hairs from your face —the intimate touch might feel out of place and context, but you know damn well it's nothing more than the calm before the storm. 

A calling.

A warning.

You know Hyunjin more than you'd ever want to admit, and you crave him worse than you'd ever allow yourself to think.

"God fucked you up by giving you this shitty ego,” he murmurs, brushing his lips ever so slightly against yours. It seems as if Hyunjin walked right into your trap without knowing, blinded by instincts and completely ignoring the awful show you put up earlier with a man you don't even know his name, “and he fucked me up even more for making me like it”. 

It all happens in a fraction of second, too fast for you to catch some air and too sloppy for you to get the kiss right.

You're tasting the red wine, and his rage, and the longing lust you are always demanding from him whenever your body is against his. He kisses you ardently, teasing your tongue and biting your lower lip trying to fill you up just with him —to get rid of whoever kissed you first that night, and to intoxicate you with all of him for whoever will kiss you next.

One of his hands wraps around your figure, pressing you tighter against him, while the other swims through the roots of your hair, already in position to manhandle you like he knows he can.

The way he knows you want him to.

And you don't stop him when you feel the sting in your scalp, forcing you to break the kiss and down to your knees right in front of him in a careless way that will probably leave bruises.

“Said you wanted to do me?” Hyunjin asks, unzipping his pants with his available hand while the other holds your head still, despite your efforts to wipe away the drool from your lips and the hair sticking to your cheeks with his spit. “I’m right fucking here, do me”. 

You look at him with loathing but it is nothing more than a projection: you hate yourself for how much you needed this. 

For how much you need him.

“Don’t give me those eyes,” he falsely pouts, but the sound gets drowned in a grunt when he wraps his hand around his dick to stroke it a few times before guiding your mouth to the tip of it, “you want this”. 

His gaze finds yours in the midst of the struggle, and the only way you can think of letting him know you're consenting to this is by sticking your tongue out and licking the tip of his cock, collecting all his salty precum and tasting it like you've been starving for it.

At the sight, Hyunjin chuckles lowly. Still as cold, still as enraged.

“Did you suck him off too?” he asks, using the grip on your hair as his favor —with ease, he slams his hips against your mouth, letting the tip of his cock reach parts of your throat that are still tense. “Does he taste as good as I do?”

Hyunjin doesn't need to know that you planned this all along —that you purposely did everything to get him jealous. He doesn't need to know that you like the thrill of it, of watching his possessive and jealous side.

He doesn't need to know that you utterly adore when he fucks you like he actually hates you. Like you mean nothing and everything to him at the same time.

Hyunjin doesn't need to know a lot of things, so you tag along with the fantasy of everything you've yet to deny.

“Relax,” more than a soothing word, it’s an order. He maneuvers your head all along his length, applying more pressure when your nose hits his pubic bone and then forcing you away to let you breathe. “You’ve taken this cock before, you know exactly how to do it”. 

You try to regain control of your body, and your rationality, but it seems a rather useless task —when you're with Hyunjin, he is the one that does the thinking for you. When you're with him, you can't think of anything else but him, his voice, his eyes, the way he touches and kisses you, the way he tastes and the way he feels inside you.

“Too big,” you gasp in between thrusts of his hips against your lips. Your hand flies to reach the base of his cock, but he is quick to force you backwards with the grip on your hair.

“Do not touch me”.

“Hyun-”

“I said, do not touch me,” he repeats when you try to touch him again. “Do you really think you can go around touching other men and I won't do anything about it?”

Hyunjin wishes he wasn’t as prideful as he is —if he could swallow his ego easily, he could have your hands all over his body by now. But he is proud, and vengeful, and stubborn. No matter how much his skin is burning to feel the softness of yours against it, he needs to make his point.

“You’re- you can’t be serious,” you struggle between moans, with a voice so hoarse it's barely audible. 

“There’s the door,” he forces your head towards it, “you can leave if you don’t like it”. 

Your doe eyes, filled with anger and defy, dart between him and the door. Hyunjin is always the one in control, you're not really unfamiliar with that —the fact that he is acting like this, offering you a way out if you’re not willing to do things his way, makes you feel uneasy and curious.

You choose to stay only for the latter. Not because of anything else, right?

Right?

You don’t say anything, but fix your gaze on the man in front of you. 

And Hyunjin gets it, he gets the look you're giving him. That, paired with the fact that you're not doing anything to get away from his grip, tells him that you're more than willing to keep on going, so he continues manhandling you around.

“C’mere,” he mutters when guiding your head along his cock again, making you swallow him full without giving you any kind of warning whatsoever, “just like that”. 

You're gagging, and tearing up, and clearly struggling to take all of his cock. But never have you felt this hungry, and never have you felt this emptiness between your legs that only Hyunjin seems to be able to fill.

Your hands ache for his flesh, and so desperately you want to sink them on his thighs or ass; intertwine them with his, latch your fingers against his and squeeze them while you prove to him that he's the only one that gets to fuck your mouth like this. 

“Please,” you cry out when he gives you a break to catch some air, “I need- let me touch you, please”. 

"Should've thought of it before putting your hands on someone else," he hissed, brushing your hair wet with drool and tears away from your face. “Should’ve thought about me before running to another man”. 

“Hyunjin”.

Oh, how pretty his name sounds falling from your lips —especially when accompanied with sobs and whimpers. You're always so cool and collected, like you control everything and everyone around you. You never cry, never show anyone else a crevice of what you truly are, but he is the only one that gets to see you like this. The only one you really trust, the only one you give control to.

If you hate him that much, why do you always come crawling back to him?

If you hate him that much, why is he the only one that gets to use you like this?

And if you hate him that much, why can't Hyunjin forget what he truly feels about you?

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, cleaning your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. “I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry”. 

“For what exactly?” He is so close to you, you can feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours and get drunk on the wine that lingers in his breath. He is so close to you, he almost can't resist the urge of crashing his lips against yours again and taste himself off of you. 

“I don’t know,” you look at him with teary eyes. You feel like crying, and Hyunjin can tell. “I don’t know, it’s just- I’m sorry, okay? If that’s what you want to hear, then I’m sorry”. 

His eyebrows furrow.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “Your apologies mean nothing to me”. 

Your heart stings, and it is unusual. He is unusual, painfully real unlike all the times you've pretended to hate each other just for the dynamic.

Blame it on the alcohol, or the stress he has been feeling lately, or the fact that you've been nothing but a brat these days, but Hyunjin is angry. And hurt.

“Your actions, on the other hand,” it's all he tells you with his bright eyes boring into yours. “I want you to show me how sorry you truly are”. 

“Wha-”

He maneuvers you from the floor to his bed, forcing you on your back against the sheets you've grown to know fairly well. Your body writhes under him, and you fight back the urges to wrap your arms around his neck and force his body close to yours. 

“How- am I supposed to show you?” you ask in between the struggle, moving your body to Hyunjin’s will. With your help, he unbuttons your jeans and scatters them along the floor, just like your blouse and underwear.

He lets out a soft scoff, blowing air through his nose, amused. "As if you don't know me that well".

And because you know him well, you can't avoid the eerie feeling of fear that settles up in the deepest pits of your chest when his cold gaze makes contact with yours.

“What are you going to do to me?” You ask, with your heart ringing loudly in your ears.

“You should be asking what you're going to do for me, instead,” he murmurs, caressing the sides of your body with a creepy delicacy that doesn't match his demeanor at all. "Don't you want to be forgiven?" It's a rhetorical question, you know that much. And you do want to be forgiven, but you're not quite sure what twisted idea Hyunjin has of an apology. 

So you stay quiet, and hope for the best.

“You said you wanted me, right?” He asks yet again, fixing his eyes on yours. You just nod. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Yes,” you rush to say, “yes, I said I want you”. 

“How bad?”

The endless teasing is making you frustrated, but you're used to that. However, you're not used to feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes with each second that passes by.

You need him desperately. You need his kiss, and tongue, and hands on every part of your body that you'd never allow anyone else to touch.

No matter how much you say you dislike Hyunjin.

“So fucking bad,” you cry out, kicking you head back against the pillow.

Hyunjin hums, peppering wet and sloppy kisses over your tummy and inner thighs. You feel his breath so close to your wet center that you can only hope he gives you the attention you need. 

But that is not going to happen any time soon, and you know that.

“Fuck yourself,” he commands you, kneeling between your spread legs on top of his bed, “prove to me that you want me”.

You know the catch, know why Hyunjin is asking you such a thing.

He never does, unless he wants to punish you. And albeit not a rough punishment, there's nothing sweeter than watching you fall apart in frustration, to watch you deny yourself because he said so, to see you squirming in pain because you overstimulated yourself.

But then again, you'd do anything he says, just to be one step closer to him.

So you comply, with your index and middle finger shaking in anticipation as they make contact with your folds. Slowly but surely, you start fulfilling his demand —bitterly, with a look of disdain. 

One of his hands spread your legs further, and he stays kneeling between your thighs as he watches you. 

Impatient, eager, angry.

“I don’t have all day,” he finally snaps after a good 30 seconds of you just timidly teasing yourself. You can’t admit it out loud, but it is embarrassing —to have his eyes all over you but not his hands, to have your legs spread for someone who has no interest in touching you.

It's also embarrassing how wet you are by all of this. By his attitude, his anger and his jealousy.

“Sorry,” you barely mumble, sinking two fingers inside your throbbing pussy. 

You feel nothing. Not pain, nor pleasure. Just nothing.

“One more,” Hyunjin tells you and you comply. But after getting used to him and his size, nothing fills you up anymore. 

“You don’t- you don’t expect me to come just by this, do you?” You ask with a nervous scoff, biting down on your lower lip as you pull your fingers out just to thrust them inside again.

Hyunjin doesn't answer, and that only fuels your anguish even more. Instead, he fixes his eyes on your fingers, and the way they glisten with your wetness. He focuses on the sounds they make, and how warm you must feel after all the teasing.

You let out a whine, but it is not out of pleasure. It's a frustrated whine, a desperate one. You kick your head back, and fuck yourself harder with your fingers.

All your efforts are pointless.

“Don’t you dare,” Hyunjin warns you when your other hand slips to touch your clit. 

“I- I can’t just come with this,” you groan.

“How is that my problem?” 

It is humiliating —the way he is looking down on you, the way he is clearly amused by how stupid you must look right now touching yourself without feeling anything.

“Keep on going,” he tells you, licking his lips, “you won’t stop until you come”.

You shake your head and kick it against his pillow, trying to go impossibly deeper in hopes of finding that spot inside of you that only Hyunjin seems to know well.

