#bold red lip regardless

[blue-disco-lights]

Pic Crew Time 🧡

Thank you to the wonderful @deedala @creepkinginc @heymrspatel @mikhailoisbaby @palepinkgoat @stocious @mybrainismelted @skylerwinchester for tagging me in this pic crew

I’m very serious here, I imagine because my contacts were feeling scratchy and the wind was picking up - so made it a glasses, beanie and sensible cardigan kind of day 🍂

Tagging in the also wonderful @energievie @m4ndysk4nkovich @sweetbee78 @gallawitchxx @crossmydna @depressedstressedlemonzest @too-schoolforcool @michellemisfit @sickness-health-all-that-shit @darlingian @look-i-love-u @ian-galagher @francesrose3 @vintagelacerosette @mickeysgaymom @suzy-queued @guinguin1984 @gillyp @jrooc @golden28s @callivich @lupeloto @auds-and-evens @mmmichyyy @tanktopgallavich @lingy910y if you’d like to try 🧡

[gingerteawrites]

Limelight - Gojo Satoru

Content: You knew Gojo belonged in the limelight. Away from you most of the time, but you didn’t mind. That was until he lands perhaps the biggest role of his career, and suddenly the shouts of the world feel like they were enough to rip you apart.

actor!Gojo x female reader, Jealousy, insecurity, angsssssssssst, fluffy.

Word count: 3.5K words

A/N: Hello my darling readers, I hope you’re spending great holidays. I am so very excited to bring you this new story. I really wanted to get it out today so unfortunately I did not have time to thoroughly proofread it. Still, I hope you enjoy.

Epilogue here

Divider by: @v6que

Satoru Gojo was popular. Not just in school or among his peers. No, there was plenty of that when he was younger. The man was one of the rising stars in the acting scene. Stealing the public’s heart in roles as fearless hitmen, cocky space rangers, and even earnest soldiers.

And somehow Satoru Gojo was also your boyfriend. Yours. You had not even known who he was when you first met. Busy typing away at your laptop in a cafe, you were surprised at the boldness with which he approached you. And even more at how quickly he clung to you. But that was something you quickly grew accustomed to.

You grew accustomed to him talking your ears off whenever given the chance. Accustomed to his need to be close to you any opportunity he had. To the feeling of domesticity that set comfortably between the two of you.

Gojo wanted to scream about your relationship from the top of the world. You were his pride and joy after all. His one and only true love. Fans had started noticing how much happier he seemed on sets and in interviews after you started dating.

[There’s now way this man is single.]

[Ugh whoever they are, I’m so jealous!!!]

[Y’all think that someone has to be in a relationship to be happy? Smh.]

[It has to be another celeb right? Famous people only date each other.]

But this was all speculations. Speculations because the limelight scared you. You remember how the light in his crystal eyes had dimmed a bit when you told him you did not want to go public. An unintentional pout settled on his lips, and he grabbed both of your cheeks.

“But sweetheart, why?” Weren’t you as proud of him as he was of you? He wanted to take you to red carpets. To show you to the world. “My agent knows already, we don’t even need to make the announcement a big deal…”

“I know, Satoru,” your eyes were downcast. It hurt you to say no to him, especially on something like this. “But I don’t think I’m ready for all of that.”

His grip on your face loosened, and your eyes returned to his. He nodded lightly, plastering his regular smile back on his face, but you recognized the slight sadness behind his eyes. He did not want to pressure you into anything, but it broke his heart regardless.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you drew closer on the couch of your small apartment. Where he had grown to spend his days, his own lavish penthouse left untouched most of the time. Your hand took one of his from where it rested loosely on your cheek. “I’m just… You know how ruthless the media can be. I- I’m not built for that. At least not yet,”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweets,” he squeezed your hand in his, then bringing it to his lips for a light kiss. “You set the pace, okay? I don’t ever want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

And so your secret relationship with Satoru Gojo continued. You enjoyed having him in your little corner of the world, away from the limelight. You came to love the way he clung to you. The way he found an escape in you. Every movie premiere you would show up with a sign to cheer him up, heart fluttering at the sly wink he shone your way while the other fangirls swooned at the action they thought directed at them.

Loving Gojo from the sidelines felt comfortable. He was yours to hold in the comfort of your own place. In the privacy of your hearts, the sentiments bloomed. Untouched, unobserved. And you told yourself you didn’t mind the boundless thirst about him online. The way every woman and even men pursued him relentlessly. Because he was yours. Yours only.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Gojo had been auditioning for the lead role in a new adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”. Ever passionate about his craft, he talked to you at length about wanting the role. His need to expand beyond the typical “playboy” he often played.

“I feel like I’m being type-casted,” he pouted against your chest, and you slipped your fingers through his undercut.

“You’re the most talented person I know. There’s no doubt you’ll get the role,”

He burst into your small apartment with his spare key a few weeks later, scaring you into a fall from your couch. After making sure you were alright accompanied by a flurry of apologies, he pulled you tightly against his chest.

“I got it, sweets! I got the role!” He rambled excitedly against your hair, his joy permeating into your own skin. Celebration that evening consisted of a home-cooked dinner that was made through kisses and impromptu dance sessions in the kitchen.

To your boyfriend, this was better than any party his management could throw. Or any lavish gifts he could receive from the industry. To have you celebrate his wins, big and small meant the world. You meant the world.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Yuki Tsukumo was an unconventional choice for female lead. Even with your limited knowledge of pop culture, you knew that the woman was usually cast in the roles of fearless femme-fatales. She was the personification of sexy, so much that even you had giggled over one of the photos Satoru showed you. But she wanted to expand her repertoire, Satoru explained, and she was very well connected.

Filming had commenced. And while in the past, Gojo would make time to visit and go on small incognito dates with you, the time together seemed to all but vanish. You texted him after you knew his work day was over.

[Hey baby, I hope today wasn’t too tiring. Do you want to come over for food? Or I can come to your place. Help you practice your lines and all] You chewed on your bottom lip, hoping to not come across as too needy. But it had been a full week without seeing Satoru, and your heart started to ache.

Long minutes passed before the screen lit up, three little dots indicating Satoru’s typing.

[I am so sorry sweetheart, I can’t tonight :((]

[I’m at dinner with Yuki, the director insisted on us needing to build chemistry. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done, alright?] The words made your heart twitch with something unfamiliar, but you shook it away. This was normal, right? They were in a romance movie, so they needed to get to know each other. You typed your reply fast, putting the phone away.

[No worries, see you later :))]

[Later then. Miss u bebe]

Yuki cleared her throat across from Satoru, and he finally looked up from his phone.

“It’s not polite to be on your phone when someone is sitting across from you,” she picked up a glass of red wine, swirling it delicately before taking a sip.

“Haha, sorry” Gojo replied sheepishly, turning to his lock screen with a picture of both of you smiling over ice cream.

Yuki did not miss a beat, and leaned closer. “Who is that?”

He frowned, dropping the phone in the pocket of his bomber jacket. “No one.”

You did not receive any other text from your boyfriend that night.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Months trudged by, dragging on laboriously. And you held on. Held on so tightly to Satoru, whose time felt like less and less yours. You never expected to be the center of his world, despite his whispered sweet words. Despite the adoration held in his eyes when he looked at you and told you that you were. You did not want to make him feel guilty for the little time you now spent together. For the way you were slowly being pushed out of his life by his obligations. So you kept quiet. Bottled all your insecurities and sadness and shoved them in the chest of your heart.

As soon as announcements of the movie were released, complete with posters of Satoru looking at Yuki like she was the pearl of his eye and her arms laying languidly over his neck, the internet was lit on fire.

[Omg him in a fully romantic role?? Guys we’re not surviving this one]

[Just from the pictures and trailers their chemistry is OFF THE CHARTS]

[Yuki get in liiiiiiiiiiiine]

The craze exploded even more when paparazzi started posting pictures of them together at dinners, with other cast members but often time alone. The headlines, bold and red always found their way to you.

[THE NEW IT COUPLE!?]

Gojo scoffed at the headline, laying across your lap during one of the rare evenings he could spare.

“All the gossip about this is getting so fucking annoying,” he changed the channel on the tv with an eye roll.

“I know right,” your reply came out weak even to your own ears, and he looked up, noticing you bite the inside of your cheek. He sat up, tilting his head.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” You looked at him, forcing a smile on your lips. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you chuckled. “I’m just a bit tired. Work and everything,”

A frown settled over his features, and he reached for your hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy lately.” he squeezed, hoping to convey his regret but you shook your head.

“It’s alright, Satoru, really,” the words left a bitter taste in your mouth. Because in the depths of your soul you knew it wasn’t. It did not feel alright. But it was his job. Who were you to pull him away from his dreams?

“When all of this is done let’s go on a trip, yeah?” His rosy lips were pulled into a smile and he drew closer, kissing your cheeks and nose. “Let’s go relax on a beach somewhere.”

You smiled and nodded. When all of this was over.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Tonight was the long anticipated premiere. After what felt like an eternity of lone days, between Satoru’s trips and countless interviews. And what you now recognized was pernicious jealousy and self-doubt, you were finally at the finish line. Things were finally going to calm down.

The red carpet was decked out, and it was with great difficulty that you found your place in the fan zone, behind a firm railing. There were so many people, even more than usual. A part of your heart felt nothing but joy at that realization. Satoru was getting the recognition he deserved. That was wonderful.

But this joy was slowly drowned by the words that left the awaiting fangirls and boys surrounding you.

“Omg their chemistry is out of this world!!”

“Did you see how he looked at her during last week’s interview?”

“I’m SO jealous!”

“They look so good together too. I couldn’t imagine a better match!”

The grip on your cardboard sign that read CONGRATULATIONS MY ROMEO faltered slightly. The words cut deeper than expected. After months of reading them online, on headlines and in papers, you thought you had learned to block them out, but you were lying to yourself. The same way you lied to Satoru those times he asked if you were okay. Okay with the growing rift. Okay with him not being yours in the eyes of the world. Except, it was your fault. You were the one who wanted things to be like this.

A violent cheer erupted around you, pulling you out of your thoughts and your eyes onto the red carpet. There they were, emerging from the same car. He held his hand out for her, and she grabbed it, standing to reveal her full splendor. Blonde hair immaculately tumbling down her shoulders, red dress hugging her perfect body. The camera shutters moved almost too fast for you to register. The way he held he waist and how they smiled at each other. You wanted to tell yourself he was a good actor, that was all. He’s acting. He’s acting.

But damn, was he good at it. Acting like they belonged. Your heart shattered when she placed a kiss on his cheek, and his response was an even wider smile. The cheers grew even more frantic. You felt the railing rattle. Herald of your world collapsing.

They look so good together

Who else could he even be with?

He can do so much better than you

You waited for him to look your way like he always did. For a smile. For a little glance. But… nothing. He walked with her at his side past you and the flurry of screaming fans. All that was left to look at was the movie poster. The way he looked at her and how her hands draped over his body.

Who were you to pull him away from this world?

Who were you to stand between him and her?

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

[Hi bebe, are u okay?]

[You haven’t picked up any of my calls]

[It’s alright if you’re busy but please at least text back]

[I’m worried]

[Y/N?]

A few days had passed since the movie premiere and Satoru checked his phone for the nth time. Usually you were there to support him at those events, but everything had gone too fast that night. Had you even been there? Or did you get buried in the crowd somewhere. He only remembers you texting later that evening that you were feeling unwell and was going away to your parents’ for the weekend.

[Wait for me, I’ll drive you] he typed quickly, hearing his name getting yelled to leave for some after party after the screening ended.

[It’s alright, I know you’re busy] That was the last text from you.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he read the messages again. No, something was wrong. Terribly wrong and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he figured out what it was. You weren’t the type for silent treatment.

He pulled a hoodie over his head and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, heading for the door.

The drive to your place was mired with spiraling thoughts. What did he do wrong? He knew that his recent schedules did not allow for you two to spend as much time as you usually did. But you had said it was okay. He asked, and you said it was fine.

He pulled into the parking lot of your building a bit more recklessly than usual, and headed upstairs. As soon as he inserted his spare key into the lock, he whispered an apology under his breath. You had given him permission to come even when you weren’t there. But it did not help him feeling like this was an invasion of privacy

*Clack clack*

The door opened with a small creak. He had promised to oil them when he first noticed. That was months ago.

Satoru slipped into your small living room, immediately noting the cold. You were not here. He took off his shoes and trudged quietly through the apartment. He eventually pushed into your small bedroom, the warm scent from the diffuser almost deceiving him into thinking he would find you laying down for a nap.

He did not even know why he was still here, you clearly had gone to your parents’ home like you had said. Or somewhere else. He sighed, you wouldn’t like about that. He was spiraling again.

He was about to leave when the noticed a small notebook at the edge of your bed. He had seen it before, with its brown leather covering and flower embroidered onto the cover.

