#hairdressers love cock

[footballnbeer]

[egglain]

we can’t talk about long hair without talking about choso.

choso with his hair down, locks sleep-tousled and fanned across his pillow. his bangs have been getting long lately, now kissing the button of his nose.

choso who styles his hair so meticulously. who always has hair ties on his wrist (perfect for when you need to borrow one). who lets you braid his hair so prettily— so long as you kiss his forehead when you’re done.

he wants a lipstick stain.

choso who sweeps his bangs out of his face when he’s trying to cook or indulging in spa day. choso who pins his bangs back with a little headband (a fabric tiger-ear headband, to match yuji’s) or little bobby pins. loose hairs always fly out to stick up, but he looks cute anyway.

choso who sits so patiently on the edge of the tub as you trim his ends. who trusts you with every fibre in his body, who— despite shaking like a dog every time you mention the hairdresser— lets you do whatever you’d like. even if it means being a little scared.

suggestive under the cut. 18+, mdni.

choso who begs for your hands in his hair. who whimpers at the first contact— at the drag of your nails up the side of his neck. choso whose pupils dialate wildly as your fingers tangle in the roots at the back of his skull. whose heartbeat is so loud, you can feel the thrum through his scalp.

choso who gets hard from you playing with his hair. it’s not his fault the electricity shoots from your fingers straight to his dick. choso who flushes up so prettily, pale cheeks blotchy with embarrassment as he looks at anything but you. especially as he palms at his cock discreetly over his jeans.

choso who thinks you don’t notice.

bad boy.

choso who loves to be dragged around by his pigtails. who loves to be manhandled— shoved to his knees and pulled face-first into your crotch. choso who looks up at you with those big glassy eyes as he kisses the seam between your clothed legs, dragging that cute little nose up your pelvis. choso who mouths so fervently right where you need it, who humps the air as you whisper praises with a fist around his roots.

choso who shies away when you’re ontop of him. choso who, behind those bangs, is a little teary; whose lower lip wobbles as he pulls it in between his teeth to muffle his little noises ‘cause it just feels too good. choso who lets you brush the hair out of his face to kiss him. who only cries a little into your mouth when you tuck his bangs behind his ear.

choso who is perfect.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

smut where spencer gets the boyband haircut and reader gets VERY excited by it? love your work!! ❤️❤️

a change of pace | spencer reid x reader

wc: 765, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: mention of spencer getting shot in the leg, vague descriptions of cunnilingus and vaginal sex, making out

a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! u r too sweet. i am sorry for not writing too too much smut but i thought this idea was cute and couldn't help but write something quickly for it! please send me more requests as i would love to write more short and sweet ficlets like this!!

“Oh my God,” you say, when Spencer walks through the door.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. “Is it that bad?”

“What? No, it’s not bad at all,” you stand up, meeting Spencer halfway as he walks over to you. You look up at him, running your own hand through his hair. It’s soft and fluffy after returning from the hairdresser, but inches shorter than it had been when he’d left home.

You liked his long hair, enjoyed combing your fingers through it while he laid his head in your lap, or in other less… innocent scenarios. He hadn't bothered to cut it after he’d gotten shot in the leg, a little too preoccupied with recovery to worry about the length of his hair. Lately, Spencer had been whining about his hair getting in the way when he was at work, or even making at-home tasks troublesome.

When you suggested he get a haircut, he was even worried as he asked, “But you like my hair long, no?” – as if your preference over the length of his hair would override his comfort. You’d booked him an appointment at the hairdresser instead, and Spencer had kissed you so sweetly it made you feel like your teeth would rot.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asks, quickly snapping you back to reality. You’re still mindlessly running your fingers through his hair, and Spencer had fully let you, without stopping you, for what must have been minutes.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, stepping back, but Spencer’s hands are on your waist, and he doesn’t let you get away that easily. He gives you a look, and you can’t help but say, “Was thinking about your long hair.”

“You miss it? I know I shouldn’t have gotten it cut, darling–” Spencer starts, but you stop him.

“No! No, I love this look on you,” you state firmly. “It makes you look extra boyish. Handsome.”

“I wasn’t handsome before?” Spencer teases you with a lilt in his voice. “Also, I don’t know if I should take boyish as a compliment here.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Spence,” you say, rolling your eyes. “What I was saying is, I might need some time to get used to this haircut.”

You’re completely lying. This haircut is so attractive on him, emphasising his sharp features, making it painfully obvious just how handsome he is. He looks like a different man, so chic and suave with the shorter haircut, but it’s still your Spencer, and that makes you feel a little crazy. You want to jump his bones.

Spencer tilts his head curiously. “How so?”

“You know, your long hair was really convenient for when we… y’know,” you hum, your hands coming around to cup his face. You think your voice sounds a little more… sultry.

Spencer cocks his brow. “I think you need to be more specific, love.”

You huff, “Your hair was particularly helpful when your head is between my thighs, Spence.”

Spencer smiles, thoroughly smug. “Well, I don’t think my… capabilities are diminished with my shorter hair.”

“I think we should test that theory out,” you say, looking up at him. “Don’t you think so?”

“We should,” Spencer nods, and you quickly lean forward to kiss him. He pulls you closer by your waist, your hands sliding down to his chest. The both of you fumble your way to the couch, Spencer caging you in as he gets on top of you.

He kisses you wildly, and all you can do is put your hands in his hair and kiss him, let him ravish you just like this. You moan, as his hands slide down your body, touching you all over – your tits, your waist, your thighs, down to your ass, his hands groping at you needily, eagerly.

When he gets his head between your thighs, you find that his hair is perfectly serviceable as a grip to rut against Spencer’s skillful tongue, Spencer only pulling you closer to get you off. You’re more turned on than usual, wetter as he fucks you on his fingers, thighs clamping around his head as you shake with your orgasm, riding out your high for longer.

Spencer, perceptive as he is, absolutely notices it. Wiping your release from his hand and face with a tissue, he quips, “I assume you like the haircut then?”

You grin lazily at Spencer. “Very much so.”

He leans in to kiss you and easily presses his cock into you. It doesn’t take long for you to orgasm again, and for him to follow suit.

[jammydodger3579]

Haircut

Summary: You give your boyfriend, Logan, a haircut at home.

A/N: I probably shouldn't admit this but I'm a hairdresser and this is just self gratification smut lmao.

Masterlist || Patreon || Discord server

18+ for mature audiences only

800+ word count

Warnings: it's just straight-up smut, nothing else happens.

Imagine Logan cutting his hair in the bathroom mirror, struggling to get it to look even. You’ve just come home from a day in the salon to find your boyfriend in the bathroom, scissors in his hands as he’s cutting his hair. You gasp.

“What are you doing!?” You ask, causing him to look at you. He smiles. 

“Sorry, I needed a haircut,” He says bashfully. You sigh, going to the kitchen. You return to the bathroom with a dining table chair. 

“Sit” you instruct. Logan hands you the scissors. You scoff, kitchen scissors. You go to your hairdressing kit and pull out your scissors and a comb. You return to Logan, combing his hair with your fingers. “I can’t believe you didn’t ask me” 

“Didn’t think you’d want to after a long day” 

“I always have time to give you a haircut,” you say, sectioning his hair with the comb. You start cutting, pulling the hair up and trimming the ends. Logan watches you in the mirror, mesmerised by the concentrated look on your face. You love hairdressing, it’s your passion. You love Logan more and always want to give him a haircut. You work carefully, making sure to even out the big chunks that Logan carved into his hair. Once you’re done, you run your fingers through his hair once more, feeling if it needs to be thinned out. His breathing hitches, enjoying the intimacy of this. You smile, moving to be in front of him. “You’ll need to have a shower” 

“I hope you join,” he says with a coy smile. You brush the hair off his shoulders before lifting his shirt over his head. He leans in for a kiss and you smile. 

“That’s not very professional” 

“I don’t care,” he says peppering more kisses across your face. 

“I will cut an eyebrow off” 

“Worth it” He lifts you and brings you into the shower, turning it on. You yelp at the sudden cold water hitting your back. Logan places you down in the shower, taking your shirt off you. He kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue in. You moan, fumbling with his belt buckle. You get down on your knees and pull Logan's pants down so you’re face-to-face with his shaft. You take it in your hands, stroking him up and down before taking it into your mouth. You can’t fit the whole thing in because of how large he is. He moans, putting one hand behind your head and the other on the shower wall. He moves your head with his hand, guiding you at the speed he wants to go. You have one hand at the base of his cock, the other on his hip for stability. His grip on your hair tightens, indicating he’s close to his end. You speed up, moving fast around his cock. He fills your mouth, and you swallow like the good girl you are, a little bit leaking out the side.