Again, pointless.

“Come on,” you whine, now really on the brink of tears, “don’t do this to me”. 

“You did this to yourself,” he simply says, and his digits graze against your naked legs. 

The stimulation on your flesh is enough for you to clench around your fingers, and Hyunjin lets out a twisted smile when he sees the goosebumps flowering.

“Hyunjin”. 

“Can’t come by yourself?” He asks with a fake empathy, “you need me for that, right?”

You know where this is heading, and you’re willingly letting him lead you that way —you nod, swallowing thickly. 

“Yes,” you admit, hoping such a confession is enough to do something. Anything.

“Am I the only one who can make you come?”

“Yes, Hyunjin,” there's an inner conflict between your lust and your ego —you wish to fight back, but your mind is already surrendering. Your answer isn't far from the truth anyways, so why is it so difficult to admit it out loud? “Yes, you’re the only one”. 

“That’s what I thought,” he whispers quietly, dragging the tip of his digits along your spread thighs.

You’re aroused and whriting in anticipation, You’re aroused and trembling in anticipation, your whole body is ready for him, anything he wants to give you, and he can tell.

That's probably the worst part of it all —your mouth can always voice how much you hate him, but your body will keep on betraying you every time.

“I can’t,” you murmur, relentlessly trying to get yourself to your high, “I can't do this on my own anymore, you're the only one who can”. 

It's embarrassing to admit such a thing, both to him and yourself —it's not like you're saying so just to get what you want.

You're saying so because it's the truth, because not even you nor your toys can get you to come like Hyunjin does. 

“Remember that every time you even think about being with someone else,” Hyunjin’s body hovers over you, fitting perfectly between your open legs. “No one is going to make you feel like I can”. 

You drown a moan when you feel his clothed erection pressing against your folds. The fabric of his pants is rough, but your body unconsciously grinds on it.

“Just fuck me, Hyunjin,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his hips and feeling his warmth spreading from your chest to your limbs, “please, please, please”.

He needs you just as much.

And his intention was never to deny you, but to remind you that you belong to him. Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you even know it —your body responds to Hyunjin, and Hyunjin only. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know?” He scoffs, sneaking a hand between your bodies to slide the tip of his dick against your folds, “I spent all night looking how someone else got his hands all over you”.

You tremble underneath him, begging for anything he might want to give you. 

“It wasn’t a pretty sight, you know?” Hyunjin continues, “it kills me that no one knows you're mine”. 

Your heart skips a beat at his rageful words, as you breathe the same oxygen that leaves his lungs. 

“Hyunjin”. 

“I hate the fact that I just can’t kiss you when I feel like it,” he presses his forehead against yours, taunting your lips with his. “Can’t even fuck you when I want, without caring if someone hears or not”. 

There's a pinch of frustration and despair in his voice. Like he is asking you to read between the lines, to give some sense to his words.

“We hate each other, don’t we?” You remind him, digging your nails in the flesh of the sides of his body.

“Do you really think this is hate?” He asks, and presses his hips against yours. You feel his hardened length getting coated with your wetness, and you can’t help but moan. 

“Everybody thinks we can’t stand each other,” you wrap your legs around his hips, forcing him to make a move. And as if on cue, he gets what you’re demanding —he slides the tip of his dick in, so easily that it's hard to believe your body wasn't perfectly made for him.

“But no one knows what we do behind their backs, do they?” He asks, grunting quietly when he finally bottoms out, “they don’t know how good we fuck each other, how good we make us feel”. 

It's not the time to pause and reflect about the dynamic you've shared with Hyunjin over the past year. It's also not the time to think about what could happen if you were to reveal to your closest friends what you and Hyunjin have. 

It's exciting to keep things a secret, but you're not quite sure how long you can go without one of you getting tired of it.

It's not the time, and you don't dwell on it because you soon feel Hyunjin's hips slowly pulling and then bottoming out again. The sudden hit of his pubic bone against your swollen clit sends shivers down your spine, and you hug him tightly against you.

“Because you make me feel so good,” he murmurs, leaving a wet trail of kisses from your lips, to your chin and jaw, “so fucking good”. 

You clench around him at his words, and he lets out a raw moan. 

“You too,” you swallow thickly, “you too- make me feel so good”. 

“Just me?”

“Just you Hyunjin- fuck,” you bite down the flesh on his shoulders when his hips snap against yours, making your whole body jolt, “like that, fuck me like that”. 

With painfully slow but hard strokes, Hyunjin pounds his dick inside your wet pussy.

The lewd noises it makes, paired with his skin hitting yours, drowns his bedroom. They also drown the bustle behind the door, the faint voices of those who are still outside partying and drinking.

Those who don't know how much you love fucking Hyunjin, and how much he loves fucking you.

“I have to make sure it's only me who gets to have you like this,” and with that being said, he sinks his teeth and nibbles at the flesh where burgundy and purple bruises rest. 

You arch your back in pain, feeling your neck burning. He holds you in place as you writhe beneath him, placing all his weight over you to prevent you from squirming away from him.

“It’s just a little pain,” his soft voice coos, grabbing the sides of your neck with one of his hands while his lips attack the love bites made by someone else, “nothing compared to what you made me feel tonight”.

Your heart starts beating faster at his words.

“I’m sorry,” tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you still let Hyunjin mark you. 

You want him to, anyway. No matter how painful it can be.

“I know you are,” he hums, satisfied with the way you’re clenching around him. 

He kisses your flesh softly, trying to soothe the pain away, and you move your hips, desperate to have him moving inside of you again.

He loses no time into it, holding his weight back off of you to continue on fucking you.

“You look so pretty now,” he twistedly smiles, with a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and nose, “my lips and teeth look so good on you”. 

The minute he bites down his lower lip and his eyes go blank, you start feeling the tension building up inside your abdomen. You’re close, and you’re desperate to come.

“Hyunjin,” one of your hands holds his bicep, while the other makes a mess of the bed sheets beneath you.

“Not yet,” he warns you, and at that you let out a frustrated sound, “hold it a bit longer, come with me”. 

You close your eyes shut and kick your head back, hoping that if you don't look at him, you can prolong the time before you come. But he is fucking you so good, and his dick is hitting all the right spots inside of you, that you really don't think you can hold it as long as he wants you to.

“Please,” you cry out, this time tearing up. You can’t help it —the tears fall from your closed eyes without a warning. They stain your cheeks, and get lost in the crook of your neck that is still burning with Hyunjin’s love bites. 

“Open your eyes,” his hand cups your face, and you snap them open as a reflex, “let me see you crying”.

His words ignite a fire inside you, just as much as your tears do to him. His cock twitches at the sight of your clouded eyes and the way they beg for his release.

It’s the first time he sees you cry, 

and it shouldn't arouse him as much as it does. He knows what's behind those tears, and maybe that's the reason why he is enjoying them.

Frustration, rage, despair, attraction, obsession, infatuation.

He buries his nose on the flesh of your cheek and kisses your tears, one by one, as he continues pounding himself inside of you. 

“Can’t-” you murmur, digging your nails on his shoulders. Hyunjin hisses at that. “I can’t hold it”. 

“Give it to me,” he finally exhales, increasing the movements of his hips. And you comply —you give your orgasm to him, squeezing his cock almost aggressively. Your body trembles and he hugs it tightly, fucking you through your high as he comes with you.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” at one point, your body goes limp —the pleasure becomes too strong that you melt into his arms. 

He moans your name, over and over again, until his voice becomes a whisper, and his hips relax into yours. His body rests on top of you, hugging you, pressing kisses to your forehead and temples while you wrap your arms around him. He doesn't pull out, and you don't want him to —at least not yet.

Sex with Hyunjin always goes a little bit like this, but it never feels as intimate as it does right now.

Your sweating bodies are pressed against each other, and your hearts are beating at the same rate. Your mouth tastes like red wine, despite you not having drunk any, and Hyunjin’s chest smells like your perfume. 

The crescent moon-like imprints from your nails are still pulsing on his shoulders and back with desire, and your neck still burns with his possessiveness.

It seems as though you two are one, and it is impossible to deny it.

If hate is another synonym for infatuation, you might as well be willing to hate each other until death.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #kpop smut #hwang hyunjin smut

[unclewaynemunson]

'Back off, man, I can do it alone.'

'No you can't.'

Granted, Max couldn't see shit anymore, but she could definitely feel how Eddie was looking at her – how he was winning their staring contest simply because her withering glare didn't exist anymore.

'Look, I don't want you in there with me, period,' she said, trying to sound more in control than she was feeling. She felt her cheeks burn and she hated it.

'Why not?'

She sighed, wishing she could still roll her eyes. 'Jesus, Eddie, do I really need to spell this out for you? It's one thing that my mom has to help me with literally everything, but there's no way I'm gonna let you.'

'Max.' She hated how Eddie's voice had gone soft all of a sudden. 'What are you afraid of?'

She merely scoffed in response; she still felt her cheeks burn. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to think about how fucking vulnerable she felt. All she wanted was to go to the goddamn bathroom, was even that too much to ask?

'It's no different for me than for your mom, you know,' Eddie said. Max wished she could see his face, because something in his voice was different than usual but she didn't know what exactly it was.

'You know that's not true,' she said, her jaw clenched.

'No, it is.' She could hear how he took a deep breath. 'I'm gay. So, um... I can promise you it won't be weird.'

'Oh.' She didn't quite know what to do, taken aback by the vulnerability of those words. He didn't need to share this; he only did it to make her feel comfortable. He just handed her this big secret, trusting that she'd react in the right way, that she'd help him keep it, that she wouldn't want to hurt him. It was almost too much responsibility; she didn't really know what to say. She wasn't good with comforting or kind or reassuring words like Lucas.

'Does anyone else know?' she asked.

'My uh... My uncle.'

The scent of smoke made its way into Max's nose and she grimaced, but didn't tell him off; if any moment was a good one to have a cigarette, this one would probably be it, she supposed.

She still wondered what Lucas would say in this moment, but kept coming up empty.

'Okay, you can help me in the bathroom,' she finally decided, shifting back into a more practical mindset.

'Soooo...' Eddie dragged out the word. 'Are you - are we - okay?'

'Yeah, of course.' She should probably thank him for trusting her and tell him that he was her friend and she would always love him no matter who he loved or some sentimental bullshit like that, but she felt too awkward about it so she went for silence instead.