“Her journal,” he mumbled. Suddenly his hands itched for the the book. Explanations about this situation were bound to be in there, right? But it felt so wrong. And the feeling only intensified when his fingers grazed the cover. Taunting him when he flipped open the pages to the latest entry, dating the night of the premiere. But slowly replaced by a piercing ache as he read through your writing from the last few months.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

You rose from your bed with a pounding head ache. Yeah, this was what you got for crying yourself to sleep and barely eating anything. Your old room had been converted into some sort of storage, and you almost tripped over a box at your feet in an attempt to stand.

Your parents were worried sick, but you dodged all of their questions. What were you even going to say?

I’m dying of jealousy over my super famous actor boyfriend and his co-star?

The words sounded silly to your own ears. You stared at your phone wearily, laid facing down on your dresser and groaned.

Eventually you would have to talk to Satoru. But not now. Not when your heart felt so fragile. As if your entire being would collapse if forced to face the fact that Satoru could not be yours.

After listening to make sure your parents had left the house, you trudged downstairs in search of something to eat. Your stomach grumbled uncomfortably as you whipped the fridge door open. You groaned at what you saw. Being an ingredients household could not be worse at the moment.

A knock at the front door resounded when you had finally settled on making a quick omelet. You sighed and left your eggs for the door. The earlier this person was gone, the sooner you could start. It was probably some sort of delivery anyways.

Without checking the peephole, you swung the door open and was faced with Satoru, towering over you. A seething Satoru. Your first instinct was to close the door, but he blocked it with a strong arm, fully walking into the living room and shutting it behind him.

“Y/N,” his voice held none of the anger that his features carried. Instead he sounded hurt.

“Satoru, I-,” you panicked. You were not ready for this. Not now. “Why are you here?”

He walked closer and you took a step back. “Why am I here?” he chuckled, but there was no trace of amusement whatsoever. “I should ask why my girlfriend is running away from me.”

You bit your lip, looking up at him. You noticed his disheveled hair, his red eyes. Had he been sleeping well? How long had he driven to even get here? You had only mentioned your parents’ address in passing.

“I’m not running,” you spoke quietly.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to lie to yourself or me with that,” he scoffed, finally grabbing a hold of your hand. He dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the leather-bound notebook, dropping it into your open hand.

Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, suddenly angered.

“You read it!?” your fingers closed over the book, yanking it closer to your body.

“I did,” it was time for his voice to raise. “Because you wouldn’t tell me anything. Why didn’t you tell me anything, Y/N?” his shoulders were slumped, and you felt a lump form in your throat. This was not the moment to cry. Not now. You steeled your resolve.

“Satoru, maybe…” his eyes found yours and your guts twisted nervously. “Maybe we should end this,” you concluded.

He inhaled shakily, fists balled tightly, “Really, Y/N?”

You sniffled now, tears filling your lash line. “Clearly you and Yuki make such a good couple-”

“Good couple my ass! Y/N I love you. YOU. Not her, she’s just work,” his hand raked through his hair. “She’s an obligation. But you have my heart. Not her, sweet, you.”

Satoru fell to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands again. “I’m sorry that I was not there,” his voice was thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I caused you to feel like you weren’t enough. Like you weren’t deserving of my time. I’m sorry for not considering your feelings more carefully in all of this publicity thing.” He pulled your free hand to his lips, whispering against it. “But please talk to me, Y/N. I promise to do better, just please.”

The words sent a flurry of emotions through you. You knew you should have said something. But that one insecure part of yourself told you that you didn’t deserve to cause trouble. You loved him. How else would it have hurt so much if you didn’t? And you had told yourself that leaving would be good for him too. You would be out of the way.

But now Satoru was here at your feet. Begging for you. Despite your insecurities and fears and ugliness that he must have read through your journal, he was still here. Asking for you to remain his. Offering himself to you anew. Your finally broke, falling to your knees, now face to face with the man.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you choked out, tears spilling from your eyes. “I was- I was scared, and I thought it would be easier if I was out of the way. You deserve so much.”

He shook his head fervently, hand finding your cheek “I want you. That is all, Y/N,” his voice was still shaky. “Losing you is the last thing I want. You’re more important to me than this job.”

You shook your head in return, “Being an actor is your life’s work, Satoru. I can’t stand in the way,”

“You’re not standing in the way, Y/N. If it wasn’t for your support I probably would have stopped.” He was frustrated. “On those nights when it all felt too much, you were there. You are the one who keeps me going in this, don’t you see?” His eyes held yours with such sincerity that your heart threatened collapse.

You let him pull you into his warm embrace, and finally wrapped your arms around his middle, crying freely into his shoulder.

“I won’t let anything or anyone come between us, Y/N. But I need you with me on this. Please” he whispered against your cheek.

You needed to fight for this together.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[tiamathh]

Walk Walk Fashion Baby

Hi girlies new year new style ykwim anyway this is a pac that i have been wanting to make for a long time but i was like idk how many ppl will like it etc but now idc about all that i want to have fun so here it is!! Have fun and stay hydrated. muah <33 also my paid readings are open there are a few slots (15) if anyone's interested xx ciao <3 like and rb if you like xx

Masterlist / Paid Readings + FB / Tip jar

Pile 1

Hi pile 1! You need to try that classical, timeless, style, i know it can be annoying to look at all the beige and muted tones but its so much more than that like, picture this, a tailored blazer or high-waisted trousers that fit like a dream. tbh I am also getting pearls for some reason so maybe adding neckklaces as accessories can be something you are interested in to incorporate in your style next year. Start with a simple white shirt, a fitted black dress, or a pair of cut jeans. Then you can accesorise with delicate gold bracelet, a black bag, or a string of pearls again with the pearls they are calling for you right nowww.

Moreover, another style you can incorporate is just as sharp, and elegant so like the whole academia aesthetic, regardless of light or dark that doesn’t matter but what I am trying to say is, clothes with shape. Like cinched wastes and just clothes that create shape for you are like something you really should give thought to. It’s about being comfortable but also looking effortlesss while doing it all, I think basics like camis, just plain shirts/tshirts are something you need more of in your closet because theres so many ways to style them other than just for formal wear. Like one style inspo is literally Proncess Diana cannot get more elgant than her istg, enjoy muah <33

Pile 2

Y’all this is my pile you guys are my PEOPLE ok to begin with you need to stop being afraid of colour and looseness like not everything has to be tight and fitted especially just because the microtrend world says so. Experiment with “loud” colours and different textures, things you may have thought are “odd” and don’t look good, because trust me the way it can all be pulled together is crazy and so much fun!! Layer, the most important part, stack rings and bracelets and go for those colours that lowkey hurt your eyes because fashion is about colour and pattern and texture and taking all of it out of fashion just makes it dull imo.

Start with a bright coloured tshirt, maybe something like yellow, then layer on, very “indie kid” aesthetic like the high saturation stuff. Mixed with that I am also getting maximalism to the MAX layer layer layer, stack stack stack you should look like a walking apparell store (kidding) seriously though if you have been feeling like you want to experiment with something like this and oxidised jewellery and mixing different styles mainly because all of your wardrobe is mismatched (me) then go for it because I promise it will come out looking way better than you may have imagined. 

Pile 3: 

Ooo I love this, okay so very romanticised, very coquette but not really, this is also the pile which will look so good in pastels in lighter colours. All I am getting in my head are those pictures of people on picnics in their flowy outfits and dresses looking so pretty and at peace, bows and dellicate bangles, just a very dainty aesthetic im thinking light fabrics and romantic fashion like lace-trimmed dresses, pastel skirts and floral prints, very fairytaile-ish. Ruffles or embroidery too and just magical overall. Also the complete opposite of pile 2 here, minimalist aesthetic may suit you a lot so try it out next year!

I am talking about keeping it simple, not too much with the accessorising and maybe a staple or statement accessory piece that goes with everything and anything you wear. Also for some of you with this simplistic style, you may have to be pushed to try on something more glam too like a bold red lip when it comes to makeup, like be bolder with your makeup experiment with more purples, pinks and reds while keeping the outfits simpler. 

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[voxslays]

CLOSE TO YOU — THE SALESMAN

PART EIGHT — A MEAL PAIRINGS: The Salesman (Gong Yoo) x Reader. WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping, Reader is mentioned to be a foreigner (not stated from where), starvation, not proofread.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tap, tap, tap. The hollow noise echoed through the small black room as you awoke from your slumber. You were met with the same four walls that you were pretty acquainted with after staring at them all day and night. By now, you were sure Gong Yoo was purposefully trying to drive you insane—and so far it was working splendidly.

The door creaks open with ease, revealing Gong Yoo, with his perfectly styled hair and his usual outfit; sporting a navy blue suit and black dress shoes. “Good morning, Naekkeo.” He smiles, holding a red tray with a carton of milk and some fried eggs on it. The salesman walks over to the bed where you’re chained and places it on the nightstand. “Eat up.”

You don’t know which part is worse; his blatant stare or the way his smile never wavers. Yet, you gently push the tray away with your unchained right hand. “I’m not hungry.” You turn away from him. He chuckles—and you miss it, but his eye slightly twitches in anger. So you were going to be a brat, huh?

“You have two options,” He says plainly, holding out both of his empty hands. “Either eat up, or I do it for you.” He warns. The food was tempting, though. You hadn’t eaten in days and your mouth was watering like a river. Yet, you refuse to turn to face him, your gaze still fixed on the wall. Oh, you sweet little bird, you’d really given him no other choice had you?

“So you’ve chosen option two.” The salesman says, picking up the spoon and bringing the platter of eggs and bacon closer. He pulls your face closer as he scoops up some of the egg into the spoon. You purse your lips. What the hell did he think he was doing? There was no way in hell you were opening your mouth like this for a man—regardless if he was attractive or not.

“Open your mouth.” He demands.

And damn, did he look pissed. Gong Yoo was growing tired of your behavioral issues with him. Unbeknownst to you, when he had originally left, he had planned to make you his little ‘pet.’ Unfortunately, that reality seemed less and less likely with you every passing day. What a shame. He would have to use other ways to make you to obey.

Gong Yoo liked your firey spirit. You were kind, but bold. After all, you were the one who practically begged Gi-hun and that officer not to kill him, right? And he absolutely adored the way your cheeks would heat up every time he was around, even if you didn’t notice. Even now, he could see the blush coating your cheeks as he force fed you. Regardless of what you said or did—a part of you liked what he was doing to you.

The salesman can’t help but smile to himself as he sits on the bed after you’ve finished your meal. He manually combs back his raven hair as you look at him in confusion. What the hell could he possibly want now of all times? As if he could sense your frustration and internal thoughts, he clears his throat, sitting up straight as he elegantly fixes his black tie.

“I have a proposition for you.”

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @iloveinhodaeho @devilishdelirium @muchwita @ang3lgvts@beebeechaos @yru3xme@princeofkhaenri-ah

[witchezandwonderz]

The Dragon's Empress

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female reader

Word Count: 2,661

Summary: Aegon, initially indifferent to his arranged marriage, becomes captivated by his intelligent and strong wife, Y/N. As their bond grows, he respects her intellect and strength, while Y/N navigates her own plans, ultimately becoming a powerful influence in his reign.

Part 2 available here

The day Aegon was told he was to marry was a day like any other. Aegon simply did not care, as his arrogance and ignorance led him to believe that any woman he married, regardless of her house, name, or legacy, would naturally be an idiot. Consequently, he sought no information about his bride-to-be. His mother, Alicent, had attempted to sit with him and have an actual conversation about the matter, but she was always dismissed by her son, who would sometimes make up an excuse or, more often, outright express how little he cared. On one occasion, he even said, “I would prefer if she were somewhat attractive; if not, I can just close my eyes,” before erupting into laughter and drowning his thoughts in wine once again.

Y/N Y/L/N was the last person Aegon expected to marry. Though he knew little of her, her power was undeniable. Despite coming from a relatively low-born family, Y/N was a highly intelligent woman. Alicent Hightower initially arranged the marriage to secure an heir to the throne, as her son’s lifestyle demanded one sooner rather than later. Alicent deliberately chose a lady of modest birth, expecting a woman who would “shut up and do what she was told”—a belief rooted in her own ignorance. Alicent had never considered that a woman of lesser means might be highly intelligent—how could she be?

Aegon could never forget the moment he first laid eyes on his new wife. On the day of their wedding, he waited impatiently within the grand hall of the Red Keep, eager to get it over with so he could go drink with his companions, as he did daily. The doors opened, Y/N’s name was announced, and all heads, including Aegon’s, turned towards the door in anticipation. In that moment, a raven-haired beauty entered the room. She stood tall, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies before settling on him. Aegon found himself spellbound by her striking green eyes, which held a mysterious allure—a blend of confidence and intensity that seemed to pierce straight through him.

Her raven hair flowed over her shoulders like silk, half pulled back in an intricate braid woven with emerald pins that mirrored the colour of her eyes. Aegon’s gaze travelled over her, his usual guarded expression slipping into something softer, almost awestruck. The rich emerald gown she wore clung to her curves with elegant precision, enhancing her beauty. She was both queenly and alluring—a vision of strength and beauty that made Aegon’s heart pound in a way he hadn’t anticipated. However, her presence had the opposite effect on Alicent, who, though an intelligent woman, found herself somewhat displeased.

