#lugs. logs……

[milolunde]

fucking stupid rabbits

[ad-ya]

i’ve always fantasized about walking in to visit a psychic and having them scramble away and exclaim “oh fucking christ!”

[rhysintherain]

Got up this morning, got dressed, washed my face, and then went to brush my teeth and put liquid soap on my toothbrush instead of toothpaste.

So that's where today's going, I guess.

[warm-mangoes-with-chai]

Me: oh yeah the day is over, I already fucked it up and I haven't even done any work-

City Girl:

Me: oh okay. My life isn't over, there's still time to start my tasks.

[coffeeshelves]

also im now reading the agony and the ecstasy by irving stone and ngl i didnt think i would be too interested at first bc i dont really. its a biography of michelangelo and i dont really care for biographies. or michelangelo

but im only like 20 pages into it (but probably 10k words in bc the print in this book is so small) and i reaaaaaaaaaaally like stone's prose. like i get why his books are so highly rated now.

mostly im pushing myself to read bc im doing storygraph's like. read everyday in january challenge. and dont get me wrong i like what i've read so far but oh my god. i feel a bit like i'm reading for highschool again

which isnt a bad thing!! i do think its good to read challenging stuff, esp because i feel like i want to push thru bc i know theres good stuff in here

anyway. this book will probably last me the rest of january. theres like 800 pages in my copy lmaooo

[appleuser29957000]

Pic from the shitmobile we trust ❤️

[siodium]

KOREA DAY 3: ARRIVAL IN SEOUL 🌧️

we had eggdrop for breakfast (kinda an early lunch too) at the airport while waiting for our flight. the scrambled egg was beautiful~

got kinda hungry after the flight so we bought some walnut-shaped cakes (hodu-gwaja) with red bean and custard fillings. they were so warm and tasty. oqo

also came across a store selling traditional korean rice cakes (tteok) at gongdeok station on our way to the hotel and i had to try some!! we got one that was like angkukueh with peanut filling and a pat-sirutteok (layered rice cake with red beans) that an elderly gentleman recommended. they were not bad. would've liked the angkukueh one more if the skin was thinner.

we were heading out to myeongdong to get me some new shoes bc mine were dying (very sad) when it suddenly started pOURING. so we hid in olive young for a bit until the rain subsisded before heading out again.

i got a pair of beige filas from abc mart!! would recommend shopping for sport shoes there bc the prices were very good. they even had doc martens for sale?? at half the price i bought them for in sg?? wuh

had kalguksu noodles and mandu for dinner at myeongdong kyoja!! the noodles were tasty and i ate the meats~

the only thing i could fit into my stomach afterwards was the famous custard cheese coin pancake aND it was so much better than the one i tried in sg??? the cheese pull was insane!! and there was so much filling!!

vERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE: there were hua cheng and xie lian digital posters at gongdeok station near the exit to our hotel aND?? for that alone i give our hotel (shilla stay mapo) a 69/10. ✨

[fanaticalthings]

Most children, once they've grown up and moved out, sometimes come back to visit their parents to use their house as a sort of personal grocery store

And with Bruce being a literal billionaire whose house is always stocked with food and supplies, the batkids (that aren't living in the manor) definitely visit just for the purpose of taking shit for themselves.

---

For Dick, it's just small things, food and maybe some utensils. Bruce is barely in the kitchen so he never notices dishes go missing, and there are like 10 other children in his house so literally any one of the younger kids could've stolen food in the middle of the night, so he doesn't bat an eye at all.

Babs probably steals Bruce's hardware or his tools from the batcave. Sometimes, if she's nice, she'll leave a note.

Steph probably takes shit that no one will notice at the time but will absolutely be annoyed about when they need said thing. Stapler, soap bars, the microwave plate, etc...(Taking after Jason, she steals the hub caps off the batmobile's tires)

However, for Jason, once his relationship with Bruce is somewhat decent, of course he's gonna be petty and start stealing the more expensive shit in the manor for his apartment. Jason's microwave is broken? The next day, the cave's self-made and enhanced microwave made by Bruce for convenience is just gone.

Jason's feeling a coffee maker for his place? The one in Bruce's study disappears, too.

---

At first, Bruce thinks he's just sleep deprived, but then much bigger things start to go missing, like the whole TV and couch set in the living room. He assumes the younger kids are just playing pranks on him (sounds like something Stephanie would do) but then Bruce notices that the thief deliberately avoids stealing things from the kitchen, which is where Alfred is most of the time, and suddenly Bruce has an irritated clue on who the culprit is.

At first, he doesn't say anything, until one day he comes back, tired from a patrol, and is about to log in all the info on the computer only to realize his batchair is gone. That's when he texts Jason a blunt "If you really need things for your place, you can just ask me. I'll buy them for you." (As if Jason himself isn't loaded from his totally legal activities)

---

So now Jason's pettiness levels increase tenfold, and oh, wouldn't you look at it, his bike needs some new tires, and he knows a great place to get some more.

One night, Bruce is just blearily getting up for a late night snack, only to see Damian scamper away with a...lamp? So Bruce immediately follows him into the foyer only to see ALL of his kids (sans the ones not living in the manor), trying to haul two arm chairs out the window, and they just stop dead silent to stare at him until someone whispers a nervous "Crap"

Bruce doesn't even have any energy to fight, he just pinches his nose and is all "What is the meaning of this" in his tired dad voice. And Duke meekly responds with "we wanted more chairs at Jason's place"

And suddenly it all makes sense. Not once did Bruce wonder how the HELL Jason managed to lug a whole 60in TV and a full couch set on his own in one night. Of course, he had accomplices. Bruce just turns right around and goes right the hell back to his room to sleep. He'll deal with this in the morning.

[ratstuckinamarble]

The shitty lungs curse is spreading to my mutuals... run everyone (if your lungs will let you)

they never tell you abt The Skeleton's Curse (bone pain)

[foone]

I'm surprised there's not more supernatural spaceship media. Like, your average little cargo ship is jumping around the outer rim trying to cut some time off their delivery route and they pick up a distress call, so they have to answer it.

(under a readmore cause this got a little longer than I expected)

They warp in to the approximate coordinates and there's a colony ship orbiting a gas giant, stuck in the shadow of it, basically frozen over. It's centuries old, but these sleeper ships from the pre-ftl era were built to last, so it's still broadcasting the SOS. It's not responding to radio, so they need to board it.

Normally this'd just involve turning off the SOS. The ship is clearly dead and not responding to any hails, the crew must be long gone and the reactor is just keeping the SOS going. But this is a sleeper ship, so it's possible there's just no one awake. Stuck in longsleep for god knows how many decades, waiting for someone to stumble on their signal...

So they board it, activate the computer, and it tells them that everyone is dead. The ship launched, and over the 358 years it's been traveling for, every single cryo chamber has been either opened or never had any lifesigns in it in the first place. The last event logged on the computer is 136 years ago, when the acting captain set the ship to orbit this gas giant, and turn on the distress signal. Since then, nothing.

But there's still power on the bridge. There may be something there. So they climb up the decks, passing the grim sight of endless rows of cryochambers lined up like tombstones, all showing red lights of lifesign failure. As they get closer to the bridge, the time of deaths get later. The ones on the first deck were close to the launch date, and the ones near the bridge are nearer to that 136 year ago deadline.

This wasn't a hardware failure. Something killed all these people, one by one, over 220 years.

They get to the bridge. The computers are all powered down, but the power management system is still active. Two of the decks still have their cryochambers powered, but it's the ones that were supposed to be empty. There's no lifesigns in them, so the little computer in the power diagnostic system has been recommending they be turned off to save on energy. Naturally it's been recommending that for three and a half centuries. One of the crew members almost absent-mindedly agrees to the prompt, and those cryochambers deactivate. They were empty anyway, right? The sound of humming from the bridge mostly fades away, as a few hundred cryopods on the deck below power down.

The boarding crew powers off the SOS beacon. They'll alert the authorities to the ship's location when they get to a port, surely someone wants to investigate what went wrong here, or at least do an archeological study. This place is beyond an antique at this point... Wait. What's that?

The power computer says there's still one active power draw, about 1.2 kilowatts, in the captain's quarters. That's too much for a personal computer, but just about right for a single cryo pod. Maybe the captain or someone is still alive? That pod isn't on the network, so they can't see the lifesigns from here.

They head over, and the bulkhead door is still cracked open, with a thick cable running in through the gap in the door. Whoever wired this up clearly didn't have time to correctly reroute the power systems, they just lugged a cryo pod in here and basically ran an extension cord to a nearby terminal.

They pry open the door, and there's a softly glowing cryo pod in the middle of the surprisingly spacious room. It makes some amount of sense, generally on these ships the captain would be the one who has to wake up and deal with any situations that arise, while the rest of the colonists are content to sleep until they reach their new home.

They look in the pod, and there's a man lying there. He's not the captain, though. They saw his photo on the bridge. This is someone else. Some one quite pale and gaunt. Maybe they were suffering malnutrition before they put themselves in the pod?

The pod is softly beeping. It's reactivating, apparently triggered when they opened the door. The pod shows no lifesigns, so it's not worth worrying about, the panel sliding over to reveal merely a well preserved corpse.

And then he smiles. "I'm so glad to see you! When we ran out of food we we're afraid we'd never see another human again. And even through those environment suits, I can tell you're so deliciously human." he licks his lips, and the boarding crew spots his prominent canines.

There's a noise halfway between a howl and a shriek from the floor below. The man in the cryopod leans up his head. "ahh, I see you've woken up my children as well. Marvelous. I hope you brought plenty of friends for us to snack on."

The head of the boarding party lifts her arm to call their ship, tell them to get out of there or drop a torpedo into the colony ship's reactor. Before she can bring it to her face to call, there's a flash of motion. Before she can even realize what's happening, the man(?) in the cryopod is up and holding her wrist away from her face.

As she cries out at the sudden pain, the other members of the boarding party spot movement down the hall. A lot of movement. A wall of thin pale people are running towards the captain's quarters, climbing over each other and pushing each other aside, like a pack of wild wolves who just smelled prey.

The boarding party steps back into the room and slams the emergency close. At least in here they only have to deal with one of those things.

The door hits the cable and bounces off with a loud alarm. It fully opens again, ready to let the hungry mass in.

So... Have you ever noticed how much a cryopod looks like a coffin?

[surielstea]

Teeth Marks

Kinktober day 6: Biting + Tender

Pairing: Rowan Whitethorn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rowan canonically has a biting kink and I think about it once a week so, I thought I might share with the class 🫶

Warnings: Smut | Minors dni | 18+ | biting kink | oral (f receiving) | p in v | territorial fae bastard | brief fingering | praise | Rowan’s feral for her

Dawn had yet to break over the horizon but I've been awake for at least an hour. I had spent that time silently laying in bed, listening to the sound of Rowan's soft heartbeat, steady and slow beneath my ear, a rhythm I had grown fond of and had slowly become the most comforting sound I had ever heard.

Once my stomach got the best of me—and was grumbling so loud I honestly thought it might wake the silver-haired fae beside me, I slipped from the bed, tip-toeing as I got dressed and despite my mates heightened senses, he didn't stir as I left our bedroom.

I padded into the dimly lit kitchen and fixed myself a simple meal as quietly as I could, making a plate of leftovers from dinner, not bothering to heat them up due to the fact that the smell and clattering of utensils would most likely wake Rowan.

He wasn't a light sleeper by any means, the male slept like a damned log, and I was certain he could pass out anywhere, but, to his core, he was a worrier.

And when I wasn't beside him, he was as anxious as a mother hen. Which meant a rough sleep.