While Eddie helped her into the shower and washed her – at least as far as possible with all her casts – her mind kept running. It wasn't as awkward as she had expected it to be, to have Eddie undress her and touch her skin and even help her on the toilet. He was surprisingly gentle and kept checking in to make sure she was feeling okay, and he even made some lame jokes to try and keep things light. It made her think that this could be what it's like to have an older brother. It made her think of Billy.

'Billy would've hated you,' she finally broke the silence when she was dressed in fresh pajamas and lying with her head against the sink, Eddie's hands massaging shampoo in her hair.

She felt his hands freeze against her scalp.

'He always used to call people fags and pervs and... you know. And he'd beat people up for it. Sometimes I wondered...' She paused, hesitating. 'If he was, like, compensating for something.'

'Compensating?'

'Yeah, you know... If you go around calling enough people queers, no one will expect you to be one, right?'

Eddie hummed. 'I didn't know your brother very well,' he told her. 'Some people say that the queers have this instinct, like a sixth sense, to recognize each other, but I think that's bullshit. Or well, not entirely, sometimes you do get like a vibe from someone – but in the end, you can't just know someone's truth like that. And some people will bury that truth deep, deep down. And we can hardly blame them for that. It can be easier to pretend, you know – it's definitely safer. This world wasn't made for being different in that way. For being different in a lot of ways, actually. Whatever his demons were, whatever war was going on inside of him, I think Billy knew that very well.' He turned on the tap and started rinsing her hair.

'I'm sorry you can't get your answers,' he added when he turned the water back off again.

She sighed in response and let Eddie help her in an upright sitting position. She could feel how he started brushing her hair, carefully, as if she'd break into pieces from just the tiniest touch.

She realized that Eddie was right: there was no way to know what wars exactly took place in Billy's mind. The only thing she did know is that he had been a terrible brother to her - but that, despite that, she still wished it would've been different.

Billy wasn't here anymore; he was buried in the ground and his body was slowly falling apart, eaten by worms. But Eddie was here.

Eddie had constantly been at her side when they were both in the hospital, and now that she had come home, he still was. He checked in on her every afternoon; he cooked for her and her mom; he told her stories to entertain her and tried his best to make her smile whenever she was feeling frustrated by the limits of her body. He listened to her when she wanted to talk, and he kept her company when she didn't. He looked out for her and even trusted her with his secrets. He was more of a brother to her than Billy had ever been. He was right here - and she had all the time in the world to ask him all the questions she never got to ask Billy.

'Have you ever kissed a guy?'

She heard Eddie chuckle softly. 'I have.'

'Have you ever had a boyfriend?'

'Have not.'

'Why not?'

And he answered everything she asked him, all while softly stroking her brush through her hair. And when her mom came home, they drank tea together on the couch, and it strangely felt like they were a proper family.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #max mayfield #eddie munson #he's her brother alright #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice)

• Characters: Suguru Niragi, fem!Reader

• Genre: Smut

• Warnings: sexual content, explicit content, insults, I included my hc that Niragi is bi, literally any warning you can think of, it’s Niragi we’re talking about

Always you

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ♡᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

At first it was a casual affair between Niragi and you. Sex with no strings attached. He fucked you when he was stressed like he did with dozens of people before you and the first few times it was the same with you like with anyone else. At least he has told himself that. He realized that something was different when he had another person in the sheets.

At first he thought he’s just not that much into guys anymore like he was before when he hooked up with a random dude he picked up at the bar, because his thoughts traveled back to you the whole time. The way how your wet cunt feels around his cock, or the way your tits bounce when he thrusts into you.

But it was the exact same with another woman. All Niragi could think of was you. He compared her to you in his head and got so frustrated that he eventually kicked that chick out.

He tried to ignore it but everytime he saw you, everything in him ached for you, for all of you. Yes, you’re ridiculously hot, almost everyone is aware of that but soon he realized it’s not only your body he wants.

Now it’s not only his dick that gets stiff when you let your hands „accidentally“ brush over his hand when you pass him, Niragis whole body is paralyzed. The way you smile at him makes his heart beat faster and only the thought of you getting fucked by some other guy makes him feel nauseous. He hates to admit it but he’s desperate for you. Your touch, your smile, your attention, anything he can get from you.

Now again Niragi sits in his room, rifle next to his bed and his twitching dick in his hands, precum leaking from the tip. He knows exactly what he needs to do to make himself cum. As soon as he will allow your figure to haunt his mind again he will spill his release all over his stomach but it’s so frustrating. It feels like a weakness to admit that he is crushing on you but he just can’t deny it anymore.

„Fuck it“, he cusses, releasing his cock from his grip. He waits until his boner isn‘t that prominent anymore and stuffs his cock back in his pants. Then he picks up his gun and makes his way downstairs to the pool where you usually spend your free time at.

Immediately your figure catches his eyes. You’re inside the water, near the poolside where he stands and flirting with a couple guys. Little does he know you hoped he would pass and get jealous.

Your plan works perfectly, he is burning with rage, but he swallows it down to keep his pride.

„Hey!“, he calls and most of the people around you shut up immediately. Nobody wants to mess with a scary dude who has a gun, especially when this mans name is Niragi. But you’re not really scared of him. The sex is way too good to just kill you. You turn around and prop your elbows on the edge, looking up. „Hello there.“

Niragi crouches down and looks you into the eyes. He feels his heartbeat quicken, but tries to ignore it. „Come with me“, he oders.

You can not help but giggle. „Alright.“ You push yourself over the border and out of the pool, grabbing your towel, wrapping it around you and follow Niragi. As you walk you drench your hair so you won’t make the halls wet. Right after you let go of your hair Niragi grabs your hand and links his fingers with you. Surprised you eye your hands. „Didn’t know you where into holding hands.“ „Shut up.“

Still the same, you think with a smirk and let him drag you through the halls to his room.

Inside there he doesn’t lose any time and rips your towel from your body and throws it behind him. „Eager today; I like that.“ He shuts you up with a harsh kiss, hands on your hips and your back against the wall. He slips his tongue into your mouth and has to hold back a relieved sigh. He just realizes how bad he missed your touch really.

„What’s gotten into you?“, you ask with a giggle as you two part for a second. „You drive me fucking crazy“, he admits and kisses you again. His piercing, almost as hot as his tongue, clacks over your teeth. Sooner or later he will break them with that.

„On the bed“, he commands as you two part for a second time and willingly you follow his order. Already dripping wet you sit down, watching Niragi approach you while he unbuttons his shirt, throwing it on the floor. Without waiting for him to say anything you get rid of your dark green bikini top.

Niragis cock twitches in his jeans, already painfully hard as he climbs on top of you, pinning you onto the mattress. As you both lay there you notice that there is something different in his behavior. The way he looks at you isn’t as animalistic as usual, there is something more.

„When was the last time I fucked you?“, he asks while leaving hickeys all over your neck. „I don’t know. Two weeks ago I believe.“ Your eyes are closed while you answer so you can focus on the sweet pain his lips and teeth leave behind. „I haven’t had good sex since two weeks“, he whispers agains your neck, causing you to get goosebumps.

You want to reply something, but Niragi doesn’t let you any time to think, because he already pulls you up on your shoulders. „Get on the floor.“ Excited about what will happen now you obey. On your knees you watch him unbuckle his his pants, then he shift forward so he sits at the edge of the bed and releases his cock out of his pants.

With your mouth watering you watch him lazily stroking it a few times before he taps on his thigh two times. Your sign that he wants you to start. First you lick a few times over the head, tasting the salty precum on your tongue, before you take as much as possible into your mouth, wrapping your hands around what won‘t fit. A loud groan escapes Niragis lips. Harshly he grabs a handful of your hair and he can’t stop himself from fucking his length into your throat. You gag, eyes watering and drool dripping down his base.

„Since I started to fuck you no one can compete with you“, he starts to ramble. „No one can do what you do to me. I always have to imagine your pretty face or cunt on my dick if I want to cum. You’re taking the last bit of sanity I have left from me.“ His breath starts to quicken and he can feel his release coming closer. „Look what you do to me. We’re just getting started and I’m almost cumming already.“

Pride wells up as you hear those words. „You want my cum down your throat? Why do I even ask? You’re always such a slut for my cum, of course you want it.“ He thrusts two more times inside your throat before he cums with your name on his lips. Slowly you release his dick and swallow his load while looking up at him.

You know he’s not done yet, even though he just had an orgasm. „Lemme taste you“, he whispers, changing the position you’re in again, now wanting you on the bed again. He doesn’t have to ask twice though and in no time you get rid of your bikini bottom too and hover over his face, hands on the headboard. „Sit“ The next order comes over his lips. You lower yourself but not sitting down completely since Niragi hasn’t quite catched his breath yet.

„I said sit“, he replies angry, pulling your hips down. Immediately he starts to suck on your clit. You moan his name, still supporting yourself on the headboard. Loud moans fill the room and your mind goes completely blank; all you can think of is Niragis tongue on your cunt.

„Fuck~“, you cry out again, unbelievably close. „I’m gonna cum! Please- please let me cum!“ You know he likes it when you beg, so before he gets the idea if asking you for it, you just do it on your own. With a highpitched moan you come undone on his tongue. Your legs are already trembling when he finally lets go of your clit.

„Why would I want to fuck anyone else ever again if I can have your perfect pussy all over my face?“, Niragi whispers and honestly, that’s the most heartwarming that has ever come out of his filthy mouth. „Now on your knees and ass up, I’m not done.“

While rolling your eyes you get down from him and bring yourself in the stretching dog position. You notice how hard he is again already, all for you. As he stands behind you you wiggle with your ass to provoke him a bit. It works and he slaps your ass so hard that you’re sure it’ll leave a mark.

He then lines his dick up your hole and thrusts into you. You two moan in sync as he bottoms out, before almost pulling out completely again, just to thrust as hard into you as before.

You bury your face in the pillow underneath you to muffle your moans, but Niragi notices it and pulls your head on the hair in the air. „Don’t you dare“, he growls threatening. „You’ll let the whole Beach know how good I fuck you.“

His left hand finds your throat while his right draws small circle on your clit. You feel that you won’t last long. „Niragi“, you call, tears running down your cheeks because of the overstimulating. „I- I won‘t last much longer!“

„Then cum baby. Go on, what you’re waiting for?“ And with that you cum again, this time even harder and you feel the wetness gushing out of your pussy.

Amazed he watches you squirting all over his cock, coming closer. „'s to much! Niragi! Too much!“ you whine. „Just a little longer. I’m almost there.“

Just as he was at the edge of cumming he stops, leans down and whispers into your ear: „Gonna cum inside, yeah? Be a good girl and take every fucking drop I give to you.“

You nod rapidly and whine again as he starts to move again. With a loud groan he empties himself into you while you too have a slight orgasm again at the sensation of his twitching cock plus warm sperm inside you.

