#yes I would literally hiss at people

[jaratedeguadalupe]

Everybody on their life saying that remus would be *that* kid in school when we all know it's virgil 

[devilishcupid]

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

[enigmaris]

All Father Thor, King of Asgard,

A new ruler of Hel has been chosen, the fearsome King Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark. It is time for Asgard to prepare to pay the dues required to keep peace between the realms of the gods and of the dead. Bring the terms of your surrender to King’s Phantom’s representative on earth, Daniel James Fenton of Amity Park.

The Noble Scribe of King Phantom,

Ghost Writer

*****

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avenger said. “Ghosts are real.”

“Yes.” King Thor Odinson, Asgardian and god of thunder agreed.

“And they’re evil.”

“A bit of an oversimplification, but yes.” Prince Loki Odinson, sometimes villain and would be planet invader, answered.

“And the ghosts have had one ruler, the most powerful ghost in existence. And that new rulers are chosen by combat, meaning that every new ruler is more powerful than the last.”

“Yes, you’ve got the idea.” Thor said looking down at his knees for a moment.

“And since ghosts are so evil and so powerful, that means that their ruler is practically an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“Doesn’t it sound delightful?” Loki asked, to which he received a glare.

“So, for the past 10,000 years, at least, Asgard and plenty of other realms have been paying taxes to the ghost king to avoid a war. A racketeering scheme.”

“I don’t know what a racketeering scheme is but yes, the ghost peace treaty does require that Asgard pay the ghost king gold and magical weapons every century and if we fail to pay that price, then the peace treaty will be broken and Asgard will likely be forfeit.”

“That’s a racketeering scheme!”

“Well then yes.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear the man’s headache was only growing stronger as he walked through the information the two gods had dumped into his lap this morning. Thor and Loki both had rushed into his lab and started babbling about world ending threats and how they might possibly be absolutely screwed.

“So, now there’s a new king. Which means a new peace treaty has to be signed.” Tony said the words ‘peace treaty’ in the same way he’d say ‘nuclear bomb’ or ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I thought you said it was a racketeering scheme?” Loki asked.

“Shut it.” Tony hissed.

“A new treaty must be signed.” Thor repeated, trying to keep the three of them on track.

“And since the last king Pariah Dark was so powerful that he made the entirety of Asgard tremble, you’re pretty sure this new king, Phantom, is probably worse.”

“Pariah Dark had the power to suck entire planets into the afterlife, destroying them,” Loki said looking at his nails. “Stands to reason that a ghost powerful enough to defeat him could do much, much worse.”

“Right. Fantastic!” Tony practically shouted.

“I don’t think anything about this is fantastic.” Thor admitted, he was ignored.

“And according to you Asgard has been paying the ghost tax for both their realm and ours since we were under Odin’s protection. And since Hela and Sutur destroyed your entire planet and your entire people are refugees, now we have to figure out how to keep an ultrapowerful ghost from wiping out our home without any way of paying him.”

“Technically we don’t know if Phantom is a ‘he’.” Loki pointed out unhelpfully.

“The letter literally says he’s a king!”

“Could be a title. What do the dead have need for gender?”

“This is not the point of this discussion,” Thor cut in before an argument about the usefulness of gender and the concept of a female king burst forth. “We’re here to figure out how to make peace with King Phantom without resulting in a war that would destroy our world and our peoples.”

“We don’t even have Earth’s mightiest heroes anymore.” Loki said, referencing the painful results of the civil war and the Accords.

“We’re fucked.” Tony decided.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “We probably are.”

[cherriiramen]

HSKSNWLEHEKW?!

That's right, I bring more of this thing, there is more plot within those two weeks of "no communication", but I already wanted a kiss from the idiots. If I'm not wrong, it's the first Morston kiss I've shared 😩💖

[mixingandmelting]

You Know Other Men Meme HC

Summary: when he gets randomly jealous while cuddling on the sofa and you tell him he’s the most jealous man you know feat. Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian

Dick

“You know other men?”

He’s offended. Shocked. Insulted. Disappointed. 

Like who are the other men??? There were other men???

Snaps his head up and looks at you with either eyes that can probably beat Batman’s when he’s angry or the saddest, puppies eyes you’ll ever see on the planet though the grip on your waist says otherwise

Starts questioning you who these “other men” are and goes from wanting their information including address to phone number to since when you started knowing them or where you met them

But when you tell him “I know only one man and it’s you”, he’ll quickly melt - getting all dopey with a silly smile on his face as he peppers kisses all over you

Cuddles into you more though asking for you to look at something else. If not, he’s going have to use a different method to get you to listen ; )

Jason

“Yeah and you better remember it.”

It’s not confidence in himself that makes him say it - rather, it’s knowing that you chose him and would always choose him over anyone else

Like, what is there to compete? All the other guys (cough Bruce and Dick cough) are already sucking it since he’s winning with having you, the best thing in his life

Plus, since you made him yours, you’re stuck with him for eternity whether you like it or not 

Does playfully pull you into a suffocating bear hug, enjoying the warmth of your body seeping into his

Chuckles if you play along and tap his biceps, shoulder, or chest, spouting “uncle”, “I lose”, or something that’ll show you surrender

Gives you a kiss on the lips or cheeks before going back to critic and rate whatever you were looking at earlier

Tim

“You do realize I’m the only man you know?”

Rolls his eyes and pretends your comment isn’t bothering him - after all, knowing you inside and out, there are no “other men” other than him

He’s awful at hiding it though when he starts to nuzzle into the junction where you neck meets your shoulder to hide his disgruntlement

Shuffles and pulls you closer to him, trying to “imprint” himself on you. Whether it’s conscious or subconscious that is yet to be decided

Play with his hair and tell him “yes and you’re the only man I also love” will earn a warm grin from him

That or him hiding his face into your shoulder with the tip of his ears burning red as his Red Robin suit

Either way the arms around you won’t loosen up for a while, going back to cuddling in his embrace. This time with him not minding what you’re looking at making a comment here and there, mostly jabbing at your taste

Duke

“I thought I was your man?”

He’s so confused by what you just said

What do you mean “most jealous man I know” - you know other men??? Is he not your only man???

Literally will start overthinking and confront you on whether you actually have starting seeing people behind his back

Has his head-up with an “excuse me?” written all over, needing to confirm you aren’t hiding anything based on your expression

Only to feel silly and embarrassed when you give him sass e.g., “are you not the only I’m dating?” or “do I look like I have another man besides you?”. Especially if your eyes are deadpan

Poor guy ends up hiding his face, becoming the smaller spoon. Dies but appreciates if you snuggle closer to him and pat him

Damian

“You know other men?”

Does the same thing as Dick but much angrier and more hissing

It’s going to take a while to calm him down especially when he’s ready to end things there and then with plans to also take down and ruin those “other men’s” lives

Listen. You are his and only his. How dare you have other men besides him???

When you tell him “you do realize you are the only person i’m dating?” that gets him to put the katana down

He’ll ask you who these “other men” are and realize they weren’t there from the start. Not when it’s his siblings and father

He just grumbles about how you should’ve said that from start and expect you to go back cuddling with him, head pats and all other expressions of affection to comfort him

Will succumb and completely “forgive” you if you give kiss on the top of his head 

[evilminji]

Oh shit :D ?

I just remembered! (Thank you, historical fantasy section!) But like? Serving and protecting The King, especially a HIGH KING, is quite literally not just an incredible honor... but it can sometimes be a person's Life Ambition?

Specificly a WORTHY king.

Perhaps they were denied in life. Perhaps they FAILED. And in their dying moments struggle with all they were to LIVE. To PROTECT. Perhaps the PREVIOUS king was a great and worthy ruler... but their heir is...

Unworthy.

Maybe they are born to an age without Rulers. Power shifting between hands in hidden halls. Unclear and murky. All they want is for their loyalty to MEAN something. For things to be SIMPLE.

The universe is large. The Infinite Realms? Unimaginably larger.

And Pariah Dark was a BASTARD.

Who would willingly swear to him? Fools! That's who! Every warrior soul worth ANYTHING gets as far AWAY from his Realm forsaken resting place as they can. Hides. Lest they be dragged in to his infernal, gods forsaken, cess pit of a so called "army"! *disgusted spitting noises*

But what does this mean? It means every trained FIGHTER... got the hell out of dodge. Oh, sure, a FEW refused. Like Pandora and her people. But most? The farthest side of NOWHERE, several layers down! Some still GOING! Better to be decried as cowards then have ANYTHING to do with THAT(said with loathing)!

It also means they weren't where Pariah could get to them when he woke. Couldn't help. Couldn't fight. Couldn't be commanded to kneel. Nothing. They removed themselves completely. Planned on CONTINUING to remove themselves. Preferably to the farthest reaches of forever, far beyond the bastard's gaze.

But! The whole REALM INFINITE felt it? When that... that hissing, acidic, malicious undertone? SLAMS back and away, like somebody's knocked a parasite from their backs. Replaced by coolness and starlight. Delicate balance and blood on your teeth. The pounding in your chest of HOPE.

It flutters so small across their backs, inside their chests. Washing away the old.

The King... feels tiny. Young.

.......what are they doing? Running like this. Hiding away like that will change anything. How long... when did...

There are so many of them now. A veritable army of souls, of all Ages and People's. Every armor and crest imaginable. They'd been so.. so REPULSED by Pariah... nothing else had mattered but to get AWAY. Where even ARE they? What YEAR is it? Does any of that matter?

The King.

Their Obsessions whisper. Loyalty. Service. Protection. Honor. You have left you post! Abandoned your DUTY! What are you DOING!?

They are AGHAST. They turn around at once. The King! How could they have ABANDONED the King!? Who is guarding him if they are all HERE?!

Himself!?

(Yes. Danny is fine. He is eating the "Thank You for keeping us all from dying to whatever the FUCK that was!" tamales Paulina's mom pushed into his arms on his way back home. He didn't even try arguing. He made eye contact and knew he would lose.)

(Why does he feel like something really, really bothersome is headed his way?)

It's UNACCEPTABLE. Unthinkable! The King? Unguarded? Where assassination attempts and nefarious PLOTS could occur?! What if someone tried to steal his eggs!? Or attacked him while his exoskeleton was molting!? They aren't entirely sure which species he is yet, but there are SO MANY NEFARIOUS PLOTS OUT THERE!!

*panicked honor guards*

Just? Imagine becoming king. And thinking "well, aside from the skeleton army I have to figure out, at least I don't have to manage anybody!" Only to *WABAM!* your ENTIRE GHOST COURT shows up like a week later. Turns out they were hiding from your predecessor.

You have a whole ass honor gaurd. Who REFUSE TO LEAVE YOUR SIDE. You have Chefs. Who WILL cry if you send them away. The Literal Best In The Multiverse are all following you around... YOU, a RANDOM TEENAGE, with Excited Shoujo Sparkles in their eyes... because you punched a jackass really, REALLY hard.

There is no way to make this stop. Your friends are laughing at you. The interior decorator wants you to look at swatches. What are swatches and why are you being harrased by them at 1am, you wonder? If you are Mean(tm) they throw themselves upon the floor and blame themselves for their Wicked, Evil, King-Upseting Ways and you can't even TELL if your being played here.

It's like being bullied by house elves. Or Miette.

Your parents are too excited by all the New Research (at least the reveal went well?) To SAVE THEIR SON, and your sister is HELPING THE ENEMY (Traitor!), so now you're being bullied into eating vegetables and studying more.

Then? THEN!! WHO SHOWS UP?! Like... five WEEKS late?! The Justice League. Gee! GREAT RESPONSE TIME, GUYS! Reeeal snappy! But ya, JUST missed the guy!

.......YES HES BEING SARCASTIC!!!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[bunnyyyuu]

hellooooo vampireyuuta :3 can we pls talk about……. ehem…………….. vampire yuuta perhaps…… he’d be so sweet me thinks

includes: f! reader, aged up! vampire yuuta, blood, dubcon-ish

i fear my vampire knowledge is shit and this is not accurate to vampire lore. blame my babysitters a vampire (ghe only vampire media ive consumed). sorry chat

he is such a sweetie pie. he's real gentle with you (and literally only you). unfortunately for him, urges are strong and he is so hungry. but, he is stronger than that! he can find other people to feed on and turn, plus he can just avoid kissing your body.

but that sucks! he wants you.

your blood smells so good (yes he can smell it, yes it's kind of embarrassing when he mentions it), and your neck just looks so empty and bare — you deserve those two little marks on it! he knows that your blood would taste so good, nothing like the supply he has. he knows he'd just get addicted to the sweet taste if you let him.

he gets antsy after a while of being together, and he just can't help himself anymore. though, he's not gonna do anything against your will.

he starts shoving his face in the crook of your neck in literally every hug you share (and you guys hug a lot). you can feel him practically panting against your skin as he nuzzles his nose against you. he judt grumbles and whines when you tell him "that tickles!"

god forbid you accidentally slice your finger while you two are making dinner together. he immediately whips his head around to where you're cutting up some veggies. his first instinct is to be concered, but his second is to ogle that crimson fluid bubbling from the slit you'd opened on the tip of your finger. he watches you shove your finger into your mouth to ease to sting, face scrunched in pain.

he just stares for a second, statue still. his eyes are so dilated as the smell and sight if your blood floods his mind — there's barely even a sliver of those deep indigo irises as his hollow pupils blow up. the already scent overbearing scent that is usually all yuuta can smell has increaed by tenfold: it's suffocating.

