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tryst-art-archive · 1 year

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Nov. 2012: "ThirdEssayD1_ScrapForParts.doc"

An unfinished start of an essay for my nonfiction class.

--------Essay------>

I have a poor memory where my own life is concerned. My mind tends to be overactive, busily poring over every moment, every word, of my present and past, constantly revising and editing them down to their barest parts, turning them into legendary events instead of actual moments of time. The end result is that, when asked about my life and its formative events, I provide not so much an accurate account but a ritualized and carefully formulated myth that, while wholly based in fact and actual happenings, cannot be definitively confirmed, much less by me. This same process watches everything I do and say, commenting upon my actions and then commenting again upon the thought about the actions and so forth and so on down the line; the space in my head is a babble of thoughts, and I am at my most functional when they are a rumbling background noise from which only an occasional impression emerges. Conversely, when my mental rumble solidifies into a single, articulate stream of thought, into actual words, I become utterly dysfunctional, suddenly clumsily failing to accurate complete tasks that were second nature a moment ago, whether that means printing a flyer to fit an letter-sized sheet of paper or simply breathing in a normal fashion. (I forget how to breathe three to five times a day, usually when I’m on the train, and often because I can’t hear my breathing over my headphones and some other passenger looked at me askance like I’ve committed a social faux pas at which point my mind erupts into tangible thought to ask, “Oh god am I breathing loudly?!” causing me to think about how breathing works.) About two to three times per week, walking eludes me, usually when I remember previous compliments from past sexual partners on either my rump or my consistent and daily ability to walk in high heels, and I spend the rest of the day chanting “Heel toe! Heel toe!” in my mind, occasionally skipping a couple of feet because my rhythm might be off, visually. I sometimes forget how my facial muscles work as well, smiling longer than I’m used to—which admittedly isn’t very long; years of cultivating invisibility have provided me with a default facial expression that is at best morose and at worst downright unfriendly—and then, suddenly strained by the fatigue of holding my cheeks and mouth and eyebrows in an upright position, I have to roll my features around in an effort to relocate normal.

Verbal thinking decimates me, emotionally as well, ultimately destroying my ability to feign normalcy until, through chance, I sink back into my comfortable state of floating buzz. I often don’t remember the things I write, especially if I or others wind up liking the results, and back in the days when I was visually artistically inclined, the same was true of my sketches and digital drawings. In the summer before my senior year of college I took on a graphic design internship at a magazine company which began with a panicked me constantly thinking verbally about every little design decision and whether or not my new, temporary coworkers would approve. The results were atrocious, worse than work I’d made for classes the semester before that had landed me this internship in the first place, worse than poorly Photoshopped posters I’d made for my high school’s literary magazine or indeed the pathetic attempts at InDesign use I’d managed for that very magazine. It wasn’t until despair at every being able to feel even remotely comfortable or accepted at the internship in question set in that I relaxed at all and my verbal monologue moved away from my design choices and to how ridiculous it was that my current coworkers were handcrafting Caesar salads for lunch while I hid behind my uncomfortable Mac eating Lunchables that I began to turn out any designs that were worthwhile at all. Of course, by then I’d managed to quietly break and then repair the computer I’d been loaned by first unintentionally loading over thirty thousand fonts onto its hard drive and then hand-deleting them until I could open InDesign without the computer crashing; the quality of my free advertisements and newsletters were the least of my worries. In fact, as the internship went on and I became less and less interested and invested in it and more and more certain that I was utterly useless and had damned myself forever in the eyes of my coworkers simply by existing, the better my work became, eventually becoming portfolio-worthy. I’d seen the same effect in my photography as well; a shot carefully constructed and planned out inevitably had a car passing by at the worst moment or an obvious light stand at the edge of the frame or my thumb in the corner, but if I sketched a quick thumbnail of an idea for a shot, gathered up a model or a prop and vaguely threw myself at taking that photograph and simply seeing what rolled off of it otherwise, I wound up with solid images that I could feel a little proud of. And why? Because my mind was barely involved, or at least I wasn’t consciously aware of what I was doing; I was merely doing it.

When I write well, if I write well, I typically start out consciously aware of my words, selecting them and putting them down, for any number of pages, until eventually I stop knowing. I enter what I can only call a trance state in which words fall onto the page via my fingers and keyboard, and I do not know that they are happening. I effectively black out, and when I come up out of writing I breathe like a surfacing swimmer—to abuse a simile—and do not remember what I have written. I generally know the gist of it, have some sense for what occurred, but I absolutely never remember the actual words. Most of them are familiar, but when I have done well, I find a gem or two, a sentence here or a word choice there that strikes home and that I simply cannot remember having ever put down, as if someone else put it there. Yet I am the only one here, and so I must have done it.

It is the same phenomenon that allows me to breathe properly one moment but not the next; my mind’s involvement, or rather my mind’s lack of involvement, is directly tied to my level of success in any matter. Writing is merely the most extreme form of that phenomenon. I suppose I could be experiencing a sampling bias in this matter—I am one of those infuriating people who has never had to try to succeed, and while that’s mighty convenient in most academic settings, it turns out it’s a violently debilitating factor in the real world in much the same way that growing up without any hardship whatsoever tends to generate entitled brats instead of well-adjusted, useful citizens, to put what is probably going to be an unpopular opinion out there—but it is at least what I perceive to be true.

For most of my life I’ve had a hard time distinguishing between reality and fantasy. This isn’t to say that I have spent many years in a state of delusion or that I ran around believing dragons were real long past their expiration date; it’s much more subtle than that. I typically have very bizarre dreams that, usually, either mimic video game logic or actually feature a stereotypical video game user interface with health bars and ammo trackers and mini-maps and scores overlaid onto the dream proper. On the occasions when I have realistic or, at least, believable dreams, I spend anywhere from three days to three months believing that they have happened. The illusion is only ever broken—if it’s ever broken—by something missing. For example, I once dreamt that my high school drama club director gave me an important role in an upcoming play and that she had given me a certificate to prove it. Perhaps the certificate and the inclusion of a tub of goo in the dream should have tipped me off to the unreal nature of the dream, but the school’s auditorium looked exactly like the school’s auditorium and the drama director was entirely herself, physically and mentally, and so I missed the obvious. It wasn’t until we were a month into rehearsals for the play that it dawned on me that I had a bit part—one that I had been rehearsing and practicing for a month—and that the dream-memory had never, in fact, happened. Within my memories and on an emotional level, the dream’s truth trumped a month’s worth of factual actuality.

That was probably the last time, that I can recall anyway, that I had such an extreme reality break. My disassociation from reality was worse back then; I’ve become more and more fixated in the actual moment as I’ve aged and begun to manage my own affairs and therefore my own survival. The disassociation has hardly disappeared entirely, however. Typically, I simply don’t feel myself, the things around me whether people, places, or things, or events occurring in my life to be real. It’s all just a hazy, unending fog. I can distinctly recall one occasion on which the fog lifted.

The moment occurred in high school as well, on a weekday afternoon like any other. I was home alone, my parents being at work, and I was at the familial computer, my home and my refuge since the tender age of thirteen, when all at once I felt the facts of my existence. It manifested as a crushing weight which I visualized as a series of tombstones stacking up on my back, ascending past the ceiling as a morbid skyscraper. I felt the absolute certainty of my impending and, relative to the universe, quickly approaching death; I had the complete knowledge that in a blink of an eye I would be wholly responsible for myself and that, really, I already was, that everything I existed as and everything I had ever done and everything I had ever felt was, one way or another, directly my fault, and that my unending and overwhelming unhappiness was entirely my own construction and mine to dismantle. I knew that life as it existed at that moment would disappear, that my cats and family and friends would all die and that all of those things were impermanent even without the threat of death, and I froze, stymied by the sudden knowledge that everything that was happening was real. That thought echoed in my mind, leaving my paralyzed and horrified, completely at a loss.

All of this occurred within a second, and the moment passed as immediately and inexplicably as it had come, and my dreamlike fog settled on me again, though thinner than before, and it was some days before the afterimage of the grave on my spine fully dissipated.

When I was five or seven—pardon my fallible memory—I spent most of my nights trying to imagine death. I was raised a Roman Catholic and attended CCD and church, but the idea of heaven was, even then, completely implausible to me. They told me there was a benevolent and loving God, but if that was true then everyone should be happy, but they weren’t. They told me that God always listened but on the one or two occasions I prayed to him to ask for something—on both occasions it was for No School Tomorrow—the prayers went unanswered which seemed unfair because it wasn’t like I asked for things all that often, and all things considered I was a pretty good kid. These things contributed to my skepticism, but the clincher on my early aethieism was the day they told me that animals didn’t go to heaven. I never voiced my doubts, but they went something like this: Heaven is paradise, i.e., the place where everything is happy all the time forever. In order for me to be happy, my cats must be with me. Animals don’t go to heaven which means cats don’t go to heaven which means that when I go to heaven, I will be unhappy. Which means it isn’t heaven because I’d be stuck there without my cats forever. From there I got to wondering about what happened to the families of “bad people”? When the Bad People got sent to hell, didn’t that mean their families were miserable in heaven, like I would inevitably be? Or was it that the Bad People went up to heaven so that their Good People families would be happy? But then wouldn’t that mean that everybody was in heaven? So then hell was pointless? I couldn’t reconcile the ideas and, in the end, was forced to conclude that the whole Catholicism thing was a sham. (Over the years I went from aethiest to agnostic to aethiest to agnostic and now finally I just don’t give any kind of damn at all, though I still abhor organized religion as a concept.)

Well, if heaven and hell didn’t exist, then that meant there was no afterlife, and that, of course, meant simply not existing after death. It made the most sense, and I still hold to that opinion: Just Dead. So, as a child, recently convinced within her own mind of the fallacy of the after life, I spent most of my bed time, before I fell asleep, trying to imagine being dead.

I would lie very still, like a plank, and close my eyes, and try to breathe as little as possible, holding stillness within myself. I would then will my entire personality away and try to embody someone who does not exist. This is very hard to do, and I’d frequently get caught up in thinking of how dark or cold it was, being dead and not existing, and then I’d realize that dead, nonexistent people don’t think or feel so I wouldn’t notice the dark or the cold and I wouldn’t be thinking about it so stop doing that. And I’d try to still everything within me again, and eventually thoughts would bubble up again, and I’d quell them again, and so on until I fell asleep.

Later, when puberty set in and brought with it a pile of depression, I repeated this same exercise as an effort to will myself to death. Willing oneself to death, it turns out, is also very tricky.

My first memory is of a dream. In the dream, there is a baby that I instinctively know is me. I am not in her perspective; I am floating outside of her, looking at her glare at her surroundings and wave her piggy arms and legs that I loathe, quietly. She’s in a car seat—it’s white with primary colored polka dots gathered together like the Wonderbread logo—that is set on a long, folding table of plastic and fake wood paneling. I have confirmed with my parents that they owned this car seat, and I did, in fact, sit in it as a child. I know the table existed because I saw it many times throughout my childhood and adolescence; the table both in dream and in reality were in a dim marbled function hall of linoleum tiling, ugly striped wallpaper with white wood paneling, and fake, electric candle sconces. This was the function hall at the Knights of Columbus in [...] (which recently declared bankruptcy, a relic of my childhood gone), a place my dad bartended at for many years and which I spent many post-elementary school afternoons roaming about.