As he pulls out, he watches his cum drop out of your cunt onto the mattress, before you collapse on said mattress. Your fucked out expression warms up Niragis stone cold heart, knowing only he can make you feel that good.

„Don’t move“, the nth command for the day as he stands up and walks into his bathroom, shortly after returning with a wet towel. Slowly he guides it over your ass and between your legs before he brings it back into the bathroom.

„Did you just did some aftercare?“, you ask him teasingly after you have gotten your mind back together. His gaze isn’t as cold as usual, but still far away from warming. „If another man even thinks of you again, I will at first amputate their tiny dick before I blow their brains out.“

Understanding you smile, opening your arms to invite him into a hug. „I like you too.“

#aib #alice in borderland #fanfiction #alice in borderland x reader #x reader #alice in borderland x y/n #aib x reader #aib x y/n #smut #suguru niragi #alice in borderland niragi #niragi alice in borderland #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #suguru niragi x reader #niragi smut #alice in borderland smut

[llvmos]

Hi! I have a request. Would you be alright writing some realtionship headcanons for Dalton [like “dating him would include..”]

HI! Thank you so much for the request, I had a lot of fun writing these!

Warnings: slight jealous!Dalton, NSFW content, mentions of blood and knives for NSFW section

a/n: im working on another one shot so here is thing until i finish it! i added a NSFW section under the cut for the people who are interested in that. i do write NSFW content for headcannons and maybe blurbs but not for oneshots. if you have anymore headcannons or requests you can request on my blog!

Not proofread!!

Word count: 669

!!NSFW warning under the cut!!

Dalton Lambert Headcannons

SFW !

⭑ I think we had established this in the last oneshot but mans is so clingy. If you are gone for any more than 1 day, he will spam you with texts, calls, facetime, anything to talk to you.

⭑When you would first start dating, he wouldnt really be the biggest fan of physical touch until about a month or 2 into the relationship. After that, his hands will never leave your body.

⭑He is not a PDA person, but if he sees a guy looking at you in any way he doesnt deem as respectful, he will pull you closer to him and hold your hand.

⭑I feel he would be jealous if you were assigned a male partner in class, but he doesnt say or do anything because he doesnt want to be THAT type of boyfriend.

⭑He would draw quick sketches of you in his sketch book when hes bored. Of course he wouldnt realize he was drawing you at first but once he looks at the finished sketch, he realizes.

⭑If you guys are watching a movie or hes drawing or something, he will sit in between your legs in front of you on the floor while you sit on the bed and let you braid his hair :,)

⭑OK, so backtrack to before yall are dating, he would be so clueless.

⭑You could literally kiss him and he would say something stupid because hes just THAT clueless.

“What…You…Was that in a…friendly way?”

⭑If you wear shorts when youre at his dorm, he will grab a pen or a marker, and draw on your legs.

⭑You will walk back to your dorm with drawings going from the top of your thighs alllll the way down to your shins.

⭑He is quite literally an insomniac when hes by himself at night, but when you’re around, all he wants to do is sleep.

⭑He literally just gets so slumped and will fall asleep on your shoulder within the first 5 minutes of you being there.

⭑Even though he doesnt project frequently anymore, he still has nightmares quite a bit. When he does have these nightmares, he instantly facetimes you so he can fall back asleep.

⭑Hes a cat person. His reasoning being:

“They are just there, you know? They dont jump on you and slobber on you.”

NSFW !

⭑Ok, to get it out of the way, hes a munch.

⭑Now, when he does go down on you, his hair stays down.

⭑But if he decides to put it up, it’s half up half down like in the movie. (AHHH)

⭑He absolutely LOVES when you play with his hair when he does so.

⭑He also loves leaving hickeys but only in secret spots such as collarbones, chest, stomach, etc.,

⭑Hes definitely a switch.

⭑He cant always be in control. Sometimes he just wants to BE controlled.

⭑ This man will praise you like youre something of a higher power. (ofc you are to him, he thinks you are the most beautiful. loveliest thing hes ever seen)

⭑Sometimes he will hold your hand while you guys make love. (omg i hate that term)

⭑Then other times, his hand would be around your throat instead :)

⭑Ass or tits? Nah. THIGHS!!

⭑ Dude, i cant even express how in love this man is with your thighs. He will constantly being grabbing, touching, kissing, holding, or laying on your thighs.

⭑ He also loves finishing on them.

⭑ I dont think he would be a sadist because he wouldnt EVER want to hurt you in anyway.

⭑But….

⭑He is 100% a masochist.

⭑He wants to see scratch marks, bite marks, hickeys, red marks, blood, cuts, ANYTHING on his skin when you guys are done.

⭑Now stooping into the blood and cuts topic….

⭑Knives.

⭑He wouldnt want to cut you unless you guys talked about what your comfortable with before hand.

⭑ He probably wouldnt leave lots of cuts. He probably just use the knife to ‘scare’ you. Just because the way you look at him when he puts the cold knife against your face turns him on <3

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #insidious #fanfic #llvmos #reader insert #headcanon #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #ty simpkins

[thedanoriddler]

✨ Edward Nashton (Riddler) With a Curly Haired!reader - Headcanons ✨

Warnings: none; I’ve tried to be as gender neutral as possible and not even mentioned specific hair lengths. There’s a brief mention of him being Riddler and doing Riddler stuff™️, and you’re aware he’s Riddler in this scenario? But nothing too murder-y, this is basically fluff

This nonsense is inspired by the fact I curled my short pixie cut, my mother family criticised and hated it, and not a lot else but also the fact I spent years straightening my hair within an inch of its life, hating even the slightest wave in my hair, so… yep!

You’re so scared when you start going out with Eddie that once he sees your hair in all its untamed glory, he’ll be less into you or something - which could not be further from the truth

Look, the man wraps his head in clingwrap and his hair is kind of flat because of it so seeing you with full on beautiful voluminous curls??? Instantly he’s in love

He’s obsessed with your curly hair, like literally obsessed with it to the point it’s not even funny

With your permission, he likes to touch your curls, almost like petting them, because they’re so??? soft??? He can’t for the life of him get over how soft your curls are, or how they feel against his fingers???

He’s always careful not to pull too hard when he runs his fingers through your curls, as if scared that he’ll pull them out of their shape or something

^ This is also nice because your hair gets tangled sometimes, and he doesn’t want to pull on a tangle in case he potentially hurts you in the process

Honestly, sometimes he wakes up in the morning while you’re there still asleep, and he just stares in awe at you and your messy bed head of curls

You’ll be embarrassed about how messy it looks, but Eddie’s just like “omg 🥹” and it’ll make you feel so warm inside

When it’s super humid and your hair frizzes, he still thinks you’re super cute even when you’re pouting and hating it

You complaining you hate your hair and Eddie being like “you shouldn’t! I love it!” Because it’s all you, and he absolutely thinks you’re perfect the way you are

If you so much as mention straightening your hair or changing it so it’s not curly anymore, he full on whines and pleads with you not to because “(Y/N), noooo, your hair is perfect like this please don’t change it, please 🥺”

He wouldn’t force you to not change it, if you really wanted to then he’ll accept it, he loves you anyway, but he just??? loves??? your??? natural??? curls?? so much 🥺

It really makes him sad when you say you hate your hair, because how could you hate any part of you??? Who could hate anything about you???

Let’s be honest, the main reason behind wanting to change it usually is because of family or other people being dicks

If your family makes comments about your curls - “oh, I liked it better straight” “that looks like a mess” “you can’t go out like that!” - or coworkers/other people laughing at your hair, expect Eddie to be fucking furious about it and to praise your hair even more

Him on stream as Riddler taking a moment away from discussing killing and violence to rant talk about you yet again and the chat erupting into hearts when he talks about you being self conscious about your hair, especially after your family or co workers have made mean comments

“yesssss curls ftw 💜” “fuck the haters curls are cool!!!” kinda stuff and you see the chat (because of course you’re behind the camera reading the chat) and just blush so hard

Yes his followers all adore you even though you’ve not been on camera lmfao he talks about you so often it’s almost ridiculous

Honestly just the thought of Eddie running his fingers through your curly hair, both of you soothed by the feel of it, so warm and comfortable together 🥹😊

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #the riddler imagine #paul dano #the batman #the riddler #edward nashton #danonation #headcanons

[hellosaysnoxx]

Hii!! Im here to request a matchup for Inside Job and possibly South Park too?

I would like one to be a platonic relationship if you do south park and a romantic one for inside job pls^^

My appearance is that i have brown shoulder length hair, brown eyes and glasses as well. And i think im 5’5 at least. Im white ofc. Im also a trad goth / medalhead person in style

My personality is that im a ENTP but at first I’m shy and awkward but it wears off sooner anyways, im very energetic and up beat and i love being funny like i like making sexual jokes

My interests are playing video games(rhythm games too, but i love obey me, mystic messenger, and more), cosplaying, drawing, writing, making music funny im a beginner vocaloid producer, i like spending my time online.

I like taking car rides love sleeping in hotels, being with my friends, i love going to amusement parks, i love food, AND i have a obsession with KAITO fr vocaloid😭 im serious like i have merch of him everywhere im in love with him(could you add that in there? :D)

My dislikes are when people compare me to someone, i hate, HATE spiders, i hate rude people too, i also hate to many loud noises such as the TV being to loud.

My boundaries are… well ummm.. i dont have much but as long as i dont get paired with the dolphin dude😭

I would like a kind person for my relationship, it doesnt matter who just as long as their kind and friendly with me :)

Some random facts about me: I have autism.

this is me! @siouxxiie

Hey @siouxxiie!! I'll write a matchup for Inside job since I am not that good with South park😭

(I will not pair anyone up with Glenn💀)

I hope you enjoy this matchup tho! :D

(Not proof read!)

Your matchup is....

☆Brett Hand☆

My dude thinks ur style is SO COOL

Would tease you for your hight, but would apologize afterwards because he doesn't wanna hurt your feelings😭

Would spend time with each other by playing video games together.

Wants to listen to the music you make😭

He secretly did while you were gone (you caught him red-handed, obviously💀)

Whenever you make a sexual joke, he blushes (A LOT)

Kinda gets flustered easily

WILL TAKE YOU TO AMUSEMENT PARKS!!

Also, take you out for food😋

"Woah *Readers name* who is that?"