Aegon had seen many beautiful women at court, but there was something about Y/N that captivated him. As she approached, her gaze steady and unwavering, he found he could not look away. His mouth stretched into a grin, his confidence and arrogance emboldening him to display his obvious pleasure.

When she reached the altar, her eyes locked onto his, and Aegon, always composed, felt himself falter. There was a flicker of amusement in her gaze, a slight curve of her lips, as though she were aware of the effect she had on him. It was a boldness he hadn’t expected, and it stirred something deep within him.

He stared at her as she curtseyed before him, bowing her head gracefully as she said, “Your grace.”

Aegon licked his lips in response, admiring her beauty. “A beauty,” he stated, extending his hand for her to take. Y/N stood tall once again, reaching out to take his hand into hers.

“Thank you, your grace,” she replied, her gaze fixed on his as she smirked. Aegon smirked back, secretly thanking his mother in his thoughts.

Y/N had heard stories of Aegon—stories of his wicked and impulsive ways. She knew she ought to be frightened, but as a woman, she understood that most men, regardless of their actions, were naturally wicked and impulsive creatures. Although she had not anticipated Aegon’s visibly pleased reaction, she knew it might not last once he discovered her interest in Westerosi politics and her level of education.

Otto Hightower spent the first month of their marriage trying to convince Aegon that Y/N had ulterior motives. He disliked the way Y/N articulated herself, her knowledge of battle, tactics, and politics, and most of all, her ability to captivate the council’s attention, as they hung onto her every word.

Aegon initially agreed, choosing to watch her carefully instead of confronting her. But the more he observed her, the more impressed he became. Y/N consistently presented ideas that would benefit Aegon, not just herself. He realised this more deeply as he continued to watch her.

Alone, he often found himself thinking of her—replaying her words and actions in his mind. One evening, he realized he wasn’t thinking of her policies but of her. He wanted to know her more—as a wife, not just as a queen. His thoughts were interrupted when his mother, Alicent, entered the room with a harsh look.

“That woman has been speaking out of turn again,” Alicent stated, her tone laced with frustration. Aegon looked up, barely able to see her in the dim candlelight.

“By ‘that woman,’ I assume you mean my wife,” he replied, already amused by Y/N’s effect on his mother. Alicent scoffed.

“Your wife? Please do not act as though you see her as anything more than an object.”

Aegon did not like that.

“Y/N is my wife, mother, not an object. You will do well to respect your Queen,” he retorted coldly, standing from his chair. Aegon had grown to respect Y/N as his queen and perhaps even as an equal—something he’d never thought possible.

Alicent was taken aback by her son’s change of character.

“I do respect the Queen, my lord, but I do not believe the council or you should trust her as of yet,” she replied more calmly, hoping to avoid angering him. Aegon gestured dismissively toward the door.

“That will be all, mother,” he insisted. Alicent tried to argue but fell silent at his insistent gesture. Huffing, she did as she was told.

Once alone, Aegon decided to visit his wife’s chambers. The couple had not spent a night together yet, and he felt compelled to know her beyond politics.

Arriving at Y/N’s chambers, he gestured for her guard to leave and knocked loudly. There was no response, so he knocked again. When he heard her call out, “Who is it?” he couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s your husband,” he called back, pleased with the term. He entered the room, greeting her with a broad smile.

“Y/N, how are you?” he asked genuinely. Y/N chuckled. “Y/N? Wow, your grace, that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

He smiled back, “There is no need for formalities, so please call me Aegon.”

Y/N moved closer, responding, “Ok, then, Aegon.”

The two shared stories, laughter, and lighthearted moments, both visibly more comfortable in each other’s presence.

Neither of them realized how late it had become, both needing to rise early the next morning for their duties. Aegon stood up, preparing to say goodbye. Y/N stood as well, thinking it respectful to rise with him. They gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity.

Aegon stepped forward, his pulse quickening, and reached for her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingertips lingered as he traced the line of her jaw, his gaze drifting over her face as if seeing her for the first time. He had never respected a woman in this way; he typically saw them as disposable. But not Y/N. Her green eyes softened, inviting him closer, and in that moment, the distance between them vanished. His hand slid to the back of her neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tentative kiss that grew deeper, filled with a quiet intensity neither had expected.

Y/N responded, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers. There was no rush, only a gradual surrender as they lost themselves in each other’s touch, their kiss growing more passionate, each moment revealing a new layer of longing that had simmered beneath the surface for too long. Aegon’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, marveling at the way she fit against him—strong yet soft, fierce yet tender.

For the first time, Aegon felt himself let go of the weight of the crown and the world outside their door, focusing solely on her—this woman who had challenged and captivated him from the start. Y/N moaned as she felt his fingers explore places that had never been touched before. Aegon smirked, pleased with the power he held over her, and perhaps even more, with the power she’d held over him since he first saw her. He continued, ensuring that despite her reactions, he never broke their kiss.

Their gentle, passionate kiss quickly turned into a different kind of passion—a hunger.

These nights continued, and the couple soon decided to reside in the same chamber. Aegon no longer had use for the whores he had once spent his nights with, as he had now found his true love.

One day in particular would cement Aegon’s trust and love for Y/N.

Y/N had arrived late to the council meeting that morning. The gathered lords and ladies had already begun discussing matters of state when Y/N finally entered the room, offering hurried apologies for her tardiness, explaining that she’d been delayed with other pressing matters.

“And what matters could be so urgent that you kept the king waiting?” Alicent questioned sharply, a hint of displeasure in her voice as she sipped her wine. Aegon opened his mouth, ready to defend Y/N, but she raised a hand, signaling that she could speak for herself.

“Please, my love. I may speak for myself,” she said, casting him a warm look that melted any lingering irritation in him. Then, she turned back to Alicent, her expression hardening as she replied, “Royal matters, which do not concern you, my lady.” Y/N mirrored Alicent’s motion and took a measured sip of her own wine.

Aegon let out a loud chuckle, clearly pleased with his wife’s boldness. He settled back into his seat, brimming with pride as she held her ground.

“It has come to our attention, my lord,” began Otto Hightower, the king’s Hand, clearing his throat to regain the room’s focus, “that there are whispers of betrayal within the kingdom.” Aegon nodded as Otto spoke, giving him his full attention, though Y/N listened more intently than she showed.

“It is said there are rebels among the commoners who seek your death,” Otto continued gravely.

As the council deliberated on possible responses, each suggestion seemed more futile and extreme than the last. The lords’ plans were all rash, aimed more at silencing rumors than solving the root problem, and Y/N knew each proposal would only stoke the fires of unrest. Though several of the council members exchanged uneasy glances, noting her uncharacteristic silence, none dared question her outright.

Aegon, too, was surprised by Y/N’s unresponsiveness; she was usually one of the first to offer counsel. But as he gazed at her, his mind drifted back to the passion they’d shared the previous night, smirking at the memory. He suspected she might still be distracted by the effect he’d had on her.

Y/N, however, was deep in thought. While remnants of the night before lingered in her mind, she was more focused on a plan—one that, she knew, would not sit well with the king.

----

A/N- I really enjoyed writing this one!

Part 2 available here

Please like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed:)

My requests are open!

[silhouetteonpaper]

The Rooftop

Summary: The rooftop was like your safe space. It felt even more familiar than the apartment you just moved into. Transitioning to the city wasn’t easy, and you had to do it all alone. But when someone else joins you at your secret spot, who would’ve thought where you’d be by the end of the week? Natasha Romanoff x Reader W/C: 2,985 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, allusions to suicide, combat, abandonment A/N: I just moved to nyc and unfortunately Natasha does not live in the same building :( But it gave good inspiration for this fic I’ve been cooking up! I hope you enjoy! (this fic does contain brief mentions of suicide, but doesn’t outwardly state it. if you are ever feeling down, my DMs are always open.)

Crisp, cool air blew across the red of your cheeks, the partially dry tears making haste to fully evaporate. Puffy red eyelids left in their stead, yet you ignored it to look out at the city below. Your legs dangled off the concrete, a thin coat barely keeping you warm in the winter weather outside. The rooftop provided solace from the world— no matter what was going on in your life, there would be peace and quiet up here. Though, this apartment complex had a different view on the top floor.

Instead of being five or so stories up, this building was reaching for the stars at over fifty floors. You never imagined you’d move to a city where the buildings climbed to incredible heights, but here you were. The cars were smaller this high up, yet the lights were so much brighter. Each little window, each traffic light, each digital billboard traveling for miles into the distance; it all filled the muted buzz below with a warm glow. There was another difference with this new apartment building’s view, but it wasn’t one you encountered on the first night after moving in.

The third night was when this change occurred. A disruption to your peaceful evening, prompted by the redhead who jolted at the sight of your dark silhouette. “Oh, I’m sorry.” You spoke, turning around to see the woman in the low lighting. She had been so quiet when entering the rooftop, it was only the sharp inhale that gave away her presence. As the woman looked you up and down, you hoped she couldn’t see your red teary eyes under the dark night sky. “I stole your spot, didn’t I? I can leave…” But before you could move to get up, she waved her hand outwards to keep you in place.

“No, there’s no need. This is a shared space.” You nodded once, turning back to your former spot. Even in the dim lighting, you could see her lips curve into a soft smile. If you studied her expression harder, maybe there was something else in her eyes beyond that. “Are you new to the building?” The woman asked as she sat a few feet away on the ledge.

You wrapped yourself tighter in your coat. “Yeah, moved in just a few days ago. It’s quite the dream, but definitely more… busy— than what I’m used to.” There was a feeling like you could talk openly with this woman; the words easily formed regardless of your prior state. She made the bold move to not only join you, but spark up a conversation. It felt comfortable.

“Welcome to the city,” She laughed. It was low and raspy, making you smile in return. “You’ll get used to it eventually. I’m Natasha, by the way.” Her eyes met yours, and that’s when she noticed their glassy rim. 

You quickly introduced yourself, looking back out to the city before she felt the need to press. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, but eventually her gaze fell back out to the vast streets as well.

“What got you to move here?” Natasha asked, keeping things light. You weren’t sure if she was purposely avoiding asking what was wrong.

You kept your eyes on everything but her. “Work. My new job is in the city, and I figured it would be easier to move all together than to commute.” Were you oversharing? You weren’t sure, and the exhaustion from crying earlier was making you slightly unaware of your words. That’s why you came up here in the first place; to think and to process the harsh transition. For some reason, Natasha was making you question your every move. You didn’t want to ruin her night with your sob story.

“Smart, probably easier that way.” She was likely just playing along, yet you hoped your small talk wasn’t boring her. The conversation would have been so much easier if you weren’t freezing in the winter wind. No matter how close you pulled your jacket, the chill still got into your bones. “You’re shivering. Why don’t you come inside for some coffee?” She was observant, you quickly realized.

Did you hear her correctly? Looking up at her, she was already gazing at you with gleaming eyes and questioning brows. Your lips curved into a sort of half smile; something about her was enticing. She didn’t mention your red eyes, or strange behavior. Natasha just went along with it all and invited you inside. How could you say no? “That would be lovely.”

Her unit was laid out similarly to yours, except she decorated hers completely different. Instead of the homey, cozy ambiance you created in your own apartment with the softest plush couch and all the warmest blankets you could find, Natasha opted for a sleeker, more stylish appeal. She had a leather couch in the center of the living room, paintings that seemed to have large price tags hung on the walls, and a minimalist clean feel on each kitchen counter. It almost seemed like she didn’t spend much time here. There wasn’t much live between the walls and expensive decorations, yet maybe that was the kind of person she was.

“Here,” Natasha handed you a white mug of steaming coffee. Natasha stood behind the counter, nodding toward a stool at the countertop for you to sit. The warmth was relieving as you held the steaming liquid between your hands, offering a nod in thanks. There was a silence, but not necessarily an awkward one.

“So,” You sipped at your coffee, debating what to ask her. Eyeing the paintings, you opted for the usual ‘get to know you’ banter. “What do you do for work?”

Natasha must’ve noticed your prior look around, as she smiled. “I work at a law firm.” That’s why she was so observant, it was likely her job to notice every detail. She poured herself a mug of coffee, but while her eyes were focused on the mug, yours were stuck on her. There was an interesting quality to her; she was forward, yet kind. She was classy, yet seemed humble. The incessant urge to get to know her only grew.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You kept the questions going, savoring the time with Natasha while trying to keep the silence at bay.

“Over a decade now,” She answered, tilting her head as more gears turned internally. “But I’m still learning new things about the city to this day.” Her eyes met yours again, and you smiled in response. Natasha was attempting to make you feel better about your nervous jitters regarding moving to a big city, and it was definitely making a big impact. It was proof that a little kindness could go a long way.

“Can I ask you something now?” Natasha questioned softly, wrapping her hands around the warm mug out of hesitance. You nodded, raising your eyebrows ever so slightly. Assuming she’d ask something taboo, you thought she’d propose a silly personal question that would help her get to know you. Why else would she ask permission? But the next words Natasha spoke made your heart sink. “What was going on before I got to the roof? Are you alright?” You realized you hadn’t even thought about your earlier episode since Natasha appeared.