In the dream, I remain focused on baby me, somewhat elevated above her, aware of the table and the car seat and the speckled linoleum floor and the dim wall sconces. There are shadows all around her, falling onto her curled fists, and there is the hubbub of laughing and talking relatives—my relatives. The shadows belong to my maternal grandmother and my great-aunts. They are laughing and chatting and drinking wine, and this is some kind of party for me, about me, to do with this baby on the table who is me but who I am outside of, staring down, disliking. I do not know if this party happened in actuality, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it did.

I wake up from the dream at age five, in a room painted Strawberry Fields pink with an ugly salmon carpet and fake wooden door. I do not know who I am. My mind is utterly blank. There is nothing but absence within it, a feeling that I should know this place, should know myself, should remember something, but I do not and I stare at the far wall, bolt upright in my tiny twin bed with its glow-in-the-dark dinosaur sheets and Barbie princess pillowcase, clutching those fossils in two upraised fists.

It seems a long time that I sit like this, but it must have been only a few seconds. Facts begin to pour back into me. My name: R[...] R[...] M[...], just like that, as you’d write it at the top of a test on handwriting; then my phone number and my address, just as you’d recite them to a police officer if you were lost. My spreadsheet filtered back into me, and as it did so I got out of bed and walked slowly, stunned, to the door. It opened out into the kitchen, and that felt familiar and new at the same time, and at the wooden kitchen table there was a woman with dark brown hair like mine and a sad mouth like mine and deeper, blacker eyes than mine, and she was reading a small novel, and she looked up at me as I walked out, and almost smiled, but seemed to see something wrong so that the smile became concern and she asked something or said something with a question mark—something like “Good morning, honey...?”—and still dazed I did not answer but sat in the chair next to her and curled up and I thought to myself in the clear, slow language of one in a haze who tries to define what is inexplicable before them, “This Is MOM.”

I don’t remember anything after that, but I know she was younger then.

I want desperately to live the world through someone else’s mind. I crave knowledge of experience besides my own. I want to know what it’s like to be a man and have a penis—my friends and I have joked for a long time that I have worse penis envy than my transgendered roommate who is currently preparing for surgery to remove his breasts—and I want to know what it’s like to be a social person who goes out and has fun and parties and knows so many people and does drugs and all of the rest of that lifestyle. (Logically I know I could do these things, but it isn’t in me; that isn’t who I am and the prospect of half of them is a terror. It took me until I was twenty to even accept the idea of alcohol and people drinking it; before that, I conceived of non-adults who drank as Bad People.) I want to understand the world through the eyes of the certifiably mentally diseased and through the certifiably healthy so that I can determine both where I fall on that spectrum and whether or not there’s as much difference as there appears to be. I want to live life as a cat and a fox and then a deer or a bird and a jellyfish and a shark or maybe an amoebae or a virus and thus understand the world and whether animals and humans are all that different because logically, biologically, we shouldn’t be. I want to be a plant and learn if they feel. I want to be a rock and then I want to be a cloud and then I want to go back to humans, complex as they are, and be a baby but remember this time and be an old geezer and not lose all the rest of these memories and I’d like to be President for a little while and a garbage man for a little while and a heroin addict for a little while and every single person I know or have ever met and I want to understand everything. I have always felt trapped inside here—not in my body, in my mind. It’s like a cage; there’s so much world out there, and I can only perceive a tiny sliver, and I am physically or, in some cases, emotionally incapable of exploring it fully, and I so want to know it, and I’m endlessly frustrated by my inability to step out of my head and simply be someone or something else.

But, you know, more often than that, I fantasize about not existing. Not dying, per se, just disappearing out of the world like a ghost fading with the dawn, and when I indulge in these fantasies I lie rigid in my bed with my eyes closed, trying to be still, right down to the breathing I don’t always remember how to do, and I find some way to disappear, like a character exiting a novel, and the perspective shifts and suddenly I am my friends, and I watch them live out their lives, and I know it all, and that is contentment.

#old writing #writing archive #prose #nonfiction #personal essay #ADHD #depression #mortality #suicide #early memory #suicidal ideation #mental health #introspection #10s #2012 #Age 21 #assignments #disassociation

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sevicia · 1 year

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Idk if I ever mentioned but I started listening to Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata yesterday and finished it today. It's very short, exactly 3 hrs 22 mins, and I really really liked it

My favorite part of the book was how Keiko behaved and spoke and thought, because it felt really familiar. Stuff like mimicking others' behavior to "fit in" (speech patterns, fashion choices, etc.), and of finding ?comfort? in a set environment such as the convenience store. I don't know if it can be accurately called "comfort", because while it IS a set routine, something to base her entire life around, it is, at the same time, oppressive in the way that it becomes her whole world and dictates everything from her eating habits to her speech patterns.

Keiko says a lot that, in the convenience store, they are only convenience store workers. Not men or women or any other identifiable quality, just workers, and I found that an interesting way to view it because when it gets broken near the end of the book, she is very upset about it. Being upset when something you convinced yourself of (with basis, yes, but still not 100% true in practice), is broken, is very understandable, but the way that she became so agitated, didn't understand why everyone had changed, and kept insisting on following the convenience store routine, made the thought of her being autistic really solidify in my head.

Because she mimicks other people, doesn't understand most social cues (the ones she understands, she has been taught), and also doesn't understand the reason behind people's attitudes when they change suddenly, not to mention her apparent lack of empathy at the beginning of the book (towards the bird and her classmates) and throughout it. She's autistic as fuck imo but I could be wrong.

Also, on the topic of sexuality, she is 100% aroace, like there is no room for doubt there. This results in trouble for her, being a single woman living in Japan in her thirties, since all of her friends and her sister pressure her to get married or at least date somebody. This is obviously fucked up, but Keiko just sort of goes with it in hopes of becoming "normal".

There's also a lot of talk of Keiko being "cured" throughout the book, which, while already messed up, is even worse when you read her as having autism. We all know why.

On the topic of Shiraha, I fucking hated the guy (as anyone with half a braincell would). Literally an incel droning on and on about the stone age, about being the victim and about women not wanting him because they go for (basically) alpha men (he doesn't phrase it like this, but c'mon). He also berates Keiko time and time again, which she doesn't care about at all, but as a reader / listener, it's really infuriating, especially since the two things he shames her for are:

1. Being a single woman in her thirties

2. Working at a convenience store while in her thirties

Which is obviously misogynistic, and ageist, and I don't know if it's the right term, but also classist. He views convenience store workers, and most definitely all retail / "lower end" workers, as trash that will never get anywhere (as if HE'S going anywhere), and he also speaks frequently of how he is looked down upon for being a virgin at his age and then proceeds to do the same to Keiko. He's such a hypocrite it's unreal.

Another thing, the way that Keiko's friends consider her an outsider until she lies about having a boyfriend is really painful to read about when you're similar to her. I have this fear of forever being an "other", and this made me feel queasy.

While I couldn't relate to Keiko at 100%, I still could relate to her quite a bit, so it really hit close to home whenever she was told she was a nobody, that she would go nowhere in life, and other horrible things. Keiko herself doesn't seem to care about this, but I do.

A lot of people call this book disturbing while others call it funny. I don't know where I fall, but it's definitely not funny.

I think my only major gripe with the book was, for some reason, the way the title was translated. The original title (as said at the end of the audiobook), is "Konbini Ningen". Which if I'm not wrong, translates literally to "Convenience Store Human". I like this better since it ties in with Keiko's view of herself as nothing but a convenience store worker, if not a "convenience store animal", as she says towards the end. However, "Convenience Store Human" doesn't have the same appeal as "Convenience Store Woman", so I can see why they went with that instead.

Anyways, I really enjoyed it. It felt oddly familiar, and was fun to listen to. I gave it 4.75 🌟 on Storygraph, because (I don't know why) it wasn't QUITE there for me. It might change in the future though idk.

If you read this whole thing:

1. you're insane a little bit

2. thank you

3. I love you. Here's your reward..... :

booboo wheel

#long post #I have to find a new audiobook naow #much to think about

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priwenshallprevail · 28 days

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Geoffrey holds his own demons. Conjured his own methods.

I got approached today with a question on how I pin Geoffrey's judgements on vampires as a whole. That they seemed confused on my take if he was brainwashed or not. As if I were putting the blame of his actions on Carl Eldritch alone.

The answer to that is yes and no. Geoffrey witnessed a horrible event occur to his family at a very young age. He's trauma riddled. He watched the brutality his father inflicted onto his mother first hand when he returned home a vampire. To Geoffrey, his father was no more than a beast. A monster. The same could be said for his brother when the time came to finally strike him down after nearly a two and a half year hunt. So with what Carl Eldritch then fed him about leeches made perfect sense. All of it aligned to what he first hand saw, as woe inflicted as he had been. Eldritch aided in solidifying those thoughts on a boy already damaged. To not acknowledge he took advantage of the circumstance is an error in itself. Though Carl did embolden such ideals into his head and fed in on the verge of fanaticism with his own teachings and oaths at command. Geoffrey leapt at them as unwavering truths. He saw the boy as a tool to mold. He was not lovingly thrusted into a settling adoption. He was nabbed into a form of servitude. Not that Geoffrey could comprehend the extent of it at the time .

Yet he grew to enjoy invoking what slowly gratified as vengeance. It helped ease his own pain. Which is why most hunts he becomes a part of is passionately acclimated as if he took umbrage. Because he kind of does. That isn't to say he didn't regret taking his brother's life when the time came. No matter how hard he tries convincing himself otherwise -- that it was no longer his brother. That the beast only wore his face. Ian was his first and hardest kill. One that still haunts him. Still struggling in coming to terms with , what he at the time , deemed as trickery when hunting his kin. Mist and mirrors. All those pleas that echo in his nightmares. Was but a ruse he would retell himself amid mantra time and time again. It isn't until his introduction to Jonathan Reid that things really start to turn upside down for him. Reid's whole existence is a huge enigma to McCullum. The Ekon changes everything. He is the prime instigator in only making Geoffrey's nightmares worse. Except now those deeply residing questions tend to fester. Conceiving guilt bound doubt. This is but a glimpse of his cognizance over Vampirism. So yes. He holds his own hatred bound tightly to his chest like an anchor. Formulated into deeply rooted knots from his own trauma.

However -- he was also taken advantage of by an acclaimed savior. Fed the fanatic side of an organization. A man he looked up to despite all the harsh trials he was subjected to, or the lack of a loving hand beneficial to a child in desperate need. Carl Eldritch made him into the man he is today, hardened his spirit into the warrior most have come to fear. For that he was grateful to him in more ways than he could ever express. But he was a warrior with an under current of turbulence. Unchecked trauma still germinating within makes him just as much of borderline beastly with his antics as the monsters he hunts. That too, was the fault of Carl Eldritch. If not the intended design.