I hadn't known what prompted me to wake up earlier than usual, and I'd most likely be in eager need of a nap in a few hours, but once I was awake, there was no returning to sleep.

So I sighed, stuffing a cold potato into my mouth, quietly eating as I stretched my limbs out, sore from sleep and training yesterday.

A warm breeze twirled around me and I knew it wasn't the wind blowing in from the windows that kissed my face.

I wasn't surprised when a pair of large, muscled arms lazily wrapped around my torso, pulling me back into a bare chest.

"It's too early," Rowan murmured, his voice groggy as he spoke into my hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I lift a hand up, running it through his trimmed, silver locks.

"Then come back to bed," He grumbles and I smile, leaning into his warm and toned chest.

"You used to train from dawn to nightfall right outside my window, where'd that Rowan go?" I tease, raising a brow despite the fact that he couldn't see it, rolling another potato over with my fork.

"Mm, he died from a heart attack when a pretty girl dragged him into her rooms when he was supposed to be training," He explained and I smiled at the memory, still raking my hand through his hair.

"I miss your long hair," I changed the subject and he groaned, stuffing his nose into the crook of my neck.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm growing it out, just for you?" He huffs and I beam brightly. "I still can't believe you cut it without asking me," I sighed in disbelief as if that day was such a tragedy.

"My gods woman," He hoisted me up into his arms and I squealed. "And I still can't believe you left our bed without asking me," He retorted and I giggled.

"Those are two very different things," I argue while he carries me back to our bedroom, leaving my cold food on the counter, deserted.

He threw me down onto our bed and crawled in beside me. I gripped him by the tops of his shoulders, lugging him upward so he was laying atop me, and he would have been crushing me if his hips weren't positioned between my legs, his head stuffed in the junction of my shoulder and neck.

"I missed you," He sighs and I roll my eyes.

"For the ten minutes I wasn't in bed?" I scoffed and he growled softly, nipping at my collarbone. "Ow!" I yelp, shoving him away but he only looks at me with a feral grin and an amused look in his eyes.

"I love doing that," He hums and I deadpan at him.

"What? Inflicting pain onto your mate?" I suggest and he frowns.

"No, biting you," He explained and I gave him an incredulous look, as if they were not one and the same.

"You have a biting kink," I reiterate and he brushes me off.

"I do not." He huffs while stuffing his head back into my shoulder.

He danced his lips along my collarbone, kissing softly until he found the small expanse of skin that made me tense.

I felt him grin at his realization. His elongated canines brushed over the area just below my pulse point. He ran his nose up the area, entirely drunk on the scent and feel of me beneath him.

He kissed the spot, soft, gentle, something he did every time before marking me. "Rowan," I warn in a stern voice.

"Hm?" He inquires, all too innocently.

"If you leave a mark I'm going to kill you," I warn.

"Is that right, love?" He drawls against the column of my throat and my stomach twists in both arousal and anxiety.

"Yes. We have a meeting with the lords of Doranelle today and I'd prefer it if they didn't know how much you love to claim your territory," I reason but he remains at the area on my neck, taunting the flesh.

"But the looks on their faces," He drawls. "They'll know you're all mine," He grins at the idea and I roll my eyes.

"They already do, remember? When we had a wedding and all of Wendlyn was invited?" I reason but he simply shakes his head.

"Not just Wendlyn, everyone, I want everyone to know," He goes on and I release a long sigh, his grin broadening because he knows he's won.

"Okay, but only if you admit you have a biting kink," I bargain and he chuckles, but he doesn't say it rather than shows it.

His sharp canines brush over my neck, then slowly sink into my porcelain skin, the feeling sending shockwaves of both pain and pleasure throughout my entire body. I melted into his touch as he groaned softly the moment my blood hit his tongue. He bit harder, making sure a mark was left while he pressed his hips into mine, his hard cock straining against his pants but through my thin nightgown there was practically nothing between us.

Rowan's tongue glided over the wound, savoring the taste of my blood as the wound closed. His lips pressed against my neck in a silent apology, though there was no need for one. The bite sent shivers through my body, the sharp sensation of pain melting into the pleasure that followed in its wake. I threaded my fingers through his silver hair, holding him close, feeling the heat of his body radiated through my thin gown.

"You've made your point," I said softly, my voice still teasing, though breathless from the intensity of his bite. "Everyone will know I'm yours."

Rowan's chuckle was low, vibrating against my skin. He lifted his head, meeting my gaze with eyes that were both playful and full of desire. "I'm not quite done proving it," he murmured.

Before I could respond, Rowan shifted, his hands sliding down my body in a way that had my pulse quickening all over again. His fingers trailed over my hips, tugging my gown up higher, exposing more of my skin to the cool morning air. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing soft kisses to my collarbone, down my sternum, until he reached the delicate curve of my waist.

His mouth was warm, his breath hot against my skin as he continued to descend, leaving a trail of kisses that made me arch into his touch. His lips lingered at the edge of my inner thigh, just before he bit down—not hard, not yet—just enough to tease me, to make my breath hitch.

"Rowan," I breathed, my hand tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to let him know how desperate I was becoming.

He lifted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he met my gaze, pine-green eyes full of lust and devotion. "Tell me what you want, love."

My voice trembled, but the words came easily. "Touch me."

His grin widened, but he didn't rush. Instead, his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my thigh again, his teeth grazing lightly before he sank them in just enough to leave a mark, making me gasp. The combination of his bites and his soft kisses left my skin tingling with anticipation.

Rowan's hands moved to my thighs, parting them gently as he positioned himself between my legs. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along my skin, a deliberate contrast to the sharp bites he'd left behind. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. His lips descended again, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh, so close to where I ached for him, yet not quite enough.

I let out a soft whimper, and he hummed against my skin, clearly pleased with my reaction. He kissed me there once more, softer this time, before his tongue finally darted out, teasing me, tasting me. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure crashing over me, and I moaned, my back arching off the bed.

Rowan's grip tightened on my thighs as he held me steady, his tongue moving with agonizing precision. His lips, his teeth—everything about him was calculated to drive me wild, to bring me to the edge and hold me there. He alternated between soft kisses and firm, lingering licks, his teeth occasionally nipping the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, leaving marks that would remind me of this moment long after.

My hands fisted the sheets, my breath ragged as I tried to keep control, even if I wanted nothing more than that sweet release. Rowan's pace didn't relent. If anything, the pressure of his mouth increased, his bites becoming bolder, leaving me trembling beneath him.

The tension in my body built, winding tighter and tighter until I was nearly coming undone. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he withdrew, his lips brushing over my skin once more, this time moving up my body again.

His eyes were dark with desire as he hovered over me, his lips glistening from tasting me. He kissed me then, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. "You're mine," he murmured against my lips, the possessiveness in his voice making my pulse race again.

"And you're mine," I teased, though my voice was barely a whisper now.

Rowan grinned, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. "All yours," he rasped before capturing my lips again, the kiss full of a promise—one that said he wasn't done with me yet.

His kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my toes curl. The heat between my legs only intensified, my entire body buzzing with need as he pressed himself against me, his hard length unmistakable even through the fabric of his pants. I arched into him, desperate for the friction, desperate for him.

His hands moved with a confidence that only came from knowing me intimately, sliding down my body and pushing my gown further up until he pulled it over my head and discarded it onto the floor. I shivered as his fingers skimmed over the bare skin of my waist, his touch both tender and possessive. He shifted his weight, his hands making quick work of his pants, and I felt him—hot, hard, and ready—pressing against me.

Rowan paused for a moment, his eyes dark as they locked onto mine. "You sure baby?" he murmured, his voice low and thick with need, though there was a tenderness there, too. He always made sure, always wanted me to be in control, even in moments like these.

My response was immediate, my voice breathless as I nodded. "Yes, Rowan. Please."

That was all he needed.

His hand slid between my legs, his fingers finding my slick heat and teasing me with gentle strokes, preparing me for him. I gasped at the contact, my body arching into his touch, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

Rowan grinned, clearly enjoying how desperate I was for him, but he didn't make me wait much longer. He lined himself up with my entrance, his gaze never leaving mine as he slowly pushed into me, stretching me in a way that was both delicious and overwhelming.

I felt him everywhere, I needed him everywhere. It was indescribable the pleasure I was enduring, how he knew exactly how to make me feel good, exactly how much I could take— then pushing me past that mark.

I never got used to the size of him, even after decades of being his mate— he had me satisfied halfway in. “Ro—” I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as I arch off the bed.

“I know baby, almost there.” He leans down and presses a tender kiss to my lips, his arms on either side of my head. “You’re doing so well,” He praises, pulling out and then thrusting in once more, his hips finally meeting mine.

I gasped, my nails now dragging down his muscled back as he filled me completely, his body flush against mine. For a moment, neither of us moved, savoring the feeling of being so intimately connected. His forehead pressed against mine, and his breath came out in a ragged exhale.

"Gods," he groaned softly, his voice a low rumble against my skin. "You feel, so perfect."

My response was a guttural moan, the pleasure of having him inside me stealing my words. Slowly, he began to move, pulling back just enough before pushing back into me, his pace measured, and deliberate. He wanted to make this last, wanted to draw out every bit of pleasure he could give me.

The friction built steadily, a delicious tension coiling in my core as Rowan's hips moved against mine, slow but powerful. He kissed me again, his lips moving languidly over mine, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts, teasing and tasting me.

Every time he filled me, a wave of pleasure rippled through me, my body tightening around him as the tension built higher and higher. His name fell from my lips in a breathless whisper, and I felt him shudder against me, his control slipping as he gave in to the primal need to claim me.

Rowan's thrusts quickened, his hands gripping my hips to pull me closer, deeper. The sound of skin against skin, of his low, rumbling groans, filled the room, mingling with my own moans. He leaned down, his mouth returning to my neck, and before I could protest, his sharp teeth sank into my skin once more, right where my pulse thrummed wildly.

The bite sent a sharp jolt of pleasure and pain through my body, and my inner walls clenched around him as my climax rushed toward me. I cried out, my body arching off the bed as the intense waves of pleasure crashed over me, my release shuddering through every nerve.

Rowan groaned into my neck as my body tightened around him, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He thrust into me one final time, his body tensing as he spilled into me, his grip on my hips tightening as he rode out the last of his pleasure.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy panting of our breaths, the two of us tangled together in a haze of post-orgasm bliss. Rowan's weight settled over me, his head dropping to rest against my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.

I sighed contentedly, my hand threading through his hair once more. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you," I murmured with a lazy smile.

Rowan chuckled softly, his lips brushing over the bite mark on my neck in a tender kiss. "Because you love me," he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction. "And because I'm great at making all my mistakes up to you."

I rolled my eyes, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Making it up to me? You mean making me mad then charming you way out of it?"

Rowan grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nuzzled into my neck. "It's called balance, love." He says against my heated skin.

I roll my eyes, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him impossibly closer as I mutter, "You're ridiculous."

He stayed pressed against me for a few more moments, his breath still coming out in slow, deep pants. He placed a soft kiss on the bite mark he'd left on my neck, then slowly pulled out of me, the sensation making us both shiver. As much as I wanted to stay tangled up in each other, I knew the meeting was looming.

"I've ruined our schedule, haven't I?" Rowan's voice was low, though I could hear the lazy smile in his tone.

I gave a soft laugh, shifting beneath him. "A little. But I suppose I can forgive you this once."

Rowan chuckled, rolling off of me and onto his side. His arm draped over my waist as he reached up, brushing a lock of hair from my face, his thumb gently grazing my cheek. "You're too kind," he teased, his pine-green eyes warm with affection.

"Only because I'm still basking in the afterglow," I shot back with a smirk, earning another low laugh from him.