"UHHH-"

He eventually finds out about your Kaito obsession

He'd love to hear you rant about Kaito too!

Will buy you merch of Kaito

"Hey *readers' name* I bought you this, since you really seem to like Kaito and all"

"OMFG HOW MUCH DID IT COST?!"

"300 $ :D"

"BRETT!! D:)"

Would literally buy you anything

He will also take care of you very well since he loves you a lot😤

If there is a spider in the room you both freak out

Will just throw random things at it😭

If you think it's too noisy or there are a lot of loud sounds, he'd take you to a more quiet place so you could calm down

If you're willing to let him hug you, he'd just hug you until he couldn't anymore

Loves hugs, especially from you

Just tell him whenever you need a quiet place, he'll be right at your service

You have autism? He still loves you no matter what! He loves you and your personality and just generally you!!

Also, he loves being reassured!

Please give him some reassurance😭

Will melt in your touch

He loves you and will be there for you no matter what! :]

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!! SORRY FOR MAKING IT SHORT😭☹️ HAVE a good day/night!! :D

#brett hand #brettsey #brett inside job #inside job #hsjdbdkfn #reagan ridley #idk what to write here #aaaaaaa #Brett #Yes

[peggyrose19]

Sunrise, Sunset...

Yeah so this was all written at the end of January and then I forgot about it (twice) so now here you go. It was finished except for literally the last 3 lines because I hate endings (thank you Nina). But anyway. Have a cute lil O’Darwin get-together that will stay cute until I get my spicy braincells back and actually write the less-cute part two I have planned. 

characters as always belong to the amazing @lumosinlove 

Alex hadn’t seen Kasey in nearly two years when he invited him and Natalie to the Hamptons with him. Or, well, he’d seen him plenty. Visiting Finn over the years, visiting Kasey himself. But then Natalie had entered the picture and he found he couldn’t do it anymore. And so they hadn’t talked, properly, in nearly two years. 

Because Natalie was light. She was a spark in the night sky, a firecracker waiting to explode. She was the harsh wind to Kasey’s calm seas, the bright sun to Alex’s muted dusk. Loving Kasey from afar had been bad enough. Watching him succeed on the Lions, watching him play with other people who weren’t him, become friends with people who weren’t him. Knowing he couldn’t just reach out and touch him the way he yearned to. But that was a familiar ache; loving Kasey from across the ice wasn’t any easier than loving him from across the country.

But he couldn’t love Natalie the way he did, not from Florida. Certainly not the way he loved Kasey. And so he stayed away, from both Kasey and Natalie, he strayed from phone calls and meetings in Gryffindor. Because he knew, he knew, that if he spent any more time with the two of them, he’d fall for Natalie too, and he didn’t know how to love them both from afar. 

He invited them on a whim. He invited them because they’d had him over, and had let him fall asleep on the couch with the neighbor’s dog and teased him about it in the morning. Because he’d watched them kiss across the dinner table, had watched their quiet affection, and had wanted that for himself, too. 

So he’d asked them, on a whim, because deep down he loved them and he missed them and he wanted to see their smiles for just a little bit longer. And they’d said yes, surprising him when it really shouldn’t have. 

It was cool, out on the coast, especially so early in the summer. The wind blew, a light, constant presence, keeping the bugs and heat at bay. The three of them sat on the screen porch, their dinner dishes discarded on the small side table, listening to the breeze and the waves and watching the setting sun. Alex’s feet were sandy still from their walk earlier, the ocean sand sticking to his skin like sap. 

Kasey muttered something, making Natalie laugh and pulling Alex from his daze. 

“You good over there?” Kasey asked, his voice lilting and soft. He was nothing more than a dark figure to Alex’s tired eyes, curled up beside Natalie, the setting sun outlining them in shadow. 

Alex yawned. “Just tired.”

Kasey watched him, with that careful, calculating gaze of his. It made Alex feel scrutinized, but oddly it didn’t bother him. Natalie was watching him too, a curious tilt to her head, brown eyes searching and light. 

“You can go to bed, you know,” Kasey said finally, and Alex had to laugh.

“You know this is my house, right?”

Natalie laughed. “So?”

Alex just shook his head, grinning.

“Isn’t it technically your parents house?”

“Semantics.”

They lapsed into silence again, and Alex fought another yawn. He found himself watching Kasey and Natalie as they watched the horizon, studying them in the dim light. Kasey looked different, older. There were small lines by his eyes now, and his shoulders were a little broader. His blond hair hit at his chin, not yet cut from their play-off run. Alex had the same unfamiliar feeling in his chest as he did the night they’d had sex. Everything somehow new yet familiar. 

He turned his gaze to Natalie next, her blonde hair lighter and longer than Kasey’s, her gold earrings glinting even in the dim light. She was soft around the edges, but sharp-witted and sarcastic, her humor matched with Alex’s and her gentleness matched with Kasey’s. He liked making her laugh. He wanted her. He wanted Kasey too. 

“What’s with the face?” Kasey asked eventually, squinting at him.

“Nothing.”

“That’s your hockey face, evidently it’s something.”

Alex sighed internally. Damn Kasey Winter and his seemingly unending knowledge of Alex and his facial expressions. They weren’t sitting that close together, had a low table in the way, but still, Alex wanted to lean over and kiss him right there. 

Something in him changed as he mulled over that, the idea of kissing him. Of kissing Natalie. He’d wanted Kasey for nearly a decade of his life. Wanting Natalie was a new ache, but somehow it didn’t hurt any less. But Alex found he was tired of wanting from afar. The two were sitting in his goddamn house, mere feet away.

Fuck it, Alex thought, and leaned across the table to kiss Kasey for the first time in almost six years. 

Kasey reacted the way Alex remembered from all those years again, pulling him in immediately, strong yet pliant beneath him, lips soft. He opened his mouth to Alex, readily allowing him more access, and Alex had to brace a hand on the table so he didn’t fall. When he pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily and Natalie was watching them with careful eyes.

“Why,” Kasey murmured, the word barely even a question. Alex answered anyway.

“I miss you.”

Kasey kissed him again, softly, and Alex heard Natalie’s light gasp, felt the puff of air on his cheek. He turned, looking at her, the high flush on her cheeks, the golden flecks in her eyes. He reached out and trailed his fingers down her face, feeling the smooth skin there. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. 

Alex stroked a thumb across Natalie’s cheek, and leaned in to kiss her for the very first time. It felt like a firework exploding in his chest, like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place together. Natalie was coconut and sweetness, softer than Kasey but just as warm. It was different, and Alex couldn’t help but compare her to Kasey. But it wasn’t a bad thing, he mused, as Natalie’s hand slid into his hair and tugged him closer. No, it definitely wasn’t a bad thing. 

Alex still had one hand tangled in Kasey’s hair, and so he felt the other man move, moments before he felt soft lips attach to his collarbone. Kasey bit at Alex’s neck softly, and Alex fought back a groan at the feeling, of Natalie still kissing him and Kasey mouthing at his skin, the two of them holding him in place. It was far too much and not nearly enough. 

Far too soon, Natalie pulled away and looked at him, a knowing smile on her kissed-red lips. Kasey too was smiling at him, soft and sweet and perfect. Alex glanced between them and felt his heart swell. Finally, he thought. 

#o'darwin #get together #kasey x alex #kasey x natalie #first kiss #i love them #part 1 #part 2 coming......eventually #however despite my obsession with all things sweater weather related #vaincre #lumosinlove

[notsufjanstevensblog]

Chinni. She was our family dog. A black pomeranian. She was a size of a cat when we first bought her. No. Took her away from the locals because they told us chinni was “too harsh”. I was around 12-13? I guess? I’m not sure. Soon chinni was a part of our broken family. Broken on all terms- family, finance, health, a happy home, you name it. Chinni was a hope that we all clinged on to. On our lousy days, our tired sundays, our evenings when all of us were really tired of whatever we spent the day doing, our mornings when mom & dad woke me up to catch that bus right on time and so many other days when life slapped our face to reality. We used to feed chinni 2 biscuits every evening and now that I think of it, maybe it took only 2 of those buiscuits was all that it took for our simple lives with chinni. Ruthless human being I am, I barely spent anytime with her. My mom and younger sister used to pet her so much and I never understood. But I just gave up one day and tried playing with her but it didn’t do me any good. Let me also tell you that i’ve always hated pets. For a person who is very conscious about cleanliness and hygiene, I was very particular about even touching chinni in the beginning. To my favour, chinni was very good and aware about everything around her. She never disturbed me and just sat with me, catching flies in the air. I don’t think it ever caught one- idiot. It used to be very delusional and chew something random on the floor. I always used to shoo it away because you don’t want your mango-eating-sunday-afternoons with chinni! I mean, come on.

Then we all grew up. Times changed. We shifted to a new house. Things were pretty great. I didn’t like the change but just like everyone else, I got used to it. I was admitted in a boarding school. I loved it there. I was a cute church going wanna-be christian girl reading bible and quoting psalms. I used to go back home every sunday to wash my hair and scrub my skin. My mom kept screaming at how tanned by back and my hands or legs were or how my hair keeps falling off in bunches. On a random sunday, I remember this very vividly. On a random sunday, I was sitting there after this very petty argument with my elder sister crying and holding a piece of chicken that my mom cooked everytime we came home from hostel. Chinni came sniffing and I threw it far far away. Chinni brought back the piece in her mouth, un-eaten. I was confused. I wasn’t going to eat that, so i told “chinni, you eat”. And chinni did. I went back home and mom had another one for me. I never really noticed chinni. I just knew she was watching me from under my car or the corner she always occupied in our car garage.

Times changed very rapidly. I was in my 2nd year of college. Dad was hospitalised with acute kidney infection stage 4. Dad sat on the garden wall and spoke to people for hours. Chinni just sat there with him, catching flies in the air. I mean literally that. Dad used to pat chinni a few times and look at the sky. He used to yell at all of us for not feeding chinni and cleaning her. By the end of covid pandemic, our family had gotten a little closer and I couldn’t have asked for more. I loved it. It was mundane and simple. I came to LOVE chinni. Chinni used to come wherever me and mom and my sister used to go to walk. Slowly, wagging its tail, barking at basically nothing. We had a favourite jackfruit tree in our fields where me and mom used to gossip about people closer to us. It was fun. Chinni used to sit there and act as if she knew what we were speaking and I used to just pat chinni and wash hands and legs off of the dust and her hair everytime I returned back home. Chinni was old. Infact, I never knew how old she was.