#❡ character ● studies † ΜςCυllυϻ #❡ character ● studies ✞ 𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑙 𝐸𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ #『「 Tԋҽ Lσʂƚ Bɾσƚԋҽɾ : 𝐼𝛼𝜋 𝑀𝑐𝐶𝜇𝑙𝑙𝜇𝑚 」』#vampyr rp #vampyr 2018

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mlowrites · 6 months

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FINALE: I’m in love.

Reader POV

Days, weeks passed by, but they all flew over your head. Each day you and Jungwon got closer than the previous and Jungwon stopped being sneaky. Now he held your hand with no shame which never failed to bring you flustered, he never wasted a moment to not adore you when you got shy. It was until there was 2 days until holiday break that Jungwon asked you to join him in the community park, stating he wanted to enjoy the scenery.

You threw on a pair of warm sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt under your jacket, not forgetting a beanie and to do your makeup. When you met jungwon at the park he was on a bench admiring the snowfall onto the trees. You sat next to him and smiled softly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jungwon broke the silence with a simple question, turning to look at a view much better than the snow..you. Nodding in response, you were oblivious to his gaze containing nothing but pure adoration and love. “Y/n there’s something I want to tell you.” His tone more serious, you hated that your mind raced to a negative thought, but you retained a positive smile as you turned to him. “Yes won?” silence. What felt like hours passed (10 seconds) before Jungwon spoke again.

“Before we even began to know each other, I had always admired you in silence. The way you find inspiration in all of your friends and the messes they make. The way you’re so shy but around people like kazuha and yeonjun you’re a ball of sunshine. I feel like I knew you before I knew you, y’know?” you were a mess on the inside, all the details jungwon could see from you that stayed in his brain only made the butterflies in your stomach 10x worse that normal. Looking at Jungwon with surprise written all over, only gave him motive to continue.

“I feel so happy around you y/n. Every time you’ve smiled at me, and I’ve been the reason behind that adorable laugh of yours, I love it so much. I can’t help but get jealous when you’re with other people and I don’t have your attention, when someone else is the reason you’re ecstatic and overwhelmed with joy.” Tears. Threatening to escape your eyes as you realized that Jungwon felt so strongly of you and that you weren’t able to deny it anymore, it was love.

“Y/n I want to be the reason behind everything. I wanna be that muse in your art and the person you can think of to get you through everything. When you have a bad day, I want to be the person you confide in, I want to be the person you come home to everyday because every day I see your face is a great day and I refuse to carry on without seeing you anywhere. When we met, I may have just been a clumsy guy, but I want to be your clumsy guy, so, Y/l/n, will you let me be your boyfriend?”

BONUS ENDING

“Oh my god Jungwon of course you can be my boyfriend!” hugging him tightly you finally let those tears escape, but you weren’t sad, you were filled of happiness that the man who made your life so much better actually felt the same.

Jungwon broke the hug, a warm smile on his face as he wiped your tears. And finally, he closed that gap between you too. Pulling you into a soft and passionate kiss, solidifying that he was yours, and you were his.

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loobdoob · 2 years

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god i’m literally never going to fuck again i’m so embarrassed 😭 worst part is the dick is literally not even real and i still finish faster than a guy with a real dick that can actually feel ur pussy 😩 ugh that’s so pathetic and ickkkk of me. i wnt 2 die!! i have no desire to ever have sex ever again in my life. and like i was already pretty much there bc of the whole trans thing and i hate having a fake dick it’s so stupid it feels like playing make believe ugh everything is so humiliating and sex is so weird when ur not a real man and just thank god this happened it was my final sign 2 stop having sex bc it already made me want to die and now knwing u think my dick game is weak just solidifies that i shld just stop having sex for a while because i dont even want it and i dont do it for me and of course i’m sacrificing my comfort feeling like i’m doing u a favor bc you’ve been wanting it more lately and i’m the only one who cums 😂 what a joke i am. not even the one who wants it & i suck it up bc i want to be the kind of man that u want so you dont replace me with a real one. the kind of man that’s rough and wants to fuck soooo bad all the time and flips u over and fucks u like a slut i know u love that but it’s just not me i guess. i just feel like a wannabe, a dyke with a dick yay! just can’t do it anymore can’t stand now being a joke to you when i was already a joke to myself which is why i stopped wanting sex because i’m not real. it feels like the stakes are higher now that we both refer to me as a man or not as a girl, idk. maybe i’m an OK dyke but 4sure a pathetic man and i feel like if ur already letting a “man” fuck u awfully, what’s stopping u from replacing this pathetic 2 minute wonder with the next one but at least his dick will be warm and you’ll know when he cums in 2 minutes it’s because he can actually feel inside you and it’s such a deeper connection. not just some stupid vibrator forced on my clit while i fuck you and there’s no connection. i want to feel it, i know u want me to feel it but sadly all i get is vibrator and we both know someone else could just fuck u way better the way u want and it won’t just be an act it will be real and there will be a deeper connection that we could never have because i’m sadly incomplete. just wanna die tbh but what’s new ! just shocking everyday when i think i can’t feel worse about myself or existing and i think how much closer could a person get to suicide without actually doing it and then low and behold just when i think i’ve realized all of the pain i can handle here comes some more realizations and more frontal lobe development so i can look down the line into my shitty life for the first time yay!! that’s totally helping ! i’ll forever be a struggling pathetic “man” with a vagina and a cold fake dick that i can’t even put in with no lube because the material is bullshit and just a stupid fucking bone ppl throw to weirdos like me who convince themselves it helps to wear this, or even tho i can’t feel it i have phantom limbs ! like ugh we are all so desperately trying to be okay and like sometimes when reality hits i realize how pathetic,miserable and not okay i am and i’m like wow i truly don’t know how much longer i can take pretending i’m fine with all of the fake “build a man” bullshit. don’t want to have scars on my chest. don’t want to wear a binder anymore, they hurt so bad. don’t want to look like a man to everyone on the surface but have a fucking pussy like do u know how hard it is to make ur pussy masculine💀 it sucks so bad getting head and im like man i wish it didn’t feel like i was a lil bottom busting it open for my top rn 💀wish it felt like my girl was gargling on my dick but nope the imagination can only create so many delusions. it cannot turn a pussy into a dick sadly, and it can’t make me feel like a man no matter how i feel i was supposed to be born, i know i’ll never be able to accept this half assed reality. i would rather die than live as a joke to myself and everyone around me. and i’m truly learning how to find peace with that

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rottedsoulx · 2 years

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Sponge MK shenanigans I was thinking about.

1. an addition to the theory.

The monster trees in that one episode were never explained. Or at least remain unexplained at the time of writing. Sooooo crack idea that MK was sponging it up in the calabash. He accidentally brought some of those illusions to life via his stress. Heeheehoohoo.

b) TRUE SHENANIGANS (which maybe turned into a mini fic as I was writing it whoops)

At the beginning of their journey, they’re taking inventory of everything they were able to escape with. Monkey King kind of glosses over MK, already having witnessed LBD take his powers. Mei’s got her dragon blade, Pigsy’s got an assortment of kitchenwares, Sandy is... Sandy, and Tang’s got his nerd books. He can make do with that. While he’s lost in thought, MK gets impatient and just... “MONKEY KING, LOOK!” before he turns into a bird, flies for a moment and returns back.

Monkey King is floored for a moment. “She... She had that one. So how... What else can you still do?”

MK struggles for a bit, attempting to use his golden vision, duplication, he can’t grow or shrink, but weirdly enough his other transformations are working. His fire fist is downgraded into nothing but a few sparks shooting from his palms. Which was better than nothing.

Wukong scratches his head. “... that’s it, huh?”

His shoulders sag, and MK feels powerless. He suddenly jerks. “H-hold on there’s one more but... It’s been a while.”

Monkey King is very confused???? Because as far as he was aware that was all he’d taught the kid, or was aware that the kid knew??? So he nods for MK to try whatever he was gonna try.

MK inhales. Take the power. And destroy. It takes surprisingly little effort, but soon purplish wisps of energy grow around his hands. Monkey King seems alarmed, but he continues anyway. The energy builds and solidifies in his hands. A weapon, a spiked staff seemingly made from Shadow.

Nervously, he explains. “I uh... kind of figured this one out on my own when... Macaque.”

Wordlessly Monkey King walks closer and carefully takes the weapon into his own hands. He just witnessed his own kid create it, yet the way it looks and feels could only be replicated by one person. His eyes search MK’s, a blank yet scrutinizing stare. After a moment, the Monkey King relaxes, apparently finding whatever he had been searching for. “How are you using his power?”

MK simply shrugs. “I thought... it was normal? Isn’t all magic the same?”

Sun Wukong let out an offended scoff, slowly crouching down and placing his head in his hands. “We can work with this. Last resort, I see which of Macaque’s tricks I can teach you.”

(notes: yes Monkey King was making sure that MK was MK and not somehow Macaque taking his place. And yes I wanna see MK goin feral using Macaque’s powers. Or at least struggling with controlling them because Macaque is so unhinged how does he live like this.)

Three: One more thing

MK learning that he might be able to make shadow clones and immediately consulting Mei to help him. She thinks it’s a horrible idea but figures it can’t be worse than the first time MK made clones. She was wrong

Mei: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING???

MK: I WAS JUST TRYING IT OUT IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO FLIP OUT LIKE THIS-

Mei: (sword is ready) GET RID OF IT-

MK: IM TRYING I THINK MY PANIC IS JUST MAKING IT STRONGER.

Mei: THEN CALM DOWN-

MK: I CANT CALM DOWN MY SHADOW DEMON IS TRYING TO KILL ME AND MY BEST FRIEND IS YELLING AT ME-

#monkie kid #lmk #sponge mk #qi xiaotian #long xiaojiao #lego sun wukong #monkey king

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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away.

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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the-aggro-crag-car · 2 years

Text

"You're really okay with doing this? I can manage myself I think, if you don't-"

"Lake, it's fine. The tutorial I looked at online didn't look too hard," Jesse said, trying his best to assure his friend and not show the nerves he felt holding the electric razor. He'd never cut anyone's hair before, let alone shaved it all off.

This hadn't been how he'd planned on spending the evening either. He hadn't thought much of it when Lake had texted asking to come over, but he probably should have. Lake didn't usually have to ask after all. He was pretty sure his family had just accepted at some point that there was just a non-zero chance of Lake being in the house at any given time.

So the fact that they had asked should have been a warning that something was wrong. He hadn't picked it up then, but he definitely had when they immediately made a beeline for his bed, hiding under the covers without a word.

It didn't take much to figure out what was wrong. Setting the blanket up as the world's worst fort had managed to break through their dismay enough to get a laugh, and then an explanation.

Another fight with their parents, which spilled over into a fight between their parents, which meant more arguing with Tulip until eventually Lake had stormed out and started stomping down the familiar walk to his house.

Apparently, the start of it all was that Lake had wanted a haircut. Things had just spiraled from there.

Jesse didn't know if the arguments and miscommunication would get better or worse if Lake actually came out to their family, but that was their choice, not his.