"yuuta —" you hiss, words muffled by your digit still between your lips, "bandaid!"

he blinks at you once. twice. "oh," he nods, his pupils returning to normal, "yes, yes. sorry, honey..."

he can't help but sneak glances at your bandaged finger during dinner as the pad of the bandaid gets stained with your blood. he knows he's being weird — but, you don't care, right? you've told him everything he does — weird or not — is okay as long as he doesn't feed on you! which he'd never do (at least, not if you don't want him to).

yuuta's extra strange after that. he wishes he wasn't, but, in the back of his mind, he's hoping that maybe you'll slip up like that again and create another shallow gash in your flesh. and, that time, he'll be there to lap up your cherry gore instead. though, he'd never say that. he doesn't want you to intentionally hurt yourself, but, hey, accidents happen! but, that's not the only thing wracking his brain for weeks after the vegetable-cutting-incident.

it's, unfortunately, during sex that he finally has the guts to air out all the things swarming his mind.

his fat tip is pushing past your entrance barely two minutes after he had you seeing stars with his fingers. his chest is flush against yours — missionary — and his face is, once again, buried in the crook of your neck.

"ohhhh, baby," he groans when your cunt excitedly clenches around his cockhead, his mouth falling open. you shiver a little at both sensations: the unfamiliarity of his lips on your neck (kissing your neck is something he avoids like the plauge) and the not-so-unfamiliar stretch of your hole.

you gasp when he doesn't push himself in any further and instead, for whatever reason, plants a wet kiss on the collum of your throat.

"i need to talk to you," he murmurs.

your eyes, previously gently shut, open and grow wide. "w-what? now?" your voice sounds so weak, shaky — his cock throbs at just the sweet sound of it. he could just eat you up.

"yes, now. please," he murmurs with another peck on your skin.

your head is spinning. his lips, always so soft and still leaving gentle smooches on your neck, almost tickle. and, the pulsing of his leaky, pink tip inside you. he's so desperate to go deeper — knowing that, if he was fucking you stupid, it would be much easier to have this conversation — but he doesn't, despite the overwhelming need.

"okay," you mumble with a tiny nod.

he doesn't talk for a moment, leaving you impatient. he's just kissing your neck. not sucking hickeys or nipping at it, just planting little pecks. something's off, clearly. the second you decide to speak, though, you're cut off.

"yuuta, what is —"

"i want you," he pulls back just enough to rest his face above yours, sweaty foreheads touching, tips of noses grazing, "i want you," he repeats when you don't answer.

"w-want me, how?" you meekly ask after a beat of dry-mouthed silence.

"i —" he takes a shaky breath, hot air fanning your face, "want you. i-i don't know. 'wanna feed or turn you, bite you — i-i don't care. just... need your blood, angel."

again, you're left stunned. you almost ask him to repeat himself, unsure if maybe your horny mind is playing tricks on you. but, you heard him. you know what he asked. and, maybe it's the way butterflies flapped their wings in your tummy at his words or maybe it's how insatiably you need him right now and, god, if agreeing will get him to properly fuck you, you'll do it.

you can almost feel how his nerves spike at your silence. though, those nerves seem to be eased by the way he pushes his cock further into your needy pussy — about halfway in. he doesn't even notice when you promptly smack! his back that you'd been digging your nails into a few seconds ago.

"y-yuuta!" you whine, "'m trying to t-talk!"

if he were a worse man, he'd probably keep going. but, he's not, so he stills himself upon your request. he mutters a basically inaudible apology.

there's another beat of silence. you gently rub over the red handprint you'd left on his back (though it didn't hurt him one bit).

"did i scare you?" he whispers when his anxiety grows almost all consuming.

"no — no, yuu, you've never scared me," you instantly reassure him with a small peck on his frowning lips, "i just..."

it's definitely the brain fog from how he's stretching your cunny (even though it's still not enough) and your last orgasm still thrumming through you. but, something in your head is telling you yes yes yes!

maybe it's — no, not maybe. this is a bad idea. do you want to live forever? not really. do you want to durvive off human blood? definitely not. do you —

your mind is a mess, but, "okay," is all you have to say.

it hurts — his teeth digging into your flesh — it hurts like hell. it's an abundance of pain that courses all throughout your body. the only thing stopping you from screaming and crying as his fangs pierce your neck is how yuuta's cock is pushing in to the hilt.

your crimson blood pools from those two little punctures for a mere second before he speedily licks it up with his tongue. he moans louder than you think you've ever heard at the taste, his hips sloppily stuttering up into you. he can hear your panting and feel the tears falling down your cheeks and into his hair as he suck, suck, sucks your blood.

the smell and the taste of you, unfiltered, unrestrained, is all too much for him.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, "i love you, i'm sorry, thank you — i love you so much," he's chanting incoherently against your new wound whilst slamming into you over and over again.

is he really sorry? no. he's not.

this is what he's wanted since he first met you — to live with you forever. he wants to love you like this always, blood and all.

[obsesssedblerd]

According to Shiu Kong, this little assignment was supposed to be simple. You and your infuriatingly attractive work partner, Toji, infiltrate a formal dinner party to get information about a target that you’ll have to assassinate later on, and then sneak back out without being noticed. 

It was simple, until it wasn’t. 

One of the target’s bodyguards had been eyeing you and Toji carefully for the last hour, despite both of you blending in with the rest of the couples at the party. “Maybe it’s because we both look good,” he told you when you mentioned it earlier, gesturing to your red dress and his dark suit, but you weren’t so sure. 

During a speech, Toji places a hand on the small of your back, then leans over to whisper in your ear, “Time to go. He’s definitely on to us.” 

You raise a brow. “Oh, are you finally admitting that you’re wrong?” 

“Shut up and walk with me.” 

You roll your eyes, but walk when he takes your hand and leads you behind the crowd, both of dropping off your empty champagne glasses on a tray when you pass a waiter. When you two slip into one of the venue’s quiet hallways, you feel the bodyguard trailing behind you—a small distance away, but still nearby.

“The entire party will be filled with skilled assassins,” Shiu briefed you two before beginning the mission, “If you are caught, you will be greatly outnumbered, so make sure you don’t get caught.” 

Toji also knows that the bodyguard is following you two. You can tell by the way his mouth presses in a tight line. He’s thinking of a plan. The door that leads to the car you both arrived in was on the opposite side of where you are now. To get out safely would mean getting the bodyguard off of your trail. He turns left, then tugs you down another long hall that’s filled with multiple doors. He quietly opens one, then ushers you inside before getting in as well, shutting the door behind him. 

You bite back a yelp when your back immediately hits a wall. “Toji,” you whisper, “is this a closet?” 

“Yes. That guy will more than likely think we took the door that leads to the basement. All we have to do is hide here long enough for him to disappear, then go back the way we came.” 

The closet wasn’t cramped to the point of extreme discomfort, but it was still on the smaller side. You can tell from the faint smell of cleaner that it was where the custodians stored some of their supplies. The tiny, dim light bulb above of you both is your only source of light. When Toji sees your brows furrow, he scoffs, “What? Got a better idea?” 

“...Why didn’t we just take the staircase that went towards the side of the building when we left the party?” 

“Too many people, dumbass,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blink in surprise. “Do you really think he’s that idiot’s only bodyguard? What’s better? One person pursuing us, or multiple people pursuing us?” 

It takes a lot to remember that you’re supposed to be quiet. However, you’re pissed, and it doesn’t stop you from whisper-yelling, moving your hands around animatedly. “First of all, you empty-headed piece of shit,” you hiss through your teeth. “I said the side, not the front. The side entrance of the building was down the stairs. The door is literally at the bottom of the staircase. The bodyguard was on the other side of the party when we started walking. By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, we would’ve been gone.” 

Toji takes in your words, and the smugness fades from his eyes as he slowly makes the connection. Then, he exhales. “...Oh.” 

“Oh?” Now it’s you scoffing in disbelief. “Oh? That’s what you have to say? Didn’t you look at the fucking map that Shiu gave you of this place the other day?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, so I got the fuckass map mixed up. Cry about it later, let’s just get through this.” 

“Yeah, you always get shit mixed up and that’s why we always end up in dumb scenarios such as this one.” 

He glares at you. “Look, if you really think that—” When moving his hand, it knocks a bucket off of the shelf, and it clatters noisily to the ground. His eyes widen, and your heart drops. 

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching from down the hall. Quickly.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he quietly hisses through gritted teeth, and he drags a hand through his dark strands. It’s the first time you’ve seen Toji look worried. 

“Oh, god,” you whisper, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart. “Do you think we can knock this guy out? Or even kill him and run?” 

“He’s more than likely got a gun, and back-up on the way,” he replies, and right on cue, you hear a gun clicking, as well as the bodyguard muttering something into a phone. Shit. 

Your breathing picks up. The only way you two were getting out of this in one piece is if the bodyguard abandons his plan after seeing you and Toji in the closet-

Bingo. “That’s it!” You whisper-yell again when your new idea hits you.

“What? What’s it? You got something???” Toji asks you, and the footsteps are dangerously close now. You’re out of time. 

Your eyes meet his. “Play along like you fucking mean it,” you tell him firmly. 

“What do you– mm!” His words are cut off when you grab the front of his jacket, push up to your toes and slam your lips against his. Once he gets over the initial shock, his hands are on your waist, and he’s shoving you up against the closet wall, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

It pulls a small moan from you, and you begin fumbling with his tie as his hand trails lower down your body, grazing your leg through the open slit of your dress. You run a hand through his hair, gripping slightly, and the sound he makes is between a groan and a growl. It makes heat rush through your entire being. You’re just beginning to pull his tie all the way off when the door to the closet opens. You hear a shocked gasp, and you and Toji break your heated kiss to look over at the bodyguard, whose face is flushed a bright red. 

“Do you fuckin’ mind?” Toji asks him irritatedly, slightly out of breath from the kiss. 

The bodyguard steps back and stammers out his apologies. “S-So sorry. I, uh, I didn’t think this would be– Please forgive me.” He shuts the door, and on top of the rapidly departing footsteps, you hear him clear his throat before saying, “No, no. False alarm. Just two guests having a private moment.” You grin, then laugh quietly. A split second later, Toji joins you. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, then looks back at you. His face is a bit flushed, and his lips were slightly swollen from kissing, but he’s mostly relieved. “Good idea.” 

“Thanks,” you say, “can’t believe it worked.” Your gaze drifts back to his lips, which now had hints of your gloss on them. “You’re a good kisser,” you mumble without thinking, and you immediately wish that you can take it back. 

“Yeah?” He asks, the corner of his scarred mouth lifting. 

No point in avoiding it now. You meet his stare head-on. “Mhm.” 

“Right back at you.” His voice is low; a bit sultry. When you feel his thumb lightly stroke your waist, you remember that his hands are still on you. Your arms are also still wrapped around his neck. “We should go, huh?” He asks. 

“Right,” you mumble, but don’t move. You don’t want to. “He’s gone now, so it should be safe for us to leave.” 

Toji doesn’t move either, and his eyes don’t leave yours. “Right.” You notice how they darken with hunger. Arousal swirls in the pit of your stomach, pools in between your thighs. 

He leans in and kisses you again, much slower than before, but still as intense. His lips drift towards your neck; kissing, then suckling a small mark onto your skin. “Toji…” you sigh blissfully as your head falls back to give him more access. “We’re in a closet,” you say, the last shard of common sense within you making a desperate attempt to remind him. 

“Shh…” He hushes, enjoying the way you shudder when his fingers drift even lower than before. “They think we’re fucking anyway. No one’s coming back for a while,” he assures, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “It’s just us.” You tilt your head to look back at him, and his thumb gently drags across your bottom lip, messing up your gloss even more. 

“Let me have you.”

----

a/n: hehehehehe cliffhangerrr 🤭

[delulujuls]

go ahead and cry little boy | aegon II targaryen

hi, i literally have nothing in my defense with this one. aegon's just a baby who needs some comfort okay? and who i am to judge him for that

GIVE THIS BOY SOME PEACE FR

summary: no one sees aegon as a hurt boy who is hungry for love. however, there is someone who is willing to fix him and give him her whole heart

warnings: fluff without much plot basically, pure mommy issues (nothing sexual imo, alottt of comfort though) (yes, he's calling reader mommy), slight breast play in the end

pairing: fem!servant reader x aegon targaryen

The young prince stormed into his chamber like a tempest, freezing the blood of all the maids who were busy tidying up inside.