But Rowan wasn't one to linger too long in the haze of pleasure, especially when it came to taking care of me afterward. His touch was immediately gentle and purposeful, slipping out of bed to grab a cloth from the basin near the window. I watched him move with that easy grace he always had, even half-dressed and tousled from bed. He dipped the cloth in the water, wringing it out before returning to my side.

"Stay still, love," Rowan murmured as he knelt beside me on the bed. His hands were warm and gentle as he ran a damp cloth between my legs, cleaning me with the same tender care he always did after moments like this.

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the pillow, the coolness of the cloth soothing the lingering heat in my skin. "You're too good at this," I mused, my voice soft with a mixture of contentment and exhaustion.

He smiled, his eyes glinting with humor. "I've had plenty of practice."

"You say that like I'm high maintenance," I teased, though I couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped me as he finished cleaning me up.

He raised a brow, wiping his hands before setting the cloth aside. "You? Never," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, though the way he looked at me—like I was the most precious thing in the world—softened the words. He pulled the blankets back over me, making sure I was comfortable before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my temple.

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to poke him in the chest. "I don't remember you complaining last night."

Rowan grinned, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I'm not complaining now, either."

With a satisfied smile, he moved to retrieve my clothes. He picked out the gown I had set aside for the meeting, holding it up with an appraising look. "This one will show off all your marks perfectly I think."

I laughed, sitting up in bed, feeling pleasantly sore. "Well, I wasn't planning on needing armor for the meeting, but after this morning's antics, maybe I should rethink that."

Rowan tossed the gown to me with a smirk. "I told you, love. I'm making sure everyone knows you're mine."

I caught the gown and shook my head in mock exasperation. "You are impossible."

"And yet, you married me," he said with a wink, starting to dress himself, pulling on his pants and shirt with practiced ease.

I stood, slipping into my undergarments before working my way into the gown. The fabric was soft against my skin, and Rowan moved to my side, his fingers deftly helping fasten the back without me needing to say a word.

As his hands worked, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You know, I could help you out of this dress far faster than you got into it," he murmured against my hair, his tone teasing but affectionate.

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, though the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "I swear your mind stays in one place and one place only."

Once the gown was fastened, Rowan turned me around, his fingers brushing over the bite mark on my neck, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. "I really outdid myself with this one." He admires the mark like an art piece.

I snorted, smoothing down the front of my dress as I met his gaze in the mirror. "If you leave any more marks like this, the lords are going to think you're trying to start some sort of territorial war."

His expression turned mock-serious. "I mean, can you blame me? You're worth fighting for."

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the nth time, though the flush in my cheeks betrayed how much his words affected me. "Just behave yourself during the meeting."

Rowan's grin was utterly unrepentant as he reached for his sword, fastening it at his waist. "I always behave, love."

I raised a brow at him. "Uh-huh. And how many times have we been late to meetings because of your 'good behavior'?"

His gaze darkened with amusement. "If you keep talking like that, we might be late again today."

I gave him a playful shove toward the door. "Out. I need to make sure I don't look like I've been ravaged by my mate all morning."

He chuckled, stepping aside but not before leaning in to steal another kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine. "You look perfect," he murmured as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on me with a warmth that made my heart flutter.

I gave him a small, exasperated shake of my head, though my heart skipped a beat at his words. "Flattery won't save you if we're late."

Rowan's grin only widened as he opened the door, slipping out of it— then peaking his head back in to say, "I'll take my chances." With a snarky grin.

Gods, help me, this male was hopeless.

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[buckypinetrees]

Warm Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: After Bucky warms your bed and leaves you wanting more, Reader decides it's time for a little payback. Continuation of Warm

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial

A/N: Thank you all for all of the love you showed towards part one. I truly was not expecting it to blow up the way it did and with so many people asking for a part two I knew I had to continue the story.

You were screwed. Absolutely screwed. Bucky had made you see stars last night and disappeared before you could return the favor. If you got out of this bed, his cocky smirk would be waiting for you, to gloat about how fast you were willing to give in to him. And if you didn’t get out of bed, you would be stuck in the same position you were in yesterday cold and hungry. So, you rose from the bed, fighting the urge to hide from him forever, and made your way to the kitchen.

Bucky’s smug grin was present as you entered the kitchenette. The smell of food wafting towards your nose and your stomach growled. Placing a hand atop it, you tried to silence the noise.

“Hungry?” He asked knowing full well you were. 

“What’s the catch, Barnes?” you questioned, eyeing him.

“No, catch. You just haven’t eaten, and I know you won’t make it five minutes out there fending for yourself” he smirked back at you.

Defeated you grabbed a plate from him. He had won every spat you two had since you arrived. You acted like a toddler, and you couldn’t take care of yourself. You hadn’t gotten any firewood and you were so cold you allowed him into your bed. And now you were eating the food he had managed to find. But you were done with that. Last night was a lapse of judgment. Today you would be stronger. You had to be. 

“How does it taste, doll?” Bucky seemed genuine as he gazed down at you. 

“It tastes all right,” you said back not daring to give him the satisfaction of knowing it was delicious. 

“You’re a bad liar” he shrugged at you and continued. “I’m not hungry after my feast last night so eat up little dove.” His voice dripped with sensuality as he shot you a wink. Your face immediately flushed as you mumbled some excuse about wanting to get started with your day. You pushed your way out of the cabin and made your way to the tool shed. You had two goals today. One, get firewood, and two, get some food. You found a worn ax and a shoddy fishing pole, but it would have to do.

You began to trek into the woods, careful this time to mark where you had been so you wouldn’t get lost. Another embarrassment on your part yesterday was having to follow Bucky back to the cabin after you got lost. That little outburst shouldn’t have happened if you were truly an Avenger. In the heat of battle, you would’ve been dead if you had lost your judgment like that. You had to do better.

Finding good firewood took longer than you expected. Searching for a dry enough tree in this snowy area was hard. But finally, you found a clearing of younger trees. Your muscles screamed as you brought the ax to the trunk. But repeatedly you swung, letting your anger and hatred toward Bucky take over. When you were done you had enough wood to last you a few days so you wouldn’t have to return for a while. But the task wasn’t done. You had to lug the wood back to the cabin. With as much as you cut, it would take at least two trips. You didn’t want to leave the ax either so maybe three trips then. Whistling sounded from the path you came from. 

“Hey there, little dove. Need some help?” Bucky’s voice rang out from behind you.

“I don’t need your help” You began to pick up the logs you could manage while also carrying the ax. 

“Really? You don’t need my help?” he scoffs, “You didn’t seem to mind my help last night.” He steps forward grabbing the ax out of your hand. His words have you curling your toes as you remember exactly what that pretty mouth did last night. 

Deciding not to grace him with a response, you simply picked up what you could and began making your way back. Bucky continued to hum as you walked back to the cabin, carrying whatever you couldn’t. The sun was already starting to set by the time you made it back. You would not have time to go look for food. Once again having to rely on Bucky for sustenance. 

You dropped the firewood off and turned to Bucky, but a response had already started to form on his lips. 

“Don’t worry, little dove. I know you were out working hard so I made sure to get enough food for the both of us. You know this would be much easier if you decided to work with me?”

“Thank you,” was the only response you could muster. Today you would accept his help but tomorrow with all the other necessities taken care of you would be fine. 

Bucky seemed pleased by this response and made his way to the kitchen to start cooking. You had to admit, Bucky was a damn good cook. He made the stuff he caught and trapped out here actually taste good. 

“Oh, by the way, doll,” Bucky said to you over his shoulder while he cooked, “I get the bed tonight.” You could not believe your ears. There was no way in hell you were giving up the bed. 

“No, you can sleep on the couch again,” you said angrily. 

“You didn’t let me finish. You can sleep in the bed too, but I am not sleeping on that damn couch again” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

Despite your protests, it seemed like Bucky’s mind was made up, so you attempted to outwit him. After dinner you let him shower, quickly rushing to the bed. You would attempt to already be asleep so he would feel bad and have no choice but to sleep on the couch. 

Despite this after about an hour you heard the door to the bedroom squeak open. The side of the bed furthest from you dipped from the weight of Bucky sitting down. Your mind raced. He really had no care for what you had wanted, and sure maybe it was a bitch move on your part but here he was cuddling up next to you. It took everything in you to continue pretending you were asleep. Eventually, you heard his breath even out as he fell asleep next to you. 

Your sleep never seemed to come. You stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity as you tried to sleep next to the man who frustrated you to your core. Giving up now, however, would only make you seem weak in his presence. You tried to close your eyes one last time, as you heard a whimper fall past Bucky's lips. There must have been a mistake because when you listened closely, you heard your name slip past his lips. Not the nicknames he had deigned to call you. No, your own pure unadulterated name. 

You had come up with a new idea as you felt his hips lift off the bed in his sleep. Maybe a little payback for what he did to you yesterday was in order. Your hand traveled the length of his unclothed torso. Rubbing small circles against his nipples as he let out groans in his sleep. Your other hand traveled down to his waistband, playing with the fabric it found there. For a second you hesitated. Perhaps this wasn’t truly okay. He couldn’t consent like this. You pulled your hand back away from him but as you did his metal one grasped your wrist. 

With glossy eyes, Bucky simply said “Please little dove. Need you.” 

You shushed him. “Let me take care of you Sergeant.” Ulterior motives playing in your mind. 

You rose to kneel beside him. You trailed your mouth over each unclothed inch of his body until your lips met his waistband. Taking the fabric into your mouth you pulled it into your teeth before snapping it against his skin earning a groan from him. Your hand moved to palm his length as you continued your ministrations of leaving wet kisses against his chest. 

“Please doll,” he begged underneath you. 

You wanted him truly worked up for what you were about to do to him. You slowly moved his underwear down freeing his cock. His length bounced up to hit his chest as he sucked in a breath from the cold air. The tip already glistening with precum, but you avoided the area he wanted you most. Moving to leave kisses on his thick thighs. Little moans and whimpers fell out of his mouth. Your tongue darted out to soothe the red skin where you left bite marks. Eventually, you made your way up to his balls, licking at the seam between them. He bucked his hips up towards your mouth wanting more. 

“Remember what you told me last night Bucky? That I needed to learn patience? It seems like you were projecting.” Having the soldier become a moaning mess beneath you was only driving your ego. His moans and the way his hands dug into the sheets made your underwear into a puddle. But you had a plan, you couldn’t lose sight of it. 

Taking one of his balls into his mouth you began to rub his cock with the heel of your hand. His hips jutted against you as his mouth hung open. Once he was properly worked up you kissed your way up his length. Your tongue darting out to lick the angry red tip.

“God, Y-yes,” Bucky moaned.

“God can’t hear you now,” you say as you finally take his length into your mouth. Your tongue brushed over the veins that protrude from his cock. His hand metal hand clutching the sheets and his flesh one comes to brush your cheek. His eyes meet yours as he shows gentleness at this moment. You flush for the first time all night from his show of kindness even though you’ve been far more physically intimate with him. Bucky does not try to force you further down, simply enjoying the pleasure you are willing to give him at your own pace. You take as much of him into your mouth as you can manage, your throat closing around him in a gag making his thighs tighten up. Your hand moved back up to cup his balls. He threw his head back at your actions. 

“Little dove, I- I’m so close.” Bucky chokes out in between broken moans. 

You feel his balls tighten in your grip and you abruptly pull off him. His eyes open instantly going wide at his denied orgasm. You remove yourself from the bed smirking back at him. 

“Goodnight Bucky,” You step off the bed and make your way to the couch, silently celebrating your triumph. 