He couldn't fix everything like he wanted for them, but he could look up some videos and offer to steal the razor from his parents bathroom to cut Lake's hair himself.

"Okay, I'm ready when you are," Lake said, and Jesse nodded. It really had been just sort of, set the razor to the length you want and try to not miss any spots or take off an ear.

It didn't actually end up taking all that long. Lake's hair was usually pretty short already, but it had gotten near about down to their shoulders now. Even still, Jesse was kind of surprised by just how much hair was coating the bathroom floor by the time they were done.

"Okay, lemme know what you think and I'm sorry if you hate it," he said, stepping back and shaking the last bit of hair out of the razor.

Watching their face as they inspected themself in the mirror, Jesse could feel his stomach twist and flutter as a smile broke out on Lake's face. It was- people always made comments about how angry and irritated Lake was all the time, but that wasn't true at all. Jesse got to see them smiling plenty.

They had a really, really nice smile.

"Dude, it's perfect," they said, running a hand over their head and sending more tiny bits of red hair falling down and clinging to their clothes. Jesse's first instinct was to try to brush it off, but it was kind of everywhere.

"You might want to get a shower, unless you want to be itchy forever," he said, and Lake nodded, still not looking away from the mirror.

"Yeah, fair enough. Uh, do you have-"

"I'm pretty sure there are more of your clothes in my drawers than mine at this point," he said, which was only a slight exaggeration. Lake snorted, rolling their eyes.

"That's because you throw all your clothes in the bottom of your closet," they insisted, which was maybe a little fair.

"I don't throw them, they just fall off the hangers," he insisted, already heading out to grab them an outfit that wasn't covered in hair to change into.

When he came back Lake had managed to sweep up most of the floor hair into the trashcan. It was still pretty obvious that someone had been more or less sheered in there, but it was better than nothing.

Lake wasn't in the shower for too long, bursting into his room and collapsing down on his bed again. Unlike last time though they were smiling, a confidence solidified in them that Jesse hadn't even realized wasn't there before. He couldn't resist reaching out and petting their new buzzed hair when they laid down right in his lap. He was pretty sure they were trying to be annoying, but it didn't really work.

"Fuzzy," he commented, and Lake snorted at that.

"I know, right?" they said, their mood such a stark contrast to when they first showed up. "Seriously though, how's it look?"

"Super cool," Jesse assured them, because it did. "You look a lot more comfortable? It's,- I don't know, it's just really good," he continued, pausing some before adding with a wince, "even if this is definitely going to make your mom hate me even more than she already does."

"Eh, my parents hate everything that makes me happy," Lake said with a shrug, simple as anything. Jesse kind of wanted to argue, to tell Lake that probably wasn't true.

The casual way Lake had just admitted to Jesse making them happy though kind of distracted him. After a moment he managed to huff.

"Man, Lake you know how bad I get when I know people don't like me," he grumbled, getting a snort from his best friend.

"Well, you could stop doing so much for me. That might get my parents to stop being all dumb about you," they suggested, and he knew it wasn't a sincere option.

"Yeah, that's not happening," he insisted, becauseit wasn't. "Maybe a cake?"

"Worth a shot," Lake said with another shrug. It had been a bit of a joke, but he might actually need to get some sort of apology gift after this. He could only imagine the fallout that was sure to come when Lake actually went home.

They could put that off for a while though. This sort of thing had happened before. Lake's family probably wouldn't be expecting them back until at least morning.

"Thanks. Again," Lake muttered, and Jesse couldn't help but smile as he continued to run his hand over short buzzed hair.

"Hey, i told you it's fine. Worth it to see you so happy," he said, which was maybe more straightforward than he usually would be, but it was true.

He could deal with some people being mad at him for his part in this, if it meant seeing Lake so happy.

#infinity train #jesse cosay #lake infinity train #jesslake #just some human lake au fluff #i swear i have like three totally separate human lake aus #lakes out to jesse but not their family in this one #this is probably the same au #as the one where tulip meets jesse after he got shot by a crossbow #and basically had the worst first impression

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Helping Billy and Stu on their murder spree would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This might not be exactly what you were expecting but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Sorry it took me longer than expected!)

- Wrong. That was the best way to describe your relationship with Billy and Stu: wrong, fucked up, and dangerous …but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was exciting.

- You were no saint. That was a fact you’d come to terms with a while ago. You were no saint but you certainly weren’t a killer; at least not when all of this started. No, back then, you were just a really, really bad girlfriend.

- Truth be told: you weren’t single when you’d gotten involved with the boys, though, to be fair, neither were they; not that that made things any better.

- You’d had a boyfriend, a boyfriend you’d once really cared about, but somewhere along the line, you’d begun to have problems and instead of resolving them, you’d both chosen to ignore them and resent each other instead. Which is probably why it was so easy for you to fall into another boys arms; especially when they were as charming as Billy was or as sweet as Stu was.

- You’d always had a bit of a crush on Billy. The two of you’d been acquaintances ever since freshman year and for a while you sort of thought that you and him might get together. But then he started dating Sidney and you got asked out by your boyfriend and you just sort of tried to put the idea out of your head.

- Unbeknownst to you, the idea never left Billy’s head and he found himself plotting all the ways that he could make you his; all while finding out that his partner in crime was seemingly just as interested in you as he was.

- Stu ended up playing a crucial role in your “arrangement”. The two of you found yourselves made into lab partners and thusly, you were invited over to his place after school and later given the perfect excuse to spend time with him; and/or Billy, without causing suspicion.

- The first few times you go over to the Macher place, nothing of value happens. You do exactly what you’re supposed to: work, study, joke around a little and get a bit more comfortable being in each other’s presences. It’s a few study sessions in that you get a curveball thrown at you.

- It’s late one evening, Stu’s parents are out and you’re both studying on his living room floor when all of a sudden the doorbell rings. Stu gets up to answer it and who else would it be but Billy.

- Stu pretends to act surprised and tells the boy that he forgot they were going to hang out and that he’s studying with you. Billy assures him that it’s alright before Stu tells him to wait a second and reappears in the room, saying that he thinks the two of you have studied enough and that Billy’s got some horror movies that the three of you can watch if you’d like to stay and chill. How could you possibly refuse?

- And so, your makeshift friendship with the boys begin; a friendship which very quickly leads into something more once Billy decides the time is right to make a move.

- You obviously don’t expect it the first time it happens but you find yourself wanting more the minute it’s over.

- Sure, sometimes the guilt will kick in when you see Tatum and Sidney or when your boyfriend is being particularly sweet, but it never seems to be enough to stop you from coming over whenever they ask or letting them in whenever they knock on your door.

- But the longer the three of you keep up your affair, the more things you start to notice.

- Billy isn’t stupid. Regardless of how he feels about you, he isn’t going to jeopardize his whole plan by making one wrong move and trusting someone he shouldn’t have. He’ll take his time analyzing you, picking apart your every move and reaction until he’s sure that you’re the one.

- You’ll start to pick up on little things about your boys that some might consider weird: all the horror movies and Billy’s knowledge in them, strange questions, indecipherable looks, things like that.

- As Billy comes closer to making up his mind, more of the mask will slip; though not enough to scare you off or make you think that anything’s really wrong. More odd inquiries, questionable sexual activities, and Billy testing your loyalty; oftentimes by asking you to cover for him or Stu to see how far you’ll go for them.

- You might be asking what I mean by “questionable sexual activities”, well, Billy has, on more than one occasion, demanded that you only watch whatever gory film he’s put on instead of looking at him as he pleasures you. He watches you closely, muttering lowly in your ear about the movie and talking dirty as you lock your eyes on the screen.

- When the boys first confess to you about the murders, you don’t believe them. You think it’s a bad joke but once you see just how serious they are, your smile drops and you say “you’re serious aren’t you?”.

- It definitely takes you a while to get used to the fact, but you find yourself opening up to the idea more and more as Billy explains their motive and butters you up with his charming words.

- Your involvement starts with little things: patching them up when they’re hurt, analyzing horror movies, giving them ideas or intel and telling them what won’t work.

- Stu likes to bump your shoulder or ruffle your hair and call you smart whenever you offer up good advice. Billy is much more subtle in his praise but his reactions are usually the ones that make you want to help them more and more.

- The blonde enthusiastically recounts stories of their slayings to you, jumping around the room and making a bunch of noises and hand movements while he does so.

- The first time you mention that you’d like to help them “...more”, both their faces break out into shit eating grins. They don’t immediately hand you a mask, knife, and mission but they do start to ask more of you.

- Helping them hide evidence, giving them alibis, waiting outside of their crime scenes for them and helping them lure people right into their traps all becomes second nature to you.

- Then comes your initiation.

- There’d always been some jealousy involved in your relationship; mainly on their parts. You had a boyfriend and they had girlfriends which meant all three of you had to; at some point, act all lovey dovey with your partners in front of the others, if only to keep up a façade.

- But, as obvious as it was that none of you particularly cared for your significant others, that didn’t stop Billy or Stu from absolutely hating your boyfriends guts. This hatred would eventually play a key role in solidifying your role in their lives.

- Your parents aren’t home and you’re in your bedroom with the boys, doing exactly what one would assume you’d be doing, except, unlike all the other times you’d done “this”, your bedroom door swung open and revealed a very unexpected visitor: your boyfriend.

- Maybe it was the pent up jealousy or the fear of his plan potentially being ruined or maybe it was a little bit of both but when the boy immediately began to just book it towards your front door, Billy followed after him.

- By the time you make it out into the hall, Stu has him held in place and Billy is turning to look at you, telling you to “come on” as they walk the boy into your kitchen.

- Once you get there, Billy pulls a knife from the block and walks up to you, telling you that you said you wanted to be a part of things and that now's your chance.

“Go on.” He says, nodding his head back towards the boy who Stu’s restraining and watching you closely as you slowly take the knife from his hands. Stu’s grinning excitedly as you approach him, cheering you on while Billy remains silent behind you.

- The blonde whoops and hollers as you cut into the boy, audibly expressing his pride in you, and when you turn to look back at Billy, he’s got a tiny little smile pulling at his lips, showing that you’ve just proven yourself and done exactly what he wanted.

- The brunette locks eyes with you before he walks up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest and tilting your head down to look at the boy who’s currently bleeding out on your kitchen floor. “Would you look at that.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, his hand trailing up to grope at your chest as he stares down at the gory sight before you.

- There’s no going back after that. You’re now officially one of them and get your very own father death costume.

- It’s perfect really. More hands, more confusion for the police, more bloody sex.

- Billy gets turned on by the sight of blood and the adrenaline that he feels after a kill; and Stu has never been one to turn down sex, so don’t be surprised if you end up pressed against the floorboards of a victims house or thrown on one of their beds the minute the three of you get back to their house.

- You and Billy tend to make the plans while Stu just goes along with whatever you say.

- Helping them get Neil Prescott.

- Going along with Stu while Billy talks on the phone.

- The two of them both baby and yell at you. They tend to do most of the dirty work because they think you can’t handle it but at the same time they; namely Billy, will get angry if you mess anything up in the slightest. The brunette will yell or insult you because he’s a control freak and wants everything to go exactly as he planned.