It was probably quite the sight to walk in on. Someone dangling their feet over a rooftop with tears streaming down their face, protected by nothing but the warmth of their red cheeks. Most people don’t sit on the ledge of a building unless they have grim intentions. You hoped she couldn’t see that much, but her ability to notice even the smallest of details was becoming more clear. The truth was, you were completely overwhelmed. Moving to a new city was one of the scariest things you’d ever done. 

All your life, you lived in a small town where kids were expected to grow up and join the endless cycle of never escaping it. You were different; ever since the idea of graduating filled your mind, you dreamed of a life where you could leave and see the world. Your parents disagreed, and knew the wish would fizzle out eventually. But with perseverance, you got your degree, worked a simple job at home to save up, and finally received a job offer in one of the many iconic places you had dreamed of visiting.

It all sounded so perfect; moving to the city, working a job you loved, becoming the best version of yourself. But that reality was quickly slashed in half when your goodbyes were fronted with your parents cutting you off. They didn’t support you moving away, and you knew they wouldn’t. But a part of you hoped they would change their minds after seeing how happy you were here. So far, they’ve kept up the cold front, but you knew that this was just another hump to get over.

Your apartment was quickly furnished with each piece you meticulously chose beforehand. The cozy safe space was built, and you were ready to face the world outside. But to your dismay, the workforce on this side of the coast was quite contrasting to what you were used to. There was no evidence of a team that worked together, but rather competing employees and constant challenges to prove yourself. The first day of work was so overwhelming, you swore you’d never leave your apartment again. Still, the urge to keep persevering was embedded in you at this point.

Another day of work, and you were completely drained. If only you weren’t so excited to start, and offered to work the second you moved in. The inevitable breakdown commenced the moment you got home from the crowded subway ride; each slow stop into the stations urging your tears to finally fall as you rode back from work. You had no one to comfort you but the serene cityscape that coaxed you to move here in the first place. After sitting in the heavy weight of despair for a few hours, Natasha’s presence was relieving. Proof that people weren’t all terrible, and maybe the city had something good to offer.

You suddenly realized Natasha had been staring at you with furrowed brows for who knows how long; the silence had grown as she waited for you to respond. “It’s been a lot to move here as someone who isn’t used to the city,” You paused, trying to think of what to say. Natasha clearly cared about what was happening earlier, so you knew there was no reason to spare details. “My parents cut me off when I left home, so I’ve been on my own during this move.” You looked down at your nearly-finished mug of coffee. “Work has been terrible, and I’m worried I made the wrong choice.”

There was more silence, but you could feel Natasha’s expression soften. “I go to the roof to think. It’s what I did at my old place. I promise I wasn’t up there for any other reason.” You clarified, looking back up at Natasha to see her smile slightly.

“Good, because there was no way I was letting that happen.” Her tone was back to being direct, just as before. There was an unspoken comfort in the way she listened to you, like she somehow understood— or at least wanted to. You weren’t sure what it was, but you were thankful Natasha had entered the rooftop when she did.

“Is that why you sat with me, and invited me inside?” The question left your lips out of worry. If you weren’t a damsel in distress, would she take back her kindness? Maybe it was your recent anxieties forming in new ways; the abandonment from your parents had to have left a mark.

Natasha tilted her head again, you could tell that meant she was thinking. “Not completely. If anyone is out there crying alone, I’m not just going to leave.” You took a deep breath, offering her an understanding smile.

“Does this happen often, then?” You joked, sipping at the last drop of your coffee. She laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re my first rooftop rescue— in this apartment at least.” She winked, making the red of your cheeks return. “But in all honestly, I’m sorry about your parents. I’m glad you moved here, we have one less cranky neighbor now.” Her eyes lit up as you laughed. “If you ever need anything, I’m right down the hall.” Natasha was truly kind, yet cunning. Whatever this was between you two, you were beyond grateful.

After an exchange of numbers and a few lasting goodnights, you left for your own apartment. Coffee with Natasha was just what you needed, and the guarantee of seeing each other again kept you eager for whatever tomorrow had to offer. Her extended support instilled you with the urge to give living in New York one more shot. If you knew she was just down the hall, maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad.

—————

After you returned from a long workday, you were supposed to have a relaxing evening. The idea of walking down the hall and knocking on Natasha’s door pestered you all day; maybe you two could go for drinks, or have a night in. But you didn’t even get to take your coat off before chaos struck.

It happened so quickly. You put your bag on the bed, then there was a crash in the kitchen. Someone was in your apartment. You didn’t even remember dialing her number, but your only New York contact picked up in seconds. “Natasha,” your voice was quiet as you held the phone to your cheek, tears brimming in your eyes as you hid beside your bed. “Someone’s here, call 911.” Another crash. You winced. Natasha breathed heavily into the phone like she was already running, yet didn’t say a word before the line hung up. You assumed she was dialing the authorities as quickly as possible. You were wrong.

Crash. Your head fell into your knees. This was how you were going to die; not by falling off of a roof, but by being too defenseless to do anything. Smash. They were looting the place, but the next sound you heard wasn’t the echo of dishes breaking— it was the grunt of a woman. Natasha, you quickly realized as something thumped against the wall. She came here to defend you, but why? How could someone be so brave to fight against a few apartment thieves? Why didn’t she just call the police?

Silence. Oh god, how you hoped they didn’t hurt her. Your head was fully in your knees by now, red marks being left in the palms of your hands by how tight you were holding yourself. The bedroom door squeaked open, and your heart nearly stopped. “Are you okay?” The low raspy voice brought air into your lungs— it was Natasha, not one of the perpetrators. Raising your head, you looked up at the redhead who appeared without a scratch. She bent down beside you, her hand resting on your knee as you caught your breath.

“How did you..?” You muttered as tears fell onto your cheeks. “Are they gone?” You looked up to see her nodding and offering a hand. Taking it, you stood on wobbling legs as she took you out into the kitchen. With a racing heart, you didn’t know what to say. Did she scare the thieves off? The silence was ringing in your ears, yet you had no idea what would be lying in your kitchen as Natasha walked you out of the bedroom.

Two intruders, dressed in black, both unconscious and bleeding on the floor. Your hand covered your mouth in shock; it was almost more distressing than the broken dishes and littered belongings everywhere. “What the hell…” You slowly looked over to the redhead, who was fronting a stoic expression. Whoever that woman was, she somehow took out both of the criminals. “Who the hell are you?” You locked eyes with the woman before you who was a friend mere moments ago, but now felt like a stranger. As relieving as it was she dealt with the intruders, you had no clue if she’d be one too.

She inhaled sharply, eyeing both the intruders as if they’d stand back up for another round. “We need to get you out of here, c’mon.” Her hand found your shoulder as she softly pushed you toward the door, her urgency rising.

“No!” You shouted, turning on your feet to face her again. “Tell me what the hell just happened.” With words like ice, you stood frozen as the woman who seemed to be in a rush remained silent for a moment.

“I don’t work at a law firm,” She breathed. “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. This wasn’t a coincidence, someone’s after you. I don’t want to wait and find out what they’ll do next.” S.H.I.E.L.D., as in the big organization of trained agents? Natasha was an agent, and suddenly everything was making sense. Her insane ability to read small details; her knack for offering support; her ability to take out two enemies in seconds. You knew it was likely she was undercover, yet you still felt betrayed.

Regardless, the threatening manor of her words took precedence above all else. “Someone’s after me?” You questioned, watching Natasha’s every expression. What could someone possibly want with you? You had only lived here for a few days, yet whoever organized this clearly wanted to take care of it as soon as possible.

She nodded once firmly. “Yes, now move before I move you.” In that moment, you knew you didn’t have a choice— and that above all else, your life was about to get even crazier.

[cheonstapes]

ok but nerd!miguel & piss kink.. idk.. thoughts r thunking..

(he luvs the humiliation of it all. that’s all ima say.)

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘GOLDEN SHOWERS’ (*≧∀≦*)

a/n ~ this exactly what you think it is, digital footprint goes crazy. THANK YOU ANNONIEE!!!!! love you🩷 nerd!miguel creds to @nymphomatique 💞

pairing; nerd!miguel x rich!fem!reader

wc; 800+

cw; SMUT!! filth, miguel and reader are a bit drunk, literally just piss and fucking. NAWT PROOFREAD - i finished this on the train

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

He had took the initiative for the first time in your relationship, inviting you to his dorm for a little private party to celebrate you passing your recent test — one he helped you study for. What he wasn’t anticipating was half of your class showing up too. His heart was pounding out of his chest, fingers shaking slightly as he gripped the red cup in his hand.

The whole night he’d been downing drink after drink, the small amount of people doing nothing to calm his nerves — the music was booming, bodies grinding against each other, the sickening smell of alcohol in the air. “Heyyyy, Miggy! Thanks for throwing this party for me, you’re too sweet, baby.” He couldn’t help but blush at the slurred praise, regardless of if he actually intended to throw this party or not.

Your smile was just too pretty. Even under the dark lighting, he could see the shimmering of your tongue piercing — smiley poking out beneath your glossy lips. “You’re…You’re welcome.” The closer you get, the more his stomach falls to his ass. The drink in his hand goes down somewhat smoothly as the cup in crushed between his strong fingers, the same ones making their way to your exposed hips.

“Oh, someone’s feeling bold, hm? You wanna dance, then let’s dance.”

The way your hips swayed against his own was sinfully delicious, his mind slightly fuzzy as the substance intoxicated his thoughts. It was hard to stay focused regardless when having some as beautiful as you throwing your ass back against him in front of all these people — but he’s had one too many drinks to give a fuck about the stares, all he wants is you.

So he has you, bent over his bathroom sink — your heels scraping against the paint of his bathtub. “F-Fuuuck, miggy! Slow d — nngh — own.” The music was loud enough that no one could hear the way he was absolutely ruining your little pussy, a concoction of your shared fluids dripping out of you and down your sore thighs. Your tits were so soft, his thumbs gently caressing the cool barbells — tugging on them to bring out your cute little whimpers.

“My…shit — my bad, mommy. ‘S just, t-this pussy’s too fuckin’ tight — can’t…can’t stop.” Not that he wanted too, despite your complaints you couldn’t stop sucking his fat cock right back inside of you. It felt like you were wringing him dry, suctioning out everything he had to give you. At his current state, he knew he wasn’t gonna last very long — but poor Miggy couldn’t really tell the difference between the sensations he was feeling right now.

It was a familiar feeling nonetheless, the pressure on his lower stomach, the clenching, throbbing — but those drinks were starting to catch up with him, fast. The pressure on his bladder was getting worse with each slam of his hips against your ass, sending tremors throughout him. “M-Mommy? I’m — I think…’m gonna - ugh, shit!” You knew, from the amount of liquid you saw him consuming — you knew. “Gonna what, pretty boy? You gonna cum, or is there something you’re not tellin’ me?”

Jesus, your smile. The way you looked back at him, gripping onto the sink for leverage to grind back against him — sinking the blunt tip of his cock righttt against your womb. He cheeks were flushed both from the alcohol and from embarrassment, he was not about to tell you what you wanted to hear — you clearly had clocked on already so what’s the point of telling you what you already know?

His hips stuttered, the force of his release threatening to push his cock out of your stained hole. “God, you’re so dirty, Migs — ‘s like you’ve been waiting to do this, hm?” It felt so strange, the sudden warmness coating your walls as a steady stream of his piss left his sore tip. “S-Shit, sorry, I…I couldn’t control it.” He quickly pulled out, letting it drip onto the floor. Miguel wasn’t really sorry though, not with the way you were clenching sporadically around nothing — the look you gave him the moment he filled you up.

His mind is a vault of nasty, nasty things he wants to do to you — the sight of you now has him unconsciously stroking his soaked length, he was already so close to cumming anyway. But of course, he always, always, came inside his pretty mommy — can’t let it go to waste when he could be giving you a little baby instead. Squeezing his base, he pushed himself back inside of you — the fucked out moan you let out making his breath hitch.

The fat of your ass rippled against his pelvis as he pounded back into you, a messy mix of his cum and piss creaming where you two were connected. His hands anchored your waist, arching your back so he can fuck himself that much deeper in you.

“One more, mommy — let me fill you up one more time.”

-i’m sorry 😔

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

Read on AO3

More Tom fics

[cozage]

Hi Coza 🥰. How’s everything going? I hope you’re well!

I would love to request something for Zoro, Luffy, and any other character of your choice; and how they react to indirect kisses? Perhaps they’re at the crushing stage still or just recently started dating and haven’t kissed yet. So something like sharing a drink, chapstick, or they take a bite of food after you do. Something like that. I hope that makes sense 😭 I thought it’s be cute and I love me a flustered Zoro 🤭 no worries if you can’t do this. Thanks for your time regardless❤️ you’re my favorite writer for one piece! ILY ❤️❤️

A/N: this was ADORABLE ily you for this anon Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Luffy, Law Word Count: 730

Indirect Kisses

Zoro

“Hey, can I use that?” You pointed at his chapstick that he was applying to his lips. 

Zoro froze. “What? No! This is mine!”

“Come on!” you whined, reaching for it. “My chapstick is all the way downstairs. Just let me use it!”