Logan uses his thumb to wipe it away before putting his thumb in his mouth to taste himself. You stand up and kiss him softly, your mouth still tasting like his seed. You kick your wet pants off to the side and submerge yourself under the water. You put some shampoo on your hands before running it through Logan’s hair. He moans, enjoying this. You gently massage his head, helping to release any tension in his scalp. “Do you know what you do to me, woman?” You smile. You gesture to the shower head and Logan takes the hint to wash his hair out. Once he’s done, he leans down and kisses you roughly. You smile and pull away. 

“I still have to condition your hair, sir” Logan let out a moan, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you onto his cock. He pressed you against the shower wall. He wraps a hand around your throat, lightly applying pressure the way you like it. You gasp at the change as he thrusts deeply into you, hitting your walls just perfectly. You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands in his hair. He’s rough, pounding deep, fucking you against the shower wall. You can feel your walls clench around his throbbing cock, both of you close to climax. “L-Logan, I’m close” you moan out. 

“I know baby girl,” he kisses you passionately, dominating your mouth with his tongue. You’re getting louder, moaning his name as you cum around him. It’s not long before Logan joins you, filling you with his seed. You tighten your legs around his waist, not wanting him to leave. Logan keeps thrusting, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible. You’re a sweaty mess, the steam from the shower not helping. Logan eventually places you down, keeping his hands on you as you get your footing. “Fucked you so good, you can’t walk, huh bub?”

“Yes sir,” you say with a coy smile, knowing it turns Logan on. “Now I’m still gonna need to finish your hair”

"Yes ma'am"

[shotmrmiller]

In desperate need of sucking dick. I know for a fact that Johnny hisses when you deep throat him and Simon throws his head back. Need their hands in my hair as they pushed past my gag reflex and wile away any tears that spill.

STOP because you're sooooo right. definitely tells you that gagging on them isn't necessary (doesn't tell you that they loveeee to feel your throat constrict around their swollen tip. they can't help it it's just so tight 😔)

but still you persevere and well they're not gonna not enjoy it

simon tugs a bit painfully at your hair, strands getting caught between his thick fingers as he pulls your hair up or away from your face

johnny apparently is a professional hairdresser because he's sweeping all stray hairs away with one hand while the other fists the rest of it (sickening like i have no doubt if you ask him to give you a ponytail- if you have the length for it, no matter how small- he'd give you something prim and proper. like ??? do this often?)

soap wipes the tears away. he wants to see nothing but glassy strands of spit on his cock and your face. so much so, he presses a thumb into the corner of your mouth when it's already stuffed full of him cuz the way you drool so readily, watching saliva slowly dribble onto his length and leave a dark stain on his jeans is chefs kiss.

simonnn, on the other hand, likes em. might even let you take a break in between, gagging too much, doesn't want your stomach to churn so he cradles your face in his large hands and pulls you up to your knees and where you thought he might be out of the ordinary sweet he just licks those hot streaks of mild discomfort away. <- disgusting. he loves it tho. taste buds so fried he doesn't react if you happen to have mascara on.

[orchidsangel]

MY BABY, MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY, SAY IT TO ME. (JT)

notes/cw ~ fluff, minor(ish) angst, fem!reader, talks of having a baby, idk i just had really bad dad!jason brain rot and i felt like i had to share it with my lovely angels, (2.3k)

The sound of laughter rings through your house like jingle bells during the holiday season, pitter patters of tiny feet tumbling against hardwood floors, and bigger ones chasing after them invade your ears. Squeals of laughter pour out through an open window as you pull bags of groceries out of the trunk of your car, the sound of running dying down when the trunk closes with a thump. "Is mommy home?" You hear a familiarly sweet voice say. "I think she is. Come on, let's see if we can beat her to the door."

Bags in hand, you walk up the pathway to the entrance of your house. The street of your suburban neighborhood, mostly empty on this chilly winter night, save for some residents walking their dogs before lights get turned off. The sound of a lock clicks before you're even halfway up the path, and soon after, you're met with Jason and your daughter standing in the doorway looking ridiculous, goofy grins on both of their faces. Red bows are hidden amongst his hair, some tied around short braids, some just hanging loosely on a few strands bunched together. Pink pajama pants peek out from under the red tutu she's wearing, and she dons pink ballet slippers on her feet as if she's about to perform the Nutcracker. 

He steps outside, meeting you at the top of the steps, hooking his fingers under the canvas straps of your reusable tote bags—an investment you'd made to offset some of the carbon emissions from his bike—and takes them into his hands. "New hair, huh?" you ask, eyeing the variety of red satin ribbons tied in knots littering the expanse of his head. "Yeah, you like?" He asks, turning towards you, lowering his head a bit so you can get a better look. You roll your eyes, but there's a smile playing on your lips at the image of Jason sitting down while your daughter's tiny hands play hairdresser with bows and barrettes.

You close the front door behind him as he makes his way toward the kitchen to unpack the groceries, turning your attention to the little girl in front of you sporting a toothy grin. "I thought ballet ended hours ago," you say, eyeing the layers of bright red tulle you had previously hidden to avoid the specks of glitter that shed every time she moved. "She had to practice her pirouettes." you hear Jason say from inside the fridge. "Yeah, mommy. I was practicing my pirouettes." She pouts her lips and cocks her head to the side, small hands fidgeting as she tries to use cuteness to get out of trouble. You cross your arms and squint your eyes at her, "Uh huh. And the hair?" You gesture to Jason, walking toward you. "What does that have to do with pirouettes?" 

He joins the two of you in the living room holding up a container of Gerber baby puffs, using them as a distraction to get both him and his little girl out of trouble. "What?" You ask, deadpan. "What d'ya mean what? We've got an infant I don't know about?" Your daughter gasps, eyes lighting up suddenly. "A sibling!" He laughs, turning towards you with a raised eyebrow. "No, you jerk. Him, not you, honey," you say, quickly correcting yourself. "They're for me." You snatch the container of blueberry-flavored rice puffs out of his hand, peeling off the lid and shoving a handful into your mouth. "God forbid women enjoy things." 

You pop a few more into your mouth before feeling a tug at the coat you still hadn't taken off. When you look down, you're met with your daughter, mouth open and waiting for you to share. She stares at you with wide eyes, using your inability to say no to her to her advantage. Sighing, you raise the container a bit and pause, "Only a few, and you have to get ready for bed after." she nods her head, mouth still open, and you tilt and pour out a substantial amount. She closes her mouth and displays her adorable little smile once again before running off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Hold on," Jason shouts down the hallway. "Say thank you to your mom!" You hear feet running again, and soon enough, feel the soft squeeze of your daughter giving you a hug; she presses her head into your lower abdomen as you bring your hand up to softly stroke her hair. "Thank you, Mommy." She says before moving on to Jason and giving an equally soft hug despite using all her might. "And thank you, Daddy, for letting me do your hair." She lets go and scurries off again, leaving a trail of red glitter in her wake for you to clean up.

She disappears into the bathroom, and you watch the hallway, now empty, as she gets ready for bed. You sigh, listening to the sound of water running while she independently does her end-of-the-night tasks, something you'd still helped her with not too long ago. Jason's arms creep around your waist, pulling you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, and you feel something tickle your neck, but you're not sure if it's his hair or a ribbon. He notices the solemn look in your eyes, a stark contrast to the liveliness he'd seen in you just a few moments ago. "What's wrong? Is it the glitter? Because I can clean that up." He says. "No, not that." You nibble on your bottom lip, lost in thought, trying to organize your feelings. "Just… she's gotten so big." He hums in acknowledgment, his way of saying he shares the sentiment. "I just don't know where the time went." You mumble, overcome with an unexpected sadness. "She's only five." He says into your neck, bringing his hands up to your shoulders and gently pulling off the coat you'd forgotten to take off. "Yeah, but she was just a baby not that long ago. I swear."

The both of you watch her move between her bedroom and the bathroom, soft dark brown curls bouncing with every movement. At five, she was already more responsible than most children her age, having a pretty concrete idea of right and wrong well before most kids do. Responsible for her age, but still just a baby in the grand scheme of everything, and sometimes the two of you would wonder if Jason's occupation might end up inadvertently affecting her and warping her idea of justice, but those fears were almost always disproven as soon as they came and oftentimes you didn't worry more than a few minutes. "We're doing a good job." He says from behind you, rubbing your back in an attempt to take away some of the worry. Normally, it would go away with ease, today, not so much. "We're not bad parents." You say with conviction, but you both know you're just trying to convince yourself of it. "We're not. You know we're not." 