"Out, get out!," he commanded angrily, though despite his anger, his voice trembled.

The maids left everything and hastily began to leave the chamber, but one of them didn't move an inch. Aegon wiped his bleeding nose with the back of his hand, smearing not only blood but also tears on his face. When he noticed that one of the women was still inside, he became even angrier. He was angry because she saw the heir to the throne in such a pitiful state.

"Are you deaf?" he growled, "I told you to get the fuck out of here."

"I heard you the first time, my prince," she replied calmly. His anger did not scare her, for she did not see a raging lion before her but a defensively postured kitten. "But before I go, I ask that I may tend to you."

"I'm not a child," he muttered, turning his back to her and pouring himself some wine. "Leave before I order your fingers cut off."

"As you wish, my prince," she looked at him one last time. On her way out, she grabbed one of the maester's solutions and placed it on the cabinet. She didn't look at the prince again, but obediently grabbed the door handle. Aegon turned towards her, taking a sip of wine that washed the blood from his lips. He grimaced at the metallic taste and sighed, setting the goblet aside.

"Wait," he sighed, "I allow you to fix me up."

The woman turned from the door and looked towards the prince. His pale, blood-stained face had lost its combativeness, and tears streamed from his large, violet eyes.

She took the solution from the cabinet and knelt, reaching for some small-cutted pieces of cloth.

Aegon sat on the bed, and soon after, the woman did the same.

"May I touch your face, my prince?" she asked, wanting to ensure that the angry heir had not changed his mind.

"Without it, it will be rather hard for you to tend to me," he muttered, "Just do it, quickly."

The woman nodded and opened a small vial, pressing a cloth to its opening and soaking it with the liquid. With her other hand, she touched the prince's cheek and turned his face towards her. Aegon kept his eyes lowered, and his wet, tear-clumped eyelashes lightly brushed the top of his cheeks. The woman carefully brushed his hair from his face and pressed the cloth to his bleeding lip, causing him to flinch and hiss quietly, giving her an angry look.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said softly, placing her other hand on the back of his head, not wanting him to move. She gave him an apologetic smile and once again gently pressed the soaked cloth to his split lip.

Seeing her smile, the nervous grimace on Aegon's face softened. Did she just… smile at him? When was the last time someone smiled at him?

After a moment, the woman set aside the bloody cloth and took a new one, soaking it again with the solution. She wiped the blood from under his nose and pressed it lightly to stop the bleeding.

"It would be good if you lay down, my prince," she said. Aegon lay down without a word, resting his head on her lap. The woman smiled involuntarily and again pressed the cloth to his bleeding nostril.

Aegon avoided her gaze, but when she began to gently wipe his tears, he looked at her face. He paid no attention to the people in the castle, and certainly not to the servants. However, he could swear that he was seeing the woman for the first time in his life.

She seemed to be no more than ten years older than him, but she looked younger than his mother. A carefully braided plait lay on her shoulder, reaching past her breasts. Her eyes were large, and her lips pink. She did not look like a servant.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly, less confidently than he intended. His violet eyes watched her face intently and focused on the small smile that stretched her lips.

"I serve the royal family, my prince."

"You don't look like a servant," he replied, to which the woman stifled a laugh. "What's your name?"

"It's not important, my prince," she replied, setting aside the dirty cloths. She touched his cheek and gently turned his face towards her, wanting to check if she had thoroughly cleaned him of blood and tears. Her tender touch on his face was like a balm after Alicent's hit.

"All done," she announced, giving him a smile and withdrawing her hand. He caught it and pressed it back to his cheek.

"Don't stop," he commanded, though it sounded more like a plea. The woman nodded and stroked his cheek with her thumb, gently caressing him. She placed her other hand on his head and began to lightly comb through his hair with her fingers. Aegon closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, eldest son of Viserys the First and heir to the Iron Throne, despite his young age, did not enjoy a good reputation. Everyone who knew Aegon, and even those who were completely strangers to him, had only bad things to say about him. The young prince had been causing trouble since his earliest years – he did not want to study, slept in, started drinking as soon as he could reach for a jug of wine, and was rude, arrogant, and cruel. Many believed that the young prince needed not the Iron Throne, but iron discipline. Aegon, however, needed love and understanding. He needed someone who would give him attention and see the hurt child who had ingrained in his mind that he had to act out to get attention. He was willing to pay that price even if it involved shouting and painful blows.

The woman on whose lap he lay saw not a cruel prince but a hurt boy. She saw someone in need of tenderness, not cruelty. A child in need of warmth. Despite having lived through twenty springs, Aegon still harbored a child's heart in his hardened chest.

"I'm sure they never loved me," he spoke suddenly. "Maybe for the first few days after I was born. But that's it."

"Why do you think so, my prince?" she asked, looking at him tenderly. She continued to stroke his cheek and hair.

"What kind of mother raises her hand to her child?" he asked, looking up at her face. "What kind of father says to your face that it would have been better if you were never born?"

The woman sighed and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"In anger, one can do much and say even more, my prince," she said. "But that doesn't mean you are not dear to them. Their mistake, however, is that they do not know how to love."

Aegon watched her face with his violet gaze and listened intently to her pleasant voice.

"That is the downfall of great rulers, my sweet prince," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "They know how to rule people, but they cannot manage their own feelings."

From that day on, the meetings between the servant and the young prince became a daily custom. The woman visited him every night, and he would lie on her lap and talk about everything that troubled him. She would listen attentively, running her fingers through his white hair that shone like hot gold. She listened as he spoke of his anger at his brother, arguments with his mother, quarrels with his father. She also listened as he spoke with a smile about his dragon, about his travels, and how much he wished to leave King's Landing.

"Would you run away with me?" he asked one night when she was lying on his bed with her back against the wall, and he was lying on his side with his head on her lap. He was naked, covered only by a sheet almost as white as his skin. His violet eyes were so full of hope that the woman couldn't help but smile fondly.

"Of course, my sweet prince," she stroked his cheek. "But I fear no dragon would take me in its saddle."

"Oh, Sunfyre would love you," he smiled. "You should meet him, and we should go for a ride!"

The woman chuckled, stroking his head. "I'd love to meet your dragon, but I hope I won't become his meal."

Aegon yawned and snuggled closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her stomach.

"Sunfyre won't hurt you," he assured with his face hidden in the folds of her dress. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

The servant smiled at his words and hugged him, holding him close.

In the evenings, her sweet prince did not resemble the cruel and wicked heir to the king that he sometimes was during the day. However, it happened less and less often. He himself didn't think his behavior had changed since he started spending time with the woman, but his sister was the first to notice.

"You have a good effect on him," Helaena remarked at one point. She was sitting on the floor reading in her chamber while the woman was changing the sheets. "He has become… less cruel."

The servant smiled and glanced at the young princess, who was still engrossed in her book. She did not say a word in response.

Aemond also noticed his brother's unusual behavior and heard rumors about Aegon not spending his evenings alone.

"Quite hypocritical of you," he began when the Small Council meeting ended and they were left alone at the table. The guards were still present, so he spoke in High Valyrian, "You criticized me for visiting Silk Street, but you lie with a whore yourself."

"Watch your words, or you’ll lose your other eye," he replied sharply, looking at his face. "She is not a whore."

"Then what? A prostitute?"

"Enough!" he thundered, standing and slamming his fist on the table. "This is none of your business!"

Aemond laughed. "Why so angry, dear brother? This whore must be truly dear to you if my words upset you so much."

Furious, Aegon drew a dagger and lunged at his brother, but the guards restrained him. Aemond remained seated, amused, twirling a voting ball in his hand.

"She is not a whore!" Aegon shouted. "Call her that again, and I’ll have your tongue for that!"

He freed himself from the guards' grip and stormed out of the chamber. Aemond smirked. He knew well that the maid was not a whore. Aegon didn’t care about whores and would never have been so enraged if the woman he spent his evenings with was truly one of them.

The young prince walked briskly, tears of rage stinging his eyes. It was only early noon, so he knew the woman was not in his chambers. He didn't even know whom to ask for. Although she was close to him, he didn’t even know her name. This realization turned his stomach, making the heir to the throne feel even worse.

Aegon wandered through the castle, searching for the woman, but with each passing minute, he became more and more disheartened. He felt like a child trying to find his mother in a crowded market. Defeated, he sat on the stairs and buried his face in his hands, sobbing bitterly.

"Oh, my sweet prince," after some time, a tender, familiar voice spoke above his head. Aegon quickly lifted his head and, upon seeing the woman, immediately grabbed her legs and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her apron.

"It’s alright," she assured, placing one hand on his shoulder and stroking his head with the other. He trembled, holding her as if she were a lifeline. "Come, I’ll take care of you."

Moments later, they were in Aegon's chamber. The young prince lay with his head on the maid's lap as she slowly ran her fingers through his hair. He no longer cried, but his gaze was distant.

"Do you want to tell me what brought you to tears, my dear?"

Her words snapped Aegon out of his thoughts, and he looked at her face. Remembering his brother's words, he was overcome with anger again and lowered his gaze.

"Aemond is an idiot," he admitted, reaching for the woman's braid and playing with it. "So, nothing you haven't heard before."

The woman smiled and took back her braid, gently tickling his face with it. Aegon brightened immediately and closed his eyes, allowing her to stroke his face with her hair.

"You are his older brother, my sweet," she said after a moment, letting go of the braid and touching his cheek with her hand. "He will always try to unsettle you. He knows no other way to assert his presence and make you acknowledge him."

"How is it that you always have an answer for everything?" he asked, looking at her face. "You always know what to say to me."

The woman just smiled in response. Aegon looked at her silently, tracing her facial features with his eyes. After a moment, he raised his hand and twirled a loose strand of her hair around his finger.

"You are beautiful,"

The maid laughed at his words and took his hand, placing a tender kiss in its palm. Aegon looked at his hand and then back at her face. Surprised by her sudden gesture, he didn't know what to say. The woman noticed that her impulsive act had slightly embarrassed the young prince.

"I'm sorry, I—," "Kiss me," he interrupted, touching her cheek with the hand she had just kissed. "Please," he added almost in a whisper, seeing hesitation on her face.

The woman smiled and touched his cheek, leaning in to kiss his forehead. Though it wasn't what Aegon expected, the gesture was incredibly comforting. It didn't stop at one kiss, for she slowly kissed first one, then the other of his cheeks. Aegon smiled slightly and closed his eyes as she kissed the tip of his nose and chin. Just when he thought she would pull away, she planted a gentle kiss on his lips. It felt like a brush of butterfly's wings. Aegon felt his breath catch in his throat. When he sensed her pulling away, he opened his eyes and gazed at her face, mesmerized. No one had ever treated him so tenderly.

"Can I-," he began uncertainly and had to clear his throat because his voice caught. "Can I do the same?"

The woman smiled and nodded. Aegon sat up and moved closer to her, nervously licking his lips. He lifted his hand and touched her cheek, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. He tried to be as delicate as she had been moments earlier, even catching himself holding his breath. The maid closed her eyes and smiled slightly, feeling his thumb caressing one cheek while his lips rested on the other. Aegon also kissed her nose and chin, and finally, with utmost reverence, placed a kiss on her lips.

When he pulled back, the woman opened her eyes again. She felt a blush rising on her cheeks.

"You are the most charming young man in all the Seven Kingdoms, my sweet prince," she said, making Aegon blush as well. So she didn't see him as a cruel, spoiled brat. He was more than that to her.

"Am I important to you?"

He asked as he lay back on her lap, and her fingers returned to combing through his hair.

"Of course, my dear," she smiled. "You are my sweet prince, after all, aren't you?"

Aegon smiled and nodded. Despite the early hour, he sleepily nuzzled his face into her stomach.

"I love you, mommy," he said, and only when he heard what had just left his mouth did he freeze. He didn't know what was more embarrassing – the fact that he confessed his love or that he called her that. He blushed even more and looked at her face, wanting to explain, but she laughed merrily and leaned over, kissing his cheek.

"It's all right, my sweet," she assured, running her hand through his hair. "You haven't insulted me at all."

The embarrassed heir hugged her waist and buried his face deeper into her belly, as if wanting to hide. She laughed softly and lovingly kissed his hair.

From that day on, the pair grew even closer, and with each evening spent together, Aegon began to realize that she was like a mother to him. She didn’t behave like Alicent—Seven save him—but like a real mother. He felt her love and knew he was dear to her, and when in her embrace, it seemed as if all the world's evil vanished. Over time, calling her as he had that day became almost natural.

Sometimes, however, when seeking comfort, he would end up not in her soft and safe arms but in the bitter, burning grip of alcohol. One evening, he staggered into his chambers drunk, unable to stay on his feet. Two of his knights had brought him to rest, but the moment they released his arms, he fell to the floor like a ragdoll.