- On the drive/walk home, you’ll stay quiet, wondering if maybe you’ve made a very severe mistake when deciding to be with the boys. But then Billy will grab your arm and pull you into a kiss, asking if you’re alright and apologizing so sweetly and for better or for worse, you’ll fall right back in again.

#stu macher imagine #stu macher headcanon #stu macher headcanons #poly billy and stu #billy loomis headcanon #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis headcanons #scream imagine #scream imagines #scream headcanons #scream headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanon #Slasher headcanon #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby reader insert #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders

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revengeisourlullaby · 3 years

Text

Everything Happens For a Reason

Warnings: 18+, smut, Cheating/mentions of cheating, “revenge” sex, arguing, dealings of breaking up, ex-partner being shitty, dom themes, hair pulling, dumbification, degradation, feelings of worthlessness, Thor being an asshole, Loki being an asshole sexually, sensual themes, some angst, some softness but mostly tough love vibes, this will take place around the time of Ragnarok for visual reference, kinda domestic but not really

a/n: This is my first time writing for marvel characters! I previously was writing for mha, which I still do if you’re interested. Apologies to the Thor lovers, he’s an ass in this. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it and that I do a good job of representing characters that we all enjoy. :)

Word count: 6.7k

Main: Loki x female!Reader Ex: Thor x female!Reader

You were on your way back home after ending a grueling shift at work. Everything around you left you in a sensory overload. The sound of your feet pattering on the sidewalk, the aggressive car horns of New York’s taxis, conversations you passed by all created a stinging buzz that roared in your head. Finally reaching the station, you walked down a flight of stairs, the horrific New York air filling your nose. A stench that made you feel at home but somehow could never get used to. Sighing you thought to yourself.

I just wanna get home.

The idea of having to mush yourself into the train in desperate hopes of not only being able to find a seat but to not be bombarded with the evening nonsense made the buzz in your head turn into an unfortunate headache. Waiting for the train to rush through the tunnel, you grabbed your phone and frowned, seeing that your boyfriend had yet to answer the text you sent earlier. He said he was free from any heroic duties for the next month so it was peculiar to not hear from him. You began to grow worried.

Picking at your nails, you were thinking about all the possible “what ifs” that could have happened with Thor. You guys had been dating for some time now, almost two years. It had become common to be met with all the craziness that his job title of hero held. Truly anything could happen. So, of course, your brain was constructing all of the terrible things that could’ve possibly happened with him.

You couldn’t fuss about it too long, the train came bustling through the tunnel, the air from up underneath it blasting you in the face with the trademarked scent of burnt rubber tires and gasoline smoke. You trudged your way into the train, squeezing your way to a spot closest to the door so you could make your way out quickly. Holding on to the railing beside you, you popped your AirPods in and dissociated. Trying your best to drown out the noise and the perpetual thoughts of what was going on with your boyfriend. You couldn’t help the aggressiveness of your worries so you pulled out your phone and gave Thor’s phone a ring.

You waited, and waited, and waited and the line went to voicemail. Your mind was running a mile a minute. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. You tried composing yourself, you were almost at your stop. When the PA system announced your stop, you rushed through the automatic doors and ran to your apartment. The sky, now overcast, and the slight smell of rain tainting the air, only adding to the tension. Running up the outside set of stairs, you headed to the elevator preparing yourself for the worst. Once the elevator dinged, you rushed down the hallway to your apartment.

Fumbling with your keys at the door, you began to hear a slew of moans. Stopping in your tracks, you moved your head closer to the door to make sure that you were hearing the moans slip from the other side of your apartment door. Placing your ear against the door your suspicions were confirmed with a groan that seemed to billow from none other than Thor’s throat. Your heart began to shatter and become blanketed with the bitterness of winter, you slowly turned the key into your apartment.

Conscious of your steps you tried your best to not cause creaks to squeak from the floorboards. The air wreaked of sex and was starting to become seasoned with rotten jealousy. Turning the corner to head down to your shared bedroom, you were acquainted with Thor pile driving into your best friend.

She caught you in the doorway and to your dismay, she called out

“Y/N! Oh my god. Thor stop!”

With the mention of your name, Thor whipped his head around but you were already making your way towards the front door. He threw on his pants that were thrown on the floor and rushed his way over to you.

“Y/N!”

You turned around with a quickness and landed your hand right across his cheek. Leaving him with a scarlet mark to brand his betrayal upon him. You looked up at him through your eyebrows because you didn't have the strength to look at him in the eyes for the tears that were welling up would threaten to spill over.

“Thor...why don’t you go finish your business with her. Since clearly, she’s the priority.”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think it is. She brought herself upon me.”

“Oh! And you just couldn’t resist right. Cause she was just so overbearing against yourself?”

His silence solidified your suspicions and you wanted nothing more than to just get out of that apartment. Not waiting for him to come up with another response you grabbed your bag that you dropped on the floor and turned on your heel to leave.

“And when you release yourself of whatever leftovers you’re straining to hold, I want you to get your shit and leave. There’s nothing here to be salvaged and honestly, the last thing I wanna do is attempt to fix this.”

You slammed your apartment door and took the stair exit, not wanting to chance to have to confront him again while waiting for the elevator. Coming up on the last flight of stairs you held yourself up against the railing and felt the emotion in your throat bubble up and release itself.

It hurt. A strangled whine erupted from your throat and you hid your face in your hands. Hoping that it would muffle your cries enough so that no one would hear you in the stairwell. All of your insecurities began to settle in and resurface. Why weren’t you good enough for him? What made your best friend better? It's not like she was otherworldly or something. You could maybe understand if it was Valkyrie, but this was some regular bitch. This was someone you knew and felt undeniably close with. It felt sour, like residual vomit on the tongue.

You pushed yourself up from the stairs and slowly walked to the main door of your building. You were brought out of your haze with cold droplets of water that began to roll down your face.

“This is just comedic now.”

You laughed to yourself. Not only did you just spoil your eyes by seeing your now ex-boyfriend inside of your best friend but now you're stuck out in the exordium of New York rain with no real place to settle. Not at least until Thor packed his things and left. You put your bag over your head and searched for the nearest station to just catch a ride on. Walking down the steps, you again waited in the queue for the next train. Leaning on the wall you were suddenly overwhelmed with the stench of your wet outside clothes and wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep.

With the roar of the train coming through the tunnel, you got on. Unaware of where you were going just desperately wanting to get away from the drama currently suffocating your mind. Trying to forget about the world around you, were brought back into reality by the buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

Of course, you had a list of missed calls from Thor as well as your best friend. Lists of texts from Thor, but the notification that stood out the most was a text message from Loki. It was unlikely for you to hear from him and coupled with today’s events it felt like salt being rubbed in a wound.

It can’t get any worse, honestly. Just open it. Fuck it.

Going against your brain and entrusting your gut, you opened his message.

Would you happen to be in the Manhattan area?

You looked up at the sign above the train doors, flashing the streets of the next stop. Luckily for you, you were getting ready to be dropped off right in the heart of Manhattan. Sighing you swallowed the lump in your throat and straightened your shoulders. Replacing your previous weight of mourning with now a sudden spark of pride and revenge running through your veins.

Yeah, I’m actually on my way there now, why?

You rolled your head back and bounced your leg, sudden nervousness striking your body. You didn’t fear Loki, it was nothing like that. But rather you were intimidated by him. His presence demanded attention and you were one to give it to him. You couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. Despite his condescending nature, you found him all too alluring. Yet, here you were awaiting a response from him to come through.

Interested in some company while visiting your planet for personal business. Care to be that company?

Your heart started to thump behind its ribcage, beating a rhythm that you hadn’t been familiar with. You were excited. Quickly you typed back, not wanting to wait too long.

Sounds like a plan. The train is getting ready to stop, probably will be in central Manhattan in about 10. Where should I meet you?

I’ll be waiting outside the Baccarat.

The train doors dinged and you rose from your seat and maneuvered your way through the 5th Avenue-53 St. station. Climbing the stairs, you were met with the unfortunate luck of it still raining and now with nightfall completely draped over the sky, you were beginning to regret accepting the invitation of meeting Loki. Looking ahead you noticed a store on the corner. You bolted in there, desperate to find something to change your soaking top out for. You walked in and saw yourself in the mirror. Your hair was still okay somehow, not too damaged by the wetness in the air. Just a tad more frizz. Fluffing your hair, you walked away from the mirror and searched for the men's section.

Wanting an oversized hoodie you felt you had your best chance to find what you wanted there. Coming across a graphic hoodie, you pulled it off the rack and walked to the checkout.

You got into a fitting room before you left, taking off your soaked shirt and now bra, and slipped into the hoodie. Stuffing your hair under the hood, you placed your clothes into your bag, sprayed some perfume on, and walked back outside to head to the hotel. The rain had let up some but you weren’t trying to risk it considering today had been littered with bad luck. You quickly walked up the street and finally made it out to the front of the hotel.

You went to pull out your phone from your pocket, but when you did you were tapped on the shoulder. You whipped your head around, an instant attitude flooding your body. You were about to mouth off until you looked up and realized it was Loki who had grabbed your attention.

“Tense, are we?”

You rolled your eyes, wondering why you showed up. His tone worming through your ear and rattling your brain with contempt. He seemed to be a bitter reminder of his brother and you questioned why you thought this was a good idea. Looking up towards his face, you remembered why you came. His features, absolutely tantalizing, and the cadence of his speech almost always put you in a trance. The suit he was in only added to your inner desire. This was a moment of revenge, a moment of sheer pride that you needed to take advantage of. Finally, you opened your mouth and looked up at him.

“A little, the day has been quite rough, but I don’t think you’d want to hear about all that.”

You looked toward the entrance of the hotel silently wondering why you two were still waiting outside.

“Shall we go in? Standing in the rain like this is quite puerile.”

You looked up at him incredulously,

“I swear you can read minds.”

You both shared a chuckle while he guided you in the hotel, his hand resting upon your lower back. Once you were in, you were struck in awe of the decor of the building you were in. It’s not that you had never been anywhere nice before but compared to your day-to-day lifestyle this was something very unexpected. You soaked it all in, not wanting to ever leave the luxury.

“Y/N? You in there?”

You finally came to and gingerly shook your head to settle back in your body realizing you were now standing in front of the elevators.

“Yeah, I just got distracted, my bad.”

The door dinged and you two stepped into the elevator. He pressed the last set of numbers on the pad and you waited to be dropped on the floor of what you assumed where his room was. Your stomach dropped when the elevator arrived on the floor, almost adding to the anxiety you were feeling being so close to Loki. Walking down the hallway you reached his room and he pulled out his room key. Wanting to cut through the silence you broke the ice by asking Loki a question.

“So what are you doing back on Earth? Here to cause some trouble or just for leisure.”

“Leisure, more or less. I came back for my brother but he has yet to inform me of his whereabouts.”

Dropping your bag down at the door you felt your body become heavy. Like someone had just dumped an anvil on your shoulders and expected you to be fully prepared. It stung. You couldn’t escape the sour taste that lingered from the day's earlier events. You sat down on the bed and had become unusually short. You had spit back at Loki.