Tags: @unaxv

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 001: If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader | ✰ wc: 2.1k | ✰ cw: profanity, sexual themes |✰ plot: after receiving your midterm report, your parents threaten to pull you off the cheer squad if you don't pull your grades up. so, you take the advice of your best friend to seek help. [Series Masterlist]

“If I don’t see those grades going up soon, you’re done with cheerleading,” your dad spat at the dinner table.

“But my team needs me,” you whined. “I can’t leave in the middle of cheer season.”

“Do I look like I care about any of that?” He sneered. “This is an all-A’s family. And your grades are embarrassing,” he continued as he pulled out your midterm report. “Not a single A. And the worst part is that you’re failing math.”

“But that professor is a complete jerk.”

“I hardly ever see you studying. You go to class, come home, play your phone, and goof off with your friends. This university is very expensive and I will not continue funding your education if you’re gonna perform like this. School is about more than cheer.”

“But—”

“No buts. I don’t want to hear another word. Fix it or you’re done,” he said cutting into his steak.

“Listen to your father, honey. It’s very important that you maintain a good academic standing so you can get into a nice law school. Both your father and I graduated with a very high GPA—”

“3.75 and higher,” your father budded in.

“Exactly, so if you need a tutor—”

“I’m not stupid. I can do it by myself,” you mumbled. Even though you desperately wanted the help you knew this was a trap. Your father would not be happy if you were willing to give up that quickly.

“Ok,” your mother nodded. “But remember if you need the help it’s available for you.”

Being honest with yourself, you didn't want to go to law school and be a lawyer anyways. But you knew that your parents weren't going to let you graduate with a career as a cheerleader. They wanted you to have a real profession and since you couldn't pick fast enough, your father chose for you.

A job that was perfect for a sophisticated young woman and possibly a way for you to meet a good husband, or at least that's what your parents were telling you.

You finished dinner and went to bed. But not without logging onto your computer and checking your grades for each course.

• Politics — 79.47% • English — 82.97% • Math — 68.12% • Geography — 75.83%

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to bring these grades up in time," you groaned as you closed your laptop and collapsed into your pillow.

"Is it just me or do you feel like cheerleaders are basically strippers in training," Chanyoung said as he opened his locker.

"Nah, they definitely are. Just think about it. They flip around and shake their asses in skirts so short that a small breeze will be enough to expose everything underneath," Dongmin replied as he leaned against the locker beside Chanyoung. "I'm not complaining, I'm just saying," he mumbled.

"No, you're right. And from what I can see is that the majority of them are brainless bimbos who've most likely sucked their way through school," Chanyoung said pulling out a few tablets to shove into his backpack.

"I bet you'd love to have some brainless bimbo suck you off," Dongmin chuckled. "You can't even lie and say that you wouldn't take the chance if it was given to you."

"I mean..."

"Exactly. I'm not calling you a hypocrite or anything, I just want you to be real with yourself," Dongmin said as Chanyoung zipped up his backpack, lugging it on his back. "Hell, I wouldn't even pass up an offer like that," he added, slightly bumping Chanyoung's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Chanyoung shrugged.

"Anyways, I gotta go. I'll catch ya later tonight at the game, alright? Our usual spot," Dongmin nodded before walking off, leaving Chanyoung behind.

"Alright, see ya," he waved gently before walking down the hall.

Chanyoung wasn't entirely wrong, you knew a couple girls on the squad who did a few "extra credit assignments." After hearing about your situation one of the girls even offered to hook you up with the guy that helped her.

"Honestly, it sounds worse than it really is," Abigail said, her blonde hair falling in her face as she tied her shoelaces. "Having some pervy nerd pull up your grades is easy. Trust me, my grades were even worse than yours. And now I have a 3.5 GPA and nothing lower than a B on my transcript," she smiled before standing up to walk over to the mirror, adjusting her uniform.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be weird if we use the same guy?" You asked.

"Hmm, I mean...I don't think so. Xoey and I had a threesome with him and he loved it. We also got a perfect 100 on our group presentation without editing a single slide," she beamed.

You bit your lower lip, considering the tempting option that had been placed before you.

"Look, if you don't want to get help from Jake, then you can find your own unsuspecting nerd who's willing to help you out in exchange for some action," she smirked, clipping a bow in her hair.

"Guys! What the hell are you still doing in here?" your brown-skinned cheermate, Nova, spat while waving her pom-poms around as she spoke. "You need to get on the field right now! Coach is already pissed," she said, her curly hair bouncing as she jogged away.

"Coming!" Abigail shouted. "We'll talk about this after the game okay," she said, shaking your shoulder before the two of you ran out together.

You met the sharp green eyes of Coach Sam, who looked about as pissed off as you expected her to be. "If you hadn't noticed by the raging crowd behind these doors, we have a big game tonight ladies! Remember your timing! Watch your step! And please, for the love of god, don't fuck this up!" she shouted before placing her black cap on, covering her shaggy dark brown hair.

She blew the whistle, signaling you all to do your signature walk out onto the field to open the game. You just tried your best to focus as you did the first cheer of the game. After you finished, you and the rest of your squad sat down on the benches.

"Abigail. ____," Coach Sam said tapping your shoulders.

"Yes, Coach?"

"If either of you pull some shit like that again you'll be running laps from sun-up to sun-down. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach," you answered in unison.

This game was important for three reasons.

1. If your university won, that meant you were going out of state for the next game.

2. There were cheer scouters watching tonight and the possibility of being picked increased with your performance.

3. This could be one of your last games if you can't figure out what to do about your grades.

"There's no A in cheer," your father's words echoed in your head.

"But there is in cheat," you thought to yourself.

As much as you didn't want to, you took Abigail's advice and scoped the bleachers for the perfect target. Dorky, lonely, and horny...but most importantly, smart.

Chanyoung and Dongmin sat at the very top row of the second tier, in the seats farthest to the left. You set your eyes on the dark-haired boy and his friend.

Curious to know who they were, you whispered to your cheermate Janice, asking if she recognized him. She knew almost everybody, especially since her dad was the dean of the university.

So it was no surprise that she was also head cheerleader and you were sure she had already secured a spot on a professional football team after college. That’s just how her family operated. Paying their way through life.

“Oh, that’s Lee Chanyoung and Han Dongmin, they're both a part of the university's orchestra. You'll usually see them hanging out together. Literally, like all the time."

Introducing New Target: Lee Chanyoung. Age 20. Perfectly talented brainbot. Not only was he in a highly desired honors society, but he was also a part of the college's orchestra.

You nearly smacked yourself in the face as you thought back to the first week of uni and how you were forced to attend the opening recital with your parents. "Classical music is a good way to lighten your mood and increase productivity,” your father said as you sat sandwiched between him and your mother.

Sometimes you hated the amount of pressure your parents put on you to be perfect. Unrealistic expectations that they couldn’t even meet themselves…at least not without pulling their hair out.

You were trying to find a balance between school and life. Yes, school could prove to be very beneficial for you in the future and a great investment, but you didn’t want to let life pass you by while you had your nose shoved 16 chapters deep in a textbook.

After Janice finished reciting what sounded like their admissions speech, you waited until the game was over to put your plan into action.

You texted Abigail to let her know that you’d be looking for a study partner tonight so she wouldn’t worry about where you were. But she told you to make it quick. She promised to wait around to take you home that way you had an alibi for staying out late.

The stands were clearing out as the game came to an end and you ran across the field to catch up with Chanyoung and Dongmin, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping they'd hear you.

If they did...great, you could move on to step two, but if they didn't you would die of embarrassment.

"Uhh, are you talking to us?" Dongmin asked, turning around and tilting his head as Chanyoung paused beside him.

"Yeah," you said shyly.

"Oh my god. I can't believe I'm actually crumbling right now," you thought to yourself.

"Umm...well I know we don't really know each other, but I need some help," you tried your best to be confident, but you couldn't shake the fact that this felt like downright prostitution. "It'll just be for a couple of weeks to help me pull up my grades."

"Uhh--"

"I'll pay you for it," you spat. Maybe there was a way to get some assistance without having to degrade yourself--no shame to Abby. She did what she thought was right.

"Well, as much as I'd love to help you, I'm already swamped," Dongmin shrugged before a mischievous smirk crept across his face. "But my buddy Chanyoung is more than available."

"I am?" Chanyoung said, eyes widening in shock. That was the first time you heard his quiet voice since you came over.

"Of course you are," he winked, patting his friend on the shoulder. "He's been telling me all about how easy this semester has been on him and that he has way too much free time and nothing to do with it."

"Really?!" you asked, surprised everything was going so smoothly. Maybe you would be able to pick up your grades without having to lose your dignity after all.

"Oh yeah. Trust me," Dongmin smiled. "He can help you out with your little...issue."

Okay...this Dongmin guy was acting a little suspicious, but you needed all the help you could get. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

"Okay," you said pulling your phone out of the side pocket of your bag. "Let me just give you both my number so that we can keep in touch. I really appreciate your help," you unlocked your phone before opening your contacts.

Dongmin put in both of their numbers while Chanyoung stood beside him not saying a word. "There ya go," Dongmin smiled handing you back your phone.

"Thank you so much," you smiled. "Can I meet up with you tomorrow?"

"T-tomorrow?" Chanyoung stuttered.

"Umm yeah. I want to get started as soon as possible...if that's okay."

"Oh, yeah of course. That's fine. He'll meet you tomorrow in the library," Dongmin reassured you, wrapping his arm around his friend.

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Will you be there too?”

“Me? Oh no, like I said before, this is all my buddy Channie. He’s got nothing better to do than help a friend…well a new friend,” something about the cheesy grin plastered across his face was unsettling, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Okay that’s fine. Just text me what times you’re available tomorrow and I’ll meet you then,” you smiled.

“____! Girl come on let’s go!” Abby shouted from across the field. You saw her from a distance, checking her pretend watch, taping her foot.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go now. See ya,” you waved before joining Abby.

You hopped into her bright yellow convertible, leaving the boys behind on the field.

Everything was looking great for you. You had a study date planned with a total book nerd. Hopefully, he will be a little less shy tomorrow, otherwise, you didn’t expect to make much progress.

Thanks for reading the first episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

CURRENT TAGLIST: @chlorinecake @addictedtohobi @nikisvanillaccola @laylasbunbunny @urfavberry @antonitty @billiondollarworth @meowbini @mamuljji @riizeis-7 @littlebrightsrar @jisfairy @galorehearts @misfit-nvrfitin @siuewnb @ot7sevenlvr @earth2hannah @professsionalsimp @fairyofhours @wonbinkisser @lovelymulti @annielovescry @antosaurius @inlovekyo @luv4stxrs @v4mpsunghoon @rikiiminaj @brachiobun @pointlessapple @antititititoni @mrkvrse @ywnzn @kisplayhouse @strawberryhillsworld @cartimitsuya @jungwon15 @hanni711 @tsukkiteamo @hajoon-iz-won @songgmingii @bloodiichainzzxx @sunnynearthecoast @riris-a-mess @deewly @ericlvr @freeluvbot @pandajihoonn @mint-yooniverse @pwarksasteroid @huan9jun @zixoxos @snowyseungs @mintmyg @moonchild-please-dont-cry @taeheartss @seesawh @chloelr60 @dodot04lover @firedalarm-blog @kazscara

[ghettogirly]

Can you create a one shot where Armando Aretas and o/c argue that Armando confesses his feelings?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: seeing your bestfriend get engaged should be a happy feeling for you. Unfortunately, it’s not. Not when she’s stealing your man.

-> theme: angst and fluff.

-> format: imagine/story.

-> warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of trapping, mentions of manipulation, (if you squint).