He turns you around to face him, away from the hallway, so you can't dwell any longer. His hands move to your upper arms, kneading gently as he searches for your eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me." You struggle to make eye contact, unsure of your next words. "I think…I think I want another baby." You breathe out, looking down, unable to meet his gaze. Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes, and you barely breathe while you wait for his reaction. Not a single thing in the universe could've prepared you for the words that come out of his mouth. "Is that all? Is that what you were sulking about?" You look up at him, eyes wide, as he lets out a breathy laugh. Oh Jason, your Jason, taking your face in his hands and leaning down so he can look you in your eyes. "Don't scare me like that again, okay? Do you know how fucked up shit has to be for me to be the optimist out of the two of us?" It's your turn to laugh now, a weight having been lifted off your shoulders. "Language," you warn. "Aw, come on, she's way out of earshot." He bends down and presses his lips against yours; you close your eyes, leaning into him, hands finding his chest as you feel all of your worries melt away.

"Blegh." 

The sudden sound of a disgusted child, your disgusted child, pulls you away from Jason, and you wipe your mouth in embarrassment. It's just your daughter, but you still feel like a kid who's just been caught stealing candy and is about to get lectured into oblivion; Jason, however, handles it with ease. Taking on a playfully stern tone and pointing an accusatory finger at her, he asks, "Why are you up, little lady? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She mirrors his action, pointing a finger at him now. "You didn't tuck me in or read me my bedtime story." He puts his thumb and forefinger on his chin, seemingly thinking it over. "Hmmm, seems you've got me there." He shrugs before picking her up into his arms and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "You've gone soft," you say with a laugh, the embarrassment of being caught having passed. "What can I say? She's bossy. Gets it from her mama." You nudge his shoulder lightly as he turns in the direction of her room. "Alright, that's enough out of you." 

He leaves the door to her bedroom slightly cracked, and you can hear their whispers as they do their nightly routine of picking out a book to read, followed by her falling asleep in his arms. "What do you have in mind tonight?" He asks, laying her down gently on the bed adorned with princess sheets and stuffed animals he'd bought for her during trips around the world. "Can we finish Lord of the Rings?" She grabs her favorite stuffie, a gray bunny with droopy ears and button eyes, and holds it close to her chest as Jason climbs in beside her. "I don't think we can finish it, but we can fit a few pages in before it's time for you to go to sleep. That work for you?" He leans over the side of the bed and picks up a worn copy of Lord of the Rings that had been sitting on top of a stack of books he kept in her room solely for the purpose of bedtime. She nods her head at his question and snuggles further into him as he flips to the page they left off at.

You hear the sound of rustling and know the bedtime story has commenced, leaving you to clean up the mess of glitter and ribbons. Broom in hand, you start to sweep up the remnants of her "pirouette practice." Going up and down the hallway, sweeping back and forth. You catch a glimpse of the photos in the frames lining your wall before coming to a full stop and reminiscing about how far you guys have come. There were some pictures from when it was just the two of you, but most of those were kept digital, hidden amongst miscellaneous screenshots and disorganized photo albums. The majority of the framed photos came after she was born; something so special about being able to hold a photo of the three of you in your hands, to have it on display in your home proudly saying this is my family. Corny, maybe, but you'd never regretted starting the collection, especially since it had been Jason's idea. He'd been insistent that you keep a scrapbook to commemorate your ever-changing lives, but after realizing neither of you had the knack for cutting and gluing bits of paper onto pretty pages, you'd settled on the wall. Now, you look at them so often and always with fondness. Oh, how things had changed since that day, you'd met so long ago.

You don't know how long you'd been standing there, but you hear a door closing softly, and you turn to see Jason trying to make his way into the hallway with minimal noise. "Is she asleep?" You ask, barely above a whisper. "Out like a light." He says, joining you in front of the framed memories. A picture of her as a newborn, freshly discharged from the hospital, catches his eye, "she was really tiny, wasn't she?" He says, voice cracking a little as he remembers the overwhelming fear he'd experienced when you were in labor and how it all went away once he had held her in his arms. You hum in agreement as you both get lost in pictures of her from the past. Birthdays and holidays, family events and major milestones, there was a picture for everything.

There was one of her on his shoulders; she couldn't have been more than two at the time, her tiny fingers laced through locks of jet-black hair. You remember like it was yesterday; she had just watched Ratatouille and was trying to imitate Remy. He had played into it, and he couldn't get her off his shoulders for days after that. Another, taken from her first trip to the beach. You sit behind her, keeping her upright and holding her arms out, making one wave at Jason, who was behind the camera. You smile to yourself, the two of you standing outside of your daughter's bedroom, mostly content, remembering what it was like to have a baby in your arms. The memory of bringing her home floods his brain; how nervous he was yet so insanely happy he couldn't control the smile on his face. A shaky laugh falls from his lips as he pulls down a picture of the three of you still in the hospital, thumb pressed against the glass like he's trying to physically feel the moment. "Yeah…I could do it again." 

been working on this almost non stop for 9 hours, literally my longest fic yet (only by like 600 words, but still !!!), special thanks to @kiyozu (my beloved) for giving me this idea !! eek, hope you guys enjoyed it <33 (user orchidsangel is going to sleep now) (also tried following up dialogue with actions this time, gonna see how that goes bc if it’s too hard to follow along with i’ll just go back to he said she said)

[miupow]

I need tyun to DEVOUR my pussy from the back!

god i’m always thinking about tyun x noona hybe staff reader … makeup artist or stylist or hairdresser … do u see my vision

just his big boba eyes and sweet polite words making her so flustered >_< and he knows !!! he loves watching her get all nervous and giggly when he sweet talks to her :3 the other boys laugh at him for it but he doesn’t mind being accused of having favorites, because you are his favorite!!

���noona, i need help with my outfit” turns into him getting you alone in a dressing room, that expensive stage outfit thrown on the floor as he eats ur pussy from behind <3 he doesn’t care if he has to go on stage in just fifteen minutes, he needs to have you now!! he can’t go up there with his cock this hard, you have to understand, right noona?

[pilferingapples]

you can tell most people tell jokes about the digressions without reading the book because they complain about Waterloo, which has battles and plot-essential character development and obvious themes, and not Argot, which has , uh this:

“My shooting-iron,” the cavalry-man who says: “My turkey-cock,” the fencing-master who says: “Tierce, quarte, break,” the printer who says: “My shooting-stick and galley,”—all, printer, fencing-master, cavalry dragoon, infantry-man, phrenologist, huntsman, philosopher, comedian, playwright, sheriff, gambler, stock-broker, and merchant, speak slang. The painter who says: “My grinder,” the notary who says: “My Skip-the-Gutter,” the hairdresser who says: “My mealyback,” the cobbler who says: “My cub,” talks slang. Strictly speaking, if one absolutely insists on the point, all the different fashions of saying the right and the left, the sailor’s port and starboard, the scene-shifter’s court-side, and garden-side, the beadle’s Gospel-side and Epistle-side, are slang. There is the slang of the affected lady as well as of the précieuses. The Hotel Rambouillet nearly adjoins the Cour des Miracles. There is a slang of duchesses, witness this phrase contained in a love-letter from a very great lady and a very pretty woman of the Restoration: “You will find in this gossip a fultitude of reasons why I should libertize.” Diplomatic ciphers are slang; the pontifical chancellery by using 26 for Rome, grkztntgzyal for despatch, and abfxustgrnogrkzu tu XI. for the Duc de Modena, speaks slang. The physicians of the Middle Ages who, for carrot, radish, and turnip, said Opoponach, perfroschinum, reptitalmus, dracatholicum, angelorum, postmegorum, talked slang. The sugar-manufacturer who says: “Loaf, clarified, lumps, bastard, common, burnt,”—this honest manufacturer talks slang. A certain school of criticism twenty years ago, which used to say: “Half of the works of Shakespeare consists of plays upon words and puns,”—talked slang.

yeah it's about slang

the whole chapter

[octuscle]

thank you my friend for showing me all the things I can be. But one transformation just felt more right than the others. Please can you turn me back to a British chav working in ChavTF. This time I want it to be permanent and I want to become as chavy as possible. Just a dumb horny chav, who loves trainers, tracksuits, smoking, drinking and blowjobs

Alcohol gives you really stupid ideas, doesn't it? Even if the alcohol is an expensive 2020 Silvaner from a great vineyard on the Main in Franconia… Dude, you're a masterpiece! And you want to change that?

You're playing with your cell phone… There's the ChavTF online store. Hot tracksuit on special offer. The devil knows when you'd put it on… But you order it. They recommend a pair of socks, a pair of sneakers, a bracelet and a necklace. You think the necklace is stupid… But the rest looks cool. Everything goes into the shopping cart. Pay. And order. Everything should be here the day after tomorrow.