“No!” He held the chapstick just out of your reach. “I don’t want your germs all over it!”

“Germs?!” you yelled. “I’m cleaner than you are! Give it here!”

You jumped on him, grabbing his arm to try and pull his hand down. You knew it was pointless. Zoro had more muscles in his one arm than you did in your whole body. 

“Listen, I’m not sharing!” he yelled back. “Your lips aren’t touching my chapstick!”

“Fine!” you hissed. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into you, your lips crashing against his. 

You could feel him tense in reaction to your lips touching his, but he didn’t pull away. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, releasing your grip on his shirt. You rubbed your top and bottom lips together and smirked at him. 

“Thanks for the chapstick!” you sang, skipping away from him. 

He watched you go, baffled by your boldness. He could feel the tips of his ears and his cheeks growing red at the realization of what you had just done, and a piece of him was glad he fought so hard against letting you use his chapstick.

Luffy

“How’s your ice cream?” you asked, swirling your tongue around your cone. 

“It’s the best! Wanna try?” Luffy asked, holding his own cone out towards you. 

You were shocked that Luffy would be so willing to share food, and you didn’t want to give him too much time to reconsider. Your lips quickly pressed against his ice cream and you licked the side of his frozen dessert. 

He had chosen double fudge, and it was aptly named. Chocolate flooded your mouth, and you gave out a soft moan in response. 

“That’s good,” you agreed. “Wanna try mine?”

“Yeah!” Luffy cheered, practically bouncing in place. 

You held it out of him, and you could tell he was trying to restrain himself as he took a giant lick of your summer peach ice cream. He ended up taking an entire scoop off, but you were silently relieved about that. There was no way you were going to finish that all before it melted. 

“I like that a lot!” Luffy said, with that giant grin on his face. “Hey, we ate after each other. That means we basically kissed each other, right?”

“What?!” You looked at him slightly alarmed, blush spreading across your cheeks. “No way Luffy, that is not what it means.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed. He stopped walking, and you stopped next to him, looking at him. 

“What’s up, Lu?”

He leaned into your face quickly, giving you a hard peck on the lips. A smile re-emerged across his face again. “Well, now we’ve kissed for real! You can’t deny that!”

Law

“Hey!” you cheered, walking back into the room. You picked up your cup off of the table, taking a long drink of it.

“Y/N-ya,” Law said. “That’s my drink.”

You immediately froze, everyone looking between you and Law. They knew how much of a germaphobe he was. 

“Oh! Sorry!” You handed the cup back to him, wiping your upper lip. “It’s really good!”

Law clicked his tongue in disapproval, cautiously eying the rim of the cup. “We really shouldn’t be drinking after one another. Causes diseases to spread more quickly.”

You looked at him, confused with his words. “Are you sick?” you asked. 

“Well, no-”

“Great! I’m in perfect health too!” you smiled at him, trying to ease the awkwardness. “You can run a scan on me if you want.”

He blushed at your offer. “That won’t be necessary.”

You shrugged. “Alright. If you don't want your drink because I-”

“It’s fine,” he said. He took a quick sip of his drink to prove his words. 

The whole crew’s mouths dropped open. They had never known Trafalgar Law to be a man to drink after anyone. 

“You guys kind of kissed, you know,” Shachi said, cheekily grinning at you both. 

“We did not!” you both yelled in unison, cheeks turning beet red.

[globalrebrand]

Happy Valentines Day! with Crewel

Warnings: Reader is wearing a dress and heels, no pronouns used.

A/N: Fluff, fluff, fluff!

Divus didn't do platitudes. And he certainly didn't do cliches.

As a bachelor he was bold, daring and highly nuanced in his airs. Something like love wouldn't change that. He insisted it wouldn't. You two would remain in love but retain that flavor that made you individuals. You didn't have kowtow to tradition, and certainly not a contrived artificial event like valentines day.

Divus was inclined to ignore the day entirely. But then...the ballet in the capital of the Queendom of Roses was a reviving a performance you had mentioned to be your favorite. He simply had to surprise you with tickets and, then! Your favorite ballerina was coincidentally slated to open the season on Valentine's day, so naturally no other night would do.

And well, after the show you would likely both be hungry....and if you were already dressed up for the ballet why not find and equally sumptuous place to dine after? He happened to know an incredibly excellent restaurant, intimate and small, built in the conservatory of an old city manor that had since been converted into a private members club, of which of course your handsome new beau was a member. Only twelve seats in the entire restaurant and an absolutely earth shatteringly delicious prix fixe menu. Oh! And it just had the best Lambrusco, he'd been trying to source a bottle for you for months but the supplier kept a tight lock on the distribution. That settled that then. Obviously, no other restaurant would do.

Well dinner and a show, or rather a show and dinner was a bit traditional, but Divus knew you'd be delighted, regardless. You weren't as prideful and stringent about such matters even if you too had some quite opinionated stances on style and taste as well. And he's proved himself right when he made you privy to his plans and you'd replied with a giddy squeal over the phone. "I know just what to wear!" you'd said. And he was eager to see what you'd come up with. Then you'd followed with, "I didn't think you were the type to care about Valentine's Day?" and you were right. He wasn't, but while Divus wanted to assure you this was a one time thing that happened to be the result of many happy coincidences, he couldn't bring himself to correct you. "I thought you knew better than to judge a book by it's cover." He replied. You merely chuckled and reiterated you excitement.

With the plans made, the event lingered over you both, a distant date which only grew in anticipation with your shared enthusiasm as it grew nearer. Though he pried and probed casually about your outfit choice you kept your lips sealed. To the shock of no one, Divus also wasn't a fan of surprises but he found in this one instance it didn't bother him as much as it usually might. With you, he was learning a lot of about himself and what he did and didn't do.

Now that the long awaited evening in question was upon you, Divus waited for you on the steps of the theater. He was having trouble keeping his smile at bay and while the urge to light a cigarette came upon him he let it go, knowing you'd chide him for it. Well that and he didn't want anything to take away from the aroma of the flowers he'd procured for you. Red roses would entirely a bridge too far, he'd never recover from the shame of being so horribly ordinary, so he'd chosen a suitably stylish arrangement of blush, white and burgundy peonies, orchids, ranunculus, sweet peas and amaranthus, sweetly bundled with pink ribbon.

He was looking the wrong direction when you called his name. Glancing over his shoulder he almost dropped your bouquet at the sight.

A pale pink overcoat, draped open to expose your dress: a red silk slip evocative of vintage lingerie. It hit at your mid-thigh exposing pretty legs, drawing his eye down to your shoes, elegant pair of red kitten heels.

He was speechless. All he could do was draw you close with a arm around your waist. You invite him in your space and caress his jaw lightly with a gloved hand. "Well...? How do I look?" You attempt to pull away but Divus doesn't let you.

"You took my breath away" He admits, enchanted. The platitude spills from his lips before he can stop it.

"Are these for me?" You point to the flowers.

"Who else but you?" The grin on your features has a matching expression growing across his features. He hands you the bouquet and you cup a ranunculus and inhale. The cliche of flowers on valentines day isn't lost on him, but Divus is finding it very hard to care as he takes in your precious expression, wind bitten cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The sound of a bell chimes outside the theater. 15 minutes to show time.

You make idle chatter as Divus ushers you up the grand stone steps and through centuries old carved bronze doors.

"You know, I didn't think you'd care at all for valentines day." You tell him.

"And why's that?" He questions. A little test he's sure you'll pass. You know exactly why.

"Well I thought you would probably think its sappy and horrible cliche. Which it is! I agree, but well...I suppose I'm just pleased that you do. That is to say, you do care about valentines day." You punctuate your statement with a squeeze of his hand as if to say, 'this is nice.'

"I wouldn't if it wasn't for you." He confesses a few minutes later as he pulls your coat from your shoulders and throws his fur (an all black mink) overtop and hands it to the gentleman at the coat check. He likes the image of your things together. They just make sense.

"Well thank you. It couldn't have been easy fighting with your pride for my sake." You tease lightly.

Hardly, he scoffs. Then softer, he says "it was as easy as breathing."

You feel your cheeks warm.

"We should get to our seats." Divus adds, his tone its normal controlled baritone but when you peek at him, you can see the bright blush on his cheeks as he adjusts his tie, almost as if he too were taken aback by his candor just moments before.

In that moment you decide they were wrong. All of them about Divus. He was as caring, thoughtful and kind as the best of them.

And in that moment Divus decides he was very very wrong about platitudes, cliches and admittedly, wrong about Valentine's day. They all certainly have a time and a place when he's with you.

[ahqkas]

Can I request kissing headcanons for Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan with gn!s/o please?

THE KISS OF LIFE ; arthur morgan & charles smith

PAIRING! arthur morgan x gn!reader, charles smith x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! how his kisses constantly bring out the joy of life

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

ARTHUR MORGAN IS A ROUGH MAN. Everyone knows. From the people he considers family to the strangers he meets on the streets. His shell is strong to keep him intact but even the strongest breaks.

To you, he’s hopelessly devoted.

His kisses carry the scent of nature - fresh pine, flowers’ scent. They also carry the spicy side as well - the smoke of cigarettes, the faintest hint of gunpowder. The characters of his kisses are the same. They can be gentle and sweet and they can be rough and desperate.

He’s a man of a few words, but his kisses show exactly what he wants to say. A kiss can communicate thousands of words.

A protective edge seeps to his kisses when he returns from a particularly dangerous mission, where his wits and strength were tested to the maximum. He’s gripping at your waist, thighs, and jaw that night as if reassuring himself he’s really there and you won’t just vanish into the thin air.

Life with the Van der Linde gang means moments alone are rare, especially with the noisy members. Arthur often steals kisses in hidden places or when no one’s looking. He doesn’t need to have Sean hanging on his shoulders, chuckling about forbidden love. But those kisses turn into something else quicker than anything when the moon is high enough on the dark sky. His affection is no longer timid but rather bold, messy kisses placed anywhere the skin of your body shows up uncovered by clothing. He’s making up for the times he couldn’t kiss you openly and he sure does know the way to convince you.

CHARLES, KNOWN FOR HIS CALM DEMEANOR, APPROACHES EVERY KISS WITH THE SAME THOUGHTFUL INTENSITY. When he’s kissing you, it feels like he’s truly present in the moment, giving you all of his attention and care. His kisses are slow. Each one a vow of loyalty and love.

The man’s kisses are often followed by the essence of nature as he’s always spending the time outside in the wilderness. There’s a distinct freshness to them, a mix of earth and pine. When his lips meet yours, it’s like suddenly being surrounded by the tall trees and growing plants. He’s always warm and inviting for you, and there’s a sense of peace that comes with every kiss, as if he’s sharing a piece of his own inner calmness with you.

He cups your face every time he kisses you with a gentle hand, his thumbs softly tracing your cheeks as his lips brush against yours.

However, when passion takes over, Charles’ kisses become more intense, more needy. His usually composed behavior crumbles and even through the thought of it seems scary, he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. He pulls you closer, trying to show you things he can’t say.

Regardless of the situation, kisses with Charles always leave you feeling cherished and loved. He has a way of making you feel like you’re standing on top of the world. Whenever it’s a soft peck on the forehead to soothe your worries or a passionate kiss that sets your heart racing, Charles enjoys all of it.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[jungkoode]

FUCK ME UP | FRAGMENTS

˗ˏˋ whiteboard chronicles ˎˊ˗

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: APARTMENT 6B SHENANIGANS (FMU)

wordcount: 1,1k

⋆｡°✩ read more ✩°｡⋆

main story: fuck me up

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✧ author's note ✧

OKAY SO. This was not planned. I mean, yes, it kind of was planned because it WAS one of my concept ideas as you have probably seen in the index. BUT.

I wasn't expecting to write this on a random ass Tuesday during my break??? This is the silliest idea, but it formed in my mind and I just had to write this down. So you're welcome for random FMU content on a Tuesday?

Anyway, enjoy this goofy ass drabble. I know I laughed while writing it. Hope you laugh while reading it!

The whiteboard hanging beside the fridge was the first thing you noticed when you stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed at 7 AM on your fourth day in the apartment. It wasn’t there the day before. Neither was the note written in precise, controlled handwriting:

“Whoever left their dishes in the sink overnight: Don’t.” - Yoongi

You stared at it for a beat too long, coffee mug halfway to your lips. Well. That was new.

And completely directed at you, because you definitely left a bowl and spoon in the sink the night before. You glanced over your shoulder, but the apartment was quiet. Yoongi must have already left for his early client meeting.

Before you could stop yourself, you picked up the black marker dangling from its magnetic holder and wrote in your loose, slightly messy lowercase:

“sorry! won’t happen again” - y/n

Two days later, you were greeted by another note:

“The garbage doesn’t take itself out. Neither do I.” - Yoongi

Beneath it, in chaotic, barely legible scrawl that you immediately recognized as Jungkook’s:

“i took it out mon. phoenix’s turn” - jk

You rolled your eyes and added:

“bold of u to assume i generate garbage. that’s a YOU problem mf” - y/n

By the end of your first week, the whiteboard had evolved:

“Stop drinking my almond milk. Buy your own.” - Yoongi

“wasn’t me lol. phoenix sus af. caught her red-handed no cap 🧢 ” - jk

And yeah. There was actually a horribly scribbled cap doodle. 