-> authors note: i’ve had writers block, sorry for how long ive been away guys. Hope you enjoy! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🌸.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄. You could hear the scraping noises of the suitcases that was being lugged to the cabin that was illuminated with a warm light, colours of orange and yellow pouring out of the windows. It was currently nighttime but there were structures of light that lit up the land around it.

Snow was pummelling down some mountains while some trees subtly moved due to the slight, cold breeze that cascaded over the group. It was a getaway with some friends, a ski trip. Well needed due to the busy lifestyle you have of being a fashion designer in Miami, the constant demand of clothes and the myriad of fabrics making your mind go crazy.

So when your friend, Miyah, proposed a trip you were more than happy to go. Well, that before you knew Armando was coming.

For all you know, you thought it was a girls trip but when you found out more people were coming… it wasn’t all smiles anymore.

Frustrated by the idea of Miyah and Armando even being together, you felt as if you were more deserving to be with him.

However, you pushed your feelings aside and settled into the cabin. Greeting your mutual friends around you. Walking around, you noticed the rustic theme within the house. The natural and organic vibe of the house, littered with logs and pure wood which was accompanied by the aroma of a slight cinnamon scent, making you feel at peace. Loads of your friends were beginning to go upstairs to unpack their things so, following their lead you begin to head upstairs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next few days were torturous. Quite the opposite of what you thought this holiday was going to be. Standing back while the others congratulated the couple, you couldn’t believe what was happening. The rose petals scattered amongst the floor while a white light illuminated from the fairy lights bunched along the wooden structure covering the people, a big fat ring sat on your best friend’s hand.

He proposed.

He really proposed.

Walking up with your lips tight, you hugged your bestfriend while she was rambling about how beautiful the proposal was. Glancing over at Armando, he dapped up his friends while his face was.. blank. Smiling every now and then to please people but you struggled to believe if he was truly happy.

Regardless, you felt sick at the whole situation. Happy faces that were spread out around you, loud talking and people jumping up and down caused the sickness in your stomach to bubble up even more. Excusing yourself, you retreat back to your bedroom before plopping down on the bed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A knock was heard on the door, slowly moving, you sat up. With your curls flat at the back and compact, you realised you fell asleep as it was now dark outside. Another knock was heard causing you to now stand up, your throat being a bit groggy due to the mucus that now developed over the past hour. “Damn who the fuck knocking on my door like the police?!”

Opening the door, the tall, hispanic man now hovered over you. His eyes flashing a split second of worry before going back into his nonchalant state. “Can i come-“

Not even letting him finish his sentence, you shut the door on him before turning back and walking towards your bed. The door opened on response and was slowly closed by the male who didn’t want noise, not taking your rejection as a final answer. “No seas así.”

“Don’t talk to me in spanish, that shit don’t work on me like the other girls motherfucker.”

“It sure worked on you last time..” a whisper was heard from the man which made you whip your head around towards him.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing mami, come over here and talk to me.” Now walking towards you as you were laying on your bed, you rolled over backwards still wanting some distance between the both of you.

“Armando, what do you think this is? I can’t look at you in the face right now!!!”

“Stop being loud. Did you think i wanted to do this??”

“At this point, i don’t give a fuck what you didn’t or did want to do! I’m done with you and her. Clearly you don’t give a fuck about what us two have!”

A huff was heard from the male who slowly moved to your position. Reaching out his hand towards yours, however, your arms were crossed.

“Escúchame… i’m trying to buy us sometime. I’ll long out the process so we can sort our shit out and then we can just go, me and you. I’m doing this for us.”

“Are you? Or are you trying to please the both of us? I can’t do it anymore Armando!”

“¿Por qué me importaría complacerla cuando eres a quien amo?”

“Well it doesn’t seem like you-“

Failing to finish your sentence, you was pulled into a deep kiss from Armando, who was now sitting right next to you with his arm around your waist. The feeling of his soft lips touching yours dissipate the anger streaming from you, now turning it into calmness with a hint of sadness.

“Listen. I’m going to leave her baby, tienes que confiar en mí.”

“Okay Armando, i’ll trust you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“No seas así.” : Don’t be like this.

“Escúchame” : Listen to me

“¿Por qué me importaría complacerla cuando eres a quien amo?” : Why would o care to please her when you’re the one i love?

“tienes que confiar en mí” : you have to trust me.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @milliumizoomi @shurisgf @5tarlan7 @armandosbabymama @tyneshaaa @dyttomori @sarcasticbitchsblog @believeinthefireflies95 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @twinklestarlight @bootlegroach @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @thedarkworldofhananerea @yeahnohoneybye

[hanckocks-dagger]

Shake, rattle, and roll

masterlist

John Hancock x f!reader

Description: After three weeks on the road, you come home to Goodneighbor to find a sweet surprise from Hancock. Naturally, you fuck him about it. 

Tags: Such sappy smut guys, holy shit theyre in love, Hancock is a simp. Reader could be viewed as SoSu or not, no y/n, female anatomy

Warnings: smut! Pretty vanilla though, honestly, so nothing else to mention

Word count: 6K

Cross posted on my ao3

The last day of travel was always the worst; with the end goal in sight

The morning sun beat down on you, the trek from Lexington having seemed almost endless. There was only one thing on your mind as you marched over the Harvard bridge; Hancock's bed. You had the full intention of crawling right into it and staying there, comatose, for several days.

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple. You needed to unload the spare weapons you'd picked up, throw those to KL-E-0. You also had some things to drop at Daisy's, some things to pass on to Ham for the Third Rail...

You pulled your pack higher onto your shoulders, ignoring the ache of your back from the weight of it, all the junk you'd decided to ferry back with you. The straps of the bag were sure to leave deep, painful indents in your skin, almost permanently rubbed raw after weeks of travel.

Downtown, you skirted between Diamond City outposts, making your usual wide berth around the city itself. Despite being human and technically welcome inside the city, you'd taken to avoiding it, as if their prejudice was infectious. You hadn't entered the gates in months by now, and even though you missed Power Noodles and stopping by the agency to bother Nick, you felt no real urge to step inside.

The inhabitants' paranoia, towards the institute and towards outsiders, made the air in the city oppressive. Compared to the freedom of Goodneighbor, even with all of its own problems, Diamond City felt tyrannical in comparison.

You made a wide berth around the old scrap yard, overrun by feral dogs, climbing a fire escape to reach the elevated turnpike.

The closer you got to Goodneighbor, the hard it was to push forward. With the end in sight, close enough that you could practically count the steps you had left, aware of every finite amount of energy you had to eke from your body. Still, you reused to break, pushing forward, hands wrapped tight around the straps of your pack, like a schoolchild with their brightly colored schoolbag

Just a little further. Just a little more. The turnpike turned North, and you had to duck and pause as some gunner scouts passed, the highway connected to some high-rises, precarious wooden planks forming bridges.

Crouched down low, your calves burned, your fingers ached as you gripped your revolver, checking the bullet count on autopilot and lining up a shot, just in case you were spotted.

You weren't, the mercenaries passing from one end of the bridge to the other, wood creaking under their weight, loud, unconcerned conversation passing between them.

You sneaked past them in a crouch, knees and back protesting, familiar flood of adrenaline humming through your blood, heartbeat in your ears. The thrill stayed even once you were out of eyesight, until you'd shaken out your joints and rolled your shoulders, back to your brisk pace.

One of these days, you promised yourself, zeroing in on the broken jaw of the freeway that you used to find your bearings, you'd find a way to make a portable Ham-radio. Staying away so long was making you half-insane. You hadn't heard his voice in over two weeks, and at this point you would have sold all the loot you were lugging around to see his face a few minutes sooner. You'd pay insane sums to be able to hear him on the regular while you were away. Joking, complaining, hell, even just reading off his fucking caravan logs.

The body of the freeway dropped to the ground, crumbling concrete surrounding a Gunner camp, probably the one those two idiots earlier were supposed to be protecting. Well, you thought, pulling a trip-mine from your pack, it wasn't your fault if they were fucking morons.

Behind the rusted body of a truck, you waited for the perfect moment to strike, listening with patience to the Gunners as they yelled and laughed, carefree in the way only over-confident assholes ever could be. On a different day, you would have attacked with something more complicated, something that could blast the entire camp in one go, but today, you were tired and homesick.

At the right moment, you activated the mine and tossed it, scurrying from behind your car to drop off the side of the freeway, landing in a crouch in an alley a street over from Goodneighbor, booking it as the mine went off and the yells changed from happy to panicked.

You'd often thought, as you and Hancock laid spread eagle on the bed, or sprawled over the couch, that between the two of you, you were by far the one more likely to turn feral. He was too clever, his mind too sharp, even dulled by drugs. You were the one running around the wasteland, scampering like some little creature, hoarding old-world junk, killing nearly indiscriminately. You survived on the high of your own adrenaline, surviving scrapes by the skin of your teeth, by clawing, biting, crushing, choking.

You held your breath until you could see the glow of the welcome-sign, neon arrow pointing at the door, like to the entrance of a dingy nightclub. It shone like a beacon even in the daylight, beckoning you home.

When your fingers touched the door, you swore you gained a second wind, the eerie stillness of downtown Boston turning into the hum of bustling Goodneighbor residents. You greeted the Neighborhood watch as you entered the town, and they variously tipped caps or winked at you, hands always on their guns.

Daisy's was full, the sure sign of a newly passed caravan. You spotted that Railroad guy, sipping from a bottle on the bench in front of the store, doing his usual job of completely failing to fit in by being almost unnaturally nondescript. That might work in Diamond city, but not in Goodneighbor.

Your steps were slow as you maneuvered through the crowd, aware of the pack on your back and the guns slung over your shoulders. You headed for Kill or Be killed, planning to unload some ammo and spare rifle you'd picked up. You kept your eyes peeled for that flash of red in your periphery, the heat that filled your chest whenever you were near him.

KL-E-0's store was empty, meaning she was probably on the second floor, conducting some less than savory business. You'd hustle out of there if you heard the sound of her laser powering up, but you decided to spare a few minutes.

You leaned your forearms onto the counter, taking some of the weight off your sore feet and back, eyes running over the visible apparel, wondering what things you should offload.

Sure enough, barely a minute passed before you could hear the wood creaking above you, footsteps descending the staircase and an achingly familiar voice:

"-Talk when my girl brings something new, call it a uh- personal favor."

You raised your head from where it had been lolling, that familiar voice sending a sweet ache through your chest and a giddy smile onto your face. His girl.

Hancock was turned away from you, speaking to KL-E-0, trusty shotgun in his hands.

If your pack had been lighter, you would have bounded into his arms and dragged him right back to the old State House. You would have indulged the exhibitionist in him, wrapped your legs around his waist and let him stick his tongue down your throat right there in the street.

Instead, though, you settled for walking over, supporting the bottom of your pack to keep it from rattling. KL-E-0's red eye flickered over to you for a moment, inscrutable as always, but she stayed quiet, allowing you to surprise Hancock as he chattered about the recoil of his gun.

You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, smushing your face between his shoulder blades. You breathed him in, the familiar smell of tanned hide, cigarettes and that ever present old-museum-smell that he'd tried many times in vain to get rid of. You inhaled with a shudder, pressing a kiss to his back, feeling his momentary frozen shock melt away as he seemed to register who was touching him.

He spun in your arms, leaving you face to face with soft eyes and a softer smile, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Warm lips pressed to yours and you melted arms sliding up to hook around his shoulders, pulling him flush to you. A corner of your mind– or your heart– which had spent the past two weeks growling about being apart from him, finally quieted down.

"Is that your gun digging into my hip, or are you just happy to see me, love?" He asked you when you separated, leaving you to snort and hide your face in his shoulder, so giddy you thought you might burst with it.