The woman quickly dismissed the men, and once they closed the door behind them, she knelt by Aegon and took his face in her hands. Her sweet prince was completely drunk. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his eyes vacant, and his lips kept breaking into a soft giggle. His clothes were soaked with wine and ale, and the bitter smell began to fill the room. When Aegon managed to focus his eyes for a moment and saw her before him, he happily threw himself around her neck. The maid embraced him and helped him to his feet, which was quite a challenge.

“Mommy, my sweet mommy,” he kissed her cheek a dozen times before she seated him on the bed. “I missed you so much, mommy, you know?”

“Did you miss me?” she asked, kneeling before him and slipping off his boots. “Is that why you came so late?”

Aegon smiled for a moment, but when the meaning of her words sank in, his smile faded. The tone in her voice was not angry—absolutely not. It was calm, perhaps tinged with a hint of sadness. Aegon felt bad. And it wasn’t the alcohol.

“Mommy?” he began, looking at her blurry face, which was turned away from him. “Did I make you mad?”

She didn’t answer, only stood up and reached for the clasp of his necklace, soon setting it aside. Aegon swallowed hard and felt tears welling in his eyes.

“Mommy…”

“You made me sad, not mad, my sweet prince,” she replied. She began unbuttoning his clothing but didn’t look at his face. Aegon grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips, then to his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to…” he stammered, as two large tears rolled down his cheeks. His wet eyes looked at her as if she hung the stars in the sky every night and tonight she wouldn't. “I’m so sorry, I really am.”

“It’s all right,” she assured, stroking his cheek with her thumb. She looked into his eyes, wanting her words to sound more convincing. “I’ll undress you and help you wash, okay? A bath will do you good.”

The young prince obediently nodded and sniffled. He felt terrible. He felt even worse when she undressed him and seated him in the tub of hot water. When she slowly poured water over his back and shoulders, and when she washed his hair with gentle, circular motions. He didn’t deserve this after what he did, he thought. She should slap him, spit on him, and scream at him as Alicent sometimes did. Aegon sat silently, his tears repeatedly breaking the water's surface. One thought occupied his mind—he had made his mommy sad.

“Don’t be sad, my sweet prince,” she said as she knelt before him and began washing his chest with a sponge. “Tears will only hasten the headache.”

“I’m so stupid,” he sobbed, gripping his hair tightly. “I always have to ruin everything!”

She quickly untangled his fingers from his hair and moved his hands aside, kissing each one.

“You’re not stupid, Aegon,” she said, looking at him. She very rarely used his name. “If you wish, we can talk about this tomorrow. Tonight, you should only rest.”

The young prince looked at her in silence, his gaze tracing her face. He wanted reassurance, to find in her features the answer that his misstep hadn’t changed anything between them.

“I love you,” he said, his lip trembling.

She smiled and touched his cheek, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“I love you too, sweet prince. Now let’s get you to bed.”

When Aegon fell onto the pillows, she covered him with a sheet. She sat beside him and took his hand in hers. He looked at her, devastated.

“Won’t you lie with me?” he asked, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks again. “No cuddles?”

“You’re breaking my heart, my sweet,” she kissed his hand. “How could I not cuddle you in this state?”

Aegon sniffled and quickly moved over, making room for her. She took off her headscarf and set it aside, undressing. Clad only in her shirt, she took her place beside him, and he immediately nestled against her.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, holding her tightly. “Mother is right, I’m awful.”

“You’re not awful,” she replied calmly, stroking his back, which was shaking with sobs. “I’ve never thought that about you, my prince.”

Aegon lifted his head and looked at her tearfully. “Not even now?”

She smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Of course not. How could my little sweet boy be awful?”

Aegon rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes. He held her tightly, listening to her heartbeat, while she gently stroked his back. She began to hum softly.

The young prince felt as if his head weighed a ton. The world was spinning around him, his nose was clogged from crying, and his restless mind kept trying to convince him that she was mad at him. All this made Aegon exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come.

He murmured in frustration and buried his face deeper into her chest. He fidgeted so much that one of her shirt buttons came undone, and his nose encountered her soft skin instead of fabric. Still with his eyes closed, the prince tried to find more of her body with his face. She laughed softly at this desperate act.

“I can undo the buttons if that’s what you want, my sweet,” she ran her hand through his hair, and Aegon quickly nodded, looking up at her. He obediently moved aside, and she unbuttoned a few buttons of her shirt. With each one, Aegon’s pupils grew larger. After a moment, she smiled encouragingly at him, and he wordlessly buried his face in her warm, bare chest. The soft skin surrounded him on all sides, and he couldn’t help but plant a few kisses on it.

The maid smiled and closed her eyes. She leaned her head against the headboard, still holding him close and stroking his back. She didn’t pay much attention when Aegon turned on his side, facing her, but she was surprised when she felt him latch onto her nipple.

She looked down at her body and immediately met his big, wet eyes, looking at her apologetically.

“Can I?” he asked quietly. She just smiled and nodded. Aegon weakly returned her smile and kissed her nipple, running his tongue over it before latching on again. Though no milk flowed from it, the act itself calmed the young prince immensely. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the wet lashes settling on his tear-streaked cheeks. She held him tenderly, gently rocking him in her arms.

“The night may be dark and full of terrors, but in my arms, nothing can harm you, my sweet,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"You are safe."

[holybibly]

Bunnies, are you ready?

These are the unholy thoughts of the day: hot cowboys with a lactation kink and a strong oral fixation who find it difficult to keep their hands to themselves when they meet a pretty busty waitress in a saloon who works part-time as a breastfeeding nanny during the day.

Your town wasn't big, but it was certainly a picturesque place to relax, so when rumours spread through the bustling streets and saloons about four damn good-looking cowboys from the big city, you didn't pay much attention. Cowboys often came to your town to take a break from the hustle and bustle. For you, they were just extra income as hot, horny things dropped fabulous amounts of money in your saloon to drink and entertain.

Especially as you've been so busy lately with your part-time job as a breastfeeding nanny that all you can think about is how much your breasts ache from all that milk and how much you want to milk yourself to relieve their heavy weight and plumpness.

When a noisy, chaotic crowd poured into your saloon this evening, it took your table, and you didn't expect much. Just another customer on another night, but God, how wrong you were, especially when the blue-haired cowboy, whose name you later learned was Hongjoong, wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, playfully running his fingers into your deep cleavage.

"Sweet lady, will you join us today, hm?" He purred in your ear, pulling down the hem of your blouse slightly, exposing your plump, milky tits even more to the gaze of his friends.

"I don't think so." You slapped his arm, freeing yourself from his grip. The cocky cowboy grinned, letting you go easily but not losing sight of the wet stains on your blouse, and the other guy at once commented that.

"Pretty lady, is breast-feeding? Or is there a milkshake on the menu?" His cat-like eyes narrow and focus on your cleavage as his tongue runs along his bottom lip, leaving a wet, glistening mark.

"Lord, San, don't be so shameless; you can't say such things." Another guy, with long hair and scarlet lips, rebuked him. And you were about to thank him, but his next sentence made you abandon that idea completely. "I wouldn't mind tasting that milk, though. I bet the taste is simply divine."

"Hmm..." The last guy sitting in the corner of the booth hummed. "Are you free, doll, or is someone already milking your pretty tits?"

"Assholes," you hissed, adjusting your corset. The tension of the fabric on your sensitive nipples only made you leak more milk. You sighed heavily, wanting to get away from the brazen, shameless cowboys whose eyes were now literally devouring you.

"Oh, don't be angry, beautiful." The blue-haired guy laughed and leaned back against the soft wall of the booth. "I'm Hongjoong; this is Seonghwa." He pointed at a guy with long hair. "San, but you've heard his name before. And this is Mingi." He pointed to a tall guy in the corner of the booth. "We're new here, and you're so gorgeous; can you blame us for being interested? But still, do you have someone, or should we try our luck?"

You roll your eyes in annoyance and look from one guy to the other until your eyes meet Hongjoong's.

"You're not my type, stud. So calm down, place your order, or get out of here. You know, there are a lot of other people who would like to be in your place.".

"The only place I want to be right now is..." San didn't get to finish because Seonghwa covered his mouth with his hand, but he didn't have to finish for you to understand what he meant.

"Don't pay any attention to him, doll. San is a very straightforward guy, but he's harmless." Mingi said, leaning towards you, only to wrap his arm around your hips and pull you towards him. "You know what they say, doll, safe the horse, ride the cowboy. Want to try?"

"Isn't someone falling for that?" You ask, squirming in Mingi's arms.

"Usually it works, yes." Seonghwa notices and reaches out to you, cupping your chin with his fingers and forcing you to look into his eyes. "I hope you can ride horses well, because we're going to give you a real wild rodeo, little flower."

[tetragonia]

My Body, His Choice

Rafe Cameron x F!Reader

Blurb: In which you've been arguing with Rafe Cameron all these years and that one time when arguments turned into something heated. Literally.

warning: no use of (y/n), kissing, harsh words, a bit suggestive?

note: enemies to lovers ;)

words: 445

“You know, for someone who claims to be so perfect, you sure do have a lot of flaws.”

You threw a bitter remark at Rafe. This was clearly not your first time getting into an argument with him.

"And you, of all people, would know about flaws, wouldn't you? I mean, it's practically your expertise."

Rafe was no stranger to you. You two grew up side by side as you were the same age. You often followed your father that Ward hired to lead some fishing expeditions. You met Rafe when you were 10 and none of those years patch your rocky ways together.

“Sarah is my sister, I sure know what’s best for her,” Rafe gritted his teeth.

“And that’s clearly not living with you,” you countered. “She’s happy with us, Rafe! I’ve never seen her laugh this much when she was with Topper, it felt like she was held hostage!”

Rafe stepped closer to you hurriedly, hissed, “Watch your little mouth.”

“Or what?” you removed more space between you and Rafe, throwing your head up in a cocky way and raising your right eyebrow. Hands on the hips, smirk never left your lips.

Rafe's breath was deep and his eyes were fixated on you. You thought he'd explode but then suddenly he grabbed your nape and pulled you close, pressing his lips against yours. His breath felt hot against your skin, his grip was tight.

Rafe’s kiss was rough and hurried, fueled by a mix of desire and frustration.

Caught by surprise, you didn’t think twice to kiss him back. He was infuriating, yes, but wasn’t he charming? With that cocky grin and confidence whenever he stride, Rafe was effortlessly dancing between the line of tempting and irresistible. 

Even if you find yourself rolling your eyes at his antics and cursing his name under your breath, there’s no denying the undeniable attraction of Rafe. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you jumped on that boat,” Rafe whispered between kisses. His grip on you tightened as if afraid you might slip away, his movements desperate and urgent.

You kissed him deeper, biting his lower lips as he let out a soft moan. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips against yours, the taste of his skin, the sound of his soft sighs mingling with her own ragged breaths.

“Then why did you pick an argument with me?” you moaned as Rafe started to kiss your jawline, and then your neck. “Do you suck that bad at flirting?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Rafe hissed to your neck as you shut your eyes, feeling the intensity.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine | jjk | "i hear..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey. Breaking up with Jeon Jungkook had been a vicious, clean break. He tried to take it back, but the damage was already done. You walked out of the world you didn't belong in, at least until Kim Taehyung calls your name.

this is part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of controlling behaviors in a romantic relationship; reader is emotionally distant after said breakup; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; your POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; and a certain Maestro cameo; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

“Please love me again.”

You could hear him saying it but you pretended not to hear. You pretended not to know. You pretended he wasn’t there. He was persona non grata. No, he was simply another blurry face amongst many that faded into the grey background of grey days. He was only a ghost. If he happened to be in the same place as you were, it wasn’t any of your damn business. People were allowed to be wherever they wanted to be.

“I’m sorry.”

Yes, he was.

Sorry that he couldn’t walk all over you like he wanted. Sorry that he couldn’t control you on that leash like he wanted. Sorry that you had the balls to cut all ties and not put up with his selfish bullshit anymore. Sorry. What a word. Your response had not been a vindictive one, though. You hadn’t blocked him on social media. You figured he would block you himself. The last moments were him berating you for being late, what if something happened to you, I was worried, and you snapping. It had taken every fiber of your being to not fling your clutch in his face and tell him to take himself out if he cared so much.

“I understand what you meant now.”

The first couple times he attempted to speak to you after it all, you were ice-cold furious. So angry that you simply refused to speak to avoid spitting literal fire. So, you didn’t. And then it became a habit. Then you stopped caring. You stopped feeling. You lived your life.

Alone.

Like an abandoned puppy, Jeon Jungkook followed you every chance he got, but there were less and less chances as time went on. You would walk past him. He would follow until it was definitely too creepy and simply stop, staring after you with a lost look in his empty eyes. Everyone could see the broken heart in his stare.

A lot of people asked you what happened.

It was a valid question.

It was just as valid for you to not answer.

“I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else.”