“i was testing it to see if it was spoiled bc im nice. you’re welcome” - y/n

“It was a new carton.” - Yoongi

“… whoops?” - y/n

The second week brought escalation:

“Bathroom schedule. RESPECT IT.” - Yoongi

“phoenix spent 40 mins in there this am. i was LATE. so NOT the vibes” - jk

“some of us have actual hair to wash, jungkook. not my fault” - y/n

“some of us have JOBS to get to fr fr” - jk

“Some of us need SILENCE to work. Take this argument elsewhere.” - Yoongi

Day ten of cohabitation:

“Griffin knocked over my coffee mug AGAIN. Control your cat.” - Yoongi

“bold of u to assume griffin can be controlled” - jk

“he only knocks over YOUR stuff bc you claim to hate him. he knows. cats always know” - y/n

“I do hate him.” - Yoongi

That evening, you returned to find a new addition: a small, surprisingly detailed doodle of what appeared to be Griffin with devil horns, signed by Yoongi. 

Underneath, Jungkook had drawn a halo and angel wings around it with “no lies detected” scrawled beside it.

By day twelve:

“If I hear ‘Wonderwall’ on that guitar ONE MORE TIME at 2 AM there will be consequences." - Yoongi

“it was ‘sweet child o mine’ actually smh. musical education lacking???” - jk

“regardless: rogue, some of us sleep at normal human hours” - y/n

“some of us didn’t bang their headboard against the wall at 1 am. pot, kettle, iykyk” - jk

You flushed bright red when you read this. That was ONE TIME when you were rearranging your furniture, but of course, he’d make it sound like… Jesus.

“i was MOVING FURNITURE.” - y/n

“suuuuuuuuure, phoenix” - jk

“Both of you: headphones exist. Use them.” - Yoongi

The next morning brought a new development:

“COFFEE MAKER RULES:” 1. Rinse it after use 2. Don’t change my settings 3. If you empty it, refill the water “This is not a democracy.” - JK

Jungkook had actually used proper capitalization for his coffee rules, which told you exactly how serious he was about his precious brewing machine.

You couldn’t resist responding:

“counterpoint: it’s just coffee bro” - y/n

His reply came quickly:

“HERESY” - jk

“Some of us need coffee to tolerate living with you two.” - Yoongi

That afternoon, Yoongi left a new note:

“Refrigerator organization system is now ENFORCED. Labels provided.” - Yoongi

You came home later to find Jungkook had added:

“phoenix labeled my protein shakes ‘gym bro juice’ - v mature” - jk

You couldn’t help grinning as you added:

“if the shoe fits, rogue. and it does, along with your massive protein powder collection that’s taking over the kitchen” - y/n

The next morning, his response was waiting:

“my protein powder keeps me strong enough to help when u can’t reach the top shelf” - jk

You narrowed your eyes before writing:

“i will climb the counter like a normal person, thx” - y/n

By evening, Yoongi had added:

“That’s how you fell last week.” - Yoongi

You scowled at the betrayal.

Day fourteen—today—you had woken up to find a weekend notice:

“OUT OF TOWN THIS WEEKEND. Keep the apartment standing.” - Yoongi

You grabbed the marker, adding:

“roger that, captain obvious” - y/n

By mid-morning, Jungkook had responded:

“no promises. phoenix brings out the worst in me ngl” - jk

You snorted and added:

“mutual, rogue” - y/n

Now, you stand before the whiteboard, marker in hand, examining two weeks’ worth of passive-aggressive notes. It’s become something of a gallery of snark, a dysfunctional family bulletin board.

You find yourself smiling at Jungkook’s chaotic scrawl, full of abbreviations and lowercase letters, contrasting with Yoongi’s precise penmanship and perfect grammar. The way the three of you communicate through this ridiculous medium is strangely… comfortable? Not that you’d ever admit it.

You’ve already noticed patterns: Yoongi writes in black marker exclusively, with perfect punctuation. Jungkook grabs whatever color is available, usually purple or blue, his writing tilted and messy, full of text-speak and abbreviations. You tend toward green or red, your lowercase letters rounded but clear.

You'd be lying if you said you don't kind of enjoy this weird, annotated glimpse into your shared lives.

Or how Jungkook’s ridiculous coffee snobbery—serious enough to warrant actual capitalization—makes you roll your eyes and snort at the same time.

Or how Yoongi pretends to hate Griffin while his latest note passive-aggressively mentioned seeing cat treats left out on the counter “for the demon cat I allegedly don’t care about.”

Or how, despite all the bickering and boundary-setting and passive-aggressive notes…

You probably wouldn’t trade this chaotic whiteboard for anything.

Not that you’ll ever tell them that. Instead, you uncap the marker again and write:

“whoever used the last of the toilet paper without replacing it: you’re dead to me” - y/n

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder what ridiculous note will appear next in this strange, dysfunctional roommate communication system you’ve all somehow adopted.

Maybe it’s not the worst way to avoid actually talking to each other.

Maybe it’s even a little fun.

But you’ll keep that thought to yourself.

index

⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 6)

John Price x f!Reader

Summary: the next morning with Price settles you're his girl

warnings/tags: nsfw!!, creampie, praising, handjob, p in v sex, fingering, cowgirl

a/n: it's finally here!!! im sorry for the wait!! and this will be the last chapter of this series :,) i feel like there isn't more to say for john and this reader, so i hope you lot enjoyed it!!

song for this chapter is She by Harry Styles!!

You woke up the next morning with an unfamiliar warmth next to you. The feeling of a solid mass pressing against your back; a large appendage that resembled an arm draped over your waist. Your eyes adjusted to the sunlight that penetrated through the curtains on your window.

You brought a hand to your face and rubbed at your eyes before looking down to find a man’s arm was what was anchoring you in your sleeping position. John’s arm, you reckoned, and the color of your cheeks was a stinging red. You bit your lip to withhold the smile that grew on your face as the memories of last night flooded back into your mind.

It was difficult to contain yourself from squealing giddily at the realization.

With as much care as you could muster, you gently and slowly rotated your body under the crushing weight of his arm to face him. John stirred in his sleep lightly, making you freeze and hold your breath for a second. But he only sighed and stayed in his peaceful sleep, out like a light. You turned fully to face him, your eyes gleaming at the sight of his face.

His lips were in a pout, slightly parted as light snores escaped them. His lashes were long and fanning over the apples of his cheeks almost. You’ve never seen someone look…so pretty, while they slept.

One of your hands came up to his face, your gentle fingertips dared to ghost over his features. You carefully brushed the messy hair on his forehead, then trailed down to trace his long nose, his bearded cheeks, his velvety lips.

Would it be wrong to kiss him, you wondered. You didn’t want to disrupt his slumber, you liked the intimacy of being bundled up in his arms as he was in such a vulnerable state. But you dared to regardless. Once again with the gentlest movements, you planted your lips over his cheek. You took a beat to test if that woke him up, but all you got in return was the tightening of his grip on your waist.

It only encouraged you further, and you followed with another kiss, this time to his forehead, your hand caressing his hair once more. He stirred a bit more and your smile grew wider, your heart was fluttering with adoration.

God he’s just perfect, all you want to do is kiss every pretty thing about him.

You went to lean in a third time but a gravelly hum stopped you on your tracks. John’s eyes stayed closed, but a smile tugged at his cheeks and a husky chuckle rumbled within him. His arms encapsulated you impossible tighter and closer to him.

“I could get used to wakin’ up like this,” he said, his voice raspy with sleep and almost a whisper.

You giggled and matched his low tone, “morning, John.”

He adjusted his head on the pillow and let out a pleased sigh. One of his eyes opened up to a mere squint to look at you, the rays of sun making his crystal eyes shine. He grumbled out a good morning

You cupped his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin. His large palm rubbed the skin of your bare back, making goosebumps scatter around your body.

Your front was pressed flush against his chest and abdomen and, well, you shouldn’t be surprised at the feeling of his morning wood pressing against your belly. You bit your lip at the sensation, feeling your core grow slick.

John chuckled again, “Sorry, love…can’t help it.” His voice was a slur as he gradually began to wake him more and more.

“Don’t mind at all,” you cooed. You felt bold enough to snake your hand down his front until it reached his pelvis. You stopped there, and your fingers raked through the patch of course hair that was forested there.

John let out a pleasant, heavy sigh. His member twitched against you, as if asking to be touched.

Your eyes were fixated on his face, watching the microexpressions as he reacted to your touch.

“About last night…” you started, “is that something you’d like to do again?”

John’s smile grew into a smirk, his nails ran up and down your back tenderly, “would you, princess?”

You responded by letting your hand trail lower; dainty fingers wrapping around the base of his hardened cock and giving him one, two painfully slow pumps.

John sucked in a breath at the feeling, a hand now coming under your hair to hold the nape of your neck.

“Does that answer your question?” you teased.

"Bloody hell, love," he breathed, his husky voice almost a growl as the grip on your neck tightened, "what I wouldn't give to wake up to you like this every mornin'."

His words made you melt. The idea of having John like this, the realization that last night was most definitely not a one-time thing, and that you had a man like him eating off the palm of your hand; all yours to enjoy.

It only spurred you on, and you let out a soft mewl in response as your hand stroked up and down his shaft, watching as his lips parted and hearing his breath hitch at the feeling of you.

John's other hand snaked down to your thigh, grabbing the underside of it to lay it over his hip. He pulled you closer as you worked on him, his nose pressing against yours before he leaned in to kiss you. You felt the hairs of his mustache graze your upper lip, his plush lips against yours turning into a sloppy kiss when his tongue pried into your mouth. Now you knew he was growing desperate.

The hand on your thigh traveled up your quad, squeezing and massaging it before it made its way to your sex. You were soaked and bare and the feeling of his hand soothingly massaging you through your folds made your whole body shiver.

It made you think about the night prior, how John had been the first man to make you feel this good, this satisfied. Like the strange loneliness you had felt when you first met him was completely gone; like he's been the missing piece in your sweet but mundane life. The man set you alight like a burning pyre whenever he was around, more so when he put those tender but calloused hands on you.

You keened at the feeling of his middle and ring finger pads rubbing tight circles on your clit, spreading your slick and coating your pussy with it. Your hand on his cock similarly smeared his precum, and the two of you panted into each other's mouths.

You let out soft sounds as he kissed you sloppily, a mess of tongue and teeth telling you just how desperate John was for you.

"Never felt such a perfect pussy," he slurred, "come 'n ride my cock, pretty girl."

His breathless words made you whine, and you did not hesitate to press your hand against his chest, indicating him to lay on his back as you straddled his lap.

Any ounce of self-consciousness or shyness was absent in you. You presented your naked body to John, the body he had ravaged multiple times by now. Your hips ground onto his, making his cock glide between your folds as you teased him before granting him entrance.

It made John let out a needy groan, his hands holding onto the plump flesh on your hips as he guided your hips to grind with more pressure on his leaking cock.

"C'mon, sweetheart...stuff this cock in that pretty pussy...'s all yours, do whatever you want with it." You never thought you'd make John so desperate, but you couldn't deny you desired his cock just as much.

You lifted your hips and took hold of his cock, aligning it with your entrance before you slowly sank down on it. Your mouth fell open and so did his as he watched you with lust-blown eyes, how your pussy swallowed him whole.

It made John let out a moan and fuck it did something to you.

"Fuckkk, baby, tha's it," he looked up at your face with shameless want.

You bottomed out, sitting on his cock for a moment before lifting yourself only to sink back down, bouncing on him at a selfish pace.

You indulged in the way his lips were parted and exuded moans, how his hands stroked up and down your sides and curves tenderly as your hips bounced on his cock and ground down into his hips.

How his blue eyes devoured you and the way you moved.

Those starved eyes had been on you since the moment he stepped through the doors of your cafe, and they only grew hungrier the more you spoke, the more time you spent together.

And fuck were you proud of yourself for having this man under you, cock buried deep inside of you and letting you fuck him; letting himself belong to you, never to let you go.

Your pace grew sloppier and desperate as you fucked yourself with his cock, and John wouldn't have it any other way. His hand scaled up your body and splayed on the valley between your breasts, feeling the way your heart raced. Your head was thrown back as you lost yourself in him.

"That's it, baby, that's it," he babbled, "makin' me feel so good, love. Perfect fuckin' pussy made just for me, yeah?"

You nodded drunkenly in response, feeling his hips move under you to meet your rhythm. You took his hands in yours and laced your fingers with his, using his hold to increase your pace and reach your climax.

All you heard were John's mumbled praises and encouragements, too drunk on your pussy to be coherent. The two of you were pushing for each other's orgasms until it was finally there.

Both letting go in tandem, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over you, and feeling the way he stuffed you full.

You were both breathless, your sweat-coated body collapsing over John's, who took you in his arms with a husky chuckle of his, wrapping them around you and kissing your temple and burning cheeks.

"My perfect girl," he crooned, and you responded with a pleasant, tired hum as you melted in his embrace.