By now times had severely changed. Dad was diagnosed with covid-19 and had a pulmonary infection with underlying health issues. Chinni kept crying. Perhaps she knew her family wouldn’t be the same anymore. Chinni used to howl. I didn’t think she could do that until that point. My dad kept giving her buiscuits. But how many of them will she need to tune down the thoughts of her not having the same family in a few days and losing one of her best friends? And the world fell apart for chinni. My dad passed away. Now chinni was no one. Nothing. Just another dog. She couldn’t cheer us anymore. She couldn’t smile or eat anymore. Chinni only used to eat food when we had kept it on a plate and left. Chinni never ate food infront of any of us. I saw chinni’s teeth in the garden and I knew chinni was also getting old. I tried to be there for her as much as I could but I was broken enough to an extent to know that it would not be able to fix her. I just used to sit with chinni with a glass of tea in my one hand and phone in the other.

Chinni wanted her dad. To tell her stories telepathically. I could never be her. I could never listen to anyone’s stories in my family without being judgemental. Chinni started getting sadder and sadder. Chinni never came near our house now. It sat there quietly in a garage. It could barely see or bark. I went back to university and everytime I kept waving at her assuming she could see. Only if she were here to know that I would wave at her a million more times. Chinni’s hair was falling off. I never spent time with chinni anymore because she reminded me of the time that my life was at its best. It was a dream, a dream that had already passed. I didn’t want to fight to have it again. Very recently I went to meet chinni and she was fine. I had not talked to her for the past few months. So I fed the leftovers and came back home.

My uncle was very annoyed at the rat that kept roaming in the garage. He threw a big ass stick aiming the rat but chinni got hit. It was horrible. She got hit and her hip broke. Chinni kept crying. I couldn’t take it anymore. I came home and cried my heart out. All of us cried. We could never see chinni again. And 3 days later, chinni had passed away. I wasn’t informed. I went home and took 2 biscuits from the snacks drawer in our kitchen and then my mom told me chinni had passed away. Now that I come to think of it, I only have regrets. I could’ve maybe touched chinni more often. Played with her more often. Fed her her favourite treats. I could’ve done so much more but I’m happy that I atleast have regrets that keep me up at night reminding chinni- the best company I’ll ever have.

#dogblr #writerscommunity #mundane

[apostlearcana]

sometimes you just wake up, see art, and your brain just goes on a journey that you end up writing about and don't know where it ends up.

---

He hated how used to the smell he was, his sword tip stuck in the concrete as he stared at the rolling clouds in the distance- how easy it was to get lost in the moment now, how small he felt when staring at where his family was being held captive because another god decided it was time to play with the humans once more.

Because some higher power wanted to push and pull and tear the threads of humanity… all on account of being bored.

When did his family go from being himself and his daughter to his daughter and- let’s see, a savior of humanity and his boisterous boyfriend, a cat, an Artificial Intelligence, a hacker and her gymnast girlfriend, an artist and his gorgeous model, a politician and her gardener CEO… and his boyfriend?

There had to have been a time with him signing custody paperwork somewhere. Not like he could remember it now.

He closed his eyes, inhaling softly and tying his hair back when he heard it: the familiar thunder that he had all but missed in the times when the others were fighting, and he was struggling with his own issues. Even all these years later, still trying to unlearn those old behaviors and slipping up; and yet, those damn kids were still patient with him.

Sure, they weren’t kids anymore, but…

Fuck it. He couldn’t help it.

‘He won’t touch them unless you are there. We know as much,’ his Persona rumbled. ‘He wants to see you break more than any of the others; he wants to have you crack under the pressure, more than you already did when he stole them away months ago. His plan was to keep you under his thumb and control you- not the people. Not society. You.’

“Never was the strongest out of those kids,” he admitted. “They’ve had their heads on their shoulders for longer than I have.”

The silence was thick, like the air around them.

“…do you think they’ll…?” He let the words hang in the air, staring at his sword.

The other self chuckled. ‘You doubt yourself even still.’

“I pushed them away,” he muttered, breaking his gaze. “I shoved them all away, told them that it was just you and me against the world. I told them I could handle it myself, and I…”

(and I ended up losing everything)

‘For as much as you claim them to be your family still, your doubt still rings clearer than any bell.’ It was a hum now, one that knew of the truth. ‘You don’t feel you deserve them- deserve their forgiveness, deserve any of their love- regardless of if they say it is real or not. For as much as you have told the others that they deserve it, you have not held up your own end of the same ideal.’

The man ignored the slicing pain in his torso- one painful reminder of too many mistakes he had made.

‘Still, you seek to go after them finally and take on the Dragon King himself. Even in the condition you are in, which- might I say- is rather awful.’

“Not like that’s stopped me before.” He chuckled wryly.

‘Touché. You can be a bit of a reckless one, even without your abilities.’

How true that was.

‘…well?’

“You told me, if I took it back, I’d have to relive my worst moments. The lowest points in my life. Right?”

‘Everything. Losing her. The case. The realizations, the end of it. Everything.’ The Shadow was grim. ‘And if you let go, you will not be able to endure it again. It is, quite literally, a gamble of all or nothing.’

Of course it was- just like the last few years of his life. “Big surprise.”

‘Only the most traumatic for you, naturally. The eldest of the Phantom Thieves, the one with the most baggage- the one with the most doubt.’

He was too tired for a joke.

‘Now then. Are you ready?’

He shook his head, reaching for Cartagena with a deep breath. He would never be ready.

The moment he gripped the weapon, there was a pillar of white flames that soared for the skies with the gentlest tinges of blue and a bellow of pain from the one who touched it.

For eleven seconds, the spectacle tore through the silent wasteland. The scream became raw, ragged.

Then nothing.

When the dust settled, Cartagena was in one bloody hand; the air sparked and sizzled, red and black flickers of energy dancing about the one who held it tightly in his grasp. He was no longer trembling, his eyes straight ahead on the still-rolling clouds in the distance.

From the wastelands, a voice thundered out. ‘Who disturbs the silence of man and awakens me from my sl—”

A beat.

‘YOU.’

Wolf never moved; the mask still half-ripped aside with blood pouring from his face. His eye with an electric blue, blazing with righteous fury as he spoke hoarsely. “Sorry. I don’t bow to gods that kidnap my pack.”

‘YOUR pack? Ones you left to fend for themselves? Ones that have cling to the disgusting, tiniest of hope that you’re still out there? Ones that still spit in my face with a belief that YOU ARE THEIR LAST ACE IN A LOST HAND?’

Those kids. Those damn kids.

‘YOU WILL NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN. I WILL SNAP YOU IN HALF, DOG OF HELL.’

The grip on Cartagena tightened, Wolf’s eyes widening with rage. From deep within, there was a familiar howl that synced with his emotions. There was no need for words.

With a running leap, the Thief sprang off the cliffside and took off in a run for the center of what seemed to be an endless desert.

‘…wait for me, everyone… I’m coming.’

#zenkichi hasegawa #persona 5 #fan fiction #myficx

[darkkitty1208]

I noticed you said you could write Wongstrange… Could I prompt you for some fluffy Wongstrange? Please??? Anything goes. DS1, DSMoM, idk as long as it’s sugary and sweet. You are awesome. I can’t thank you enough for this!! You don’t have to do it. But if you could, it would mean the world.

Okay, okay. Yeah, I know you said 'sugary and sweet' my dear anon, but I simply could not resist adding a little bit of angst to it – which is, admittedly, quite an understatement because the literal theme of this fic is angst… I SWEAR THERE'S SOME FLUFF IN IT THOUGH DON'T WORRY 

Anyway thank you for the prompt, lovely! Enjoy <3 

~

Safe

Crushed. 

Impaled. 

Broken. 

Torn apart. 

Repeat. 

Repeat. 

Repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeatrepeatrepearepeat–

Stephen woke up with a jolt, his ears ringing, the faint roaring sounds of his nightmare lingering in the back of his mind. His heart was hammering in his chest like a bird trying desperately to escape its cage, and he clutched it with a trembling hand, trying to breath through his nose to calm down his racing mind. He was sweating, panting, trying to clear his mind from the horrible images conjured in his dreams. 

Each death was always more horrifying than the last. He remembered every single one of them. Every blast, every turn, every fall, every swish of the cloak. The heat, the burn, the cold, the pain, he remembered every detail. 

Perhaps for most, his photographic memory must be a gift. But for him, it was a curse. An inescapable curse he had to endure all his life, a curse that made his mind remember every memory vividly, a curse that made him have to relive it all again during nights like this.

Last time it was the car crash. Before that was the Lake. Now was this.

He couldn't handle it anymore.

How could other people survive? How were they capable of living in a world full of cruelty? Was the world only cruel to him? 

Why can't he just sleep in peace, god fucking dammit? 

Tears were flowing down his eyes like a waterfall now, years of trying to hold himself together, trying to build the image of a strong and dedicated sorcerer, now reduced to a pathetic, miserable excuse of man. Because that's what he was. Pathetic. He was nothing like the great people around him. He wasn't strong, wasn't as capable. He was nowhere near perfect. He hated feeling this way, knowing that everyday, he walked in front of everyone in shame. Shame of his actions, trying to hide away just how broken and fragile he truly was inside. Shame that he couldn't even forget something as simple as–

His train of thoughts stopped in a sudden halt when warm calloused hands made their way to his face, gently cupping his jaw. He flinched as a thumb rubbed over his cheek to wipe off a trail of tears, and then his head was leaned upwards to meet another pair of warm concerned eyes. 

Stephen sniffed. He had forgotten about the presence of the other man. Having someone sleep beside you in bed, simply because that's what lovers do, and not because it was a one-time fling where he was more often than not left alone in the cold of the morning… was something Stephen should probably get used to. 

"Which one is it this time?" Wong's voice was soft, gentle, but still had his ever-present slight roughness in it. 

Stephen flitted his eyes downward, trying to hide away under his wet lashes. But Wong wasn't having any of it, he pushed Stephen's chin back up. 

"Hey, look at me, Stephen," Wong tried again, as gently as he possibly could. "Was it Dormammu?" 

A tiny sound came from the back of Stephen's throat without his permission, one akin to fear or frustration. Perhaps it was both. 

"Sh, sh, it's fine, love." Now the hand on his cheek came up to rub his hair soothingly, the other doing the same to his back. "You're alright, you're here, you're safe." 

Stephen leaned into the touch without hesitation, letting his shoulders slump as tension seeped out of him. It felt good. It felt good to just let go and allow someone to comfort him like this. Waves of relief washed over him as he sighed, snuggling closer to the sorcerer, uncaring of the rumpling sheets beneath him. 