You swallowed past your joy, composing yourself so that you could lean back and flick the tip of Hancock's tricorn-hat upwards, giving you a better view of those lovely dark eyes, always so emotive, crinkled at the corners.

"Good to see you too, Mister Mayor," You breathed, hands sliding from his shoulders down to his waist, backing out of KL-E-0's store, dragging Hancock along with you. He came willingly, not allowing even an extra inch between the two of you.

All thoughts of bartering, even your own body's complaints were forgotten, your heart singing. You blinked against the sunlight, convinced suddenly that the weather was reflecting your mood.

"What's your plan for the day?" You asked, when it became clear Hancock was too busy staring at you to say anything. The two of you seemed to be wandering in a leisurely pace towards the old State House, but you didn't care where you were going. You'd follow him around all day if you had to. You could be going right back into the Wastes for all you cared. You'd trail behind him as he did whatever he needed to do, collapse from exhaustion and let him carry you back to bed.

"Oh, you know," He said, pulling you up the steps to the Old State House, opening the door for you, ushering you inside, "Was gonna get high and mope around all day, waiting for you." He had no sooner shut the door than he grabbed you by your belt, pinning you to the wall, your heavy pack hitting the wall. "Probably drive Fahrenheit crazy with my pining–"

You hum, smoothing out the lapels of his coat as his hands wander.

"Now, I'm thinking we go up and let the whole town we're reunited."

"Sounds perfect," You agreed, pressing a kiss to his jaw before pushing him gently in the direction of the staircase. He led the charge, half toppling over every step in his desperation not to let go of you.

The second you hit the landing he whisked you back into his arms again, hands restless as he squeezed your sides, traveled up your arms, touched your face, all before coming right back down again to squeeze your ass. Another breathy laugh escaped you, so happy you couldn't put your smile away even as you kissed him.

His hand slid up to your lower back, guiding you towards the bedroom, your lips still locked together.

you pulled away at the door as Hancock filled with the stubborn doorknob, always jammed right when you needed it to open. You keep your arms hooked around him, but you give a salute to the neighborhood watchman stationed in front of your door. His face stayed stoic, either used to yours and Hancock's antics, or from copious threats from Hancock. Both seem equally likely.

He did give you a nod, though, as Hancock crooned in victory, having managed to fling the doors open. You gave him a smile, right as Hancock grabbed your arms and pulled you in. You kicked the doors shut behind you, already laughing as Hancock showered your face with kisses, dipping you like a dancer.

You separated from him enough to finally drop your pack, which thumps to the floor. Your guns come off, placed down with more care, followed by your bandolier and scavenging jacket.

Hancock cracked the doors open as you busied yourself, calling out, "Make sure to keep all the riff-raff out today, yeah brother?" And then the doors were shut and locked. A peaceful quiet descending over you.

He takes your hands, pulling you to the center of the bedroom, leaving you bathed in afternoon sunlight peeking in from the open balcony door. The room was as clean as it ever was, five hundred years of grime that you'd long given up on trying to get rid of.

With the door open and the spring air flooding in, everything felt fresher, not weighed down by centuries of history, but just a normal bedroom. Your books had been stacked in neat piles on the dresser, where you could see one of your shirt sleeves peeking out from the drawer. The bed was newly made, and....

"Is that..?" You stared, taking in the sharp white color of the fresh sheets, looking brand fucking new. Not Commonwealth new either, no, this looked like the bleached and pressed sheets of a fucking prewar hotel.

Your eyes sought out Hancock's, expecting to find him grinning, boastful, the usual exaggerated ego coupled with his general cool-demeanor, but instead you found him looking... uncertain. One hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was... bashful.

"Where did you get this?" You asked, stepping over to the bed. You ran a hand almost irreverently over the fresh sheets, feeling the starched, crisp texture of it, not rotting and mildewed like almost everything was.

"Oh, a uh– new trade caravan passed through last week. From somewhere out west, they've been growing cotton and weaving shit.

As if in a trance, you started shucking off your clothes, not wanting to sully the fresh sheets with your blood and dirt stained layers. You only get as far as your outer shirt when Hancock's hands sneak back onto your waist, almost timid in their touch. You half wanted to slap them off in your urge to get naked, get under the sheets and let him touch you there all he wanted.

Instead, you spin around to face him, guide his hands under your shirt to the warm skin of your stomach. "You're an angel, you know that?" You said.

He laughed, "Only for you, sister. Devil to everyone else."

You laughed back at him, finally shedding your shirt. As you try to wrestle off your boots with the force of your heel, all the examples to the contrary fly into your head: Every kind action he'd done, every willingly shared drug, every situation where he'd chosen less violence than he needed to. The nights you'd spent watching him agonize over whether he was good enough for his community, whether he was making the right decisions.

Instead of bringing those up, you pecked his lips in thanks. With his 'help' (groping), you got your undershirt and bra off, leaving your torso bare.

You leant down to unlace your boots, your earlier attempts having been futile, but before you could Hancock had you off your feet, tossing you head first into soft, fresh sheets. He took over, hands trailing teasingly over the waistband of your pants before he turned to your boots, sliding them off and taking your socks with them.

You groaned, cheek smushed into the mattress, as nimble hands pull your pants down and off. Trailing fingers, tickling the backs of your naked calves, up into the hollow of your knees. You had to stifle a giggle as a feather light touch against your inner thigh made you jump.

The bed shifted as he climbed onto it, his legs bracketing yours, knees pressing into the flesh of your thighs.

Fingers on the waistband of your underwear.

"How about we get these off?" His voice, low and gravelly, suddenly hot in your ear. A gentle bite to the cartilage of your earlobe, the drag of fabric as your underwear was pulled down your legs and then tossed somewhere.

"You know," You breathed, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could crane your neck and tried to catch him in a kiss. You missed, but settled for kissing his shoulder, hovering just by your head. "I'm feeling a bit exposed here. You've stripped me bare and you're still clothed."

You turned underneath him, determined to get him to kiss you again, were met with his grinning face just above yours. "Well, let no one call me an unfair man," He said, sinking onto his haunches, just out of reach of your desperate mouth. He plucked his tricorn from his head, settled it onto your.

You raised yourself to him, stole a quick peck, languishing in every brush of his lips against yours. It was dangerous, how much you'd missed him on the road, pining to the point of distraction. The times you'd ducked into buildings to ease an ache brought on by reminiscing, imagining him besides you, or on you, or in you. Imagining him being beside you as you stumbled into firefights, imagined his hands patching you up, rather than your own.

"You didn't happen to remember to take any Rad-X this morning, didya?"

His words pulled you from your stewing. You groaned. In your excitement to get home, you'd completely forgotten.

"Can't we just... skip it? This once?" You asked, pulling on his collar, dragging him down to lie on top of you, his mouth in reach again. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, hooking one leg around his waist to ground him to you, keep him from getting distracted.

"You and I both know you'd regret that in the morning, sister."

He was right, the bastard. Spending your morning throwing up, hooked to a Rad-Away was not your ideal first day back. So, lamentably, you release your grip on him, hands and leg flopping to the side as he leant over to grab a bottle from the nightstand.

"I'm sure we can find something to... entertain you, while we wait for it to kick in."

You pouted, making a show of how frustrating his interruption had been, how desperate you were to get him back. Here you were, naked, spread-eagle and waiting, with patience you didn't have.

You watched, silently, as he dug into the bottle, drawing out two pills. As he stepped back over, you pulled yourself back onto your elbows, waiting for him to hand them over, or maybe deposit them into your mouth himself.

Instead, as he kneeled onto the bed, he put them into his own mouth, leaning over you to meld his lips to yours. You grabbed at him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist to support your weight as you melted in his arms. Slowly, in long, deep, searing kisses, the pills moved from his mouth to yours. Once they were on your tongue, he pulled his mouth off yours, scarred lips shining with spit, and moved to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin as you gather enough saliva to swallow the pills.

Rad-X was quick to kick in, but the effects weren't instantaneous, leaving the pair of you with at least ten minutes to kill. On a normal day, you would have been happy to spend those minutes making out, taking your time in stripping Hancock off his clothes, egging each other on with dirty words and dangerous fantasies. But you'd spent over three weeks away from Goodneighbor, over three weeks of precarious mental foreplay, dreaming of his touch at night, fantasizing of him in the day. Suddenly, even the prospect of radiation sickness was not enough of a reason to stay away.

You tore at his coat, rucking his frilly shirt out from under his sash, exposing his slim stomach. You watched the muscle there tense under your touch, as you ran cold hands over his hips, tugging him closer to you. With practiced hands, you made quick work of untying the sash at his hips, satiny fabric sliding from your fingers and onto the floor like a waterfall.

Hancock bit into the flesh of your shoulder, making you hiss and dig your nails into the skin by his hip bones in retaliation.

You pull his chin upwards, leading his mouth to yours again, keeping those teeth from doing any more damage just yet.

Your generous hands wandered, up and under his shirt, roaming over the breadth of his chest, feeling it expand as he inhaled. You nipped at his bottom lip, drawing out a rumbling groan, felt both in your mouth against his, and in the vibrations against your fingertips.

You scooted to the edge of the bed, bracketing his hips with your thighs, freeing his hands so you could tug his coat off. Your hands slipped up under his collar, pushing his narrow shoulders backwards, giving you enough leverage to push the heavy coat backwards, the heavy fabric thumping to the ground.

Sometimes, when Hancock looked particularly vulnerable, usually collapsed on one of his couches, bleary with the haze of jet, his outfit reminded you of a child playing dress-up. In ancient coat tailored for a man with broader shoulders, a hat fit for a pirate and a disdain for the sort power he wielded.

You pulled your lips off of his, formulating a plea that would get you what you wanted, what words would make him understand just how badly you  ached for him, just how unbearable the emptiness in you was. You pressed a chaste kiss to his sternum, bare but hiding in the ruffles of his shirt, and made a blind grab for the waistband of his pants, words suddenly elusive.

His hands stopped yours, stilling them just by the button on his pants, so close to their goal.

You whined, the sound almost entirely involuntary, tilting your head up to meet Hancock's gaze with your own, sure now that he was teasing you.

"John," You managed, "This is cruel."

His eyes crinkled, as if you were the one making the joke, as if you weren't the one burning from the inside out.

"Well, now, I can't have you destroying my reputation. I worked hard to be known as a generous lover."

"Then stop teasing and fuck me."

But he only snickered like a bawdy teenager, gentle hands guiding yours to grasp at the fresh sheets. You watched helplessly, heartbeat in your throat, as he stepped back, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows before sinking to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

"This'll coast you over, sister."

He grabbed you by your thighs, tugging you closer until you could feel his breath on your [core]. Your thighs trembled, heels digging into his back, desperate to push him closer, to get his mouth where it needed to be.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, hands balled into fists, half convinced you would burst into tears if he didn't do something. You swore you could feel him laugh, right up against your pussy, unable to hear it over the rush of blood in your ears, a split second before his tongue was finally, mercifully, on you. The slick drag of it landing quickly on your clit, lapping at it teasingly, every strike on your nerves making you seize, already so worked up from being near him.

You cursed on an exhale, lungs burning, every nerve in your body sparking, your blood heating. There was an obscene slurping as he sucked hard against your clit, pressure just on the right side of pain, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Your head pushed hard into the mattress, Hancock's hat falling into your eyes, rendering the outside world suddenly dark.

Suddenly, all pressure vanished, making you let out a long, pitiful whine, releasing your death grip on the sheets to raise the hat and see what the ghoul would be torturing you with this time. You raised your head, found Hancock on his knees by the bed, looking at you with pure reverence, fingers running up and down over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs.