You avoided people who couldn’t let it go or cut them out altogether. What was the point of shit-talking, taking sides, making yourself angry over things that couldn’t be changed? What was the point of being upset over nights that couldn’t be taken back? Over phone calls and you sitting alone in a restaurant, empty chair in front of you and the reason in your hand, an opportunity came up, I’m leaving for Los Angeles in the morning, I need to pack, bye. Over trips suddenly cut short in the middle, the agency called, another model got sick last minute so I gotta go, just stay here and have fun. By yourself. Over accusations, what are you doing right now, send a photo, now. Over doubts, are you really at the supermarket, I don’t know, you could be doing anything, I’m not there after all. Over being five minutes late because the taxi you had taken was driven by an older gentleman chatting away, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to shut up simply because of a boy.

Five minutes.

“Where were you? You need to tell me if you’re late. What if something happened? I was worried.”

“The driver was talking to me.”

“And you couldn’t text that you were okay?”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Am I not your priority?” he had hissed.

Snap.

All those times, all those moments, okay, I understand, it’s fine, you can make it up to me later, they all came back to you in vivid recollections, and you had stared at Jeon Jungkook. All those people saying how lucky you must be having such a good-looking guy, an actual fashion model, must be so nice, and you only said nice things about him because it didn’t occur to you to complain, no, it would be silly to complain about someone you loved. That was part of loving someone, wasn’t it, being in love was putting up with these things and believing in their words. All those instances, prove what you’re doing, send a photo. Now. All that shit got you to this moment right here, right now, under this furious scrutiny, his dark brows furrowed, his pretty mouth twisted in a frown, his question ringing in your ears.

His accusation in which he had already deemed you guilty.

“The fuck you say to me?” you had growled softly.

Never once did you ask him what he was doing in the destination that he was at. Never once did you fault him for going out and having fun. Never once did you say anything about the multiple social posts of beaches and hotels and nightclubs and everyone scantily-clad, his arms around fellow models, pressed up against fabulous guys and glamorous girls. If he didn’t answer you for a couple days, you assumed it was due to long shoot days and combined jetlag making him crash. The very answer he gave you the first time you asked. You believed him then. There was no need to ask for confirmation over and over if you trusted him. And you did trust him.

Now, this.

“I was five minutes late. If I thought I would be later, I would have texted you,” you explained with emotionless calm. “At least I showed up. At least I didn’t make you sit down in the restaurant, wait around for an hour only to get a text that you aren’t coming. Not even a phone call anymore.”

You hadn’t raised your voice.

He had looked taken aback.

“But… I thought you would understand.”

“Of course, I understand.” The seething anger was white-hot but your tone was crystal-clear cold. “I can understand, as long as you show me some grace and appreciation for not losing my shit every time it happens. Am I not your priority? When have I ever been yours?”

He tried to answer quickly. “You’re always–”

But you were already pulling up the rideshare app, calling another car to come pick you up. “Am I? Then why accuse me the second I get out of the car? Where was I? In the taxi. You saw me get out of it. Why are you holding five minutes over my head like a death sentence, as if I surely betrayed you in those extra five minutes? If it’s you it could be five, thirty, hours, but I have to understand you are networking. I have to understand you are being personable. I have to understand that you are practicing being friendly because it doesn’t come naturally to you.”

Jungkook simply gawked at you, wide-eyed.

You narrowed your eyes, creating a distance he could no longer cross.

“Am I just here so you have someone to visit when you’re bored? Someone to fuck?”

Maybe the vulgarity was taking it too far. Maybe saying all of this in public right now was in poor taste. His jarring question rang in your head. Am I not your priority? Maybe you were wrong to say it all now, but it was the way he said it, as if your love for him had become invalid once you were five minutes late to the appointed time for this date that you didn’t know whether or not he would abandon you in the middle of or take you home and rock your world – and you realized you didn’t care what the outcome was.

You just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

There were so many things he could have done. He could break up with you if his career was more important. He could say sorry more. He could find ways to make it up to you. He could, but he didn’t, and you understood. But this. This you could not understand. This he could not do.

No.

This you would not let him do.

If this was innocent concern, he made it worse by coming off as suffocating and hovering. Now, you realized that no excuse would have been good enough to convince him otherwise. He had already made up his mind to attack you the second you walked out of that car, delivering in the fatal blow instantly. All those moments. All those times had become hair-thin cracks, marring the bond between you and him, tiny little slices to kill the relationship and your will to be in it.

“I don’t think…”

He trailed off, not completing his thought.

The car pulled up.

This was surely the meaning of quiet treason.

“No, you don’t,” you had finished for him with icy agreement. “You expect. You expect me to be here and hold your hand when you want it, and now I know you will never ask me if I ever need my hand held.”

You had stepped away from the curb, not once raising your voice, no longer looking at him, your knuckles digging into your beaded black clutch. You expected it to hurt at least a little.

It was nothing compared to this death by a thousand cuts.

“W-Wait!”

You didn’t.

You had opened the car door and closed it quickly. The driver  requested you to confirm your name. You tersely nodded. They didn’t ask any further questions even as you witnessed Jungkook’s shocked face in the side mirror as the vehicle drove away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t even cry. Maybe you should have given him a chance to say something. A chance to change.

Except you had.

This wasn’t the first time that you had this conversation, although the first time was you sitting him down and saying, hey, if you’re not sure about your schedule, let’s not arrange any dates around those days. We can go out when things settle down. The answer was agreement and all was well for a couple weeks. And then it would happen again. And then you would bring it up again. Whoops. And again.Then he would ask you what you were doing when he wasn’t there. Oh, really? Send pictures.You asking, this is a bit much, isn’t it? The answer being, I want to know you’re safe. You finally admitting that it drove you a bit crazy. Him laughing and saying he was a bit of a handful, brushing away your concerns in light of his own.

Five minutes.

Am I not your priority?

The anger had nowhere to go.

Like how summer turned into fall and then into winter, the anger grew cold and dense and concentrated. A stone. Then one day you turned it over and found nothing underneath. You stopped caring. On one hand, you could have been the bigger person and reached out. On another hand, you didn’t see the reason in wasting any more time. What good was closure? What good would it do, talking it out and getting the same result? Deserve this, deserve that. Fair or not, at the end of the day, it didn’t work and there was no forcing something if neither party wanted to really try. I understand, until you couldn’t anymore.

Now.

Now, you would sit alone at restaurants and not be disappointed.

Table for one, yes, thank you.

Now you would spend hours at the games store and no one would be asking you to take pictures and prove that you were there. He used to play video games too, but he gradually fell out of them. Busy. Felt like he couldn’t keep up. Sold his PC because he was never home.

Emptiness where he had once enjoyed spending that time with you.

You would stay at the music store for a long time, looking over albums and wondering if you should buy them. It had been such a long time. You never listened to CDs anymore although you had been obsessed with music as a kid. The past felt like a different time. Memories of a clunky CD player and wired headphones with the metal arch over your head and those spongey earcups. Now you had wireless earbuds and a phone. Still, you looked over the colorful albums and wondered if you should get one, just to have it or maybe even put it on display. He used to listen to a lot of music too. Probably still did, on planes and in cars. He used to share your taste.

Now you didn’t have to share anything.

You stuck with your favorites, still, for years. It was an ever-growing list of popular artists as well as lesser-known indie artists that you never forgot. You made sure to listen to the top hits as well since those songs were popular for a reason. The occasional earworm could lead you down a pleasant rabbit hole, too.

You picked up an album of a band you liked but had never owned and went home.

Got that dopamine unboxing it and smiling at the photocards. Looked through the extras with the album on repeat playing through your Bluetooth speaker. You didn’t do these kinds of things in front of Jungkook usually. You had always prioritized engaging with him. Listening to his stories, looking at the photos of places he had been, shaking your head at the long hours or difficult call times. Every moment precious because you would never know when it would be cut short.

You had made everything about him when in his presence.

You hadn’t blasted the relationship all over social media although it was obvious. For the most part, people had been respectful. You hadn’t deleted all the photos he was in, the photos he had taken of you, nor had you blocked him. People asked. You repeated the same thing over and over. I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else. People eventually stopped asking. Old news was old news. There was no visible resentment, and so the interest died out.

You caught Jungkook looking at you from across the concessions stand at the movie theater.

Those big dark brown eyes filled with rueful invitation.

You didn’t know what movie he was going into, but you turned away and didn’t think about it much.

Watched the movie you paid for, alone.

Went home.

Alone.

You used to watch movies twice. Once by yourself when it released, then a second time when Jungkook could make it. When he could. Sometimes he couldn’t and the movie was already out of theaters. Then you both would watch it at home when it released on streaming services. It was what it was. You enjoyed movies. You had the time and money to watch them twice. But now you didn’t have to.

That was nice.

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was deliberately going places that you often frequented or if it was coincidence. It was likely the latter, because he usually wasn’t alone. He had a group of friends that lived in this area and often came to visit them. He used to joke that it must have been fate for you to meet as your friend circles didn’t overlap. At least he had not shown up to the video games store or the music store you usually went to, so you didn’t feel threatened in any way. Maybe he was visiting his friends more because he was sad. Maybe he was visiting them more in hopes of seeing you, the same tactic he used when he first asked you out. Maybe it was both.

It was probably both.

Sometimes you would cry in frustration.

Sometimes you would play games to distract yourself.

Sometimes you didn’t mind too much as the days passed. Sometimes you would look outside and admire the sun. Sometimes it would rain and that was nice too. Sometimes you were sad but it wasn’t a negative feeling. Such was the natural course. Sadness was the promise of happiness to come, because one couldn’t exist without the other.

At least, you believed so.

Ther wasn’t much more you could do than that.

For a bit there you had almost thought the relationship hadn’t mattered because you had walked away so coldly. In some ways, you wished you could take it back. In other ways, you didn’t. It was hard to discount years of your life simply because of how the chapter ended. There had definitely been unique experiences that you were unlikely to relive. You used to attend lavish parties with Jungkook, especially many around the holidays. You would dress up in your best and put on a brave face. A lovely dress, the high heels he brought you, carefully done makeup and hair. Jungkook would walk in with you gliding beside him, silently holding his arm. People would tell you how fun it was working with him and how lucky he was to have such a pretty and understanding lady. These were all work events full of unfamiliar faces. Jungkook used to be reserved and hang out with you in corners but, as he got more popular, more people roped him into conversations, remember this, and he would slip in with his friends, naturally, laughing and smiling. You would wait nearby, at yet another party surrounded by better bodies, and somehow he would find you at the end of the night, ask you if you had fun.

And you would smile and assure him.

“Something like that.”

The best parties were the ones thrown by his friend Kim Taehyung. He had been in the entertainment industry for a long time, becoming Jungkook’s friend though their crossed paths in modeling. He had an affliction for celebration and Jungkook was always invited, which meant you, too, bore witness to many magnificent events hosted by him. The most extravagant were his own birthday parties. Quite so, as the date was after Christmas, and he continued the festive mood. Taehyung loved a theme. He would rent specific venues, arrange for live music, impose a dress code, everything. One year, he flew everyone out to Paris and rented an entire restaurant to celebrate. Even if you barely knew anyone there, it was fun being in a different world created by Taehyung’s magical vision. Everyone was thrown into it together, experiencing the vibes of an old American jazz club, the white beaches with glass waters during Christmastime, or a playful night filled with Taehyung’s favorite childhood games and sweet treats, complete with food stalls from the area of Daegu he grew up in.

You didn’t fit in, but no one did because these were all Taehyung’s fantasies brought to life.

He always sent the invitations by physical mail, on stunning stationery to match the theme. Someone else must have created them, but seemingly Taehyung approved them all as every single one contained his unique flourishing signature. You kept them in a box. They were too pretty to throw away.

You had received an invitation this year too, to a midnight masquerade ball, but you didn’t go.

Perhaps he didn’t know yet. Or, perhaps he did know and Jungkook asked him to invite you. They were quite close. If there was a plan, you didn’t take the bait. The date came and went. Maybe Taehyung considered you a friend, but that was probably a stretch. Jungkook didn’t like you talking to Taehyung too much.

Apparently, you made him smile too big.

Or something.

Taehyung had an entire party to get to every time you met him, anyway. You would have to shoo him off because there was very little night and Taehyung wanted to speak to every guest one-on-one. He was sincere like that. He was romantic like that. He was dark and handsome and in his own head, in his constant dream of living his wonderful life that, from what you could discern, he deserved. He even always remembered to ask the staff working at his party to eat cake with them. At the end of the night, Taehyung would pick up the microphone and thank the guests for coming and thank the staff for working hard to provide everyone with a good time. Taehyung always remembered to say thank you and he always made sure to express his gratitude to everyone, no matter their status.

You missed being at his party, a little bit, if only just to witness a fairy-tale in real life.

But you weren’t part of Jeon Jungkook’s world anymore.

And so you missed the party.

Please love me again.

On quiet, grey days, you realized how very boring your life was. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to think about the good times. About his laugh, about his starry eyes when you came into view, about enchanted nights where you would both make magic between bodies. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to pick out all his flaws until the memories were burned, images stricken with ash, never to be the same again. On quiet, grey days, you had every chance to run back or run away, at least in your head, but instead you lived your very boring life doing neither of those choices.

