london boy
am I in my lover era? probably, but am I ashamed? no, not really. but just a warning, I won't even try to commit to posting this often. literally just a burst of inspiration (and taylor swift).
london boy by taylor swift as inspiration
sirius x muggle!reader
warning: prolly nothing, it's just fluff
wc: 2,2k
From your very childhood up to your late teens your parents really liked bringing you to London with them from time to time. It was a truly beautiful city to be a tourist in. You’d been there so often that you felt like some sort of an expert. You could recite the history of any major landmark, just point at, say, the Tower, and one could hear a whole lecture from you about the fortress, the prison, the ravens, all the good stuff. You got cocky at times, thinking you could easily become a tour guide. Your friends back in your hometown rolled their eyes every time you even mentioned London, and the level of your excitement grew every single day throughout the month before you finally moved there.
Turned out, London wasn’t so great to live in. At least that’s what you thought on your first day, when you paid thrice the price you expected to pay for the cab taking you from the airport to the hotel. Then, the hunt for a rental began. The hotel started to get expensive day by day and soon enough you really lost your spirits. You didn’t have enough money to pay for a room and a real estate agent, so you resorted to looking through tons and tons of newspapers, hoping that an advertisement of a one-bedroom would at some point catch your eye. It wasn’t working as well as you expected, so one gloomy rainy afternoon you found yourself just walking through a random neighbourhood looking at houses and thinking that cooking some hot soup on your own stove sounded really nice at the moment. You realized that your exterior was pretty miserable for someone who couldn’t hold in an excited shriek right after buying a ticket to London last month. As if to confirm your assumptions, a sudden laughter disrupted the cacophony of raindrops hitting the ground and wind howling between the branches of nearby trees.
Oh, god.
“You aren’t from ‘round here, right?”
A motorcycle rolled from behind you along the roadway. You continued on your way, thinking it was just some creep who noticed your vulnerable state and decided to, well, be a creep.
“Hey, hey, ma’am, you don’t have an umbrella and I do. Pretty sure I win.”
“Ma’am? Really?”
You stopped at last to see who had the audacity to just ride up to you like you were their longtime friend.
“Bet that’s what you think us Brits talk like, foreign girl.”
The rider took off his helmet and you saw what was probably the best sight you had a pleasure to witness in the entirety of London. The young man was truly divine: his dark hair barely reached his shoulders and was a bit messy from the helmet; he had a stubble that was too short to be called a beard yet, but it was getting there; when he smiled, you could see small dimples forming on his cheeks. You felt stupid staring at him like that but couldn’t help it at all. With his stunning looks, the obvious accent you immediately took notice of sounded even more charming.
“Alright, not a talker, I see.”
The man stood up from his vehicle, pulled out a kickstand so that it wouldn’t just roll down the street and walked up to you, pulling up the collar of his leather jacket to shield his face from the rain.
“You said you had an umbrella.”
Kind of stupid of you to say, but you couldn’t really make up anything else that wouldn’t give out your infatuation.
“Just like that, huh? Could at least ask my name, you know.”
He didn’t wait for your response, holding his hand out to you.
“Sirius.”
You shook his hand, although yours was already pretty numb from the cold, and introduced yourself as well. You had to say something at that point because you started to look weirder and weirder by the second.
“That’s… an interesting name.”
Oh, come on. This is all you have?
“Bit rude, darling. What did you think it was?”
“Like… Matthew?”
The man laughed, just like you heard him laughing minutes ago. He wasn’t taunting you, no, on the contrary – he was rather amused by your mild naivety.
“Oh shit, do I look like a Matthew? I’m gutted, I have to say.”
You couldn’t help chuckling at his words. The rain didn’t feel so bad anymore, now that you had someone to share it with.
“Hop on. I have to get you to a pub, or else you’ll turn into a bloody icicle.”
He helped you get on his bike and soon you were riding straight through the streets of London with your hands wrapped around Sirius’ body. You felt it was a wee bit inappropriate for someone you met, like, five minutes ago, but you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. What is more, you expected raindrops to become some small annoying mosquitoes who would relentlessly bite your face during the ride but surprisingly, it didn’t happen. It almost felt like you actually had an invisible umbrella above you, because you glanced at a sleeve of your coat and it had become much drier than it was before.