You could feel the way his ministrations had spread your juices, the way the skin at the meet of your thigh and pelvis were glued together, sticky, pulling at your pubic hair just enough to be uncomfortable.

"What are you starin' at?" You panted, trying to get his wandering mind back to the matter at hand.

He grinned up at you from his perch, "What do you think?"

Fingers, crawling slowly, teasingly, up your thigh, into the divot where leg meets hip, tickling. Then, slow, gentle strokes through your pussy lips, scooping up all your wetness. A teasing, fleeting touch across your clit, making you seize, arching off the bed with a whine.

Then, the slick, slow glide of those fingers inside you.

"F-Fuck," You huffed, meaning to say something more like 'fucking finally, you torturer'.

"Such a pretty girl for me," Hancock says, that sly purr sending its own spark up your spine, mixed with his fingers, a slow, tantalizing in and out, "Been thinking about you for  days,  love. All alone out there, with no one to help you out. Running back home, to me, to let me help."

His fingers stilled. You clenched around him, every muscle in your legs seizing, your chest heaving.

"Is that what you were doing?" His voice was delicious, closer now. There's a bite into the flesh of your stomach, just above your belly button and you tensed against it, squirming into his fingers.

"Yes," You breathed, grinding hard onto his fingers, willing something, anything, to put pressure on your clit. You try squeezing your legs together, but Hancock's arm is in the way. A pathetic whimper escapes you.

"Wanna tell me about it, sister?"

You get out a "Please," legs moving restlessly, trying to get him to do anything, go in our out, anything at all. Blindly, you reach out and get him by the back of the neck, trying to push him downwards. You can feel his smile against the skin of your hip.

"Nngh- mmm, yes, I thought of you. Every day I was away." His head sunk lower, chin resting on your pelvis. "Thought about this, or sharing a hit of jet, or letting you pour wine into my mouth."

His mouth found your clit again, and you were sure you could cry, feeling his tongue flicking at the little nub, fingers starting to move again, a slow, languid in and out.

You arched off the bed, hands gripping the back of Hancock's head, legs going over his shoulders, pressing into his back.

"Shit," You breathed, one hand shifting to grab his forearm. The pressure on your clit increased suddenly, sending a spark through you that left you limp. Your hands slid from their grips, spilling onto the bed.

You looked down, finding Hancock's eyes on you. Then, he twisted his fingers in a way you didn’t recognize increasing the suction on your clit until you felt like he was trying to give you a hickey. You gasped, fingers digging hard into the bed, fabric rustling in your palms, hips snapping upwards, further into his mouth.

"Wait, that felt– do it again," You panted, to which he happily obliged, tongue and fingers twisting in a way that lit a spark in your body, like the strike of a lighter. A few more repeated movements and you moaned, probably loud enough to wake the drifters in the attic. Hancock's free hand wandered up the bed, catching one of yours in his own with a gentle squeeze. A moment so sappily romantic it managed to push you over the edge, your orgasm cresting over you like a warm wave.

Slowly, with a few extra nips to your inner thigh, Hancock sat back. Face wet with you, mouth curved up into a smile. You squeezed your legs together, shading your clit from the open air, chest heaving as you recovered from over stimulation.

"Get up here, please," You called, voice languid, hands reaching out to embrace him, crush him to you, hold him there forever. He obliged, crawling up against you, the texture of his pants against your naked thighs sending goosebumps across your skin. He slotted perfectly into your arms, pressing his mouth to yours.

You ached for him, wanting to get him closer, to tangle with him until you were impossible to separate. You kissed him like you were starving, all teeth and desperation, hands moving to shove off his vest, to unbutton his shirt, to get him naked, get him closer. He helped you, tossing the vest and then the shirt to the floor, warm chest pressing to yours, your tits trapped between the two of you, his rough skin grazing against your nipples, heat building behind your sternum.

Between your bodies, you felt his hand work at his pants. You were pressed so close together that every fumble grazed against your core, sending shocks of heat through you. You were so overwhelmed with need you couldn't decide where to put your hands, sure you'd be more of a hindrance than a help if you tried to get involved.

He made quick work of it, tugging down his pants, followed by his underwear.

He lined himself up, your excitement mounting until you were sure you would come again the second he entered. He captured your lips in another searing kiss, and finally your hands moved without you having to think about it, settling low on his hips in an effort to drive him closer.

"Ready?" He asked, and you felt your mind flash back to your first time with him, a rushed affair after a night drinking with him at the Third Rail. Even then, as it was a desperate fumble to get naked as fast as possible, spread over the couch in his office, clawing and biting with ferality, both of you desperate to get closer, even then, he had paused, hands on your panties, and asked, in that same soft tone, if you were ready, as if he expected you to have changed your mind.

"Yeah, I'm ready," You breathed, eyes squeezing shut in anticipation.

It's a slow, slick, delicious glide that has both of you groaning. Something in you slots into place, all your frenetic energy calm, as you grip at Hancock's back, burying your face in his neck as he starts to move.

"God, that's so–" you gasped, unable to finish, unsure of the words. You hitched a leg up onto John's waist, dragged him in for another kiss.

His pace was achingly slow, his touches sickeningly sweet. You focused on the fullness of it, the way the glide and drag of it seemed to fill your lungs even as he stole your breath with his tongue.

You wanted to live in this moment forever, here with him, inseparable in every way, as close as you could be. Hancock's hips drove deep, making you arch your back with a gasp for air, his lips vanishing off yours. The pace stayed sweet, sentimental, and you relished every sound that came from his mouth, every trembling breath.

"Wait," you breathed, tapping his shoulder like a time out, "Lemme, ugh–" With a few moves, you've twisted the two of you around, him on his back, you supporting yourself over him. He looked up at you, eyes twinkling with pure adoration, as you settled yourself with your legs under you, hands moving to his chest so you can keep your balance.

You settled yourself down onto his cock, your hips flush with his, and his hands found your waist, squeezing with that same softness. You set a pace, still calm, but decidedly faster, enough that your tits jiggle as you move.

"If this is some fucked up hallucination," Hancock rasped, voice choked, "I swear I'll lay off the drugs."

You laughed, breathless, grinding down to find that perfect spot inside you, hitting it over and over again, until the pleasure of it turns the inside of your eyelids white and your hands buckle, give out.

Arms caught you, of course, Hancock flipping you back over, managing to land that sweet spot again, enough that the tension spreads across your body, every muscle tensing up as you moaned, inches away from your second orgasm. His fingers on your clit do the trick, a few tight circles and the tension suddenly seeps out of you, a long, silent exhale. He fucked you through it, pace slowing down as you catch your breath.

You lean up to capture his lips again, grinding your hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to speed it up, to chase his own pleasure, relishing in the way his pace grows frantic, sloppier.

He gripped your wrists, bringing them over your head, held tight in his hands. Your torso lengthened, chin tilting upwards, exposing the length of your neck to him. He pulled away from your mouth so you take the chance, craning your neck upwards to nip at his skin, finding the soft tendons and sucking hard.

Through gasping breaths, he asked, "Where– nngh– where do you want me?" Your legs tightened around him, hands clawing at his back, using all the strength you had to keep him where he was.

Already, you can feel the way your own pressure is building back up, the way the repeated slide of it drives you right back to the edge.

"In– in me," You gasped, muscles shaking as he managed to hit that perfect spot in you over and over, back arching clean off the bed. You still weren't ready to let him go, even as you neared your third orgasm, still desperate to keep him where he was.

"Are you–"

"John," You cried, his hips slowing as he stopped again to check, your welfare always at the front of his mind. Sure, it would leave you raw and burning, making the next round a bit more pain than pleasure, but all you could think about was keeping the sensation of him imprinted on you as long as possible. "I'm sure, please."

He rutted against you, hips grinding against yours. His head dropped to your shoulder, gasping against your sweat slicked skin, two fingers sliding down against your throbbing clit.

You whimpered against him as pleasure flooded your body again, your grip on him weakening as your muscles shook, legs slipping from around his waist.

You mumbled words of praise as he came, hands roaming around his back, onto his cheek, your whispers of, "So good, so perfect, you're perfect, baby," audible only to him as he moaned. You felt the heat of him inside you, the slow building of fullness even as he softened.

You felt the slow, familiar tingling that preceded the lightly burning pain that would start. You felt Hancock shifting out of you, his mouth twisted into a guilty frown in the skin of your shoulder.

You clenched, feeling the slow dribble of heat spilling onto your skin.

Hancock's lips traced a path across your shoulder, down your arm, the occasional wet smack or nip at your skin pausing his journey. He detached himself from you slowly, regretfully, as if taking his skin off yours was some great sin. And it was, but in the service of a greater good, grabbing a clean strip of cloth from the bedside drawer, cleaning you up in gentle caresses, stickiness removed from your inner thighs, even softer touches over your pussy lips.

You let him busy himself, even as your fingers itched to get him back, wanting to tell him that you'd had worse pain, that you'd hurt for him every second if you had to. Instead, you only smiled at him when he glanced up at you, reaching up to pull him back to you. He came willingly as you pulled him back into your arms.

Tension faded out of your muscles and you melted into the bed, hands wrapped around Hancock's middle. "Did you miss me while I was gone?" You asked, smiling, voice soft. You just wanted to hear him say it, your own little version of 'I love you'.

Hancock raised his head, pecking your lips gently, leaving them tingling.

"More than you could ever know," He said, painfully earnest.

"Mmm, I think I have some idea."

Notes:

The smut chapter took me ages to write for some reason, so if it sucks... uh. No it doesn't (if u see any spelling errors pls let me know tho)

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment, or request something, or just come chat with me!

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 10

Here we are, babes. The last official part of the main Illicit story. It’s bittersweet because I finally completed something lmao but also, I really love them and their story.

Safe to say this isn’t the last you’ll see of them. I’m fully planning on doing little flashbacks and check ins with them, feel free to let me know what you would like to see/if you have any unanswered questions. Thank you for reading!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

Illicit masterlist

WC- 3.3k

Warnings- mention of wounds, stitching, having children, marriage talk, nightmares, etc

——-

“Harry, for the love of god, please be careful of your arm.” Y/N winced in worry as the man carried firewood over to their fire pit. He had not been taking his injury half as seriously as he had been taking Y/N’s concussion, treating her like the ‘delicate little bird she was.’ He’d gotten an eye roll for that. Of course he wasn’t letting her help lug the wood for their night in front of the fire. She’d requested with sleepy eyes earlier in the morning to make smores because they’d been in her dream and Harry was giving her basically anything she wanted. 

“M’fine, baby.” He laughed, appreciating her concern but knowing the injury barely stung anymore. “The stitches are coming out tomorrow, and we pushed it, keeping them until then. Only kept them because you wanted me to.” 

It had been about 2 weeks since the attack and they’d left for the lake house. As much as he knew it was terrifying for the both of them, he was utterly relieved to have Katherine behind bars. He’d made sure to keep updated by his contact in the force to know what was happening with her case. Apparently she had really lost it, but Harry didn’t give a fuck. He wanted her to rot behind bars, to live miserably and have Y/N be safe without the threat of some crazy ex-who-isn’t-an-ex looming in the background. 

Harry had kept work to a minimum, only logging in to oversee the decisions he had to make. There had been no calls besides the nightly one with his COO to ensure things were running smoothly. Other than that, his entire attention had been on Y/N. They’d barely left the house considering at first Y/N had been a bit embarrassed of her injuries. Another reason he’d hate Katherine until the day he died. Harry always was one to hold grudges, he was infamous for it. She’d never know peace if the man had anything to do with it. 