When you get home on Friday evening, the parcel is on your doorstep. Some friendly neighbor has accepted the package. The box has been used before. A bong was obviously packed in it before. It also smells like weed, but also like the plastic of cheap synthetic fibers. The tracksuit is no longer in its original packaging. It also smells a bit like sweat. And it looks like there are dried precum stains in the pants. You get a boner. And your precum forms another stain in your pants. The socks and sneakers look great with the tracksuit.

There are lots of notes in the box next to the bill. A voucher for a hairdresser. And a flyer looking for new employees for the online shop. Hehehe, the job certainly wouldn't make enough money for your Mayfair apartment. But somehow you feel like redeeming the voucher for the hairdresser. Shorter hair goes better with the tracksuit. Okay, the cab ride to the Eastend is probably almost as expensive as if you'd gone to your hairdresser. But that doesn't matter to you now.

You fit into the hairdressing salon about as well as the king fits into the subway. None of the customers are over 25 years old. No one feels as muscular in their tracksuit as you do. And everyone is either smoking a cigarette or a joint. And most of them have a can of beer. The hairdresser sees you and shouts "You're next. Would you like uh beer, mate?" You just say yes. And then the barber runs the long hair clippers through your hair. "Mate, should I shave off da beard? it makes you look like an old main?" You actually feel much younger. The beer is why and tastes like piss. But it feels good. Your forehead is wrinkle-free and smooth again. You look more like a young bouncer than an investment banker. "Nah, mate, da beard stays on. But do you have uh fag for me?" Damn, what's happened to your language.

You tip the barber a pound. You can hardly get enough of your reflection in the mirror. You need sex now. Quickly. It's still light and the cruising area in Victoria Park isn't far away. You don't have to stand by the tree for long before you disappear into the bushes with an old geezer. Phew, not really your level. But it feels right to get down on your knees and suck the unshaven, cheesy cock of this unkempt guy. And it also feels right when you pocket the ten pound note after the blowjob.

You take the subway home. Fuck, you're so horny, you could get fucked by every other guy here. But you need a pint of beer at least as badly. And it's not unlikely that you'll find something to fuck in the pub.

Fuck, you could clean up your mess and air it out. And you don't have anything clean to wear either. Shit, you had something planned for today… While you're pissing and smoking in your dirty little bathroom, you remember. You wanted to apply for the job. Warehouse worker at that cool clothes store in the East End. You spray some Axe under your armpits, put on your new tracksuit and take the bus to the East End.

You're already a little excited. After all, it's the first job you've done since you dropped out of your plumbing apprenticeship. And it's eight pounds an hour. A hell of a lot of money. But the guy in the store is cool. He thinks that all you need to be able to do for the job is organize weed for the other employees, give him the occasional blow job and tape up packages. Hehehe, hopefully you'll learn how to do the parcels, the rest you'll manage. And you can prove it right away. Starting with a blowjob.

Best job ever. In fact, you're more of a warehouse hustler than a warehouse worker. But there are good tips. And the dope you got is damn good. And hopefully no one will notice that you took the necklace with you. Your mother yells for you to come into the house, dinner is ready. You shout back that you only have a few more things to do. Hehehe, you can't stand dinner with your mother and her new stud without being stoned.

Pics found @my-gear-smoking-favourites, @lyon69007-blog and @scallysmoker2

[tunnelsnacks]

Deacon head canons from my old blog be upon ye!

The UP Deathclaws were never real...the L&L gang is though

“He’s sharp as a whip, feisty in the field and extraordinarily cautious with his actions and even more careful with his words”

Deacon’s favorite color is green, hazel green

If he had a character theme it would be Deacon Waltz by Christian Sedelmyer and Jerry Douglas (The name’s just a coincidence)

A very very light sleeper, before Wanderer he would only sleep for around 3 hours peppered throughout the day

It always takes him an hour to fall asleep, even after he & Wanderer start ‘their you sleep and I’ll watch over you’ deal

He’s not religious, but he still prays

Before Wanderer he’d have, what my old therapist calls, micro-bursts of stage three sleep without realizing it (REM sleep) people can do this while looking and cting completely awake, which is why Carrington doesn’t take him serious in meetings... he looked like he’s not paying attention but nada, the man’s brain was just shutting down a little bit

Because of the lack of sleep he got for so long, Deacon disassociates between himself & his body constantly. At times careless with himself...cracking jokes & laughing in dangerous situations... his brain was teetering the line between being asleep and awake so often he couldn’t tell the difference. (sleep deprivation makes you feel unstoppable...cocky even)

Another thing he lost as a result of Wanderer was being able to sleep standing up, because his body doesn’t need to take over for his mind anymore

Smells faintly of cigarette smoke (mainly because of Dez) and basil and something else that can’t really be placed

He fell in love with a school teacher once, she was the one that taught him how to read

Can write/read French but oh god pronounces every letter like how they sound in English... so he sticks to writing messages to himself that most people think are ramblings of a child when/if found

October is his favorite month... June makes him ache

If he’s not at Wanderer’s side or on his own op, he’ll be at the Church... but after Tea Party? He settles on the couch in Wanderer and Shaun’s home until she convinces him to just move in, they’ve slept in the same room for so long at this point but he can’t fathom having a home again. It’s a hard adjustment

If you look of the definition of a ginger you’d find a picture of him at age 14, the freckles keep coming back no matter how many times he gets them removed

You know how you can catch him spying on you in the settlements? Yeah, he wanted you to see him... but not near 111 or a few other places

He’s the person in the Third Rail that points Wanderer to MacCready before they meet, he can’t have her traveling alone like that when she still so green to the world

In codes, D is for Desdemona and d is for Deacon

If not written, agents that are high enough to know their names say Big D and Little D (Dez hates it but he thinks it’s cute, if not clever)

He tenses ever so slightly when he hears the name John/Johnathan

Holds tension in his jaw like no one else, it’s a wonder his teeth haven’t shattered

Hates the taste of coffee but constantly drinks it

Was a hell of a swing dancer in his youth, now he likes slow dancing though that wasn’t discovered until Wanderer showed up

He’s 37 at the youngest and 45 at the oldest

When he left the gang at 19, they shattered every bone in his left hand & wrist, it aches when it rains

Hides his eyes because they were her favorite part of him, the one thing he can’t change ironically, also the sleep thing. He can’t let people know how tired he is all the time

He was born in Rivet City and his mother was a hairdresser, father a drunkard of a city security officer

His ma taught him how to French braid hair

His last name is Deacon. Baby Shaun is the only one who knows that though... Shaun said “Hey Mr. Deacon” & he said “Hey Mr. Hale” (Wanderer’s last name) & Shaun being the clever kiddo he is, cocked his head to the side connecting some dots cause if his first name was Deacon why would he respond with Shaun’s last one?)

Absolutely fascinated with the old world, collects information and fun facts about that time forgotten which Wanderer feeds into

His favorite thing Wanderer tells him about/teaches him is the proper pronunciation of some words and how to spell others

The man has always had a temper, got it from his dad, he works very hard to keep it under control (I can think of a few pieces of dialogue where he’s talking through gritted teeth, anger threatening to boil over)

At first, he was only by Wanderer’s side so nobody could pull her away from the Railroad - he knows what a game changer she is... but they work so well together and she plays along with his tall tales so often that after a while he forgot about the first part

A terrifyingly good shot, better than MacCready and he’s doing it with sunglasses on

He 100% is John D, the terminal entry where Pinky(?) says a runner was the sole survivor and then immediately tried to get people to go back for documents?? A classic Deacon move

Only smokes in HQ (I’ve actually only seen his idle animation of that in the church and at Mercer) unless he’s in a role or somewhere where Wanderer is comfortable... or is extremely stressed out

He hates Hancock, well not hate- but he’s not on the Christmas card list

Deacon knew Shaun was taken 60 years before Wanderer woke up. He knew and he didn’t tell her and it is the secret he hopes she never finds out

Dee’s gotta special soft spot for Tinker Tom, loves him like a crazy brother

His sniper rifle is named Church Bell, lovingly crafted by Tinker

Not sure how he feels about gen 1’s and 2’s, especially after knowing Nicky V but... if he’s gotta do it

Exclusively refers to Nick Valentine as Nicky V

He knows Preston Garvey has a fat ass crush on Wanderer but has neglected to tell her this little fun fact

Tries to shave his head nearly every morning, when he’s with Wanderer he does so when it’s his turn on watch and she’s asleep

The Railroad is his family, they mean so much but of course he’s always kept everyone distant after what happened with Agamemnon

Deacon has been with the railroad between 14 and 20 years

He genuinely doesn’t like Carrington but he’s not going to avoid going to him if he’s hurt of course