The pub Sirius took you to looked like one of those places you saw on TV when the setting was supposed to be the UK. Lots of wooden furniture around, lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling and emitting warm and rather dim light. In the corner you saw an old record player with a small TV on top of it. You saw it as a symbol of modernity overtaking the old school, which epitomized London itself, but decided not to voice your thoughts in order not to appear as a nerd.
“Fancy a beer?” Sirius asked, leading you to a large counter.
In your mind you would much prefer some tea to warm yourself up, but the stranger was already too kind for you to make any extra demands of him. So, you just nodded and let him have free reign over the type of beer for you.
“We come here with my mates sometimes,” Sirius explained, having made an order while you made yourself comfortable on a bar stool.
“That’s nice.” You felt a bit awkward and out of place, but Sirius didn’t seem like the shady type, so you felt more comfortable with him than you would have likely felt with anyone else. “Do you watch rugby here?” You gestured towards the TV.
“I mean, if it’s on…” Sirius tried but failed to hide a chuckle. “That’s what the rest of the world thinks of us English lads, huh? That we hang at pubs and watch rugby all day?”
“To be fair, you took me to a pub.” You felt slightly embarrassed but attempted not to show it.
“That much’s true.”
You took a small sip out of a glass mug of beer placed in front of you. It wasn’t that bad, to be honest – a bit too bitter for your personal taste, but you could see yourself finishing the whole thing.
“Is this a British thing, beer in the afternoon?” you asked, looking at a huge grandfather clock behind the bar and remembering that it was, in fact, only midday.
“I guess, but I’ve always thought of it as a me thing.”
You held your mug in front of your face so that Sirius wouldn’t notice a huge smile forming on your face. You found everything about him irresistibly attractive – his voice, his mannerisms, his whole presence was alluring in a very authentic kind of way. It was obvious that in front of you he wasn’t pretending, he was just being himself.
“How did you know I wasn’t from here?” You finally had the courage to ask the question that had been pestering you for a while.
“Oh, it’s obvious,” Sirius replied, taking a swig of his beer. “You can always tell, it’s just how us Londoners are wired.”
You couldn’t really retort.
“Are you on holiday, or…?” Sirius went silent, letting you fill in the gap.
“I moved here a week ago,” you explained, feeling a very annoyed expression taking over your face. “Been trying to find an apartment but no luck so far.”
Sirius frowned a bit, thinking about something.
“I reckon I could help you, darling,” he finally told you with a playful smirk on his face. “I’d have to ask you for something in return though.”
“Oh, sure, I’ll pay!”
And you were ready to, because you had heard from someone that word of mouth was actually the best way to find an apartment on a budget these days. It’s just that you didn’t have this mouth before.
Sirius just grinned in response.
“Hey, that’s on me.”
He stopped your hand as it was reaching into your purse to take out your wallet and pay for your beer.
“Really?”
“Well, I dragged you here, so it’s only fair.”
Afterwards you stepped out of the pub to see daylight again. Fortunately, you discovered that it stopped raining and the sky was of a much lighter gray than before. Sirius caught up to you and stretched out his arm, wrapping it around your shoulder. You didn’t mind at all but were still quite stunned because, well, a teenager in you woke up and started internally screaming from this handsome stranger’s closeness.
“A nice weather we have here, darling. Which is super convenient as I don’t prefer driving drunk.”
Sirius looked like someone who would gladly drive drunk, you thought, but instead simply asked about the bike.
“A friend will take it,” he gave you a rather nonchalant reply, already headed somewhere to your left, with your hand now in his. “Come on, London doesn’t wait.”
“What if I have plans?” you tried to retort but your feet still carried you after Sirius and you weren’t going to stop them.
“Really? You just moved here, can’t find a flat and you have plans? Don’t believe it.” Sirius didn’t leave any room for objections as he was absolutely right. “Come o-o-on, darling, I know you want it.”
And for god’s sake, you did.
—
“So… Is this the part of the day when we say goodbye?”
All of a sudden you felt a wave of sadness coming over you. This day turned out to be truly magical and the last thing you wished for was for it to end. Sirius showed you everything, and you meant everything. He had his ways around the city that you would never even think to take, but they worked wonders, almost like some kind of portals transporting you from one place to another (but of course, it was just Sirius). Soon you could take pride in having explored pretty much all the central boroughs from inside and out. You, once again, had a very tourist-y experience of eating fish and chips in Hyde Park, and Sirius showed you an amazing little Chinese place where you promptly had dinner. You couldn’t have been thankful enough when he told you he would take it upon himself to look for an apartment – sorry, a flat – for you, but when you tried to give him some cash, he adamantly refused, so you were left wondering what he meant when he said he would ask for something in return. But most of all, you couldn’t really understand why he would do anything for you at all.