“Yeah, he failed to let me know as well. Had to stumble in on him.”

“What do you mean “stumble in on him”? Where was he?”

Expelling air, you puffed out your cheeks slightly. Silently expressing your disdain for the question asked. You suddenly became aware of your hair still being tucked under your hood when you went to trail your hands across the top of your head. Removing the hood and fluffing your hair, you stood and walked up to the mirror to fix yourself before sighing again. Tears of frustration began to well in the corners of your eyes. You pursed your lips into a tight pucker and had to look up toward the ceiling to prevent them from spilling.

“I’d prefer to skip over the antics, darling-”

“-Your wonderful brother was fucking somebody I was once close with, but now that relationship is undoubtedly severed, and quite honestly thinking about the event makes me want to cry and vomit.”

You finally let your voice shake and a fat tear rolled down the left side of your cheek. Hot and stinging your lash line before it fell. Exhaling more air, you shook your hands in a feeble attempt to calm yourself down. You heard the springs of the bed squeak as Loki situated himself on the bed.

“No one ever listens to me about that brute. He may be my brother but he lacks the capacity of decent intelligence.”

Turning around to face Loki, your eyebrows furrowed wondering how in the hell you thought sitting in a room with the smuggest piece of shit to ever exist would be a good idea after being cheated on by none other than his brother. Sniffling you brought yourself together and smiled at him.

“You know, for someone to be baggin on someone else about decent intelligence, you sure are lacking in the emotional department.”

“Never said I was perfect sweetheart, just alluded to being better.”

You laughed. You had to. It was all too much to bear. Your ex-boyfriend sleeping with your ex-best friend and now you’re stuck in a hotel room with his shit-eating brother. You wanted to peel off your skin and remove your brain from its confinements. You needed to leave, you could find somewhere else to loiter around until tomorrow.

“Ya know, I’m still trying to figure out why I thought having you for some company would be a good idea. Think I’m gonna leave you and your better than average intelligence to fuck off together.”

You couldn’t even look at Loki because inside you didn’t really wanna walk away. You were just projecting because all day everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It felt like your legs and heart were going to buckle at any moment and it was becoming too much to lug around silently. You wanted to scream for hours on end. Walking towards the door, you picked up your bag. Too engrossed in your thoughts to hear the bed creek signaling Loki’s movement.

“Y/N, wait.”

Loki grabbed your wrist and your heart stopped beating for a moment, almost forgetting what it was you were upset about because you had someone else’s warmth heating your tainted soul. You looked up at Loki, creases in between your eyebrows beginning to form from you trying to hold back the tears that were welling up once again.

“What? Look, Loki. I don’t want to be the downer of the evening and I’ve surely already done that. The last thing I want to do is burden you fully with what’s going on. I’m not gonna dump it all on you.”

“Will you sit down, please. Don’t leave.”

Sighing you dropped your bag and flopped onto the bed. Leaning over and burying your face in your hands.

“Let me apologize. I was not thinking about the severity of what you were dealing with, that was foolish of me.”

He sat next to you on the bed and once again placed his hand on your back but this time it was rubbing back and forth. An action that seemed to calm you down instantly. Taking a deep breath you looked at him and couldn't help but feel an overwhelming amount of lust pool in the pit of your stomach. It felt wrong but, so right. You hoped he wasn't looking too deep into your eyes because you could almost predict how blown your pupils must’ve looked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap and be so dramatic.”

Loki chuckled to himself, a small smile dancing across his face as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and laid it on the bed.

“No need for an apology, I was being insensitive. As for your dramatics, I’ve grown used to them.”

Your face folded and your lips pursed, annoyance clear on your face.

“Yeah, you would be used to dramatics, Mr. “I need to rule over Earth cause I can’t back home.”.”

Your eyes lidded, you had your lips rolled around your teeth trying your best to hold a snicker in.

“You Midgardians never know how to let things go, do you?”

“Well considering you were demolishing half of New York with an alien army it’s kinda hard to forget....I forgive you though.”

“Do you now?” Loki raised his eyebrow smirking at your remark.

“Yup, kinda hard to stay mad at someone so easy on the eyes.”

It wasn’t until after you said your words, did you realize what just rolled off your tongue. Your eyes grew wide and heat rushed to your face. You breathed heavily out your nose and brought your gaze to his.

“Easy on the eyes huh?”

“I-” you couldn't even get any words out you were so embarrassed. All you could do was laugh to yourself and decide to be a little bit bold.

“There’s no reason for me to be shy about it. You’re obviously the more attractive one.”

Grazing your hand across his knee, you trailed your hand up to the meatier portion of his thigh.

“Are you planning on plowing through every Asgardian you meet?”

Mouth agape you couldn’t believe what he just said to you. But you realized quickly this was your time to go in and plant the seed.

“Not exactly. You’re the one I really want. Your brother just happened to fall in my lap first. It’s always been you though. Honestly, I was just too afraid to say anything. I couldn’t fathom the thought that you’d look my way.”

In the moment of your ramble, you hadn’t realized Loki rolling up his sleeves, using his nimble fingers to expose his veiny forearms. Once you had looked down you noticed his now exposed arms and your eyes met Loki’s again, the tension between you two becoming so thick it created a fog.

“Honestly, I have yet to meet someone as dense as you are. The verity of my liking for you I thought was terribly noticeable. Yet you still somehow ended up with my oaf of a brother. It’s quite amazing actually.”

You were astonished, to say the least. While Loki was sarcastic with you, he had confessed his liking for you. Not just an inkling for you but a liking for you in a romantic aspect. You were over the moon. You stood up not being able to contain your excitement. Walking towards the desk you stared in the mirror and composed yourself. Looking in the bottom right-hand side of the mirror you caught Loki’s blue eyes in the corner. He stood up and walked behind you, almost stalking you like a predator does prey.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Truly I thought you were happy darling, it wasn’t my business to interfere. Although, if I knew your deepest feelings sooner, I would’ve acted with more haste.”

Hearing “darling” come from his mouth so freely made butterflies fly hoops in your stomach. It did something to you that you had yet to describe outwardly. Turning around to face him, you hooked your fingers into the loops of his pants and pulled him closer to you, all so nonchalant.

“Shall we make up for lost time then, Loki?”

Lust dripped off your tongue when saying his name. Your tone penetrating through the fog of sexual tension and your eyes undressing him before the affair would begin. You heard his breath hitch while you looked back up at him, his blue eyes were now almost black. His breath heavy and waiting for the go-ahead to indulge in each other's desires. For a moment you saw his eyes flicker to portray something of uncertainty. Dare you say something of insecurity.

“Only if it’s true. I want you to want me in the purest form of carnal desire. Not as a pawn to veil what you want to erase from your mind.”

You moved your hands from his belt loops and traced your hands up his arms and planted them upon his neck, playing with the hair at the nape.

“ Don’t stop now, we’ve already started. I’m begging for you Loki. Always have, always will.”

With the quick reassurance, his lips found yours in a heartbeat. Intertwining with each other like flies in a spider’s web. It was intoxicating you couldn’t breathe properly and still you pressed yourself closer against his body. Your leg inching up on his side and grinding into his now hardening dick. Your hand that was resting at the nape of his neck, crawled its way into his hair and grabbed a fistful of it, fully giving into the moment of you and Loki getting lost in each other. Your fistful of his hair would soon be gone, being replaced with his hand buried in your mass of hair and craning your neck back to look up at him.

“I control things around here, Pet. Don’t forget your place.”

His voice seemed to drop in pitch. Your eyes glossed over fully with lust and the sheer need to be ruined. Dominance enveloped his being which instantly quelled the brat in you. The reality of sleeping with Loki made you dive headfirst into a subservient space. You wanted him, you needed him. In being completely lost in submissive thought you almost forgot who was in front of you. That was until he spoke again.

“Understand?”

He grabbed your hips and pressed your body against his, eliciting a slight whimper from you while nodding your head.

“Yes, Loki, I understand.”

Your voice was so meager, a complete 180 from your previous behavior in the night. You wanted as much of him as you could get so you shoved your lips against his again. A fiery kiss that made you dizzy and warm all at once. He moved with such fluidity, it made you feel like you were floating. His hands snaked down your back and his large hands landed on the cush platform of your ass. Squeezing, you moaned into his mouth and he picked you up. Turning around and laying you down on the bed. Your lips dislodged from one another and you felt empty and needy without him on you. He preyed over you, his stygian locks falling down his face.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now and we’ll never speak of this aga-”

“-Loki, there has been nothing I want more than you…I need you. Please.”

With that, Loki attacked your lips again, his hands wandering up your hoodie. You had forgotten you ditched your bra earlier until Loki’s hands found your pert nipples.

“Expecting this, weren’t you.”

You went to respond, but Loki rolled them between his fingers and a breathy moan was all you could muster up. Your hips rolled upwards, aching for some type of friction to your core that was more than soaked.

“Maybe I was. Have to be prepared for anything.”

To emphasize your tease you moved your hand down to the tent in his black pants and applied a bit of pressure. Loki sucked in air through his teeth and released a light laugh.

“Careful, Pet. Make sure you can hold up this front you’re putting on for me. Not sure you can handle it all.”

It was a challenge and a challenge you’d be more than happy to oblige in. Smirking up at him you began fiddling with his belt and undid his pants. Fishing your hand into them you lightly stroked his cock.

“Try me.”

The restraint in him broke and a sardonic smile adorned his face. You knew you were in for it and were entirely ready for everything he had to offer.

“Darling I hope you’re ready to feel what it’s like to be fucked by a real god.”

Your hoodie came off with one swift motion of his hand and they wandered over your body egregiously. He was taking his time with you and was determined on making you fall apart. You messed with his dress shirt buttons but couldn’t get them off fast enough for your liking. Catching onto your frustration Loki mocked you,

“Aw, look at you, Little one. Having some trouble there?”

You huffed, the attitude in you not wanting to fully give in just yet. You finally got the top button undone and slid your hand back down to his pants in a feeble attempt to take the heat off of you.

“Ah ah, it doesn’t work like that. Let me help you out since you’re in such need of relief.”

Finishing off the rest of his buttons, he pulled off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the room. Snaking his way down your body he undid your jeans button and peeled off the zipper with his teeth. Looking down at him you shuddered, excitement coursing through your veins.

“Easy now Y/N, I’ve barely even started.”

Removing your pants and underwear completely, you were now fully exposed to him and almost felt a bit of shyness envelop you. And of course, he noticed your legs attempt to cover yourself,

“Don’t hide from me darling, I want to see every bit of you crumble before me and show you how it feels to have your concupiscence satiated.”

You let your anxieties fade away once his tongue placed a swipe across your aching cunt. A moan louder than you expected emitted from your throat, catching you off guard and a chuckle to release from Loki. The vibrations only added to the pleasure you were already feeling. Losing yourself in the silver tongue of the god between your legs, your hand found itself in his stark black locks. Your moans became more frequent and you were beginning to feel the coil tighten in the bottom of your stomach, heat spreading to your core.