His girl, you thought. Yeah, you were his and it couldn't feel more perfect to be his.

You relished in the way he kissed your skin, the praises he whispered to you, and the way he whispered that he couldn't be more in love with you.

[lvmimis]

the god of the riverbanks takes his sacrifices drowned - young girls, once sweet, bright-eyed and naïve in the morning sun, in exchange for bountiful harvests, rain and the promise of floods kept at bay. there are rumors that they turn up unaccompanied and unharmed in villages afar, hair just slightly damp and smelling as fresh as the sea, with their memories lost yet their smiles forever just as cheerful as the jade green dragon himself who glides just below the visible depth of the wide seas.

in contrast, the god of the skies, of sun and snow, is thought to take his sacrifices burned at the stake and yet no one has seen their bodies past their first cries and coughs. young women with strange burns they do not remember abound in a country far west; perhaps their voices reach the heavens and he shows mercy towards them, allowing them to ride on his back that glitters with a mosaic of white and red scales, and see the world from above, their scars bold but their minds purged of their pasts by flame and soothed by gentle ice.

however, nothing will give you solace, because you are to be sacrificed to the god of the mountains and the earth, who is war and strife itself. the blindfold that keeps you helpless is thick, the ropes on your wrists tight and cutting into your skin. the god offers your village protection from calamity and invasion; he promises your country strength and thus your gift is necessary.

you doubt you'd be a worthy meal but there was no one else to offer up, and you hope he swallows you up quickly; the pain could be immense, but not worse than the pain in your weary heart. your chest aches as you think of your family, aches further when you realize you will never have the chance to find purpose or find love.

the mountains are still and quiet as you wait, bound helplessly to the stone shrine. there is no escape.

time passes both slow and fast as you breathe in deep and exhale half as long until your chest hurts with the stacking of breath expanding your weary lungs.

you hear a sigh.

"sick of this shit."

your eyes widen at the gruffness of the man's voice, but you can see nothing. he tuts, and you can hear a presence move around you, the stinging warmth of a flame too close to the sensitive skin of the underside of your arms. the same sensation is quickly felt in your bound legs before you before they are free.

the blindfold falls and you're staring into a set of red, inhuman eyes. vertical slits. dragon eyes.

but your visitor is a man, somewhat, even if he is practically three times your size. your breath holds as you take more of him in, sharp eyes and even sharper cheekbones, golden hair, a gaze that is less curiosity and more exasperation. there is a soft glow to his skin despite the dusky overtone of the sky and his lips are soft appearing and pinkish red, almost feminine, in contrast to the soft bristle of fair, coarse hair on his chin. smoke still comes from the corner of his mouth as he speaks, and you see flashes of fanged teeth intermittently.

"i'm taking you to the other side of the mountain, got it?" he asks.

it's a statement that is given like an order and you're too dumbfounded to speak, forgetting how to make use of your no longer bound arms and legs.

"i won't eat you. got it?" he repeats, louder. your head swims.

he doesn't wait for your answer regardless, and his wings spread - deep crimson, orange and yellow, brilliant like the crackles of a large bonfire. you're dragged into his arms without protest and cradled like a small child despite his annoyed expression, you take to the skies, your fate uncertain.

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Eyes" - BurningCheese Short Story #4

I have a bunch of asks in my inbox, and I would like to answer them... but I also want to get this short story finished and posted before my SO nags me about going to bed super late again lol.

I'll answer people's messages tomorrow! In the meantime, enjoy this short! Thanks for your patience and thanks to those who reached out! I always enjoy and appreciate people taking the time to tell me their thoughts!

'Were they always like this...?' Golden Cheese wondered. 'So bright...'

Burning Spice returned her curious stare with a smile and nothing more. He quite liked this unprompted attention, honestly. Just how long would it last, if he kept choosing not to interrupt it?

'So bold... I don't think I've ever seen anything like it...'

"Birdie~" he called to her playfully. (He couldn't help it. She looked so cute when she concentrated that he simply had to say something.)

'So red... The shade of White Lily's eyes is so much more... calm. Subdued.'

"Little bird?" His smile began to falter.

'And his pupils... Were they always like this, as well? Was he born with a beast's eyes, right from the very beginning?'

"Little thief?" His tone sounded less playful and more... confused.

'What is it... Just what do I see...'

"Golden Cheese?"

"Hm?"

Only now did she realize that Burning Spice had invaded her personal space (as he was wont to do) by leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. Perhaps that was why his eyes seemed so bright, at least in part - they were hardly an inch from her own now.

When he knew she was back in the waking world, his smile returned. "There you are," he said. "Why are you staring at me, little thief? Can I help you with something?"

"I..." She averted her gaze from him, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to be so rude. I was... lost in thought."

"I could tell," he chuckled. "And where did your mind wander off to? Somewhere to do with me?"

"Nowhere important," she said, still refusing to look at him.

"Come on. Tell me. Sing for me, pretty bird." He cupped her chin. "You don't want to keep being rude, do you? Not looking at someone when they talk to you is very rude. Turn those pretty eyes back to me and speak your mind."

"Eyes..." she murmured. She did what he asked and looked at him again, her gaze once more unwavering and... curious. "That's what I was thinking about, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes," she said. "That's where my mind wandered off to, Burning Spice. Straight into your eyes."

"Ah, I see." His lips curled into another teasing smile. "What about them? You like them?"

"They're very unique," she told him. "I know plenty of people with red eyes... including a dragon and a man made of fire... and even their eyes aren't quite like yours."

"I certainly hope not. I'd rather you stare into my eyes than theirs."

She made a face at him and gently swatted at his cheek, earning her another chuckle. "I mean it," she said. "I'm not saying this lightly. Your eyes are... one of a kind."

"Such high praise," he purred. "I think and say the same of yours, pretty bird."

"I feel... drawn to them, when I look at them," she continued, past his little attempt at flirting. "I'm not sure how else to put it. I see them and I think of..."

"Of...?" he echoed.

"...Of many things," she eventually finished. "They aren't static. They grow brighter, dimmer... I almost wonder if you change them at will."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't." He leaned in the slightest bit closer, letting his nose brush against hers. "Regardless, what do they make you think of? What do you see? Tell me. I'm curious."

She paused, losing herself in thought for another moment. Burning Spice stayed put, patient but eager, waiting for her answer.

"I see... a star," she finally told him. "I see stars, shining brilliantly within the vastness of space. I see them glowing, twinkling, burning so bright... and I see them falling apart. Collapsing in on themselves. Dying valiantly in an all-consuming flame. These beacons of light in a deep, dark ocean, succumbing to loneliness at long last... but not with a whisper. With a bang. With aplomb. With the same brilliance they had possessed all their lives."

His smile grew. "Yeah? What else?"

"I see a great inferno," she continued. "A spark that grew out of control and into something too powerful for anyone to stop. Waves of fire crashing down, consuming everything in their path in mindless fury. Swallowing a forest whole and spitting out its ashes. Striking primal fear in the hearts of all who see it. Rampaging across the world until either someone puts an end to its reign of terror, or there is nothing left to consume, and so it consumes itself instead."

He hummed. For a moment, just a moment, his smile faltered again. He composed himself quickly - but not quickly enough for Golden Cheese not to notice.

"I see... a fire pit," she said, a bit more carefully this time. "A stove top, an oven, a nest of metal and charcoal... I see someone hard at work, their brows knit, tending to the flames as a mother tends to her child. Hammering away at a piece of unrefined steel, sprinkling salt into a pan, carefully molding a mound of clay. Perhaps only for a few hours, perhaps for days and nights. But at the end, when they're finished, I see them reach into those flames they cared for so diligently and pull out the fruits of their labor. A fine sword. A delicious meal. A beautiful vase. Something new, something great. From within this force of death and destruction still comes creation and ingenuity."

A blush began to creep across Burning Spice's face. "I..."

"Now, I don't see these things all at once, all the time," she told him. "They... change. The flames in your eyes rise and fall. They glow, they simmer, they explode. Never a dull moment, in those eyes of yours."

"Yeah?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she echoed quietly.

"Then... if they always change..." He let his hand wander up from her chin to her cheek, his fingers ghosting over her skin. "What do they change into... when I do this?"

He kissed her. Slowly, deeply, those fiery eyes still open and gazing into her own. And she stared right back at him, shining gold gazing into smoldering embers. Red, orange, yellow, white... all the colors of summer. Heat and light and unashamed passion, boring into her soul.

When he pulled away, he let himself linger, his lips still just barely brushing against her own. She could feel his hot breath on her lips, on her skin. Still taste it in her mouth.

"And now?" he asked. "What do you see now?"

She didn't answer. She only continued staring at him in silence, lost in his warm gaze.

"Tell me, Golden Cheese," he insisted, caressing her cheek. It was a deep red and hot to the touch. "What do my eyes look like now? What do you see in them?"

"...I..."

He pressed another kiss to her lips. "Tell me," he said again. "Please. I want to know. I must know."

"I see..." She faltered again. Another moment of silence passed before she spoke again.

"I see a hearth," she murmured.

"You do?" He smiled again... with the same warmth and adoration she saw glittering in his eyes. "What about it? What kind?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She closed her eyes, staying still and silent... and then she sighed softly, shaking her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I..."

"Sorry? What for?"

She was already pulling away from him. The spell had seemingly been broken; now she was tearing her eyes away from his own and casting them any which way. Anywhere but him.

"It's rude to stare at people, Burning Spice," she said.

She turned and started walking away, her head slightly bowed. He stood frozen in shock for a moment or two, before he snapped out of it and hurried after her.

"I don't care!" he told her. "Who cares about that? I don't mind if you're rude! Be as rude as you'd like!"

"Sorry," she said quickly, shaking her head again.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Why are you leaving me? At least let me say my piece! Let me tell you what your eyes show me!"

"Maybe another time," she told him, her cheeks turning a shade darker.

"No! Now! Let me do it now!" He rushed up to her side, now keeping perfect pace with her. "Ignoring others when they talk to you is rude too, remember?! If you don't want to be rude, then stay! Stay with me! Let us tell each other more of our thoughts!"

They stayed in this loop for a little while. Golden Cheese with her arms crossed and face a deep scarlet, walking away from her own foolishness with increasing speed. Burning Spice with his pleading look, those telltale flames now crackling frantically, always hot on her heels and fighting to take back their little moment.

Until she had enough of their charade and took off into the air, with a flap of her wings so sudden and forceful that the gust of wind nearly knocked him over, and he found himself pouting after her as she flew up and away.

--------------

A supernova. That's what that first thing Golden Cheese talks about is. She sees supernovae in Burning Spice's eyes. Haha.

Something I often like to do (or attempt to do) when I write is... try to tell people what something is without outright stating it. Describe an object without mentioning its name. Let people put those pieces together themselves. Let their minds wander. Leave a few spots on the canvas blank, so they can fill them in on their own. It's a fun little challenge. A guessing game. Keeps people reading, if only to figure out what you're referring to, before they skip to the glossary out of boredom or frustration.

Things lend themselves to a lot of fascinating imagery if and when you allow yourself to take on that sort of challenge and try to view them that way. Go look at a plant or a mug and try to tell yourself what it is without saying it's a plant or a mug. You start to train your mind the more you do it. Might help you write better. Hopefully. I hope it's working for me.

[ghoulreaper38]

the ghouls + giving you love bites.

pairings : the ghoul (cooper howard) x fem!reader | john hancock x fem!reader.

warnings : reader is afab—no descriptions given BUT babe, doll(face), sweetheart, pretty(girl), hun, & sunshine are all used as nicknames ! / mild mature content / suggestive themes / profanity / fondling / hickeys-love bites / slight possessive behavior / mild jealousy / chem use / alcohol use / smoking / very mild choking / ghoul discrimination.

a/n—my first time posting ever yay & writing for this fandom so please keep that in mind. i did my best but things may be ooc or incorrect. regardless, happy reading❕🤍

The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) 1.7k words

You are much too beautiful for this wasteland. Cooper tries over and over again to reassure himself that you are his and only his, but he notices every single unwanted stare you garner from practically everywhere you go. It’s so bad now that he won’t let you go anywhere unless he’s right by your side.

And you, his vaultie, bless that pretty little soul of yours… you don’t seem bothered by his behavior at all. You happily let him trail after you like a guard dog that’ll bite at anyone who tries to come your way. And my, oh, my, how scary he is…

Cooper comes back from taking the clingy ol’ dog for a morning walk to find you rummaging around inside the desolate and dilapidated shack the two of you were staying in, for a night or two at least. You’ve got your backpack on and you’re loading up one of your 10mm pistols from where you’re crouched on the ground by a coffee table with a missing leg.

“Where’re you supposed to be heading off to so early, little morning bird,” Cooper asks as he raises an eyebrow at you, almost accusatory.

You get the pistol loaded and pack it into the holster on your waist as you stand from your crouched position to meet his gaze.

“Just into the small town a bit west from here. I want to see if I can stock up on some medicine or food while we’re passing through. And, the earlier I get over there, the sooner I’ll be back here,” you explain as you double check you’ve got your dagger, pip-boy, and stash of caps on you.