“I guess it is…” you mumbled, wishing with your whole heart you were wrong. But it was late, the sun hid behind the horizon hours ago and your eyes became increasingly more and more itchy.
“Well, we’re meeting tomorrow, so… Not so bad, huh?”
Sirius didn’t seem tired in the slightest, so you decided to just fire away and ask the question that had been swirling in your mind for the whole day.
“Why are you doing all this?”
“What do you mean?” Sirius raised his eyebrow and, judging by the look on his face, thought you were making a joke.
“I mean, you saw me on the street and just… took me under your wing, I guess. I wouldn’t have all this experience without you, London boy. And this apartment thing… It’s too generous. You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to.” Sirius had the widest smile on his face. It was captivating and you didn’t even notice how you started smiling yourself. “But I want to, that’s it, darling. I really, really want to.”
His hands kept yours warm while he spoke. You had a sudden urge to do something you might or might not have regretted in the future. You stepped closer to Sirius, getting up on your toes and pecking his cheek ever so slightly, as if you were afraid to scare him away. Then you leaned away, staring at his face with worry in your eyes. Sirius slowly ran his fingers along his skin, where your lips just were, like he couldn’t believe what happened. Then, much to your surprise, he got closer and before you could realize it, your lips met his. They were a bit chapped, but the pleasure they brought you couldn’t have possibly belonged on planet Earth.
“I fancy you, foreign girl.”
Sirius pulled back and looked deep into your eyes. His gaze was so tender that you understood that from now on, London wouldn’t be such a bad place to live.
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I'm home
Miguel O'hara
tags! hair pulling, praise, use of princess and my love, begging, lowkey highkey phone sex, cumming inside, reader is prolly cheating because they didn't break up, but we won't talk about it, dirty talk
WC. 1649
Barbie's note... This is prolly out of character for Miguel and I actually thought of just subbing Miguel for Gojo bc this is some Gojo ass shit, but I could already see Miguel in the story so I didn't change it lol. Anyway, enjoy!!
He told you, promised you, that he’d contact you every day. If not every day, then every week. If not every week, then every month. If not every month, then he would find a way to give you at least one call a year.
The entire three years, there wasn’t one letter, call, text, not even a messenger pigeon knocking at your window.
You sat by the phone every day, clutching your pillow, sitting crisscross applesauce, bouncing your knees up and down with joy, waiting for the phone to ring, and the second it would, you’d pick it up, and talk his head off about your day, his day, just everything. Except, the phone call never came. You even took it upon yourself to call him, but he still didn’t pick up. Was he that busy? Did he forget about you? Had he met someone else? Did he change his phone number? Terrifying thoughts circle your head, every one of them scaring you to death. A year of your life wastes away from worrying and grieving his absence until you suffer from burnout. In the third year, you ultimately decide to enter the dating world again to find your other half. Many failed attempts, and this date was one of them.
You come home exhausted because the date that you’ve been anticipating all week turned out so poorly. He looked nothing like the pictures, he was nothing like his bio, and he was just downright rude to the waiter which was a big ick for you. Now, here he is walking you to your door, thinking that he’s doing his due diligence as a date or hoping to get something extra from you. You make sure to take the stairs up to your fourth-level apartment just to get back at him. When you finally reach your level, it’s another long walk to the end of the hall. You squint your eyes when you see a silhouette in front of your door. As you get closer, the figure looks more and more distinct. “Y/n…” Your posture becomes guarded before your body is propelling itself into the arms of a stranger. Your memory catches up with your body and all of a sudden the scent is familiar, the build is familiar, and tears are running down your cheeks. “Miguel!” You whisper over and over, your voice gradually getting louder, arms tightening around his neck, and the date you were with fading into the background.
Beyond your realization, Miguel gives the man a death glare. Looking him up and down, noticing all of his flaws and rough edges. His untamed hair and beard, his wrinkled clothes, and his scuffed shoes. Did you find him on the street? Then he looked down at you. Your big eyes, now closed with tears flooding them, your hair done in an updo and displaying your gorgeous neck, and your beautiful body wrapped in a silverish blue party dress.