Wong accepted him in an embrace, cradling Stephen close and rubbing more soothing circles on his back. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Stephen knew that question was coming, it always did. His answer, though, was always the same. 

"No," Stephen said curtly, burying his face further into the other man's shoulder. He felt a nod, Wong's slight stubble scratching the patch of skin between his neck and shoulder. "Very well then." They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound present coming from the constant humming of magic in the sanctum and the rubbing of fabric as Wong continued to rub his back. 

"Tea?" 

A nod. 

Wong then moved slowly out of Stephen's warmth, not before Stephen tried pulling him back, but then slowly letting him go. Stephen's teary, glassy eyes gazed towards Wong's slightly concerned ones. Wong couldn't resist, he reached out a hand and pushed a strand of Stephen's hair behind his ear. 

"I'll be back soon enough, stay here for a moment." 

Stephen watched him go towards the door, and it closed shut with a silent click. He bundled himself inside the sheets, trying to breath in and out from his nose. Just then, he saw a swish of red from beside him. Sitting back up, he looked at the cloak. It tilted its collar in a silent request, and Stephen nodded. Suddenly, it lunged to give him a tight hug, wrapping around his torso, and Stephen freed his arm enough to pat a trembling hand on the sentient fabric. He chuckled quietly as it hugged tighter. 

"You must have remembered them, too, right?" He asked, and the pause that followed was eerily quiet, but not uncomfortable. "I'm very grateful that I wasn't alone back there." He let his head fall into the fabric, welcoming the warmth it provided. "Thank you," it came out as a whisper. 

Just then, a single knock came from the door, making both Stephen and the cloak turn towards the sound, and he realised then that Wong has already stood there with a cup of tea in hand, smiling fondly – lord he was actually smiling – upon the sight of the two bundled together on the bed. 

Wong then went forward towards them, the sound of his feet padding against the sanctum's floorboards echoing softly around the room. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Wong carefully held the cup in his fingers. Stephen scooted closer, extending his shaking hands to accept the tea. 

Wong looked at his hands for a moment, and then at his eyes, and Stephen felt horrible at the silent notion. But instead of the barrage of questions or the many words of concern, Wong gave him a gentle look, one that hinted the forming of a smile, yet was anything but. 

The sorcerer took one of Stephen's hands on his own, gently placing it on the warm cup, and did the same to the other. He placed his own hands on top of Stephen's, and then leaned closer. He silently blew out the steam, Stephen looking at him intently. A thumb rubbed his scarred hand, before gently letting go, the cloak taking its place to support his hands this time. 

"Thank you," Stephen said, and Wong nodded. 

He took a sip, and was delighted to realise it was his favourite cup of tea. 

"Earl grey?" 

Another nod.

"How'd you know?" 

Now came a chuckle. 

"Of course I know, Stephen." 

Stephen felt a smile tug at his lips, he had never felt so loved and cared for like this. Even the simplest knowledge of knowing his favourite tea made him feel warm inside. 

He was so lucky to have this man. 

Setting the cup aside now, Stephen hesitated before leaning in to give Wong a chaste kiss on his cheek. He swore he could see a faint tint of red colouring the man's face. 

They haven't gone farther than casual touches or featherlight kisses, but they'll get there eventually. Slowly. There's no need to rush things, after all. They can coax each other gently, letting each other out of their own shells at their own pace. 

And that's what he loved about this relationship. Wong was a patient man, and so was he. They understood each other, knew each other's limits. It was like a silent agreement between them, an unspoken yet mutual understanding between the two. And he appreciated that. 

And right now, as the silence settled over their atmosphere once again, the two sorcerers went back under the covers and held each other close. 

"You're safe, love. You're alright. Nothing's going to hurt you when I'm on watch." The gentle words were whispered in his ear, and he was far too tired to respond. Instead, he wrapped his hands around the man's waist, pulling him closer and nuzzling his head in the other's neck. 

Safe. He liked the sound of that. 

~

Anon: Can you make Wonstrange fluff? Something sweet and fluffy! 

Me: 

Me: Nightmare trope it is, then! 

I am so, so, sorry anon. Also that bit about Wong knowing Steph's favourite tea was an actual occurrence, a special someone once brought me a cup of my favourite tea, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It's nice knowing that someone pays attention to the little details about you. <3 

If you've read this far, thank you so much! I'm opening a tag list, so if anyone wants to be tagged everytime I fill in a prompt, please let me know in an ask/in my DMs and I'll add you to the list! :)

Much love! Cheers!

#prompt fill #my writing #my fanfic #fanfiction #wongstrange #wongrange #stephen strange #wong mcu #mcu wong #wong

[androgynousblackbox]

Things you should know about Oscar, my dog, in no particular order.

1. He is an idiot. I have seen this dog try to run into moving traffic because I accidentally let go of his leash for literally two second.

2. When he was a puppy and took him home for the first time he never cried, like puppies usually do when they miss their family. Not once.

3. He has an overbite wich means he is constantly showing off his front teeth and two prominent fangs, like some kind of caveman.

4. He was born with a hip displacement that makes him walk "funny" and also impedes he walks long distances, but other than that it never stopped him from playing and chase his toys whenever he was in the mood.

5. His fur is so soft. When it's long enough forms natural curls.

6. Freshly out of getting a new cut he looks like a little lamb, his skin pinkish skin.

7. He had a condition that somehow made his skin very irritable, so he could lick his own paws until they would get sore if I wasn't there to tell him "no, te vas a lastimar" and he would listen.

8. He tries to befriend everyone, even when they don't want anything to do with him. The cat of my relative that is staying with us had to be victim of many attempts of Oscar to play chase with him. Likewise, my own cat is not fond of when he tries to smell her from behind, but at least her reaction is just annoyance and not fear.

9. He has never barked at anyone with nothing but playful intent. I can't remember a single time he ever wasn't just happy to see another person, whether he met them for the first time or, again, didn't care about him. Often times I joked he was the worst guard dog possible because he would literally just smell the shoes of a thief and look at him asking if he wanted to play.

10. Somehow he would know it was me at the door before I reached for my keys at the entrance. He would sat in front of the door and stare, where with other people he would bark and look at us being VISITS, VISITS, DID YOU SEE THE VISITS.

11. He has a short tail so when he wags it around he moves his entire body with it, it was the cutest shit ever.

12. He hates having his nails clipped. He would growl at me while I was doing it, even when they were so fucking long that surely it was uncomfortable for him too.

13. He is one fucked up looking poodle and I knew the one they gave me at the place where he gets his hair cut wasn't him because of that.

14. His breath stinks.

15. He is easily fooled when playing. Or maybe he was just playing along as part of the fun.

16. He always tries to jump on female dogs, no matter how fucking big they are compared to him, and wanted to stand up to dogs that could probably eat him as a snack.

17. We tried to put sweaters on him and somehow he always managed to take them off, turning them into his new chew toys until they were torn to shreads soggy with saliva.

18. I don't know how he ate one time a piece of yarn that I had to pull out of his mouth for at least five seconds. I swear that thing had reached his stomach already.

19. When he was younger we had to put him on a leash and tied to a chair, because otherwise he would try to eat the trash despite having a freshly put down bowl of food. You don't want to know the kind of disasters I would find the next morning.

20. When he sleeps he got into the weirders poses ever, with his belly up, neck all twisted and maybe a leg hanging from his bed.

21. Speaking of his bed, he had at least three. They never lasted long because he destroyed them or try to fuck them so many times they weren't worth cleaning up anymore.

22. As most dogs, he would try to eat every bit of food he could that ever touched the floor. Unlike every dog, that meant a brief period of diarrhea for us to clean up.

23. The cutest poses of sleeping were when he would take out his mouth and do a constant bleep.

24. He stinks in general.

#oscar posting #terminally ill dog #terminal cancer dog

[halftheway]

hi and today i’ll be sharing some of my bonus tracks with the class. today’s contribution: wilbur being a sappy mf and taking care of quackity when he won’t take care of himself🥰 (and if you feel so moved this is also on ao3<3)

“Quackity,” Wilbur says, and Quackity just grunts in reply. He’s trying to review Foolish’s budget, which in his opinion, Foolish doesn’t even need, and Wilbur won’t leave him alone.

“My darling,” he croons, draping himself over the back of Quackity’s chair. “You look stressed.”

“I am stressed, Wilbur, thank you so much for noticing,” he snaps. He shrugs Wilbur's hands from his shoulders, irritated. Honestly, the documents on his desk haven’t held his attention since Wilbur came into the room, and he  has  to get this budget done or Foolish won’t build and then—

“You get cranky when you're overworked,” Wilbur says. He puts his hands over Quackity's and pins them to the desk. “I'd offer to do it for you, but I know you… prefer handling everything yourself.”

I know you won't let me touch Las Nevadas goes unspoken. Damn fucking right. This is  his  country, and he’s spent too long watching other people running things. It’s his turn.

Speaking of other people. His good eye gives a few twitches at the pressure on his wrists. It’s familiar, and not in a good way.

“Let go of me, Wilbur,” he says slowly, and apparently his tone was enough for Wilbur to take him seriously, because he removes his hands like Quackity’s skin burns. Quackity takes in a measured breath and lets it go.

“I’m sorry, Q. Won’t do it again.” And Quackity knows he won’t. “But things slip through the cracks, when you're not at your best. Come take a break, let me take care of you for a bit?”

He hates that he also knows Wilbur will accept no as an answer, that he'll fuck off and won't be mad if Quackity says the word. He hates even more that he doesn't even want to.

“Take care of me, how, exactly?” He keeps his voice level, a little sarcastic. The phrase is just too vague for him to accept the offer upfront, no matter how tempted he is.

“Start with getting some food into you, I think,” he muses. Wilbur slowly spins Quackity’s chair around so they’re face to face; the bastard is still tall, even kneeling. “When was the last time you ate, love?”

“I had breakfast with Charlie before he left,” Quackity mumbles. That fucking look is on his face again, the one that makes him feel all melty inside. He fixes his eyes on Wilbur’s wings instead, how the primaries rest delicately on the carpet.

Wilbur nods. “Definitely food first.”

“And then?” he asks warily.

“I dunno. Maybe a bath, or a nice shower?”

It sounds nice. It sounds really fucking nice.

“Fine.”

He lets Wilbur take him to the restaurant— he’s gotta name that thing— and coax him into eating, though he draws the line at being hand-fed. He has a little fucking dignity.

Not enough, apparently. Wilbur scoops him up as soon as he’s done eating and refuses to put him down until they’re in his bathroom.