His hands are always warm, which is great cause Wand’s are always cold (being frozen for 210 years will do that to a gal)

Do I need to go into the heights thing??? He hates tagging along to set up MILAs but he’ll be damned if he lets his best friend fall off a roof again

He picked the name; Wanderer (don’t get me started on Project Wanderer and Dez’s “it seems fitting” I’ll rant for so long guys)

Doesn’t like sweet foods but fancy lads is a whole other topic

Open spaces stress him out, too much he can’t see

Non-binary but uses he/him pronouns

Doesn’t drink more than a beer or two, but has an unsettling high tolerance

He won’t ever instigate a relationship beyond what he and Wanderer have, as his va Ryan Alosio put it in an interview, his heart’s been absolutely shattered and he can’t stand the thought of being the cause of someone he loves getting hurt because of him again. He loves her but he can’t

Before he got surgery for the first time, he looked like Ryan (the devs actually tweaked his design to resemble him) his original face looks close to what he has now, not that he remembers what that face looked like

[yeonzzzn]

🌙small doses - soobin x fem!reader | coworkers to lovers, blonde!soobin | warnings: smuuttttt ♡

loving him is explosive, exciting, heart-pounding…but you can only take him in small doses…

[2.2k words] ☆ [pls do not repost]

The last thing you expected for the job as tomorrow x together’s hairdresser, make-up, and dress coordinator was for the leader of the group to make passes at you. 

At first, you’d just catch him staring you up and down, making glances at you from across the room and slowly biting his lip while adding in small winks. 

Those small things turned into him cornering you in hallways. Flirting with you while you fix his hair and makeup. Constantly asking you on dates and you always declined, but Soobin never gave up. 

He was very attractive and you’d often think about the things he’d do to you if you would just give him that chance. 

Soobin eventually got bold. Secretly pressing kisses to your cheeks. Squeezing your ass when you’d walk past him or even when you’d be bent slightly over to part his blonde strands. Stealing kisses from your lips when no one was watching. His hands are always finding their way onto your body in some way. 

It turned you on, you had to admit. And resisting him continued to become harder and harder the more you wanted him. 

But you were terrified of getting caught and losing your job. You need it after all. 

“Y/N!” one of the other makeup artists called, you looked up from the rack of clothes you were organizing, “Can you finish Yeonjun’s makeup? My husband is calling me and I need to answer the call.” 

You smiled at her, “Of course! Go answer your hubby!” 

She thanked you and ran out of the room. 

You made your way to Yeonjun, feeling a pair of eyes following you. A specific mocha brown eyes. 

Slightly glancing across the room you could see Soobin looking at you. His bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he did not even acknowledge the makeup artist in front of him fixing his blonde locks into a part. 

“Let’s see!” You clasped your hands together, scanning Yeonjun’s face to find where the artist left off, “Was she doing your eyes?” 

Yeonjun nodded, “How can you just tell by looking at me?” he asked, giving you a smile. 

You picked up the brush the artist was working with, touching Yeonjun’s skin softly, “I’m just that amazing!” 

Yeonjun chuckled, his smile growing wider, “You really are though, it’s  fantastic.” 

The conversation continued along with other small talk. The daggers from Soobin only got worse, and you were afraid Yeonjun noticed it too. 

You were alone in the dressing room, organizing the makeup palettes to be put away, humming to yourself, doing a small dance to yourself. 

“I love the way you move your body.” 

You jumped at his voice. Seeing his shit-eating grin through the mirror. 

“Dammit Choi Soobin,” you cursed him, “Can’t just sneak up on someone like that!”

He slowly made his way to you. You looked back down at the palettes, trying to focus on organizing. 

His hands touched your waist, sending millions of chills down your body. His touch always spiraled you. 

Soobin pressed his chest to your back, his hard length grinded against your ass, his mouth against your ear, “You look so sexy right now.” 

Feeling his cock throb against you made your hands tremble as you tried to continue moving everything. 

“Not going to talk to me?” Soobin whispered, biting your ear softly. 

You tried to control your breathing, to not show him what he was doing to you. Unfortunately for you, Soobin knows how to work your body. 

“Won’t talk to me, but will flirt with Yeonjun?” 

Soobin flipped you around, forcing you to look at him directly. Your chin between his fingers, lifting you to make eye contact. 

“It’s my job, Soobin.” You whispered. 

“To flirt with my hyung?” 

“No, you know what I meant!” you snapped at him, removing his hand from your face. 

He picked you up and placed you down on the vanity, back pressed against the mirror. 

His mouth found yours, hands squeezing your thighs. 

You desperately kissed him back, pulling the tie around his neck and bringing him even closer to you. 

He groaned against your lips, shoving his tongue inside your mouth, rubbing the muscle together with yours. 

“Fuck that was so hot, the way you pulled my tie baby girl.” Soobin moaned between kisses. 

His hands slid up your thighs, lifting your skirt along the way. 

He moved his lips to your neck, sending butterfly kisses down to your collarbone. 

That’s when you noticed he left the door to the dressing room open. 

“Soobin,” you put your hands on his broad shoulders, “you left the door open.”

“And?” his voice vibrating against your skin, “let them catch us.” 

You shook your head, “Soobin.” 

He placed his fingers against your folds, slowly rubbing. 

“Fuck baby girl,” he moaned against your neck, “your pretty pussy is so wet for me, when will you let me finally fuck you?”

You threw your head back against the mirror at his touch through your soaked panties. 

“Look at me, Y/N.” 

You lift your head, scanning his face. It was filled with so much lust and want. 

Soobin pressed his forehead against yours, sliding your pants to the side, circling his finger over your clit, “Let me fuck you.” 

You reached for his pants, unbuckling his belt and top button. 

He moved further up your skirt, looping his fingers with the strings of your panties, pulling them down your hips, over your ass, and down your legs. 

You moved yourself to the edge of the vanity, wrapping your legs around his waist, reaching your hands down his pants, feeling his hard length through his boxers with your palm, slowly stroking it. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, reaching for his pants, thumbs gripping the hem of them, readying to pull them down. 

“Where is Soobin!? We go on in five minutes!!” The voice came from one of his band members. 

“Fuck.” Soobin sighed and quickly fixed his pants and belt back into place. 

Part of you was relieved not wanting to get caught in the dressing room fucking your co-worker. 

But the other part wants his cock so deep within you leaving you in a mess. 

You watch as he fixes his hair in the mirror behind you, “Fuck my lips are puffy.” 

You grin, liking that you were the reason for it. 

Soobin caught your grin from the sides of his eyes, him taking your chin in his hand, “What’s with that shit-eating grin of yours? Huh? Dirty girl loves what she caused, ya?” 

You nodded, feeling proud of it. 

Soobin smirked, releasing you from his hand, and stepping away from you. Your eyes traveled down to the tent in his pants from how hard his cock was, thanking whoever it was who decided to put him in those tight pants. 

He bent down, picking up your panties from the floor, “I’m keeping these.” 

You totally forgot how he removed them from you not even a minute ago, “Wait Bin, I need those!” 

You reach for them, him taking even more steps away from you.

“Want them back?” Soobin teased, shoving them into his pocket, “You know where to find my room at the hotel.” 

And with that, he went down the hall and was gone. 

You cursed him under your breath and hopped down from the vanity. Seeing the pool of your wet glistening from the mirror lights from where you sat. 

You bit your lip looking at the effect Soobin had on you. 

He’s touched you before, pinned you against anything he could at any moment he could. But this time was different. You were ready to take him. Ready to give in to his desires. 

You’ve only had him in small doses. And they were enough to drive you insane. You could only imagine the hot mess you’d be if you had more of him. 

You quickly cleaned yourself up and left the dressing room. 

—

Soobin dug his face into your neck, one arm around your waist while you rode him, his other holding him up from falling back. 

You tore your nails into his shoulders as you bounced up and down on his cock. Your head is thrown back from pure pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck me, baby girl,” Soobin moaned, “you’re fucking me so good. Doing so good for me.” 

The temptation of coming to his hotel room just to get your panties back was too hard to pass up. Your pussy was wet for hours after he left you alone in the dressing room. 

You lay against your bedsheets, fingers between your fold, trying to get yourself off and hold your pride to not go to his room. But found yourself here anyway, wanting him badly. You needed your full dosage of him. 

“Fuck Soobin, f-feels so good. Fuck,” you slammed yourself down onto him, grinding your hips to feel him deeper within you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, Y/N,” he squeezed his arm tighter around your waist, helping fill himself deeper, “your pretty pussy feels so good on my cock.” 

You placed your hands on his face, kissing him passionately, feeling your tummy tighten. 