“My love, you look stunning.” His arms squeeze your waist possessively. His eyes darken as he has yet to break eye contact with the opposing male. Your date almost reminds you that he’s still there by clearing his throat, but Miguel grabs your attention, shuffling his hand onto the back of your head and leading you into a kiss. He groans into your mouth, practically feeling the jealousy and anger radiating off your date. Before he knows it, there’s a hand flying to your shoulder with a death grip only for him to catch it. Without any explanation he crushes the man's hand backward, “Don’t you ever lay your dirty fingers on my woman.” He drops the man's hand as he screams in agony. Fishing through your purse, he finds your keys and drags you inside before the neighbors catch wind of what happened.
There are a ton of questions riding the tip of your tongue that all get shut down by another kiss which you ultimately push away. "Where were you?! You filed my head with hopes then burried them without even touching the shovel! You couldn't even send me one text? Not even and letter by mail? My penpal from 6th grade still writes me from time to time but you couldn't even dedicate one minute out of the day to me. I thought you died, Miguel..." He pushes your back flat against the front door, arms caging you in at your waist and head. "I know, mami... I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." He wipes the tears from your cheeks and kisses jawline, "Please let me make it up to you."
---
His kisses become quicker and rougher when they begin trailing down to your neck. Moans probing your lips. His breath is heated and his cologne melts all of your senses so much that you don't notice him hooking you by your legs and slinging you over his shoulder. He speed walks into your once-alone, now shared bedroom, tossing you on the center of the bed. Even after years, you still remember what to do and start to strip with him. Despite the burning anticipation on both sides, you both undress slowly, taking your time when scrunching your dress to your upper thighs as he takes forever just to show you a sliver of his abdomen. His shirt is finally off and tossed somewhere in the room. He joins you on the bed, immediately going for your hips and mashing your panty-clad ass onto his covered erection. You moan in unison from the friction, “Miguel, please!” He licks a stripe up from your collar to your jawbone, “Those are the exact words I wanted to hear tonight.”
He flips you on your stomach, “Ass up, pretty girl.” You obey his orders, trying not to get on his bad side and anxious to have him again. You begin to beg, but he pulls your panties to the side and prods your entrance with his hot tip. You moan, rolling your hips onto his and feeling him inside you for a split second before he pulls your hair. “Needy girl, aren’t cha?” He hunches over the length of your body, his mouth meeting your ear. He tries to get a teasing word out, but you continue to grind back onto him. “Fuck! Alright, I’ll give the princess what she wants.” He slides into you slowly before you slam back onto him. “Harder! Faster!” You begin to cry until he finally gives you what you need.
Just then, your phone pings with a notification. Miguel, disapproving of the interruption, picks up your device and reads the message, “Hey, we need to talk about what happened tonight with that guy. Give me a call as soon as you can.” Miguel almost stops thrusting, but then an idea pops into his head. You were so in your own pleasure that you almost didn’t notice the dial tone on speaker in the background. “Huh, Mi-Miguel…? What’s that?” Your question is cut off by a third voice that makes your eyes go wide.
“So, what is it that you wanted to talk about so badly?” Miguel teases, only to be met with the annoying voice of your bad date. “Huh? Who is this?” His frantic voice makes you cover your mouth in a desperate attempt to mask your moans. “If you want to know who ‘that guy’ is, you’re talking to him right now.” Miguel chuckles, looking down at you covering your mouth, and puts the phone right in front of your face. You move to press the end call button, but he quickly grabs your hands and puts them behind your back, his other hand nesting itself into your hair. “Where is Y/n?” Miguel smirks adjusting you until you’re comfortable, hands behind your back and all. “Oh, she’s right here. And I think she has something to say too.” He starts his thrusts back up, not caring to go slow or even be gentle, just pounding you into the mattress relentlessly. Pleasureful moans and cries of Miguel's name squeezing out of you. “Oh, princess. It’s been years and you still take me so well. Have you been letting other men stretch this pussy out?” His grip on your hair tightens and you can tell that he’s starting to get possessive again. “No! Never!” His eyebrow cocks up without notice, “Oh, so you’ve been using your fingers?” You nod and turn back to look at him with teary eyes that only make him pound into your G-spot harder. You both failed to realize, but your date had hung up the phone, most likely fuming while typing out the interaction on Reddit.
Miguel’s eye line travels down to your ass then a bit lower, watching the mesmerizing sight of you swallowing him up. “If you could see what I see. You’re needy little cunt is doing such a good job of taking me. She feels so good too.” His hand unravels in your hair, gliding down to your hips only to grip them with a deadly clutch. He starts jackhammering into you, your head moving up and down the sheets like crazy and ruining your hair. “Miguel, I… I’m gonna agh!”