“Loki, please I-”

You hadn’t enough time to finish your sentence for Loki had wrapped his arms around your hips pulling you closer to him and making your back arch off the bed. Your moans becoming higher in pitch you could feel yourself coming to the precipice of your orgasm. Lifting his head for a moment he caught your eyes as you moved your head to look down at him.

“Cum for me Y/N, I can feel that you’re there.”

As Loki went back to devouring your pussy, you threw your head back into the pillow behind you, your orgasm finally washing over you. It was like none other you had before. Your legs caved in around his head and your body began to shake. Coming down from your high you reached for his neck to guide him up to your face, sharing a sloppy yet intimate kiss. The taste of yourself evident on his tongue and glistening on his chin. You felt the need to return the favor. Turning you two over you were now on top and you slid your way down to his basal regions. Undoing his pants you felt his hand upon your wrist.

“Not tonight, this is about you Y/N”

You shook your head, surprised by his actions. But, it wasn’t in your nature yet to fully comply. You went back to the hem of his slacks and went to pull them down. While Loki let you slip them off with ease, egging you on with a few hitched breaths, it wasn’t until you came back up and lined your mouth up with the head of his painfully erect cock that he took control again. You placed a kitten lick on the tip of his head, looking up at him while doing so. Loki then grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing you to stay stuck on his face and giving him full leverage of where he wanted you.

You crawled up his body because you had no other choice unless you wanted to continue to feel the slightly painful pull on your hair. Obeying his silent command you were brought face to face with him once again.

“You just don’t know how to listen, do you?” he chided

“Neither do you, but you don’t see me complaining.”

In an instant you were flipped over again, being towered by Loki’s body. Your breath quickened and you watched his blue eyes dilate once again. A lascivious smirk and energy cast across his body. Wanting nothing more than to feel him, you raked your hands down his back and dragged them across the sides of his ribs, only to let one of them begin stroking him again.

“Ah~ Y/N”

It was at this moment that the last bit of power you had completely dissipated. Loki’s hand moved with such a quickness that it took you a moment to realize that his hand was now wrapped around your throat. Sending your eyes to roll to the back of your head in absolute euphoria.

“Such a dumb little girl you are. Can’t follow simple instructions yet here you are begging, for me to ruin you. Fortunately, you’re pretty. Otherwise this would be quite pathetic of you.”

Your walls clenched around nothing. It was becoming painful to not have some form of release. You just kept being pushed towards your edge with his words bringing you closer every time he spoke. He was dragging it out on purpose, you could see the sadism glint behind his eyes. Strangled you spoke, tears of desperation falling lightly from the side of your eyes.

“L-Loki, please. I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore, please.”

“You may need me, but do you deserve it is the question at hand.”

“I promise no more games, I’ll be good for you”

Removing his hand from your neck, he traveled them down the valley between your breasts bringing one hand to massage one while the other traveled further, landing on your soaking clit.

“All this, from a little degradation...I expected more from you, darling”

Jutting your hips toward the hand currently nestled between your folds you begged,

“Loki, please I need you inside me, I need to feel you.”

He finally lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you with just his cockhead, reveling in your juices. You couldn’t help but whine the teasing was getting to a point of something almost unbearable. Your voice breathy and hot you whimpered one last plea,

“Please~”

When he fully sheathed himself inside you, your head rolled back, moans coming out of you at a pace you couldn’t control. He made you feel so full. You had yet to feel something so reminiscent of rapture. It almost made you dizzy. When you looked up at him there was a softness in his eyes that contrasted his tone of dominance a moment ago. It caught you off guard, but you were soon brought back to reality when his head brushed against the inflamed spongy spot within.

“Oh! My god”

“Yes darling, I am your god-”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. His cockiness always finding a way to rear its head. But in your moment of ecstasy, you didn’t think he’d be able to catch it. Wrong. In a second, his length left you, flipped you on your hands and knees, and slipped back into your drenching cunt. You settled into the position, propping your ass out even more so to give him better access. You heard him growl behind you, his hand coming across your ass check and without a doubt leaving a mark. You yelped, startled by the sudden action. His pace became unrelenting, pounding into you with a ferocity that would make angels weep. His hand slid down your back and rested and the bottom of your hairline, once again grabbing your hair and pulling you back so your back met his chest. Directing your head to the side to face his own, he got in your ear,

“Roll your eyes at me again and there will be more than just a simple punishment awaiting you.”

Your walls clenched around his cock, eliciting a loud groan to come from Loki. You couldn’t help it, the noises he made were beyond divine and each one had you one contraction away from being sent over the edge one more time.

“Fuck, Loki, you feel, so good~fuck, please.”

You weren’t quite sure what you were pleading for; it just felt right leaving your mouth.

“Yeah, you like it when I fuck you like this. Like the little whore you are.”

“Fuck! Loki, oh my god~”

You were in so much pleasure you couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face. It felt so good to have this instinctual release. Loki released his grip from your hair and pressed your face down into the mattress. Unable to truly control the noises that flew from your mouth, you were now whimpering in the mattress. The ravaging of your body sending you into a full-blown frenzy that you never wanted to be free from. Loki’s thrusts became more erratic and his moans and groans flew more freely from his mouth. Enjoying the moment of approaching his climax.

“You’re going to cum with me and I’m going to paint your pretty little insides my color. Wanna know why?”

You tried your best to be attentive, flipping your hair out from your face, you looked behind you facing the god above you.

“Why, L-Loki?”

Bringing his hand around your body to massage your clit, he gave you an answer that you weren’t prepared for.

“Because you’re mine now. There’s no leaving after this. You belong to me.”

With one final clench, you tightened around his cock. Both of you reaching your peak at the same time, milking him of his seed. Both of your breathing was heavy, bodies sticky with sweat. Loki pulled out of you, his seed spilling out of you like donut filling. You rolled over on your back as he did the same and there was a comfortable silence that filled the room.

With the distraction of reaching a climax now faded, you felt violently vulnerable under his gaze. You found your courage and looked back at him, his eyes still dilated but now with a different emotion swimming through them. Adoration? Wonder? Regret perhaps? Before you could let one more intrusive thought in Loki brought you out of your head.

“Stop worrying, you’ll make the wrinkle between your brow permanent.”

Your mouth opened slowly in disbelief, slightly offended by his comment but also at a loss for words for him figuring you out so quickly.

“Is it that easy to figure me out.” you chuckled.

“Yes, in fact, you wear every single emotion on your sleeve. You couldn’t hide what you feel even if you wanted to.”

You sighed, a smile stretching across your face as you exhaled.

“Can’t fool you, can I?”

“It’s quite hard to fool someone who is the master of fooling others. I’m the creator of the ins and outs of mischief.”

You shared a light laugh but you couldn’t ignore the overwhelming feeling of guilt and disquiet swirl in your head. Did he honestly feel for you, or did he perhaps just indulge your desires because he had wants of his own. You were in the perfect state to be taken advantage of, heartbroken and needing something else to fill the hole in your heart. You rolled on your side, your hand resting on his chest, beginning to draw feather-light patterns on his skin. Your hand created a path up to his neck, your fingers guiding his face forcing him to have nothing else to focus on but you. You needed to quell the noise in your head, you didn’t want this to eat you alive as well.

Worst he can say is no and we just move on Y/N. That’s all that can be done. Just ask him.

“I know you’re not one for sentiment, but did you mean what you said to me? About your liking for me.”

Moving a few coils of your hair away from your face he gazed into your eyes with an intensity you were unsure how to read.

“One thing about me darling is that through all my moments of deception, dealing with such intimacy is not something I take lightly. While not sentimental, I meant every word. I assure you of that. Now, dry your eyes.”

You hadn’t even realized the petal-soft tears slowly rolling down your cheek. You were too engrossed in Loki’s words of affirmation that you felt you left your physical body for a moment. Loki’s hand came up and wiped the tear streaks away from the bridge of your nose and under your eye. He made you feel at home. Warm and comforted even if he had his instances of sharpness, you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

You chuckled and the light was restored in your face.

“I don’t care what you say to me, you can read minds. Now stop reading mine, you’re freaking me out.”

Your laughs echoed through the room, any remnant of tension long gone from the space. You stared at the ceiling thinking about how the rest of your days would pan out. You felt the waters would be rocky but they would calm eventually. The thrashing of emotional waves turning into gentle swells. You felt at peace for the first time in a while. Pulling you once again from your thoughts, Loki’s voice filled your ears.

“Now, I am aware that we have done this quite backward, but would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night? And do this the right way?”

Rolling back over onto his chest you smiled against him

“I’d love to”

Amiable silence fell over the room as your body began to rest. The beating of Loki’s heart created a rhythm that seemed tailored specifically to put you to sleep. Eyes growing heavy, you fell asleep, ultimately feeling secure within his arms.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki laufeyson smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #loki fanfic #marvel smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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kkusuka · 3 years

Note

We all know how looks can be deceiving right? I’d love to request head cannons of Kuroo, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Konoha, Terushima, and Atsumu with a gf that’s gifted with that super-soaker, wet-wet pussy, a pro at riding that dick, and has the gwak gwak thotty throat slobber 9000 but she is so shy, cute, and innocent at first glance. She looks like the soft-spoken librarian but when they get down and dirty, she puts her body to work and these bois just don’t know how to act from how amazing she is. Let’s say they teased her too much, so she revoked their sex privileges for a few days (not knowing how addicted these guys are on her body). Desperate bois are best bois 😈

i’m shell shocked anon, you’ve blown my mind

Cw: hair pulling, super WAP, kinda fem dom but not really, severe pussy-whipped men

Kuroo

firstly, he thought you were the innocent type up until you sucked him off for the first time

Honestly, he thought you were a total virgin prude

It wasn't really his fault, you two had met as lab partners for an AP chemistry class

You know, a class full of nerds and people he just assumed would get a job and married when they were thirty

Looking back he should have caught on after seeing you unconsciously jerking of a test tube

But, contrary to popular belief, kuroo is not the social cue master

After a few months of dating, you guys were just a horny time-bomb

Ahh~ the first blow-job, one for the books

He should have known it was going to be good just from the way you were unzipping his jeans, was it normal to almost cum just for your girlfriend palming you?

When you did get his dick out and had it all the way down your throat within the minute, he really did think you were a godsend

He didn't even know what you were doing with his balls, but whatever it was it was working

You didn’t gag or cough, even when he grabbed that back of your head and practically face-fucking you

(the real kicker was when you licked your lips after he came and gave him that small fucking smirk, mans was done for and he knew it)

Even with all that, nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the first time you guys went at it

when I say that you guy made out for five minutes when he went under your panties and felt the pacific ocean in your panties

He was about to propose right there (and about to cum in his pants for the thousandth time)

He didn't need to but he still rubbed a few circles around your clit, but apparently, you were ready enough

Considering you grabbed his dick and fully sunk onto him in one motion

Poor baby didn't know what hit him

You had to have done this before, and if he hadn't met you in class he would have been sure you slept around and learned everything in the book

You would clench every time your sims met and- AND THAT THINGS WITH HIS BALLS AGAIN

His mind was bungled, especially after you had both come and you fell onto his chest going back to the shy and sweet version he knew you as.