Whether you loved him or hated him, the result would still be the same.

You entered the artisan tea shop and greeted the staff. You talked about how your father was into tea, chatted about what would make a good gift. The prices of the sets. The amount of loose-leaf tea and how many cups it would make. The various flavors and strength. You smelled a bunch of different ones. Rejected some, remained indecisive about others, accepted a few as contenders.

You heard the bell by the door chime again, musical and clear.

A male’s voice, deep and polite.

You tensed. Your body knew before your mind caught up. You pointed to several flavors you had liked, and the employee suggested a gift box sampler featuring a watercolor camellia-printed limited-edition teacup set that you agreed to readily, all the while vaguely aware of a tingling behind your neck and a vigilant tension forming in your lungs. But it wasn’t until your name was called that you turned around by instinct, and then froze with recognition. Dark brown eyes under graceful black-brown waves. Tan skin glimmering under the lights. The image completed by a three-piece chocolate brown suit paired with a ruffled warm gray dress shirt and sharp dark leather oxfords. The stylish man smiled widely, box-like, and walked towards you without hesitation.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Kim Taehyung must have known, and yet.

You bowed lightly. “Hello.”

The sales associate was immediately charmed by Taehyung’s deep voice and dashing appearance, their gloved hands hovering over the half-packed box and openly ogling the demandingly handsome gentleman that took your hand warmly before lightly kissing your knuckles. Straight out of a movie. Probably learned it from one, or from traveling in Europe. He let go after a lingering moment.

He had said your name with the same velvety warmth he had at all of his parties.

It had hurt, but it wasn’t his fault.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you buying something?” He raised his head and daintily smiled at the employee before giving you his full attention again. “Let me pay for it.”

“No, ah,” you interrupted him quickly, handing over your card before Taehyung could reach into his heavily lined pockets. “No, sorry. I’m buying a gift for my father.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized immediately, retracting his hands. “I meant to do something nice for you and I’ve overstepped.”

“It’s… It’s alright,” you chuckled softly, trying to dissipate the awkwardness. You turned slightly to sign the receipt, not looking at the price. Your card went back into your black leather bow purse. “You had no way of knowing. How are you? And your parents?”

Taehyung was still a little sheepish but he remained next to you at a respectful distance. “Me? I guess you could say I’m holding on. I think I might take a small break soon and spend a week with my family. How did you know I was thinking of them?” He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a mind-reader.”

You shook your head with a smile, taking the beautifully wrapped bag and bowing in gratitude to the employee. “No, you’ve just never been a big tea drinker. It was only a guess.”

He scratched the back of his head and sighed lightheartedly. “Ah, you’re right. I wanted to buy a grown-up gift, but maybe I should have asked what they wanted. I don’t know the first thing about tea.”

You both began to walk towards the entrance.

“You’re their adorable child. They will love anything you gift them.”

Taehyung grinned. “So, you think I’m adorable?”

You opened your mouth and then.

Then you were suddenly hyperaware of the brightness of the lights in the tea store. Suddenly aware of all the customers around you milling about and chatting with their friends and the employees. Suddenly the scents of the store were too strong and too varied and suddenly a phantom grip on your arm from a time long past pulled you away from your center, into the past, and you remembered all the times you stood in a corner of a party, on the outskirts of alcohol, music, and magic, wondering why you were so, so alone.

You plastered a smile on your face and replied pleasantly.

“Of course, you are, Kim Taehyung.”

It lasted a second.

Maybe less.

Taehyung gazed at you with curious eyes.

You kept the smile on your face.

He stepped past you and opened the door, gesturing you to walk out before him in the most gentlemanly way, smiling with his eyes crinkling as they usually did when he laughed or was in his comfort zone. “Come. Let me at least treat you to lunch,” he insisted.

You accepted his graciousness and turned as you walked to face him as you spoke. “That’s really not necessary. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

He chuckled, the sound coming deep from his chest. “Of course, I’m busy, but I always have time for a friend.” He shrugged nonchalantly, grinning. “My manager expects this kind of behavior from me anyway.”

You paused, looking up at him. “Friend?”

Flutters of lashes and confusion in dark brown orbs.

“Are we not friends?”

People around you continued walking, giving you and Taehyung weird looks. He didn’t seem to notice, undeterred by the world around him that wasn’t currently in his focus, the main character at every moment in his life, oblivious to anyone trying to get under his skin with their judgements, never the accessory to someone else.

It turned out to be more difficult than you thought, saying the words.

“I… well… Don’t you know that Jeon Jungkook and I aren’t dating anymore?”

Taehyung tilted his head with childlike innocence.

“Um… so you don’t eat lunch anymore?”

You blinked at him.

“Huh?”

He gave you this look. You stared back. For a moment the disconnect was so tangible that you almost had a word for it. A zephyr ruffled Taehyung’s soft curls. The sun made his skin glow and his dark eyes sparkle. Small signs of Mother Nature affectionately acknowledging one of her children. He smiled. It was then that you realized this was a decision you could make. A decision of a lonely self, not a lonely self that was an extension of another. A yes or no that didn’t have to be polluted by the past.

“Well…”

Your hands tightened on the straps of the gift bag.

“If you’ll have me.”

Taehyung grinned. “I know just the spot! You’ll love it.”

-

It was nice lunch.

No, it was wonderful time.

You had been worried that you would be underdressed in your calf-length flowy black dress and chunky knit lavender cardigan, but you fit right in. Taehyung had picked a busy rooftop brunch spot. It was French-themed, or at least as French as Korea could get. There was a bit more wood than brass and crystals. It still made for a nice hideaway. It seemed Taehyung was well recognized here, and yet people maintained a distance regardless. It must have been his polite yet stern demeanor. When he sat down though, he seemed to relax, waving a hand and telling you to order whatever you liked.

You never could turn down good brioche.

You thought it would have been awkward, at least. It wasn’t. He talked about his work, asked about yours. Asked what you thought about this or that. Memories from past events, what you liked or didn’t like. What he paid too much for that nobody noticed, along with a hearty laugh, and moments he loved, such as having a group photo at every one of his events. You asked him if he enjoyed planning the events themselves. He confessed with a roughish smile that he had a planner for all those details. You thought it strange to spend so much money on such occasions, but there was something pure about it too. Besides, you ended up getting your answer.

“What’s the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?” Taehyung abruptly asked, sitting up in alarm.

You blinked at his suddenness. “Uh… I don’t know. I would have to think about it.” Your lips upturned slightly, then you tilted your head and looked back at him. “What about you? What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your life so far?”

He relaxed back in his chair. His expression became pensive. You paused in mid-bite, seeing him look a bit sheepish.

“You’re not the first person to ask me about the parties,” Taehyung chuckled deep from his chest. “A lot of people tell me it’s a waste of money. And it is to other people, but it isn’t to me. The most important lesson I’ve ever learned was…”

He raised his head with a small smile.

“You can’t get time back.”

You remembered the extensive decor, the delicate hors d'oeuvres, even the various perfumes sprayed into the air complimenting the theme of each party. Exquisite and memorable details. Taehyung ticked his head, seemingly recalling it all too.

“I think I’ve mentioned this, but my grandmother was the closest maternal figure I had,” he explained, fondly smiling. “I’m close to my parents too, but they had to work a lot to give me a good life, so I spent a lot of time with my siblings and grandparents. My grandmother used to hold celebrations for the achievements I had, even if they were mediocre or not that impressive. Nothing extravagant, or anything. A little cake or my favorite sweets. She would sing for me and clap her hands. She would say, it’s my duty to give you good memories. As I got older, I became busy, of course, chasing dreams, and I didn’t make time for her small celebrations any more. I was just out of university when she passed away. I often think I hadn’t spent enough time with her. Time is money, as they say. Next time, I would say, until there wasn’t a next time.”

The weight of his words settled on the table.

“It’s not your fault,” you reminded him, but Taehyung simply smiled and shook his head.

“It wasn’t anybody’s fault,” he agreed. “But that wasn’t it. I couldn’t get all that time back. Sure, did I take jobs that put me in a really good place now? Yeah. Yeah, of course, I make a lot of money now since young me jumped at every chance to model for a small brand or do a single-run commercial. I really love my career. I love that, because I did the hard work, I even get offers to act in primetime dramas now. But I should have made less. I should have made time. I should have gone to see her and let her do her duty to give me good memories.”

He waved his hands in a slight shrug. You could tell he was still regretful about it, but there was something else too. He looked directly at you with that boxy grin of his.

“I decided, then, that I too  wanted to give good memories to the people that are precious to me. I have all this money, anyway. Why waste it on things? I want to waste it on memories. I want people to look forward to special days, to celebrate life, to look back on a fun time.”

So that was why.

“That is what is really important to me.”

Kim Taehyung wasn’t only good looks, of course.

“I’ve yapped long enough. What is really important to you?” he asked again, chuckling.

“Oh, I…”

And there were no words.

You straightened, startled by your own silence. There were lots of important things, weren’t there? There was… and there wasn’t. Friends, sure. And, also, friends came in and out of your life. You didn’t take it personally. Family, yes. Cordial but not deep. They had their own lives to live. You almost opened your mouth to say these generic things, and then you caught the look in Taehyung’s eye and stopped.

This basic question was not so basic after all.

“I… Am I boring?” you blurted with a start.

“Boring?” Taehyung frowned. “No, you’re not.”

Your brows furrowed. “Aren’t I?”

He laughed, hearty and deep. “Trust me. You’re not boring. We wouldn’t be having a conversation if you were boring.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are we having a conversation?”

Taehyung smiled warmly.

“Because I appreciate your outlook on life.”

You were taken aback.

“What?”

He nodded. “Isn’t it obvious?” He waved a hand carelessly. “I’ve met so many people doing what I do. Some people are just nice to you because of money. Or think you can boost their reputation. Or they think they can take advantage of you. You’ve been around all that too, no?” He did not mention Jungkook.

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not anymore. I’m pretty ordinary.”

A small frown. “No, everyone is extraordinary.”

You scoffed. “I’m only an accountant. Not even one that works closely with my own clients – I’m just the one at the firm that does the final review over everyone’s work to make sure we don’t get into legal trouble. That’s nothing like what you do.”

He impatiently swept your words away. “Everyone is extraordinary,” he repeated.

“I don’t think–”

“You are different,” Taehyung pressed. “You had been introduced to a different world than your own and you could have been a vulture. You could have taken for your own sake. You could have done everything you could to be ‘one of us’. You could have scorned us too, called it all superficial and stupid. But you didn’t.” He crossed his arms to make his point. “You observed. You listened. You treated me, the people around me, everyone as their own person. We weren’t just some dumb rich people to you. We were individuals.”

You didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t something you had ever consciously thought about before.

“There are so many people that believe in using others, either in a beneficial way or in a cruel way,” sighed Taehyung. “It’s a difficult world. We all need to live.” He reached over and made you jump by placing his hand over the back of yours. “Don’t give up on that, okay?”

Your stared at him with wide eyes. “On… what?”

Almost. You didn’t quite have an answer for the most important lesson in your life you had learned so far. But almost. Kim Taehyung cocooned his palm over your hand and trapped you with his determined brown eyes, straight from a drama scene. A heavenly prince in a fancy café. He looked back to you very seriously, taking all of your attention away from the whispering conversations on other tables, away from the clinking plates and glasses, away from all distractions.

“Don’t give up on the way you want to live.”

Those small moments.

From eating dinner alone to watching movies alone to buying that album and unboxing it yourself to looking outside, days and nights, wondering what could have been and killing that thought over and over again.

“The way… I want to live?” you echoed breathlessly.

The clear, musical chime of the bell by the entrance sang through the air, mingling with the conversation and consumption. A halo of sound that rang true over every table to reach every customer. It was as striking as it was lovely, flawlessly melding into the moment. A pure sound that could trigger a pleasant déjà vu, the recall of a good chat over good food.

Taehyung grinned with his beautiful, perfectly white teeth.

“I want you to have good memories. Whatever you decide, let us make good memories with those precious to us.”

You decided, then and there, that you needed to start doing things.

-

“Oh, good, you’re home. That would have been awfully embarrassing.”

“W-What…?”

You backed up in your slippers as a stunningly well-dressed man flourished into your home like an astronaut landing on the moon. That was, if the moon was your front door. The black mat was space-themed, printed with abstract stars and a grayish circle. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Your pajamas were also soft black cotton with a twinkly star print, although your slippers were simple, white furry poofs that felt like walking on clouds.

“Take this.”

“What is – oof!”

In contrast to your outfit, the man who had entered your home looked like he had stepped off the runway. He wore light blue trousers that you almost mistook for jeans, however they had a tone-on-tone print that clearly indicated the luxury designer. Underneath the navy-blue duster coat was a crisp white shirt pressed to the gods with distinctive sky-blue trim. A quick glimpse and anyone would know the inner lining of the duster was blue silk, the matching tone-on-tone print subtle and obvious at the same time. You nearly buckled under the weight of a wooden box, gasping as you saw the slices of high-grade beef in a gold bow. The man gestured with his hand in a swooping manner.