They were healing incredibly well, Harry taking the time at night to set her on the bathroom counter and wipe them clean and apply the healing ointment to them. The only one that was more than a fading scab was the one on her head along with the slight discoloration the black eye had caused. Other than that, he was more than relieved to see her bouncing back. The only thing that plagued him still was the nightmare. 

His nightmares. 

They’d always start the same, almost a play by play of what had happened to him walking into the home and up the stairs- only when he got there it had been too late. In his nightmare, the knife had already taken Y/N’s life and he couldn’t do anything to save her. He always woke up before the knife struck him, but it actually hurt him. It was a little difficult for him to admit to her, always wanting to be the strong one when it came to their pairing- someone for her to lean on fully- but she had cried once he told her and insisted that she wanted to be there for him. That a partnership was made out of balance and while she could offer him some of the same things he did for her, she was more than capable to be his emotional shoulder to cry on. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with but this week seemed to be healing. Not just physically, either. 

“Ms. Greta, please tell him to take it easy.” Y/N pouted at the older woman who brought out the tray of s’more making supplies. She’d made sure to add the peanut butter cups as requested. 

“I’m afraid if he won’t listen to you, he won’t listen to anyone.” She chuckled. “Men will be men, and that includes straining their physical health for the macho man act. One day they learn we do know what we are talking about.” A little wink was sent her way as Harry huffed, arranging the wood in the fire pit with a grumble. 

“Because I’m fine.” He stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “It’s healed up nicely. I’m more than capable of setting up a little fire.” Crossing over to Y/N, he stole a kiss before grabbing the lighter and a few other things. “Just sit pretty and let your man do the work, baby. I’ve got it.” 

There was a snort heard from both women but Ms. Greta was now off the clock, wishing them a good night before retreating into the house. As much as he loved having the woman around, he really was obsessed with this alone time with Y/N. There was the residual guilt he had over her being treated less than ideally because he was juggling the faux relationship and the contract, but he knew now that he was going to have to take a bit of a step back from work in order to do that. He’d delegate as he was supposed to be doing to begin with, assign more to his assistant, take Y/N more places and on more dates out in public. He couldn’t fucking wait to attent events with her and show her off. 

He’d been waiting months to let people know who his heart belonged to, and he was finally getting the chance to do so. It was obvious now since the articles had been a media frenzy over the attack, things leaked he couldn’t pinpoint. The only thing he had been commenting on was the fact that Y/N wasn’t a mistress, Katherine wasn’t his lover that was scorned, and there was no true excuse for the actions. It was a good thing in hindsight that they were there, alone. No one had a true clue about the location and he didn’t feel like being hounded by paparazzi- though hopefully they knew better now than to test him and his hatred for the cameras.

One thing that had been burning into him, though, was a question he’d been wanting to ask her. One he knew that was a bit unorthodox but a necessary one nonetheless. 

She sat across his lap, his hoodie covering her tank top and denim shorts as her legs swung slightly while they waited for the fire to burn a bit hotter so they could roast their marshmallows.

“When would you like to get married?” He asked. “And how many kids are we thinking about?” 

The girl nearly snapped her neck as she looked at him with wide eyes, the not so casual question leaving his mouth as if it was him asking what she wanted for dinner. Harry always did find a way to shock the hell out of her but this was definitely one of the top questions that had caught her off guard.  Secretly, she’d assumed Harry had that all figured out. He always made sure to let her know how much he appreciated her opinions and her thoughts, that they were important to him- but he was a planner. Harry was the man in charge and she was happy to let him be. It took a lot of weight off of her shoulders that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else actually weighed on her. 

“Uh…” She blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure. Kinda figured you’d be the one to pop the question. But honestly… Maybe a year? A few months? I dunno.” There was a slight lump in her throat. “I’ve no doubt I want to be with you the rest of my life so part of me feels like I’d probably be fine eloping right now if that was something you wanted but… We haven't really had the chance to be a couple out in the open. While I doubt that’s going to change much considering we feel so strongly, I think it would be kind to ourselves to let us iron out some of the details first before we fully tie the knot.” There wasn’t a right or wrong answer but it still made her a little nervous to answer. “As for kids? I’m not sure. 2? 3? I’d probably say we have one first and figure it out from there.” It wasn’t like they’d have to worry about resources externally but she knew Harry valued family more than anything and he’d want to be an active father. He’d already indulged that detail to her one night when they were particularly loved up. However, neither of them had any children so they didn’t know the workload it would entail, nor did they know how they’d work as parents. Of course they’d figure it out but it would make it a bit more clear on how many they could handle.

“First of all, as much as I’d love to call you my wife right this second… I could never deprive you of the wedding you deserve.” Y/N had told him about the fact that she had always dreamt about her wedding as a little girl. She had pinterest boards full of themes and wedding dresses she’d want to try and cake designs. He wasn’t about to deprive her of those things for his selfish needs.. Harry knew he was indeed a selfish bastard in every other facet of his life, but when it came to Y/N and his soon to be family? That was his only exception. “My mum would probably keel over dead if I did that too. Trust me, you’re going to get your princess wedding.” There was no debating that. “And for kids… I’d love to give you many, many babies.” His tone turned smooth, a little smirk lighting up his face and the twinkle of his eye. “But I think I agree. My idea had been 2-4, but I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. Always.” His hand pulled her in so he could press a kiss to her cheek, muttering a soft declaration of love. 

“Love you more.” She sighed, leaning further into his chest. “I’m so happy that we can live our lives when we get back. I know it’ll probably be a little crazy but there's no more hiding. We can go out and hold hands and kiss, people are going to know we belong to each other.” The giddiness on her face was bittersweet. “I’m so excited to be with you properly.”

The tinge of guilt hit him full on in the stomach, making him frown as he looked into the fire. He knew he had fucked up several times on this journey and Y/N just had a lot of patient and given him a lot of grace when he knew for a fact most other people wouldn’t- but that made it feel a little worse. He’d been wrong in not ditching the contract immediately. “Baby?” He said, voice quieter as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch and I didn’t just dissolve the contract and take on a lawsuit. I should have done it the day I met you because I knew you were going to mean a lot to me even there. I… I know I’ve told you a lot how you were the first and only person to ever make me feel the way you do, but it’s more than that. And my hard headed shit got us into something awful. I know I fucked up and you are more generous than I deserve but…” His fingers tenderly moved the hair from her face, stroking her cool cheek. “I’m going to work every single day for the rest of my life to make it up to you. I’m going to make you the most spoiled, well traveled, happiest woman I possibly can.” His voice stayed quiet as he searched her eyes for any hint of resentment but somehow there wasn’t any there. 

“H.. I knew what I signed up for. You’d been nothing but honest with me the night I ignored you. You laid it all out for me. I knew that you were taken in name only and I liked you so much that I agreed. I never felt like I played second to her. You can say a lot of things about you, lovely, but subtle isn’t one of those things. You never made me feel like she was important. I understood how important your business was to you- it’s the most important thing to you. Did I like seeing you with her? No. But you made it so clear to me that I was yours and you were mine, I never felt like… I never had any competition.” Y/N tried to soothe the ache she knew he felt. Of course she hadn’t liked people thinking he belonged to someone else but she knew he loved her. The most she had ever been loved, the most unashamed. 

“First, I have a correction- You are the most important thing to me. I’d give it all up for you.” That wasn’t a sentence anyone could take lightly, nor one he would ever thought he would say. It used to be the truth, but now it was far from it. “You are my life.” His gaze bore into her own as he cupped her cheek.  “There was never any competition. If we want the honest truth, I thought I’d marry as a business decision. I thought I’d probably not have any kids considering I only ever wanted children out of love. I was happy working until I was gray and about to keel over. Business was my only reason for being, and it wasn’t something I minded- but you gave my life so much more, so much color, my angel.” He’d never sounded more fond in his life, looking at his heaven sent gift perched in his lap. “I didn’t realize there was more to life until I met you. You opened my eyes and made my heart soften. I give a shit about a lot more than numbers now and it’s because of you.” 

People could say he did it himself but he knew the truth. Without meeting Y/N his life would have been the same robotic function it had been since he got out of uni, and he wouldn’t have complained. He’d never know how much he would miss out on. “I thank whoever in the world sent you to me every damn day and you know m’not religious. You are my miracle. It made me feel so fucking sick walking in that house and thinking you were hurt, I have never in my life felt that sort of terror. But I’d do it all again in order to keep you.” The scar on his arm was a reminder of that. 

“I love you, H. The most in the world.” Her eyes watered a little as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry you got scared. I was scared too, scared she would do worse with that knife though I’m still upset you got hurt at all. But I’d go through every bit of it again too.” She sniffled, feeling his thumb brush under her eye as a tear fell. “I know I want everything with you. The marriage and babies and our own house with a pool, if that’s something you want too. You’re the love of my life.” 

“And you’re mine.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers. “M’gonna spend every day proving that to you. Just wait and see, my angel. My heart is yours.”  

—-------

Nails dug into Harry’s back as he rocked slowly into his girl in their brand new home. One he’d bought her as a surprise when they arrived back into the city, leaving their old memories behind in the other penthouse and moving on to the next chapter in the rest of their lives. 

“H-Harry…” She bleated, holding on to him while the other hand grabbed his face and pulled his face down so he could be kissed. “Thank you. You always take c-care of me.”

His pace as slow and deep, pressing in as far as he could go on the brand new sheets they’d picked out together. The sunset bled into their room as they breathed each other in, wrapped up in their covers on their first night sleeping there. He’d spared no expense making sure he got the best of the best for her. He was dedicated to the cause, dedicated to proving to her that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. 

“M’always going to take care of you, my love.” He nudged his nose against hers as he dipped his hips to get deeper inside of her. It was like they couldn’t get close enough to one another, her legs wrapped snug around his hips while he kept himself up with one hand, the other under her neck. The term making love was fully about this. It was unmistakable. “You were made for me.” 

He couldn’t wait to spend every morning like this for the rest of his life. The man who used to cringe at the idea of fucking anyone face first now had it as his preferred position, wanting to make sure he could see every second of her reactions to him. She was snug around his cock, taking him like it was her only job in the world. He’d had no problem doing only this for the rest of his life. 

“And you were… you were made for me. We’re made for each other.” Y/N nodded, pressing another open mouthed kiss to his lips as he kept the steady pace, hitting the delicious spot he always knew how to find. “You know my body perfectly. It’s yours forever.” It was both the truth and a bit of a taunt, knowing how much he loved when she spoke like that. 

“You are. You’re mine and m’all yours, never have to share me. I love you so fucking much, Y/N.” He whimpered as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it as she was filled over and over again. He hit the perfect spot and was trying to get her to cum, trying to have her finish all over him so he could do the same and stay deep inside for a while. Craving this sort of closeness was an addiction, one he didn’t plan on cutting. The obsession with Y/N grew each and every day. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

The woman whined out his name at the last sentence, tugging him closer with her legs as she soaked up every bit of heat from him. It didn’t matter what happened, who tried to get in their way- they would always belong to one another. There was an understanding between both of them knowing this love was bone deep, soul deep, it only deepened by the day. When it felt like they couldn’t love each other more it just kept growing, no matter how full they felt. It was everything. 

A love like this was something people revered as pure, perfect, something that everyone craved and yearned for. Something out of a book or a movie, the sort of feeling that trumps all other people and situations. Their passion and yearning for one another had been cultivated in anything but pureness, it was made in the dark. It always made him laugh a little to know that such a concept had blossomed into a real, tangible thing that he could feel between their bodies, something he could see when he looked at her, something he could taste when he kissed her. 

A love that stayed between the lines wasn’t the type that grew stronger- that’s why he smiled when they called it illicit.