“Huh.” The ghoul clicks his tongue as he gives you a brief once-over.

You head for the door and attempt to walk past him to start your journey for the day, but he immediately shakes his head and pulls you back by your hips until you’re trapped against him.

“Don’t think so, doll. You ain’t goin’ nowhere like that,” he lowly says as he leans down until his breath brushes over your exposed neck. You shiver against him but do your best to grab his wandering hands and hold them in place. Is he really mad about you wearing a tank top right now?

“Like what?” you frown and try to catch his gaze over your shoulder. “We’re basically living in a heatwave out here, I’m not layering up,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

“I don’t give a damn what you’re wearing, sweetheart. I’m well aware you’re all mine,” the ghoul says with a smug smile. He easily frees one of his hands from your hold and trails it all the way up until it comes to rest right against your throat. “Problem is, the fuckers out there don’t,” he practically growls as his fingers tighten just enough to be threatening against your skin. “So how ‘bout we write this in bold, huh? Make sure they can’t possibly miss that you’re mine, all mine,” he says as he leans down and presses his scarred lips against your neck.

Your body tingles as he moves his hands lower, brushing them both up under the hem of your shirt so they can travel over your stomach. His touch is so light, it tickles, and his lips are unforgiving where they brush against your throat. He leaves love bites scattered all over your neck, licking over the particularly brutal ones to soothe the puffy redness his bites leave behind. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain and you can’t help but moan as he dresses your throat up with yet another mark, poking at it teasingly just to get a reaction out of you.

Finally, after making sure he’s marked you well enough, he pulls back and steps away from you. You breathe in deeply and place a hand over your neck as your body comes down from the high that this ghoul always manages to give you, with nearly no effort at all. Sometimes, just a simple look in your direction has you weak in the knees and ready for whatever he’s willing to give you. It’d be more embarrassing to dwell on it if you didn’t find it so attractive.

“There now, that’ll do it,” Cooper says with a smirk as he scans all over your neck to see his work. You can tell he’s proud of himself by the way he runs his tongue over his lower lip subconsciously. It’s comforting to know that he’s just as intoxicated by you as you are by him.

“You done now, cowboy?” you tease as you fuss with your shirt to make sure it’s nicely straightened out.

“Just about,” he drawls as he steps into your space and grips your chin between his fingers. “You ready to go show the world you’re mine? Let a greedy old ghoul like me tie you down?” Cooper asks, but he captures your lips into a kiss before you can answer. His tongue glides along your own as he claims you once more just before you go.

When he finally breaks apart from you, he goes straight to throwing his bandolier on and readjusting his hat. He glances over at you once with that sly expression of his, as he cocks his head towards the door.

“You comin’, dollface?”

You smile your own little smile and nod your head, following him out of the building.

The town is nice for what it is. Not too many of the buildings seem to be as torn through as some others the two of you have encountered while traveling together. You manage to find most of the supplies on your list, and even a few extra lucky ones you hadn’t accounted for. It’s a win in your book.

The only trouble you wind up running into comes from an older group of gentlemen who’re leaned up against an old brick building down one of the streets the ghoul leads you through. They seem to be taking a smoke break outside of an old diner that’s just finding its legs here in the seemingly re-evolving town.

“The fuck’s that thing doing around here?” one of the men with a rather large cigar jeers as he takes one look at Cooper walking beside you.

Cooper doesn’t give any reaction, he only walks more surely of himself. It’s like the negative comments from them give him more confidence.

“Thought these damn ghouls would stay away from here after what happened to the last group that tried us,” one of the men sighs as he takes a long drag from his cigarette and gives the ghoul a cold glare. “Hell, I’d even take them fuckin’ mantises that crawled through here again over more of these freaks,” he continues with an animated shrug.

You try your best to ignore their harsh comments and instead follow Cooper’s lead, but one of them nearly steps in your way trying to gain your attention as you go to pass them.

“Whoa there, what’s a babe like you doing traveling around with that fuckin’ thing?” he asks as he looks between you two in disgust. “You better let this one here go, you rad-infested freak. They ain’t your prisoner no more,” the guy says darkly as he picks up a broken glass bottle and watches the ghoul with a close eye.

Cooper halts in his steps and clicks his tongue, watching the man next to you with an unimpressed look.

“You must be one dumb motherfucker if you haven’t noticed that this ‘babe’ ain’t a prisoner to me at all,” he chuckles darkly. “Now I suggest you put that there bottle down and take a closer look for yourself,” Cooper bites as he slides his gun out from its holster lazily. He’s not yet threatening the man, but rather, warning him.

“Oh, what the fuck,” one of the men behind the one with the broken bottle gasps as he must notice the marks on your neck. The other guy behind him joins and they both quickly shake their heads, seemingly deciding that this battle isn’t worth it. “Nah, I’m out, that fucked shit in’t none of my business at all,” the other agrees as they retreat back to inside the building.

“Guess that just leaves you, don’t it?” Cooper smirks as he licks his lips, taking a step closer to you, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the ignorant man. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and you give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, more than happy to play this little game with him. You know he loves the thrill, loves to show you off to the world.

“What… what the hell is goin’ on here?!” the man yells, waving the broken bottle around wildly as he tries to understand what exactly is unfolding before him.

“Well, let’s see…” Cooper sighs. “You were threatening to take my lover from me, ain’t that right? Still wanna try your hand at that now, big man?” Cooper practically seethes as he cocks his gun, the sound ringing loudly between the three of you.

“Oh, you’re fucked! Both of you!” the guy shouts as he drops the bottle and his cigarette, turning tale and running away down an old dingy alleyway.

You cover your mouth with your hand as a laugh slips past your lips. You can’t help yourself after watching such a comical display. He’s lucky to have survived, and you’re proud of how generous the ghoul’s become just for you.

“That’s some funny shit right there,” Cooper chuckles with that deep, sweet laugh of his. Your heart soars at the sound of it.

“It’s always so entertaining to see how they’ll react. This time was much cleaner than last,” you say with a relieved sigh, pulling Cooper into a warm hug. He immediately wraps his arms around you tightly as he kisses your forehead and smiles down at you. One of his rare genuine ones that gets your face all warm.

“I’d do anything for you, doll. I hate that you’ve gotta put up with so much bullshit just for walking with someone like me, but I can promise you that I’ll always give you a whole lot more than any of these other fuckers could ever dream up. Got it?” he asks as he pulls you even closer, resting his chin on top of your head.

With your face nuzzled against his neck, you nod your head and squeeze him back comfortingly. “Got it,” you promise with a genuine smile of your own.

John Hancock 1.4k words

a/n let’s pretend regular ‘ol jet would have the same effect on ghouls as it does humans for this one!

Hancock loves to see you dancing and freely enjoying yourself in his club, but he absolutely loathes to see how many watchers you attract with the striking way you sway your hips along to the music. You dance under the lights and that stunning jewelry you love shines so perfectly against your skin, it’s entrancing to any onlooker. Hancock wishes he was the only onlooker.

“Hancock, and of course his stunning plus one, are you guys joining us for a couple of rounds of drinks tonight?” Magnolia asks as she and her company, Emogene, wave you both over to their table only a few steps away.

Hancock’s unusually quiet tonight as he offers only cold glares and noncommittal laughter to anyone who tries to break the barrier he’s suddenly put up for the evening. You’ve attempted to figure out why, of course, but he won’t budge at all, just gesturing for you to keep enjoying yourself instead of worrying over him. So, you suppose that’s alright for now, everyone needs a little space sometimes, right?

“Of course, we’d love to! As long as you’re okay with it,” you say as you glance at Hancock who’s standing beside you with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, sure, do whatever you want. You know I’ll follow you anywhere, hun,” he rasps as he follows you to the table with the two other women.

The truth is, Hancock cannot control himself like this. Yeah, yeah, he could probably slow down with the chems to avoid it, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, he slides into the booth beside you and takes a long swig of his stiff drink, and taps his leg subconsciously as he tries to focus less on you and more on the conversation at hand.

“—It’s always a beautiful song if you’re singing it,” you say as you smile at Magnolia kindly, taking a small sip out of your own glass. The two of you are constantly flattering each other, it’s a sign of your strong and healthy friendship, you believe.

“Well, I could certainly say the same for you, hm? Your dancing is so spectacular each time, it’s a shame only the third rail gets to witness it,” she tuts as she sends a knowing glare in Hancock’s direction.

You laugh sweetly and thank her while you rest a hand on Hancock’s knee, hoping to calm him. You’ve never seen him so jittery on jet before, but you hadn’t noticed him take anything else.

Emogene nods easily, “I have to agree myself. Magnolia told me your dancing was good, but seeing it with my own eyes tonight was a complete surprise even so. You’re talented in that regard for sure,” she compliments, and then she snorts, gesturing to the room around you. “And, I mean, clearly you have plenty of admirers who feel the same way.”

…Okay, yeah, the alcohol didn’t help one bit, Hancock decides.

Before you can reply, Hancock abruptly sits up straighter and grabs your hand.

“You’ll have to excuse us for a moment, I forgot I needed to speak to my pretty girl here in private for just a sec,” he says as he begins pulling you along with him out of the booth.

“Oh dear, just be gentle, you silly ghoul,” Magnolia sighs as she lights a cigarette for herself and takes a long drag. Emogene looks at Hancock like he’s a crazy man, but she just sips on her drink and leaves the two of you be.

You’re shocked by how clumsily Hancock’s pulling you along with him, he’s seemingly pent up with so much energy that he’s not entirely thinking straight. But alas, you go along with him anyways. He said he needed to talk, right? You always have time for him.

He pulls you along until you reach the VIP room, and thankfully it’s empty at the moment. He shuts the door and then he’s immediately attaching himself to you.

“Ah, um, Hancock? What’s wrong?” you attempt to ask, but it’s hard to focus when he’s wrapping you up in his warm embrace, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

“I… I just need ‘ta feel you right now. Like, genuinely feel you in my arms,” he breathes as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Okay… are you alright? What’d you take?” you ask as you wrap your arms around him in return, letting him soak up all your body heat.

“Just some jet, but, I can’t stand the way those other people were watching you. I just get this insane urge to keep you all to myself, make ‘em all jealous because you picked me, not any of those shitty guys,” he growls as he pulls back just enough so he can give you a soft kiss on your lips. Your gleaming eyes staring into his has his heartbeat going wild. He loves you way too much to be good for him.

You smile at his words and pull him closer, kissing his left cheek, then right, then his nose, and lastly, his scarred lips that always manage to give you butterflies when they collide with yours. And just like always, he fits so perfectly against you, slipping his tongue further into your mouth until you’re moaning against his lips. His sly hands traveling further and further down until he grips your ass playfully, pulling you flush against him.

You squeak cutely which only makes him want to hear you more. He tilts your chin up with his gloved fingers so he has better access to your neck, and then he nibbles against your smooth skin, leaving traces of him over every spot he touches. After ensuring you’ve got three love bites too many, he nips at your earlobe playfully before pulling away, chuckling at your cute little noises as he does.

He breathes deeply as he completely backs away from you, absorbing how pretty you look with your lips swollen and face flushed.

“Alright, gotta stop myself there for now, sunshine. You’re just too tempting for me,” he says as chews on his lip subconsciously while running his eyes over your body. “If you don’t wanna leave our dear old friends hanging then we’d better get back out there soon,” he reminds.

You nod your head and follow him to the door. He leads the two of you back to the booth from before, where Magnolia and Emogene have patiently waited, both having finished a drink or two in the time you and Hancock were gone.

“Welcome back, lovebirds. I see you two had some fun,” Magnolia slyly smiles, bring her eyes from your face to your neck with a tantalizing laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I take full responsibility,” Hancock says as he raises his hands in surrender. “I hit too much jet before, and when she dances like that in slow motion, well, can’t blame a guy for getting a tad bit overzealous,” he grins with those bright and happy eyes, clearly proud of himself.

You shake your head at his antics but still lean your body closer to him, and he immediately wraps an arm around you, keeping you warm and safe right beside him.

“It does seem to have worked out in your favor though, I will say,” Magnolia smiles. “The eyes seem to have wandered back to where they came from,” she again gestures to the room around you, and you notice how the other men are very obviously trying their hardest not to give any inappropriate looks to the mayor’s girl. Against your better judgement, it leaves a fuzzy feeling in your chest.

“My savior,” you tease as you snuggle into Hancock’s side with a silly smile.

Emogene says something that catches Magnolia’s attention, and the two of them delve into a conversation. Hancock kisses your head and pulls you just a bit closer, until one of your legs rests above his own.

“Dance for me like that again, sunshine, and I might just have to get you all pretty on your knees for me. But don’t you worry, hun, I’ll go slow,” he whispers into your ear. You feel your face heat up instantly at his sudden words but he only chuckles in response, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek before he pulls away.

He calls over Whitechapel Charlie and asks for a round of shots for the table, and you graciously take the one he offers to you, hoping that maybe that will be able to calm your sudden longing for the enticing man beside you.

When Hancock catches your eye as he expertly downs his shot, a devious smile on his lips, you realize you’re already in too deep.