Soobin could feel you tighten around him, “You’re close aren’t you, baby girl?” 

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning your body into him, bouncing faster against him, “I’m going to cum.” 

“Cum for me baby girl,” he bucked his hips in rhythm with yours, “Make a pretty little mess on my dick.” 

You moaned into his neck as you released onto him, continuing to move your hips as you chased your high, “Such a good girl for me, making such a fucking mess on me.” 

“Bin, it feels s-so good.” 

Soobin continued his movements inside you, removing his arm from your waist to pull a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, fuck.” 

Before you can respond, he shifts you both, throwing your back against his bed. 

Taking your hands in his and above your head, pinning them against the sheets. 

“Be a good girl and wrap your legs around me.” 

You listened, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, feeling his tip at your entrance. 

Soobin slowly pushed back into you. You arched your back, feeling every inch of him inside you. 

Soobin picked up the pace, fucking you hard and fast. 

“Fuck your pussy feels so nice wrapped around my cock, fuck fuck fuck.”  

You were melting against him, your body so sensitive and on fire. 

Soobin groaned, wrapping one arm underneath you, pulling you down, and slamming into you harder. 

“Fuck, Bin.” 

“Say my name,” he snapped, “Scream it, let everyone in this hotel know how hard and good I am giving it to you. Let’em know how much you love me fucking you. How you’re mine and mine only.”

You did as you were told, and moaned out his name loud enough, knowing the whole floor heard you. 

“Fuck Bin,” you moaned, arching your back even more. 

“Oh god, I love seeing you like this baby girl. Fuck I’m cumming, going to fill you to the brim with my cum, you’d love that huh baby girl?” 

You nodded, “Cum for me Bin.” 

“Fuck.” 

Soobin moaned as he released, slowly his pace as he chased his high, filling you completely,  squeezing your hand tighter against his bedsheets. 

He rolled off you, both your chests moving up and down to regain the oxygen back into your lungs. 

Your head spun, realizing why you only took Soobin in smaller doses until tonight. 

He felt you wanting more. He made you give in to the feelings for him that you’ve fought off for months. 

“Y/N,” he called for you. 

You turned to face him, “Yes?” 

He took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together, “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Soobin’s eyes no longer held the usual lust, but were now filled with so much love, passion, and need for you. You rubbed your thumb over his fingers, giving him a soft smile. 

“Bin?” 

“Yes, my love?” He brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. 

“I love you. And I am sorry it took so long for me to give in.” 

Soobin gave you his bunny smile, pressing another kiss to your fingers, “I knew you wanted me just as badly as I wanted you.” 

You rolled your eyes, “stop teasing me!” you scoffed, “I just confessed my feelings and you repay me by teasing?” 

“Of course.” 

You climbed on top of him, pressing your lips to his. Making out while giggling with each other. 

There was a bang against the wall, scaring the shit out of both of you.

“Oh my FUCKING GOD SHUT UP!!” It was Beomgyu screaming from the next room over, “I’ve been trying to sleep for HOURS but couldn’t because of your sex sounds. Please for the love of god shut up!” 

You cupped your hand over your mouth, trying to keep your laugh to a minimum. 

Soobin couldn’t help but softly chuckle with his bunny smile getting even wider. 

“I’ll have to apologize to him tomorrow,” Soobin whispered. 

“I can’t believe we were that loud.”

Soobin shrugged, “They’ve all known how hard I was pinning for you, it was just a matter of time before this happened.”

You nodded, laying your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“And, I love you too, Y/N.” Soobin wrapped his arms around you, “I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my company's building applying for this job, I literally spent weeks begging them to hire you, and I am so glad they did.”

[creedslove]

✨HEADCANON MASTERLIST ✨

RULES FOR REQUESTING

MAIN MASTERLIST

• Main Masterlist (series and one shots) HERE

• Second headcanon masterlist HERE

✨ PEDRO PASCAL

• You're Pedro's girlfriend but you have a long distance relationship and he surprises you by visiting

• Pedro is casted in a movie adaption of your best seller and you two develop feelings for each other

✨ JAVIER PEÑA

• NSFW Alphabet

• General kinks

• Nail kink

• Being Javier's mistress and getting pregnant

• Javier railing you on the way home

• Javier coming home exhausted at night

• Being Javi's wife

• Cock warming with Javier Peña

• Javier painting your nails when you are too tired

• Helping Javi when he is frustrated

• Comforting Javier

• Javier helping you when you are anxious

• Fake marriage with Javier

• You and Javier suffer a miscarriage

• Javier with someone who speaks french

• Javier fingering you under the table

✨ JOEL MILLER

• Being Joel's wife

• Being pregnant with Joel's baby

• Joel cuddling with you and Sarah after a hard day of work

• Being Joel's wife and becoming a mom to Sarah

• Spending weekends when you are married to Joel

• Being fingered by Joel in public

• Joel taking care of you when you have a migraine

• Running into Joel's ex

• Joel Miller is such moanable name

• The baby won't stop crying

• Baby headcanons

• Sweet things Joel does

• Joel seeing the resemblance between you and your daughter

• Joel reacting to you saying you're pregnant

• How you and Joel met and become a little family with Ellie

• Lazy sex on the couch

• Joel taking care of you when you're stressed

• Sarah calls you mom for the first time

• Joel feeding the baby and getting food all over himself

• Being a hairdresser and taking care of Joel's hair in Jackson (slicked back haired Joel)

• Cock warming with Joel

• Joel in a relationship with someone introvert

• Being married to Joel and reuniting after the outbreak

• Joel tries to win reader over after her memory loss

• Joel + breeding kink

• Joel divorces reader to be with Sarah's mom and they meet again after years

• Joel on you having multiple partners

• You hire Joel as your contractor and you fall in love with each other

• Joel being your dad's best friend and having an affair with you

• Joel finds your lost dog

• You, Sarah and your baby wear matching outfits to surprise Joel

• You're the face painter at a kid's birthday party and Joel falls for you

• Joel seeing you wearing nothing but your panties and his shirt

• Joel agreeing on painting your nails for you

✨AGENT WHISKEY

• Being nervous to tell Whiskey you're pregnant and how he's like during the pregnancy

• Whiskey grieving your death

• Shopping with Whiskey

• Whiskey as a dad

• Whiskey goes to the hospital and falls for his nurse

• Whiskey takes you to the movies

✨ JAVI G

• Javi doesn't like to see you so stressed out because of work, so he sets a special dinner for you

• Sweet things Javi G does

✨ FRANKIE MORALES

• Frankie comes back from his mission and surprises you with your favorite: japanese food and wine

✨ DAVE YORK

• Faking your orgasm

• Dave's kinks

• Sugar daddy Dave York

• Dave hurts you during sex by accident

• Dave when he's jealous of you

• Dave is mean to everyone except you

• Dave takes care of you after you are caught by his enemies

• Dave York on aftercare, pregnancy and jealousy

• Dave lying to his wife so he can spend time with you

• Dave confessing his feelings in the middle of a fight

• Dave and you are married to other people but start having an affair with each other

• You and Dave are looking for a house but the real estate agent won't stop flirting with him

• Dave calming down anxious pregnant reader

• Dave defending you from a stalker

✨ MARCUS PIKE

• Random headcanons

• NSFW headcanons

• Marcus taking care of you when you're sick

• A quiet evening with Marcus

• Is Marcus messy or tidy?

• Marcus asking you to sit on his face

• Seeing Marcus with facial hair for the first time

✨ MULTI CHARACTER HEADCANONS

• Shaving pubes + favorite sexual position

• What's their type of women

• Fingering you in the middle of a conversation

• Their type of wedding

• What they do when the baby won't stop crying

• They take care of you when you have the flu

• When you ask them to go on a picnic

• Meeting your family

• Ass or tits

• You have a car accident and they come for you

• What they do in their free time

• They receive a spicy picture from you

• Working with Javier Peña and Dave York and catching their attention

• Who would make you cum harder

• How would they act when you fake your orgasm

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

How about Yandere Elvis becoming obsessed with his latest co-star?

A/n: I can't believe it, a request from one of THE best Yandere writers in the Elvis and Austin fandom crash-and-cure, im so honored, I must be dreaming. I decided to do a black reader because there are not enough colored readers x Elvis, Austin!Elvis and Austin.

The Star in his eyes

Pairing: Elvis Presley x black reader.

Summary: Elvis thought that it was just another movie, singing and getting the girl like always but what he didn't realize he'd met his true love and he'd have competition.