“I heard all about it from Taehyung,” he was saying, shrugging his broad shoulders heavily.

“Heard…?” You were still reeling from the unexpected guest and a box of meat. “What’s this, I can’t accept th–”

The man shot you a scathing look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided, dismissive. “How unbelievably rude I would be dropping by your home if I didn’t have a gift? Psh, why, I wouldn’t be Kim Seokjin!”

And so he was.

Although, as far as you knew, you and famous-actor-turned-businessman Kim Seokjin were not close friends. Not close enough to be gifted with a house call and meat, anyway. He had been close to Jeon Jungkook back then. They often sought each other out when they both attended the same events. You were well aquatinted with Seokjin’s boisterous personality and his worldwide-known handsomeness. He was no different today, looking sculpted from jawline to broad shoulders to the regal way he stood. Glowing skin. Lightly permed, chestnut brown hair. Full lips, currently in a slight frown.

You bowed awkwardly. “S-Sorry, I just didn’t expect…”

“Ah, it’s alright.” He called you by name, although somewhat awkwardly, as if he was unsure if he should be more formal or not. “I won’t take too much of your time.”

You were still confused about Seokjin saying he had heard something from Taehyung. Actually, you didn’t even know how he got your address, although it wasn’t impossible. After all, Taehyung’s party invitations came in snail mail. It wasn’t that shocking. You probably might have been more annoyed if you were in the middle of something, but all you had been doing was getting ready to heat up some leftover takeout. You shuffled slightly, trying to block the view of the kitchen counter. Not necessarily embarrassed, per se, as your apartment was quite spacious and neat, but nothing here was comparable to Kim Seokjin’s lifestyle. It was kind of pointless to do so, though, since Seokjin was quite tall.

He seemed not to notice or care about the current state of your kitchen.

You stood there, dazed, clutching a box of high-grade beef.

He cleared his throat very firmly. “I came to invite you to the opening of my new establishment. Two weeks from now.” He rattled off the opening date. “But don’t come on opening day. It’ll be too crowded. Some day after. Let me know when and I’ll make special arrangements for you,” he added, stepping forward to tuck his business card into one of the folds of the gold bow. “Call the number on there. My assistant will connect me to you. I can link you with talented professionals if you are interested, which I’ll pay for, of course.”

“I– What – I’m sorry?” you sputtered. “Me?”

The handsome man exaggeratedly whipped his head from side to side. “Uh, do I see anyone else? Yes, of course, you,” he affirmed gruffly. “I came to invite you in person.”

“Well…” This must be how deer felt when confronted with headlights. “I’m not trying to be rude, but, uh… why?”

Seokjin looked offended. “Why? So you can meet people, silly.”

You struggled to connect the information given to you but he was not making it easy. “Meet people?”

“Yes,” he tutted. “You want to meet people, don’t you?”

Did you? You gave him a confused look.

“As Taehyung said,” Seokjin continued as if you completely understood. “People like you need to be surrounded by good people. And I happen to know a lot of them. We need people like you in this industry.”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t have any intention of–”

“Precisely.” He barreled on as if your front entryway was his own stage. “That is precisely why.”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“H… Hah?”

Something in his expression softened. You almost forgot the weight of the wood box in your hands. You almost forgot the ridiculousness of you in your pajamas and Kim Seokjin in his luxury designer clothes. You almost forgot that you were in a completely different class, completely out of your element, completely ordinary.

He sighed and slipped his hands into his pants pockets, neatly tucking back his coat. “Look, I understand if you absolutely don’t want to have anything to do with me and the others. I don’t blame you. But,” he added, nodding lightly. “Your presence is missed. I do believe your interactions with those around you have done them a world of good. Maybe not everyone, yes, but you’re still spoken of, even now.”

“What…?” You blinked, doubtful. “Really?”

Seokjin chuckled, nodding. “You are good company.”

You thought all those times. All those events, dinners, parties. You mostly remembered Jungkook letting you be. Sure, you had light conversation with those around you. You couldn’t remember all their faces. They had been simple conversations, you thought, but they weren’t superficial once you really thought about it. You didn’t have basic industry chatter to talk about, so instead you had asked about aspirations. Asked why instead of what. Why acting? Why modeling? Why entertainment? Talks of the past, the present, the future. Pretty normal, you thought, but maybe…

Maybe it was more normal to ask what they were achieving.

Maybe it wasn’t so normal to ask who someone was.

“Anyway,” Seokjin coughed, breaking you out of your daze. “I wanted to give you ample time to think about it.”

“More than two weeks?” you mused.

He waved a hand. “Don’t know about you, but I need time to schedule and plan things. I need time to get myself ready to interact,” he muttered, half-joking and half-bitterly.

The meat was getting heavy. “Ah… What’s the dress code?”

“Aish, didn’t I tell you?” Seokjin tapped the side of his head. “Think about it. Then give me a call, and I’ll arrange for hair and makeup and fashion. No, don’t even bother asking about price. I’m inviting you to introduce you to people, so I am paying. End of discussion. And…”

A loaded pause.

Tick of the head and Seokjin very seriously asked you.

“If Jeon Jungkook is there, will you be fine?”

You answered honestly.

“I don’t think it will be an issue.”

He surveyed you for a long second and then nodded.

“Alright. Let me know when you’ve decided. Have a nice night. Don’t hesitate to contact me if I can help in some way. I’m not a stranger. By the way.” He added one last comment before leaving, spinning back around with a hand on your now open door and the other pointing to the side of the box. “The butcher shop I purchased this from is owned by a friend of mine. Make sure to send your family and friends his way once you taste how delicious and high-quality it is.”

-

You walked into the nightclub, oddly at peace among the blaring music and bustling bodies, stepping into a world of light and dark and pushing boundaries.

The past couple hours had been spent in a chair, fussed over by a detailed makeup artist and equally talented hairdresser. It had been more enjoyable than you originally thought. Perhaps it had been Seokjin’s excellent choices or their own expertise. They even both asked for your input and offered their advice. It felt like a joint effort. Even the fashion stylist who came later was as informative as they were considerate. You had found out that they had taken your name and your photos to have your fortune read and performed color analysis, respectively. That explained why Seokjin had asked you to take those plain photos. This had made color and style selection much simpler, as you naturally liked all the choices. You were no stranger to tight outfits, although this type of nightlife was not the kind of place you frequented. The stylist had brought a rack of choices, and just in case, a black slip dress looks good on everyone, and all of them were compelling in one way or another. All nightclub appropriate. You asked what to try first. The stylist had asked you how you were feeling.

Feeling?

The answer came out before you could stop it.

“Like revenge.”

You had laughed it off, and so had the staff, but you had seen the gleam in their eyes as if they, too, relished in being part of this so-called revenge.

Well, they were.

You weren’t perfectly sure if this was actual revenge yet, no. You were certainly dressed for it. Black lace corset. Tight lilac short skirt. Black patent leather jacket cropped so severely that it was nearly a bolero. Delicate black pumps with a thin ankle strap. The kind that was a bit fiddly to get on, but was worth it in the end. There was a power in this type of outfit, the kind that made you hold your head high and walk alone with confidence. Perhaps similar to a superhero costume. Just as impractical, too, heh. But that was okay. You weren’t here to prevent any crimes.

Just commit them.

Maybe.

In any case, you weren’t even sure what was going to happen tonight. Something had been planned for you, so you walked in and looked around, wondering if you should ask for help. The luxury was obvious from every corner of the building. From the furniture choices to the expansive bar to the crisp, pressed uniforms of the employees, every detail oozed sophistication. You admired the tastefulness of it, surprised that it didn’t feel gaudy or overdone. Must be the refined touch of Kim Seokjin. Even the clientele was jaw-dropping. You spared a moment to look from face to face, wondering if you should be less obvious about it, but then some paused and gazed back, unafraid, offering a simple smile.

They didn’t know you didn’t really belong, yet.

The sheep’s clothing worked, then.

You almost laughed at your own unspoken joke, and then, either compelled by fate, chance, or some mixture of both, your eyes rose and you saw him. It was definitely him. It was only the back of his head and black leather, but you knew it was him even before he turned around.

Jeon Jungkook.

You had seen him many times after the fact. However, this time was the first time that you came with weapons at your disposal, subtle as they were. For a moment, you wondered what to do. You stared as those brooding dark eyes widened in surprise. His hair was slicked back. Leather jacket, white tank, dark jeans, probably black boots. You couldn’t see it all from this angle. Still, you knew him too well. He wasn’t a suit-and-tie breed unless he was forced by the occasion. And, anyway.

You had mildly hoped that he would dress down these days, as it both suited him and reflected your preferred personal taste.

Egotistical, yes, and, now that you could see, true.

You broke the gaze first, seeing a waiter approach you. Bowed lightly, walking with him as he explained what was in store tonight, and yet your mind was still fixated on that shocked gaze from the far table up above. It did register that you were going up the stairs too, but somehow you knew that you weren’t going near that table.

You wondered if he regretted everything.

You wondered if he saw you differently now, dressed up and on a mission.

You wondered if Jeon Jungkook understood, truly, how deeply he had hurt you with his misdemeanors and you wondered if you, truly, understood how you didn’t help by always sweeping said misdemeanors under the metaphorical rug. You wondered if there was a chance for reconciliation or if this was all a big mistake. Maybe this was only another instance of two ships silently passing in the night. A pair of parallel lines that would never intersect. Or… would this become a pattern that could only be completed by intersection?

Whichever one it was, it was going to be evident tonight.

You raised your head, seeing a champagne bottle and another of expensive liquor.

“Are you ready?”

Your eyes shifted and you smiled up at the waitress.

“Yes, I am.”

She smiled and bowed her way out. Revenge. You savored the word. You had never thought of it that way, but then again that was because you always believed in the higher road. In enduring. That was how strength was formed. Vindication was unladylike and uncouth. Or so the story goes. You became aware that you were being watched.

I don’t belong here.

You twisted your body and stared directly into Jeon Jungkook’s eyes.

He pivoted away immediately. Unable to hold your gaze. Ashamed, probably. You pondered quietly. He brought you into this. All this around you – beauty, opulence, and the shadows between gold. Even without him, your connection to these people remained because his friends believed in you for some reason. You agreed, because maybe there was still something here for you.

But that was no reason to believe that you belonged here nor to act like it.

You realized, suddenly, that some part of you still thought you had to keep up the front.

“Excuse me.”

You looked up to a man who had the expression of a pleased kitty cat. His eyes disappeared from his smile. Radiant, cream skin. Long, bleached-blond hair that was half-tied back from his face but still skimmed along his shoulders. He wore a suit and tie, perfectly tailored, and was noticeably shorter than nearly everyone here. Then again, almost everyone here was a model, in high heels, or both.

“Did I interrupt?” he asked lightly, his intonation hinting at a Busan dialect.

“Oh, no,” you answered with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to space out like that. Please, sit down.”

The man laughed behind his hand before pulling out the chair and sitting down. He had elegant fingers that reminded you of a pianist. “It was cute,” he commented, somewhat shyly, before turning away and clearing his throat. He faced you once again, composed now, and bowed in greeting, stating his name.

You hurriedly did the same.

“I hope I’m not thinking too highly of myself by sitting here with you.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I want this to be an open invitation.” You poured him a glass of liquor to start off the night. He had a noticeable presence. Not a towering one, rather, as someone who knew himself well. Still, you could sense an introverted soul. “Don’t feel too pressured. I only want to ask a question.”

His eyebrows raised, curious. “A question?”

You smiled. “Yes. And I want you to promise to answer honestly.”

His lips upturned thoughtfully. There was something playful about his expressions. Very cute. Perhaps unintentional. “A promise right away to a stranger?”

You allowed yourself a little mischief. “Do I look like I could hurt anyone?”

The man across the table caught the bait and toyed with it. An expert. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean It wouldn’t be pleasant.” He smiled again, with that same kitty cat contentment, and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready to tell the truth. You only get one chance. Use it well.” His tone teased, but his voice was sincere.

The question.

You stared into a stranger’s eyes and asked.

“What is the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?”

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

--

masterpost

[screamforyani]

cariño

warnings ↠ dubcon-ish?, enemies with benefits, handjob, edging, implied intercouse towards the end

a/n ↠ i know this is very out of the blue but i watched atsv and i cant get miguel out of my head

wc. 1.1k

“untie me,” hissed miguel, fangs jutting as his blood-thirsty eyes followed you. 

you let out a hollow laugh the second those words escaped his mouth and met his penetrating stare. to say you and and miguel were enemies would be an understatement. there was something about this guy that irked you in the worst way, but could also turn you on like no other.

the feeling was mutual. you’d never admit a word of this if it wasn’t - not even to yourself. you and miguel had a weird thing going on, the sort of thing where the line between hate and lust grew thinner with each dark, loathing stare he shot you. 

maybe you’d had his cock in you a couple of times. twelve, to be exact, though not that you were counting (because you totally weren’t). not your proudest moments, but the sight of him on his knees, tangled in a weaving of webs made you forget it. his muscles bulged with every endeavor to free himself from your little trick. which was hilarious, because if they were any tighter, they’d burst right through his spandex. 

not that you were complaining. 