“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers, leaning down to your ear. You nod, “Together. Cum with me.” You choke out your words when your orgasm hits you like a train, your eyes rolling back with your jaw slacked open. “You feel so good, princess.” He helps you ride out your orgasm before pulling out to shoot on your back. “Mhm nhm. Inside.” With the little strength you have left, you bring your hands to your backside and spread yourself open for him. Miguel looks at you with stars in your eyes from you being your normal, shameless, self. He plants a kiss on one of your cheeks before sliding himself back into your sopping hole. You moan from the sensitivity as he releases inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. He leans down to your ear once more, catching a glimpse of your knocked-out and satisfied face. “I’m home, my love.”
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I’ve been seeing a few pictures of HOOK with a slight beard and it got me thinking.
Kisses with him and feeling the slightest scratch of his ‘beard’. Plus I can never get enough of this man I need to see him with a beard now 🫠
Much love ❤️
OMG YESSSSS
Kissing with Hook (Hook x Fem!Reader):
disclaimer: pic is not mine and I got it from @stupidmarkzone (da plug)
Word Count: 600 (prolly my shortest post)
Supreme Speaks: imma be honest, I don't know how to write kisses....so my bad. but thank you to @hookerforhook for putting this in and sorry for being late as per usual. this is both a headcanon and scenario, kind of. my requests are always open. plz remember that you are loved and appreciated.
Warnings: mentions of razors (shaving razor), suggestive words at the end, not proofread because Grammarly decided to be an asshole this week
Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom
THE STUBBLEEEEEE
I feel like he’s the type to shave weekly or like bi-weekly
He always had a baby face and you would never feel his beard coming in
I also wanna say he probably has a mini routine for shaving (nothing special but he does it in a particular way)
Tyler's face be smooth as a baby's bottom
However, during a long schedule, he didn’t have time to shave like usual
So when y’all would kiss, there will be a little stubble that brushes across your face
AND YOU LOVED IT
It wasn’t too much it was just enough
It added more texture (if you wanna say that)
Having the little hairs of his “beard” brush against your cheeks, chin, and lips made you feel special
It added on this home feeling to Tyler
Because no one else will get to feel that but you
You would just keep pulling him in to get more of that feeling
So imagine how you felt when you saw him trying to shave it off
For a quick second, it felt like he was betraying you
“Tyler!” You screeched, making him drop the shaving razor. He cursed as you rushed over to the bathroom, “What are you doing?” It took everything in you not fold at the scene in front of you; your man shirtless with his fluffy light brown hair all over the place.
“I was about to shave until you scream and ran in like a banshee.” Tyler said with shaving cream on part of his lower face. He picked up the razor before his beautiful brown eyes gazed at you through the mirror as you stood with your arms crossing your chest, “Why?”
“Why are you shaving?”
“To get a smooth face? Besides, this is the first time I can shave in weeks and I don’t wanna look rough for television.”
You put your arms down before wrapping them around Tyler’s waist, making you lean your head against his back. “I don’t think you look rough. I really like your stubble.”
His eyebrows slightly rose at your comment. “You do? I didn’t realize that.”
“I love the little scratches I feel when you kiss me. It feels nice.”
“I honestly thought it was too prickly.” Tyler said as he rubbed your hands.
“Nope.” You kissed his shoulder blade before continuing to talk. “Even if it was, I wouldn’t mind because it’s you. But if you want to, I’ll help you shave.” You felt him shake his head. Looking up you saw him take a washcloth and wipe his face, getting rid of the shaving cream around his mouth.
“Because you like it, I’ll keep the so-called beard for one more week. You can help me next week.”
Your eyes lit up. “Then face masks?”
Tyler chuckled before giving you a small peck on the lips. “Of course, anything for you.”
Grinning, you leaned up to give your loving and handsome boyfriend a kiss. As you felt the little hairs lightly scratch your face, you sighed in relief and content. Pulling away from Tyler, you left the bathroom before telling him, “Hurry up and get the that mess off your face so I can make one.” You winked as Tyler immediately rushed to get the rest off, quickly wiping his face continuously until there was no more shaving cream left.
He ran into the bedroom, picking you up and dropping you on the bed, making you giggle,
“Thank god cause I was getting hungry.”
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