Warnings: Yandere Elvis, Possessive Elvis, Jealousy, Non-con, and con kissing, Drinking, Threatening, Implied sex and pregnancy, Manhanlding, Fistfight, Close to death experience, Time-period racism. (Hopefully not too long short)

At first, Elvis didn't think much of you, don't get him wrong it wasn't because of the different skin color. No, it was because you were just the second love interest of his character and he had to focus more on the main interest. Little by little you caught his eye, he didn't know if it was the way the sun shined on your dark skin, casting a heavenly glow, or your quick wit and caring personality or you're simple love of books, and passion for acting, getting your character just right and despite being talked down you brushed it off like it was nothing.

All he knew was you were gonna be his wife someday, he couldn't care less what his fans and the world would feel about it.

You were his and people had to deal with it.

Elvis's eyes closed, feeling relaxed as the makeup and hairdresser, worked his hair, the feeling of her fingers going through his locks allowed him to imagine it was you, the image of him back at Graceland, laying on your lap on the couch in front of the fireplace as you whispered of your love for the rockstar was enough for a smile to creep up on him. Excitement pulled into his stomach and stirred alive his cock, after this he would film a few scenes with you, close very close with you, finally to feeling you in his arms.

"Alright you're done, honey." the dresser spoke after combing his hair back "Thank ya, sweetheart'." Elvis opened his electric blues and flashed his women-swooning smile at the dresser, it only widens as she tries and fails to hide her blush. He loved you but he just couldn't help himself, he said one last 'thank you and walked out of the trailer hearing the excited, happy squeals of the ladies inside, with deep satisfaction and confident booster he sets to find you. He scanned the set of the fake glorious mansion until he spot you getting into position and straightening out your maid costume, God you were beautiful, your hair up in a bun with pieces of hair falling elegant in front of your face, light makeup enhancing your strong features, and oh your lips, those lips, he wanted to make busied from his kiss, wanted to hear mewls, whines, and moans come from your parted lips.

Elvis rearranged his dress pants, to hopefully make his erection less obvious and sauntered to you "Hey darlin', Ya ready?" Elvis questioned as you looked up startled by him, those beautiful eyes shined a brighter shade because of the sun behind him "Ready as I can be." you answer right when the director shouted 'SHOOT' "Amari would you stop cleanin' and just listen to me?!" Elvis yelled, glaring angrily at you, sighing you throw the rag you used to wipe down the center table of the entrance and looked at your co-star "Mr. Truelove-" "Jake-" "-You. are. my. boss and what about Nia, she is your best friend, childhood best friend I will not break that girl's heart." you said with a firm tone and narrowed eyes. Elvis grabbed your hips and pulled you into him, a hand coming to rest on your cheek "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this." Elvis's eyes searched yours "Jake.." you whispered unable to look at him "Amari.." he whispered back as he pulled you into a kiss of hard passionate, lips made to bruise "CUT!" the director shouted, ending the scene. Elvis redundantly moved away, allowing space between you two, "Ya did amazing." Elvis smiled, putting his hand on your shoulder "Thank you, that's quite a compliment coming from you." you smiled back, "So I was wondering if ya'd like to go out sometime." he asked despite already knowing you were gonna say yes.

"No. I'm sorry, I don't like you that way," you said, tone full of sympathy before walking away, so fast he couldn't react in time, a look of shock and disbelief was sure to be on his face. You rejected him? You rejected him, Elvis Presley when girls would do anything to get in his pants or even die to be his girl and you just brushed him off. No, you didn't get to say no to him, you must have been scared, right? why else would you turn him down? He just got to show he was serious bout you, yeah that's right. He'd do it tonight.

Elvis made his way to your stay-in outsider trailer, he reached the mental door in a purposeful stride, and he raised his knuckles when a sound faint in volume stopped him, moans soon followed by clapping skin. Elvis's blood boiled like water hitting its peak in a hot pat, red blinded his vision as he kicked the fragile door down, and as he pulled one of the cameramen out and off you, dragging him out of the trailer, in his birthday suit and punching the man in the jaw casting him to fall. Elvis ignored your pleading demands and your pulling as he lifted the other male by his neck and continued pummeling him until his blood-spattered covered Elvis's fist. Eventually, you were able to get Elvis off your secret love "Elvis what the fucked?!" you shoved his shoulder hard, he stumbled a bit before glowering at you and trapped you between him and the trailer, the white sheet that covered you falling to the ground and his knee pressed against you wet core. "No! what the goddamn hell you thinkin'?! Giving your body to somebody else?!" he whisper-yelled, slamming his hands on the cold metal, you flinched at the loud bang "I-Im not yours. You have no right to do this!" you barked back, trying to push him away "you are mine! That is if you want to keep your career, your life, and your lover boy to live to see another day." Elvis snarled, "Y-you wouldn't dare!" you stuttered " I would. You're my girl now and forever." Elvis reassured you that by kissing you again with another bruising kiss.

That was the day you met your husband, once the news had gotten out of you "Dating" the famous rockstar, hell broke loss at first but cooled down and people came to accept you, and poor Clint, he was smart enough to not press charges or even tell anybody of what happened. You had fallen pregnant soon after your honeymoon, and you weren't surprised, the man couldn't keep his hands off you, and at times you wished you could leave him and his short tamper but the tendering caring, the mindblowing sex made it hard now the baby coming you really was stuck with Elvis..and the worst part you felt yourself fall for the king of rock.

You sighed and rubbed your tummy before laying, spread out onto the king bed. What were you gonna do?

[hotluncheddie]

i want a snippet!!!! daddy kink my beloved!!!!! as for fun fact hmmmmm. not sure nothing to smile about in my life.. tomorrow i go get a haircut at a salon after cutting my own hair bcus autism for yeeaars and im being a really brave boy about it!!!! (only cried to my bf twice) - 🐶

Yesssss of course!!!!!

Nothing to smile about in ur life tho :( oh no :((

But a haircut is exiting!!! I hope they do a good job!! U can do it!!! (I cut my own hair too but mostly bc I like it kinda weird and when the hairdressers do it they never do it right lol)

But a snippet for u!! A happy bit to brighten ur day ✨

-

Steve reaches a hand out for him, Eddie tangling their fingers and squeezing. ‘Who you gonna be good for?’ He asks, cheeky and lovely and light.

‘You.’ Steve manages, wriggling a little, bringing his free hand up to his mouth.

‘Who am I?’ Eddie grips the meat of Steve’s thigh, shuffling closer, bending Steve in half.

Steve looks up at him, Eddie’s face looming over his own, his sweet lovely Eddie. ‘Daddy.’ He whispers, own fingertips tracing his lips, ears hot and cock so hard it’s leaking onto his belly.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Way Down We Go (Part 3)

Summary: Y/N and Daryl follow a dead end that leads them to wash up on the shores of France. While their daughter takes an impromptu trip to the big city, in hopes of saving her childhood friend. Warning: cannon typical violence, mentions of sex and Dead City/Walking Dead/Daryl Dixon spoilers.

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/N comes to with a steady pounding on her torso. Not her heart, it’s much too forceful.

“Come on, Y/N.” Daryl. It has to be Daryl. It was always Daryl.

Her chest burns, desperate for air, as the pounding continues. Her face flush with the damp sand, sputtering up water.

“Good girl,” Daryl sighs in relief, continuing to pat her back as she clears her lungs; gasping. “Yer, a’right.”

She finally collects herself enough to pant out, “Daryl.”

“I got ya.” He grunts, pulling her up into a sitting position.

Last thing she remembers is wading water, before the waves overtook them, the boat long gone. Torn to shreds. They must’ve washed up on shore somewhere. “Where are we?”

“Mnm,” too soon to say.

The beach is empty, no walkers, no people.

“I say we clear tha area. Get our asses covered, set up camp here for tha night. Catch us some fish.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods. They’ve had water, from the rain, but very little food.

He brushes his lips over her cheek. Still worried, even now.

Y/N pats the side of his face in return. “I’m ok.”

Daryl nods, leaving her to it.

He catches the fish, Y/N skins them, while Daryl starts the fire. Nothing big, not wanting to draw attention.

“Admiring your work?” Y/N smiles. Cocking her head to the side, when she notices him staring at the opening in her pant leg. The one he tore wider to stitch her up.

“Just lookin’,” Daryl says, sweeping hair from his eyes.

“You need a haircut.” Y/N teases. “Where’s my mom when you need her?” Carol, along with a plethora of other talents, had become their resident hairdresser.

“Here.” Daryl pulls his knife, from the sheath, at his hip. “I trust ya.”

“You sure?” Y/N takes the blade from him, carefully.

“Mhm,” he grumbles.

“Ok.” Y/N scoots in closer.

Daryl watches her, intently. The same way he always does.

“I’m just gonna take a little off the front.”

“A’ight.” He nods, drawing her into his lap. Mindful of her stitches as he closes the distance between them.