“hm, let me think about it,” you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “no.”

“i said - untie me. now,” miguel roared, as if it would make any difference. 

you crouched before him, pouting. “what’s the matter, spider-man? can’t handle other people telling you no? you don’t get to be the boss of everyone, cariño.”

you waved your finger in his face, to which miguel responded to with a lean forward as if he were going to bite your wrist off, but you were too quick. 

“woah there, bitey,” you taunted. “get it? that rhymes with spidey. hilarious, don’t you think?”

miguel spat, “you annoy me.”

“it’s a pleasure,” you said, merely grinning. then, you pointed to the extended talon behind his back where his hands were tied, asking, “can i borrow that? thanks.”

you used his talons to poke a hole in the lower half of his suit, promptly tearing at the spandex until the hole expanded. miguel wasn’t exactly pleased, not yet anyways, barking, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“more than you deserve,” you whispered, widening the gap until his half-hard cock was freed. that you inevitably already saw. for obvious reasons, it was difficult for spider-men to conceal their hard-ons. “you guys freeball under these suits? that’s crazy. i mean, not that you’re gonna catch a hard-on fighting the spot, but you never know. i mean, what if some really sexy villain just hits… the spot. get it? the-”

“the spot. yes, i get the joke. shut the hell up,” miguel grumbled, irritated.

you giggled. his annoyed face was too hot. of course, you were riling him up on purpose.

licking a line down your palm, you gently grabbed his cock, stroking him in your hands while looking him in his angry eyes. you saw his features tense, the part that didn’t want to be angry surfacing. the part that wanted to be relieved.

that was all that was wrong with this cranky guy. he just needed some relief in his life, and who better to provide it to him than you, the spider-person he never wanted on this team in the first place but took in because jess had insisted you could be useful. and you were, in more ways than one. not that miguel would ever admit that, though.

“fuck,” miguel grunted, writhing again, though not in an attempt to escape. you knew how to pleasure him and that was your saving grace, but you also knew how to tease. “could you be any slower with that?”

“i could, actually. watch this,” you retorted, now pumping him in no particular hurry. you had time to waste.

your leisure movements were killing miguel slowly. literally. he groaned, “well, could you go any faster?”

“i could,” you repeated with a lilt. “but you’d have to say the magic word.”

“go faster!”

you gave him a mocking frown. “i don’t think that’s it, o’hara.”

“do i have to?”

“do you want to cum?”

miguel winced his eyes closed, heaved a huge sigh, and huffed, “please, go faster.”

“wow, you hit the lottery,” you said, quickening your pace. you loved watching his brows furrow with pleasure, sweat beading at his face.

miguel bit his lip, wanting to be mad at how you satisfied him. it reminded you of when he was buried balls deep inside of you, his weight resting on top of your chest while his teeth clamped into your shoulder, not for the purpose of extracting blood but to smother the sounds of pleasure that escaped him when your cunt was squeezing his dick. almost like he would rather die than let you know you were good for something.

it didn’t matter, though. the telltale signs of arousal manifested themselves in plentiful ways from his body, like the taut ache in his pants when you turned him on a little too much. he got so hard for you, it was ridiculous.

and you were having a ball (you were tempted to make a joke, but resisted for his mental sake). there was something about having an insanely large, strong man who could potentially crush you to smithereens squirming at your mercy. it made warmth spread through your chest and the slyest grin curl onto your lips.

miguel’s hips were thrusting into your palm, an obvious sign that he was on the brink of climax. you’d come to know it by now - he started to lost control, the reins slipping out his hands. and you loved it. you loved how he was a slave to his urges and not the other way around.

“you almost there?” you asked, in spite of being fully aware. 

miguel offered you no words, but the look on his face and his unstill, restless body said enough.

that was when you got the bold idea to withdraw your hand at the very last second, depriving him of what could have been. his wrath was instant. you saw his hips flail in a desperation you’d never seen of him before, his fluttering eyes snapping open to cut at you.

“oopsies,” you sang, smiling innocently.

that was the very last straw for miguel and he broke out of your restraints, having enough of playing weak. you gasped, caught off-guard when he switched on a dime, throwing you against the ground and hovering over you. you parted your lips to speak, but he was quick to shoot a web over your mouth. 

“you talk too much,” miguel growled, cutting your own spandex with his talons, and was pleased to find you were very wet. he fixed himself between your thighs, leaning into your ear to whisper, “and for the record, nobody decides if i cum, cariño.”

[archangeldyke-all]

okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[deadghosy]

Penguin Y/N being a gremlin and scaring everyone cause apparently Penguins have these, flesh tendrils in their mouths that look like teeth?

HOW H.H. CAST REACT TO PEGUIN’S READER MOUTH:

Penguin y/n has definitely flashed them on someone trying to harass the cast😭. It’s like that crawfish video on where they would have their arms out in a t-pose ass stance and literally “hiss” at them. You do cause slight fear to new sinners who never seen inside of a penguin’s mouth. But hey, at least you get scary points😭😭

Possibly so Lucifer would be trying to brush the cute penguin reader..but when they opened their mouth he almost passed out. Yes he may be the king of hell, but he as never seen “teeth” like those dear friend.

Alastor …he honestly might not care but make comments on it. Hell he may even stare closely at it as if he had a degree in being a dentist 💀. This old timey fucker laughs at the fear you put on peoples faces when they see your teeth

Nifty, “what are those?” She’s poking your mouth as you quack at her to stop. She’s a curious sinner, so she doesn’t understand what you are showing her with those fleshy…tendrils.

Charlie..ehhh I feel like she would be like “WOAH what the fu-” then quickly, and nervously asks about those fleshy ass teeth. She might also look it up to make sure you can “chew”. She’s just a considerate person 🥹

Vaggie, eh I feel like she would scream “WTF?!” But then calm down when you close your mouth because hey. You don’t use them to harm others. She’s just shocked.

Angel, the same as vaggie. He probably makes a slight dirty joke but not a lot towards it.

Husk, he’s too drunk to even care. And he’s not sober to even care more😕

Sera, doesn’t care. I mean why would she when she’s busy being a seraphim. No hard feelings but it’s realistic.

Adam, “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THAT-" he makes freakish ass comments and jokes about it. He probably asked if your so called teeth broke all because of a lollipop. He may be an asshat and even pull one out of his pocket💀

Pentious, poor boy got scared. I mean shit, yeah he was in hell and died again, and went to heaven. But boy did he not know your fleshy tendrils looks disgusting and disturbing. He may say that he suggested you brush your teeth 😭😭

Emily, thinks they’re cute! Of course this cinnamon roll isn’t scared of the fleshy tendrils. She always sees you as cute little thing….even if you chomped on her arm she would thank you!

Lastly Lute, doesn’t care. Do I have to say it? She’s a killer to sinners so of course she ain’t scared of some damn fleshy ass teeth…

A/N: that’s all I got for today lol. I might come back to writing for hazbin hotel, not much for helluva boss since I kinda dropped off of that YouTube series. But yeah!

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Desire for your Affinity

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings: y/sport means your sport of choosing, y/sexuality means your sexuality, y/position means your team position, use of y/n, hook up briefly mentioned, some stalker-ish tendencies from both Regina and reader (nothing too crazy)

|| Summary: You're a mystery kid that's apart of y/sports team. Regina doesn't know anything about you, so she sends Gretchen to gather information. Eventually you become a plastic and then more.

Request from: @syarinaxo Can I request a stalker x stalker with Regina? Thanks ❤️

Requests open!

~~~

It was another regular lunch. Regina, Gretchen, Karen and Cady all sat together at the usual 'plastics' table. Talking about the latest gossip and whatever else when someone catches Regina's eye. A girl from the y/sport team who seemed to be looking directly at her from where the y/sport team usually sits. Whispering to her teammate while pointing at Regina. Regina George knew basically everyone. From loners to jocks. She knows them all. Some just by face others by face and name. So when she didn't recognize you? Someone who was clearly on a sports team... it didn't make any sense to her.

"Gretchen." Regina interrupts whatever conversation the three were having before. Though, it was mostly Cady and Gretchen talking while Karen kinda just stared.

Gretchen turns her attention to Regina, "Yes, Regina?"

"Who's that?" Regina nods her head in your direction, not turning to look at Gretchen.

Gretchen turns to see where Regina's looking and frowns," I don't... actually know who that is."

"Well find out." Regina says with a slight hiss to her tone, making Gretchen tense and nod, "Now!"

With that, Gretchen left the table to go learn more about you. She found it odd that she didn't know who you were. She walks over to the y/sport table and smiles at the group.

"Hi, ladies!" She makes her presence known. You and your team look at Gretchen, exchanging a couple of confused stares amongst each other. Why was a plastic over at your table?

Gretchen immediately sat down next to you as she smiles. "Oh my God, I like totally love your shirt! So fetch!" Gretchen looked at the shirt you're wearing, you give her an awkward smile.

"Um, thanks?" You reply, your confusion evident in your tone. One of your teammates stifles a laugh and you shoot her a 'well what would you do?' look. She shrugs.

"Do you have instagram?" Gretchen asks, getting your attention again. Why was this plastic so interested in you? That's when you notice Regina watching the interaction from the plastics table. You quickly change your gaze back to Gretchen. A soft blush on your cheeks. If you're being honest, you've had a crush on Regina George since you first realized you were y/sexuality. She was literally your awakening. Since then, you've been obsessed with her. More than you care to admit. A few times you've caught yourself just following her around. For her to take notice of you? That was a pretty big deal in your books.

"Who doesn't?" You respond to Gretchen's question, she laughs at your joke. Though in your opinion it seems forced.

"Can I have it? I'll totally follow you back!" Shrugging, you take out your phone and open instagram. Showing her your handle," your aesthetic is so fetch!" She smiles at you. Again with the fetch? What the hell is fetch? From context, you assume it's good.

"Thanks, Gretchen." Gretchen takes out her own phone and searches Instagram for your account, giving it a follow. You were already following her; because who isn't?

Gretchen looks at your bio for your name and smiles to herself: Y/N L/N. Now that she thinks about it, she's definitely heard the name at least once in passing. But not too many people outside of y/sports team really talk about you. You were kind of a mystery to everyone. Gretchen stays and chats for a few minutes longer, just keeping up with gossip and seeing what else she can find out. If she had left right after she got your Instagram that might have looked suspicious. Soon enough, she returns to the plastics table and Regina looks at her expectantly.

"That's Y/N L/N, on her insta it says she's y/sexuality and plays y/position for North Shore. The rest is still like totally mysterious but I'll see what else I can get." Gretchen explains to Regina, who hasn't taken her eyes off you.

"Send me her handle." Regina demands, Gretchen immediately listens and messages it to Regina. Regina takes out her phone and looks at your account. Going through your various photos and seeing what all she can learn about you.

The next few days; Regina's started noticing you more. How you always seem to be around her. She's even gone out of her way to dig up as much information on you as she could find. Your birthday, favourite colour, school grades, hangout places, etc. She's had Gretchen keeping tabs on you.

The two of you never interacted. Until one day when you left your science homeroom and she walked right up to you. You felt your heart flutter and cheeks burn.

"Y/N. Right?" Regina smirks at you, hands rested on her hips as she watched your movements. Almost in a studying like manner. Was this really happening? Was Regina George actually talking to you?

"I... yes!" You responded quickly, internally facepalming at yourself. Regina laughs.

"Oh my God, she's so cute." Regina says to Gretchen, you couldn't tell if it was in a mocking way or not. Gretchen just nodded and smiled while Karen kind of stared at you.

"Wait, isn't she that Y/N girl Regina keeps talking about?" Karen suddenly speaks up, looking at Gretchen for confirmation. Regina rolls her eyes as Gretchen nods. Hold on. Regina talks about you?

"You should sit with us at lunch tomorrow." Regina says, ignoring Karen and Gretchen. Her full focus seemed to be on you, you didn't know how red your face looked but if it was anywhere near as red as it felt... God, that would be embarrassing.

"Okay! Yeah! Totally!" You nodded, Regina internally rolled her eyes at how quickly you agreed to her. Part of her found it endearing in a way, though. Knowing that she would already have you wrapped around her finger without much effort on her part.

Over the next week you would start spending more time with the plastics, which in turn made you popular and more noticed by everyone. You and Regina grew closer. Until you inevitably hooked up one night at a house party which kicked off a relationship between the two of you. People weren't overly surprised when the news spread. But still. No one dared to comment about it or even you. Most people straight up avoided you. Not wanting to do the wrong thing and risk pissing of Regina George.

~~~

Hope you like it! 🫶

Sorry for the ending being a little rushed, I wasn't sure about how to end this one