What the hell was that????

Was he fucking you or were you fucking him?? Because at this point he didn't even care

After that experience, you fucked like bunnies, all the time, even in school more than a few times.

And we all know kuroo can't shut his mouth

And he always teases you about how cute and mouse like you are outside the bedroom and how it's like he’s dating two different girls

....that hit a nerve...

Two different girls??? Well he’ll just have to endure one girl until he realizes what a blessing you are

5 days, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, and 432,000 seconds, that's how long he lasted

He was going insane, and so he explained that he didn't mean it in a bad way and that he loved how you acted

Forgiving him you rewarded the poor cat boy, 5 rounds for five days

(he didn't want to admit it but he’s pretty sure his dick would have fallen off if you didn't relent when you did)

(he just didn't want to admit that he was pussy-whipped)

Bokuto

You actually had met at a library

One of his teachers wanted him to get a bit of extra tutoring and volunteered you for the job.

You had hit it off great! Personality-wise

(you’ll never tell him but it was frustrating that he clearly didn't understand anything you were telling him)

And you were so sweet and cute, and such a good teacher

He would know that if he wasn't too busy just staring at you and thinking about you and thinking about what you like and what you wear outside of school

(or how good your lips look, or how your thighs look so soft, or that when you get up he can see under your skirt.)

Your guy’s first time was an experience

(bokuto is the cunny easting master, don't call me out)

More cunny juice = more food for owl man

He was excited, somewhere in his mind he knew that it was gonna get better from then on

He wasn't wrong either, although he didn't let your mouth near his dick just yet, he knew that would be good considering the ‘art’ you've created on his neck

The true fuckary started with him on top, but the second he was in you he...froze

Poor baby was shell shocked, you felt better than he had thought, and he just slumped over, you thought he came but he wasn’t ready for it to end so soon

He just sat there for a few minutes, fucked out, before you just decided to flip you both over

That was more his speed at the moment

So he grabbed onto your hips for dear life and you got working

Within two minutes the two of you had created a pool of juices on his bed (bokuto had a lot of precum ok), not that he really cared

You were not competing with anyone but he already had you 2 to 0

(point 1 for the meal and point 2 for being an Olympic dick-rider)

I am also a firm believer that bokuto thrusts up, he just can't help it

You are too addictive, or the way you ground onto him in between every bounce was addictive

I also don't believe that you could even truly deny bokuto sex, he was good at guilt-tripping and he was soooooo adorable

(not to mention the puppy dog eyes he does that could convince good to do his will)

So I’m sure the only way he wouldn't get sex would be no nut November.

(aka the devil's month of torture, actually not month, week give or take)

This year it just happens that he set a new record, 8 days

He went a whole 8 days without trying for sex

Truly he went about 10 days before he stopped begging and just took matters into his own hands

(under enough pressure Bokuto become a hard dom and no one can say otherwise)

The entire time he was telling you how pretty you were and how well your pussy takes him and that you had no ‘right’ to tell him he couldn’t have sex

He even gained a new phrase “this pussy belongs to me”

You were going to have to set some things straight once he was done ;)

Iwaizumi

You were on the student council, it felt sacrilegious to think anything but pure thoughts about anyone on the council

(that didn't really stop him)

honestly, from the moment his crush festered he wanted to ruin your little innocent vibe

You always smiled so sweetly at everyone, and just seemed like a true goody two shoes.

And that point seemed to have been correct when you began to date

Until! The fateful day where his perceived innocent girlfriend pulled a full 180 on him!

Firstly, you had offered, out of the blue, to suck him off in the middle of the movie you were watching.

Second, he asked if you knew how, and you giggled at him with that smile he loved so much

Thirdly, when you did get his dick out, you swirled some of the pre-cum on his tip with your thumb, he started getting a bit suspicious

Lastly, you completely swallowed him down, face pressing on his hip, cheeks hollowed.

That’s when he realized that you did know what you were doing

(that also arouse the thought that you had been with someone else, which was counteracted with the fact that you knew how to suck dick by practicing on hair brushed and popsicles)

((it also helped that you barely had a gag reflex))

Truly trying to put that to the test, dom iwa came right out, grabbing your hair and telling you to suck harder

And you impressed the man, to say the least

After that he had to fuck you, he really just had too

For the first time, he went with a solid missionary, just to test that waters

He didn’t think anyone's pussy should feel like that, but since you were his it was ok

All was well he was lost in the feeling of your pussy and the deciding moment was when you pulled him against you and started to grind your body onto his

You were putting a whole lot of body into it too, and you were so soft, and unless he wanted to cum early something was going to have to change

So he flipped and changed to doggy style, which made thighs worse???

From there you got tighter and he could see all of the wetness drips from your fold onto the sheets

Yup, you were the one for him

(solidified when he pulled your hair and you moaned like a street whore)

As for the no sex thing, that was a ride

It started when Makki asked you if you were always dripping for iwa

And after a week of no sex, he confessed to letting them on his phone and watching a recording of one of your nightly escapades and he was sorry

(and he just wanted to show them what they were missing, y’know brag a bit)

That was, and he says the only time, he let you try to dom him

You truly were the most amazing woman in the world

Konoha

( i made him kind of an ass lol sorry)

You wee the girl who sat next to him in class

(not to be mean, but he thought you were a nerd)

You always had your uniform covering everything and you were always playing with your short sleeves

You raised your hand a lot in class, always had a pencil to borrow

He just assumed that you had cobwebs in your pussy

Proven wrong at one of the volleyball teams parties, you had apparently been dragged there by a friend (surprising)

And you both were dragged onto some weird spin the bottle game

The bottle would spring and someone would draw an action from this jar and the two people would have to do it in a bedroom in the house

Seeing as that’’s how fate goes you and him were chosen

A blow-job card was chosen

And he laughed with a friend about how you wouldn’t know what to do

Mistake, that struck a real nerve, was this guy for real?

Oh hell no

Being the baddie you were, you walked to him, grabbed him by the arm, and locked lips, breaking away after a moment you asked if he was ready to go.

Poor boy didn't even respond, he just nodded and stood up

Two minutes in, he knew what he had done

You were blowing him like it would be your last time, it should be illegal to be able to suck someone off that well

And damn you pulled away right before he was going to cum.

And then just left him! Walked out of the closet like nothing had ever happened

That couldn’t be it, he wouldn't let that be it

After two weeks of non-stop begging from the guy you agreed to a date, which led to many dates

Which led to him finally being able to fuck you

God damn, he didn't think it would get better, and it did, it really did.

You were laying on top of him and grinding your entire body onto him

Dripping all over him and squeezing him like crazy

He was never going to let you go

Now, that same friend from that party seemed very intrigued with your relationship

And he just can't help but tell him about how amazing you were, it just sucks that he did it right in front of you in the middle of lunch

Pussy pass revoked

He didn't think he did anything wrong so he went two whole weeks without any touch and he went crazy

He fell apart and apologized

After he begged enough you gave him the pussy pass back

And now he doesn't do anything to jeopardize it

Terushima

this is gonna sound weird

But

I feel like terushima knows when someone is a good lay

It's like a secret talent of his, he just knows and his radar went off when he saw you

But he thought it was wrong at first considering you were wearing leggings and a huge sweater

Not good fuck material

But he had to make sure, so he just walked up to you and asked if you were a good fuck

Surprisingly you didn’t punch him in the nuts, instead, you laughed at him and said that he would just have to find out

And that he should at least take you out to dinner first

Adm he took you up it, made it the best damn dinner date he’d ever be on

And you reward him

With what?

The best damn blow-job he’d ever get as long as he lived.

And it fit that to the T

It started with the little licks and swirls, then, you gotta catch the man off guard, and just take his entire dick in your throat

And with that, he was sure he had superpowers

When He came, fairly quick for his taste, you swallowed all of his cum and he was ready to marry you

If he needed to take you on a date for that, he would take you on a date every day for the rest of his life

(not every day) but that's what he did

But eventually, just a blowjob wasn't enough, oh no he knew you had a tight hole

And he knew you were gushing most of the time (ushy gushy my pussy-)

If making him suck the fingers you used to fuck yourself after he came was anything

And you tasted good, really good

He was so ready for it that he let you ride him the whole night

He thought his dick was a]going to fall off, you were just that damn good

It was insane, you were almost using him as a dildo, grinding your clit on the base of his cock

And you looked glorious, he was going to have to talk to you about recording it so he could watch it over and over

Maybe show a few people-

And that's what he did, poor unfortunate soul got the silent treatment for two days before he fell apart

He literally got on his knees and asked for forgiveness

(biggest simp on the planet, but only for you (and your dripping cunt))

He’s sure to never do it again, he’s also sure that if you asked him to step on him he would let you

(and I think he’s the most pussy-whipped)

Ok maybe you didn't fully forgive him until he showed you what his tongue piercing could do, but it was worth every moment.

Atsumu

Honestly, he was dared to sleep with the next girl who walked through the cafeteria door

And that just happens to bring you, miss. I remind the teacher there was homework

(Well he actually wasn’t really sure about that but that's what you looked like and he was already regretting his decision.)

In defense of him, your hair was in a messy bun and you had this teacher's pet aura around you

But he would be damned if he lost this bet to his brother and Suna, oh no

The moment he wa[lked up to your table you knew what was happening, and shut it down immediately

After that, you officially had his attention!

Lucky you!

Unlucky you for the fact that all he wanted to do was get in your pants.

But lucky you again because you could hold this over his head!

But one day you just woke up and chose dick (respectable)

So when atsumu did his daily “c'mon baby, you know you want some” you just stood up, scaring him

(he finally thought you were gonna kill him)

Instead, you grabbed him by the dick, literally grabbed his dick through his pants, and tugged him all the way to the roof

“Hey-hey baby, no need to be that rough”

“Shut up, Miya. pants down, now”

That was not where he thought that was going but he isn't going to complain.

“You want your dick wet so bad? Here you go!”

Honestly, he could die happy.

Not so sound gross, but you were slobbering around his cock like a pro. Now that left the thought, you had to have done this before.

You had hands on the back of his thighs pushing him further down your throat, hollowed cheeks, damn he should’ve done this was sooner

He was gonna cum-

And your mouth was gone, your hand was jerking him but that wasn't nearly as nice

“Lay back.”

Yes, yes he will do that. If what’s about to happen is what he thinks is about to happen

And now your pussy was above his face. Ok a little detour but he’ll take it

You were literally dripping onto his face while he got to work, and you went back to sucking him off

Yup, heaven.

After you both came he made sure to tell you that that had to happen again.

And it did, you rode him to hell in the hole to heaven, and he couldn't help himself from telling the entire volleyball team about how good you were

Now he really didn't think about what would happen if the news got back to you

But he definitely didn't think that meant a whole week of nothing

Well nothing for him, you made sure to send him more than a few videos of rigid dildos and fingering yourself

A week of torture, but when it was finally over he had an entirely new folder of spanking material

he was sure about who he told about your escapades, as in he told himself and Osamu if he just wanted to vent

poor guy was paranoid now

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