Y/N huffs a laugh, shifting slightly over him. “Don’t move.”

“Yes ma’am.” Daryl lets his hands rest on her hips.

Her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, in concentration.

Daryl eyes fall closed at the feel of her fingers in his hair. He is safe. Safe with her. After a time the knife comes away, leaving a neat pile of hair on the ground.

Y/N brushes wayward locks from his shoulders. “All done.”

“Thanks.” He opens his eyes, locking with hers.

“You’re welcome,” she leans back.

“Admirin’ yer work?” It’s Daryl’s turn to poke fun at her.

Y/N shakes her head, eyes flitting about his face. “Just looking.” Silence.

His heart seizes, forcing him to speak. “Love ya.”

“I know.” Y/N breathes, “I love you too.”

————————————————————————

Carol saved their group countless times, from Terminus to present day.

Sophie trusts that she knows when to hold’em and when to fold’em. Carol allows the pigeon lady that led them away from the hoard and the New Babylon Marshals, to take them across a questionable zip line, to be held at drill point by her people, before being locked in a holding cell, Sophie doesn’t fight it.

These people are just protecting their own, from the real assholes. The Burazi. They show up and kill the lady who brought them across the zip line, to some kind of safety.

Negan manages to nab the guy who did it. Whipping off his black helmet with all the spikes and marching him back inside, to show the Burazi exactly who they’re fucking with. One thing about Negan is that he protects his people.

As fate would have it, a member of the rogue group they’re now traveling with has met the Croat in the flesh and lived to tell the tale.

“If there’s a way out, there’s a way in.” Carol reasons.

“If we go in there then we all die.” The man with the tattoo beside his temple points out. “And for what?”

“For my son.” Maggie says. “To save my son.”

“Your son’s already dead and you know it.” The man insists.

“Enough,” Negan stops him.

“Maggie, we don’t know that.” Sophie reaches for the older woman as she moves away from the group.

Maggie takes her hand, giving a squeeze before dropping it.

Sometimes people need to be alone, Sophie doesn’t fight that either.

————————————————————————

“How’s this for a honeymoon?” Y/N says, as they map the area.

“Shouldn’t we be screwin’?” Daryl grumbles.

Y/N arches a brow at him. “First we figure out where we are. Then we screw.”

“Fair ‘nough,” he agrees.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re happy with just Sophie, right? I mean, you didn’t want more kids.”

“Yer what I want.” Daryl tells her. “Sophie is more than I coulda asked for. Helped raise Judith and RJ after...” After Rick. “Ya want another?”

“I’m good,” Y/N assures him.

“Why’d ya ask?”

“I’m not a spring chicken anymore, but if we aren’t careful, it could still happen.” Back home, they have access to contraception. Here, not so much.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Daryl admits. They’re older now, been through enough together.

Y/N clears her throat, moving briefly in front of him. “Look, there’s something written on that wall.”

‘pouvoir des vivants’

“What’s that?”

Y/N traces the old paint, with her fingertips. “I think it’s French.”

“Don’t ya know French, Peletier?”

“Ed knew French.” Y/N corrects him, “not me.”

“Mmm.”

“And didn’t you hear I got hitched? It’s Dixon now.”

“Lucky guy.” Daryl plays along.

The telltale grunt of walkers can be heard up ahead.

“Come on.”

————————————————————————

“What’d ya say to her?” Sophie demands, catching Negan leaving the room Maggie’s in.

“Jesus Christ, kid! You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” Negan throws his head back.

“Gimme a reason to trust ya and I won’t have to watch so closely.” Sophie challenges.

“We were just talking.”

“Why would Maggie wanna talk to ya?”

“Like it or not, Daryl Jr., we are in this together. We’re working as a team, however long that lasts, hell if I know. But for now, we gotta have a smidgen of trust between us for this plan to work. I am not your enemy.”

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Sophie clenches her jaw. “Is she ok?”

“She will be.” Negan sighs, “soon as we get Hershel back.”

“I can see that you’re tryin’. I appreciate it, we all do. But there’s some things ya can’t come back from. Things ya did to my family, to Maggie and Hershel…

There’s a picture in my Mama’s drawer back home, from when I was a baby. Glenn was holdin’ me. I don’t remember him. Wouldn’t know him from Adam, without that picture. It never sat right knowin’ there was a picture of him holdin’ me and not one of him holdin’ his own son.

One night I finally decided to do somethin’ about it. I took it. Hid it, tryin’ to figure out what to do with it.” Sophie breaks off, gathering her thoughts. “My Mama realized it was missin’…I never heard her scream like that.”

Negan runs a hand over his face.

“I gave it back. Told her why I did what I did and she forgave me. But between us, she hasn’t looked at me the same way since. Ya killed Glenn and took my dad away from her, all in one night. Ya kept my dad a prisoner and tortured him, just because ya could. Just to prove a point.”

Negan doesn’t speak, just lets her finish.

“Apologies are nice. Changin’ your ways, makin’ amends, I’m all for it. But the truth is, once ya hurt someone like that, there’s nothin’ ya can do to fix it.”

[candiid-caniine]

gender euphoria

[cw: this is NOT a detrans/misgendering kink post, but tries to subvert some of those tropes, so please treat it with caution!]

sissy kink blogs DNI

outside the bedroom, i demand respect. i own my pronouns, talk openly about genderqueerness, and flaunt androgyny.

but inside the bedroom...my relationship with gender changes. i'm transsexual in the sense that power dynamics in my sexual relationships directly influence my gender(s). what do i mean by this? i mean i want you to treat my non-conformity as a blank slate on which to project your preferred gender.

i am an "it," first and foremost. but i can be a "she," a "they," or a "he" if so inclined. i can be your butch, your femme, your fag, your twink, your femboy, whatever you want me to be.

and i'll resist. that's part of the fun of it: in day-to-day life, i'm most comfortable as an occasionally femme-leaning androgyne. that makes it fun to push back, easy to feel vulnerable, uncomfortable, and a little self-conscious (though not dysphoric) in a different presentation.

i take any pronouns, after all. so butches who love femmes, goad me into skirts, lacy lingerie, makeup, stockings, heels. watch me falter and cling to your side when we go out, feeling like i'm being stared at, unaccustomed to the kind of attention high-femmes usually get. make me show off my cleavage. call me "she" exclusively without switching. call me a good girl, call me a princess, make me suck your cock like a good little wife. force me to grow my hair out for you, yes, the undercut, too, and watch me get fussy and flustered at the unwelcome sensory input of it touching my neck. get me long acrylics, watch me fumble at everything requiring the use of my fingers; step in to help, coo over your clumsy girl - it's basically like mitting a puppy, isn't it?

if you prefer masc partners, get me a binder. watch me squirm at the compression. get me on a workout regimen to bulk up, even; spend a lot of time proving to me that no matter how fit i get, you'll always overpower me. no more cutesy hair clips, no more high-waisted jeans, or skirts, or femme-ish jewelry: make me your boyfriend. coach me into talking in a lower register. order T for me off the dark web, admire my stubble and my bottom growth. if you top, fuck me in the ass exclusively. if you bottom, get me the strap that best reflects your preferences. i'd even get top surgery, as long as you're paying~

or mix the two. make me your femboy. get me a packer, but also dresses. nitpick me over the right mix of boy-as-girly, watch me get more and more desperate to please your expectations, until at last i'm just surrendering my wardrobe to you, losing confidence in my ability to dress "properly." call me a good boy, your pretty little prince. i'm even okay with the gentle kind of goading, the presentation-shaming, calling me soft, saying i'm not dressing like a real man, if that's what you want.

or just lean in fully to the genderless thing that i want to be in the bedroom, but make it be all the time. what does an "it/its" look like? when your gender is pet, how do you present in public? well, that's up to you. maybe it's the most revealing clothes you can find, or simply the most embarrassing: underwear and pants that are a bit too small, riding up my ass and cunt constantly. shirts with slogans like "young, dumb, and full of cum" or "clown school graduate." anything that makes other people think i'm ditzy, impressionable, and silly, or don't know my own wardrobe sizes. collars, 24/7, are, of course, mandatory. maybe cuffs, too.

the whole time, watch me be unsure as my androgyny is picked apart, more and more of my core gender identity bent to your whims. watch me automatically start to seek your approval on any piece of clothing or jewelry i own. i'll start letting you speak to the hairdresser at salons, giving up any autonomy i have over my own hairstyle. you could take me to a piercer or a plastic surgeon or a tattoo artist, tell them what you want me to look like, and i'll sign the consent forms. treat my lack of gendered presentation as a clean slate, free for you to write your mark all over. make me your creature. as if i wasn't already.