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” he says, leaning down to peck the tip of his nose.

Quackity blinks. It hadn’t occurred to him that Wilbur might leave until he was literally walking out the bathroom door.

“Wait,” he says, because his brain and mouth have a serious lag going on, and Wilbur pauses and turns.

“Do you, um. Did you want to—”  Gods, this is coming out so awkwardly, but at least it’s coming out at all— “maybe, maybe join me?”

Instantly, Wilbur’s wings puff. His body betrays his every emotion, and Quackity watches his face light up as he steps closer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just— Just for a shower, though,” he clarifies. He’s not sure he could take anything more.

He beams. “Can I wash your hair?”

He feels naked, which is stupid, because he  is naked. But he feels it in a grosser, more vulnerable sense. He doesn't give a shit about being physically naked in front of people anymore, because god knows he's run around with his dick out enough times that nudity doesn't faze him. The way Wilbur makes him wait outside the shower until he's got the water exactly how Quackity likes it, though, the way he tips Quackity's chin up so he can kiss him under the spray, all of it, it's so much. Wilbur directs him fully under the water, starts combing his fingers through Quackity's hair while he hums a song Quackity doesn’t recognize.

"Something new?" he asks, and Wilbur just smiles.

"You'll be the first to know, darling," he answers, leaning past Quackity to grab the shampoo. He works it into Quackity's hair gently, and Quackity tries not to lean into it.

"Rinse," he murmurs, and Quackity follows his command.

Wilbur fucking shields his eyes as he rinses, and Quackity? Quackity feels a little like he's going to explode or cave in or something. He's missed this so much, missed being treated like something worth taking care of. Well, not something. Someone.  (He's been treated like an object, before. That, he doesn't miss.) And he'd missed Wilbur too, can't help but lean back into him as he wraps his arms around Quackity's waist and tucks his head against his neck.

It was never like this before; his memories of back then are fuzzed over, the good and the bad, but he knows neither of them let themselves be this tender. He likes it.

Naturally Wilbur ruins the moment by sinking his teeth into Quackity's shoulder.

It hurts, and he yelps, "What the fuck?"

He doesn't even have the decency to look  sorry,  the asshole, so Quackity smacks his chest (gently, gently) and gets out of the shower, huffy.

"Quackity," Wilbur whines through the shower door, and Quackity shakes his head.

"No, you're not getting me back in there, motherfucker, you bit me," he accuses. "You can wash your own damn hair."

He's already wrapped himself in a towel, draped it around his shoulders like a blanket.

“Quackityyy,” he tries again, and Quackity's resolve is already wavering. He's still all wet and cold and god dammit, he's letting the towel fall to the floor as he gets back in, and his dickbag of a… Boyfriend? Partner? He doesn't fucking know.

His Wilbur is standing there with his stupid arms already open and Quackity's already stepping into them.

"Why did you bite me, asshole," he complains into Wilbur's neck. It's not really a question, but Wilbur answers anyway.

"I love you?"

Which is a bullshit reason to bite someone, in Quackity's opinion. But he's used to all Wilbur's weird rhymes and reasons, so he just sighs. "Don't do it as hard, next time. Shit hurt."

"It hurts?" he repeats, and doesn't even give Quackity a chance to answer before he's pressing a kiss over the mark.

"Hurt," he corrects, but he can't muster enough sternness in his tone, not with Wilbur now mouthing over his neck, "past tense."

Wilbur hums in assent. "I'll be gentler, darling."

#dsmp #las nevadas polycule #tntduo fic #dsmp fic #dream smp fic

[kittydripuwu]

♡. - bf!levi headcannons

+ pairing - levi ackerman x reader

+ word count - 1494

+ content - fluffy n nsfw shit

+ a/n: wow i’m back from the dead! finally finished this,,enjoy <3

SFW

- ok to start you probably won't even realize levi likes you, he's so monotone and definitely would not make it obvious

- similar to eren, he won't make it obvious at all until he physically just can't hide it from you anymore and it'll be quite the surprise when you figure out that he does, cause yaknow levi is really good at making you think he hates you

- i see levi as a simple but formal man, he'll definitely take you out somewhere nice or ugh i can just imagine him taking you on a DRIVE

- drives with one hand on the wheel. ooh and he's def the type of guy to drive manual and make you hold your hand on the gear shift stick and put his on top of yours (does that make sense idk)

- when levi gets attached to you, he'll literally be the most caring person ever oh my god he would be so scared to lose you awh, please remind him how much you love him and appreciate him, he needs to know that he's doing well

- FOREHEAD KISSES!!!!! he will give you so many out of nowhere throughout the day and won't even say anything abt it just accept them cause he's so precious. anyways i think levi also likes receiving forehead kisses cause he can be so needy for love and affection so it'll make his heart go <33333 when u give him forehead kisses too

- i don't think he's super clingy, he honestly likes his personal space and alone time but if u come up and hug him when he's working or something it'll make him so happy

- won't ever show this but he loves being cared for, loves the idea of having someone to come home to, someone who just makes him feel loved

- love language is definitely acts of service, levi isn't very affectionate with words or touch, but he'll constantly do little things like clean up after you, carry you to bed if you fell asleep on the couch, bring you tea throughout the day. just overall little things that he does because he loves you

- would be superrrr overprotective of you, he'll do anything to make sure you're always safe. and this would lead to some jealousy if he were to see other people tryna come near you and make moves

- doesn't use a lot of pet names but mostly uses; love, baby, sweetheart and obviously your name which he says in his very sexy voice cuz levi

- holds your hand in public <3_<3

- loves watching movies with you and laying his head on your lap, while you play with his hair, definitely one of his favorite ways to de-stress after a long day of killing titans

- will randomly bring you tea?? like he could be in the worst mood or mid fight between you two and he'll just make you some tea to remind you that he loves you.

- ok and he'll literally make you try different teas and remember your favorites so he can make em for you, ugh so thoughtful

- will not offer you his clothes but if he sees you wearing his shirt on a lazy day his heart will literally melt and you will not be able to escape his arms for the rest of the day

- has no idea how to use technology so like teach him please he's so confused

- gets you a necklace with his name on it so you have a little somethin to remind you of him when he's away

- will not let you leave your shared bedroom until the bed is made

- on that note, he teaches you how to properly clean and will make you PRACTICE cleaning bye he's so annoying

- will take you out to fancy and expensive restaurants

- HE ORDERS TEA AT ANY FOOD PLACE oh my god please

- gets mad at you when you take pics of him and will refuse and complain when you try to take pictures with him

- wears slippers cuz he's such a dad

- likes to do everything traditionally so expect him to pay for you at restaurants and take GOOD fuckin care of you

- loves taking baths with you? he finds it so comforting to have a nice candle-lit bubble bath with you

- literal chef

- will cook for you ^. he does not trust anyone, even you in the kitchen. so please, let him do his thing. the most he'll let you do is get something high up in the cupboard if you're tall enough.

- doesn't let you wear high heels because it makes him feel short LOL

- really difficult to communicate emotions with. he hates being vulnerable around anyone so it takes a while for him to warm up to you and open up

- arguments with him are highkey a pain in the ass cause he's stubborn as fuck and will not listen to you unless you physically yell at him

- will give you the best post-argument cuddles tho

- overall just a very protective and caring mans, he'll treat you so right

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

- call him daddy plEASE

- daddy daddy daddy daddy

- sorry but i just don't see this man being a bottom

- mostly a soft dom if you're obedient, if not then goodluck

- DISCIPLINE KINK. he will not hesitate to bend you over his lap and do whatever he needs to do to make you behave.

- with that ^ he has 0 mercy when it comes to spanking. he will make you count and will not care if your ass is burning up and tears are falling from your eyes. you misbehave? you get punished. simple.

- teases you in public because he likes to see you struggle to contain yourself

- would definitely be the type to use one of those phone controlling vibrators on you ^

- LOVES LOVES LOVES to see you in pretty lacey lingere. especially white.

- brat tamer. he will not hesitate to call you a brat and punish you

- speaking of punishment, good luck with that lol this man will make sure you learn your fucking lesson if you disobey him

- "act like a bitch, get fucked like one"

- but if you're good for him he'll call you his little angel or his pretty girl and treat you so fucking well

- "pretty girl, daddy's going to treat you so well tonight"

- not very vocal tbh

- doesn't let you hold anything back tho. unless he's gagging you, you ain't allowed to hold back a single moan babe

- incredible self control like this man will not cum until you do first

- COCKWARMING ugh he loves filling you up with his cock when he's working, he claims it makes him "focus better"

- and don't you dare move and distract him because that will lead to punishment

- if yall are ever in a fight or he's had a bad day, good luck because he will give you NO MERCY

- will train you to only cum with his approval. you will not be able to do it without his permission. sorry but that's just how he is.

- loves to have you on your knees before him, he finds it so fucking attractive when you're in such a vulnerable position for him

- king of edging and overstim combined. will edge you for hours and then overstim the fuck outta you

- big hand cuff enthusiast. absolutely loves having easy access to everything without having your hands get in the way. he likes those pretty white ones which are fuzzy on the inside.

- as harsh as he can be, he also loves to PRAISE you when you're being a good girl for him.

- "sweet angel, always so good and obedient for me" PLSSS he can be so fucking sweet

- KING OF CONSENT!!! you'll always hear him asking things like "is this okay my love?" "are you sure you want to do this baby?" "don't forget to use the safe word if you feel uncomfortable angel" ugh we love a respectful man

- SO good at setting the vibe, he knows exactly what music to pick, which lights to keep on and off, and obviously what kind of tea you'll crave before hand.

- he's so annoying with his tea omfg

- anyways

- pussy enthusiast. he will eat you out anywhere, anytime.

- very simple, favorite position is definitely missionary because he just LOVES to see how your eyes roll to the back of your head from just him pushing his tip in.

- will punish you for making a mess LOL sorry

- incredible with aftercare tho, he'll clean you up, kiss any marks he left, and overall just give you the BEST cuddles.

- falling asleep in his arms after sex <3333333333

#ria writes #dirty mfs #attak on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan levi #attack on titan smut #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x reader smut #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman imagine #levi fluff #levi headcanons #levi x you #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk levi #snk levi ackerman

[snappleapple]

their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

#dream #georgenotfound #sapnap #wilbur soot #punz #jschatt #awesamdude #quackity #dreamwastaken x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #wilbur soot x reader #punz x reader #jschlatt x reader #awesamdude x reader #quackity x reader #dream x reader #george x reader #wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt headcanons #mcyt au #mcyt