#One time they started cramping because of how much i did it on the bus listening to 34

[izel-scribbles]

Helloo, cus you also are a fan of the butcher I feel like this would be a fun thing to tell you.

When I listened to part 35 I was only shortly out from top surgery (this is relevant).

And I listened in public, which meant my usual method of coping with how excited I was about listening, especially if the butcher was present, was not possible.

Soooo I tensed a lot. So much anxiety and anticipation and just joy. So much so in fact that part of my incision ripped open.

I still have a small indent in one of the scars.

Anyways. Love your art, thanks for sharing so much so of it🍀

oh my god. there is a literal mark on your vessel because of how much you like the butcher. i got some competition now, it seems

[puck-luck]

smutception | jack hughes

warnings: EXTREMELY META, elevator sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, spit kink, dom/sub tones, thigh riding, attempted phone sex, cum on the body, slight degradation, name calling, masturbation, handjob, squirting, tittyfucking, i don’t even know what else. this was a long one with a LOT of shit. pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: inspired by a request from @captainlexaproluvr, which is far too long to paste here. here’s our summary instead: when jh accidentally picks up his gf’s kindle for a roadie instead of his own, he finds some surprising books downloaded. they give him a few ideas for what he’ll do when he gets home in a week… wc: 10,002

The bus rides to the airport are never fun, in Jack’s opinion. He loves his teammates, but they’re loud and annoying. He’s loud and annoying too, most of the time, but he started a really good book yesterday. He’s been thinking about reading it all day. Jack made sure to pack his Kindle in his bag, even though he had gotten distracted by your goodbye.

It started when he got back from Prague, after the Global Series. He had written off your excitement to see him as a one time thing, fueled by missing him and manifesting in an intense need for him to make it up to you– you had stopped the elevator from the garage of his apartment building and begged him to take you right there. He did, obviously, and the rush that went up his spine from how public it was led to a conversation about how Jack definitely wanted to do stuff like that again. 

He was right about one part: you jumping his bones after a roadie was a one-time-thing. The pattern changed– now, you have a habit of doing something different in bed before his roadies. It’s become somewhat of a superstition for Jack.

There was the short roadie in mid-October, when he’d gone down to Carolina and up to Ottawa for a few days. You had woken him up early that morning, kissing him and poking at him until he got fed up and pinned your wrists down. You made him late that morning, delaying the team bus for the airport, because you just had to roll your hips against his morning wood. Then, while you packed a little roadie snack for him, you just had to be naked. It’s not his fault he wanted to bend his pretty girlfriend over the counter and ruin her again.

When you joined him for the first game of his Canadian tour (Vancouver for the Hughes Bowl, then Calgary and Edmonton), Jack and Luke decided to fly with you from Jersey to Michigan to meet up with the parents ahead of time. Then, you all flew together from Michigan to Vancouver. That was normal.

What wasn’t normal was when you leaned over to Jack in the middle of the plane ride and whispered, “You know what might be fun?” with a squeeze to his clothed cock before disappearing towards the bathrooms. It took a few minutes for that one to click (and a picture of your bare tits that you sent Jack from the bathroom over the airplane WiFi), but he ended up fucking you in that tiny, cramped, closet-sized bathroom. It was thrilling.

Jack went to Florida after that– before he left, you rode his face on the living room couch while jacking him off until he came with the tip of his cock just past your lips.

He really missed the goodbyes for the first half of December, when the only away game he had was about an hour away on Long Island. It barely counted, but Jack whined about needing his good luck charm anyway, so you’d gotten down on your knees and sucked his cock all while grinding against a pillow between your legs, coming from just that. Jack was too distracted by the thought of you rutting against the pillow because you were drunk off of his cock to play well that night.

He’d liked it so much that he’d asked you to do it again before he left for Columbus and St. Louis and you’d eagerly complied. It wasn’t any less sexy the second time around.

Jack loves your goodbyes. He loves you, obviously, and would love you even if you weren’t giving him these goodbye gifts, but they’re just so special. Jack is addicted. 

He doesn’t know where you’re getting the ideas from– the position or act is never something that pops into his head. Maybe that’s why he likes it so much. Maybe he likes that you’re the one taking charge and expecting things from him, although he equally loves when he gets to do whatever he wants with you on a regular day. 

Now, he’s leaving for California. He has two games in Carolina first, but then he’ll be on the west coast for a while. He’ll be gone for Christmas and New Years, which is annoying. He knows that it’s just the way that things worked out scheduling-wise, but he likes getting to shower you with presents and watch you open them, and he likes to drink a lot of alcohol with you and kiss you at midnight to ring in the next year. 

You made up for it this morning, your goodbye causing him to forget about any gripe he might’ve had about missing you for so long. You appeared in the doorway as he was packing up the last of his bags, wearing this flouncy little white nightgown with tiny roses decorating it like polka dots. It was the picture of innocence, but your actions were anything but. That enough was to drive Jack crazy, but when you sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his thigh, it shattered any possibility of functional thought. You told him not to touch you, pouting about being left alone for so long on your own– and you proved to him that you can take care of yourself just fine. 

If he thought watching you grind against a pillow was bad, it was even worse to have you soiling his dress pants with your slick and your cum. All the while, he couldn’t touch you– it was torture. It was madness. It was the hottest thing Jack has ever seen. 

After you came all over his thigh, you helped Jack change out of his pants– that was your excuse to get your lips on his cock and prevent him from arriving to player check-in with a raging erection– and chose a new outfit for him to wear. You’d kissed his lips and patted his side, reminding him not to forget his Kindle because you knew how excited he was to finish his new book on the way to Cali. 

You left to get ready for the day and he had, on embarrassingly wobbly legs, wandered around the house to find his pocket-library. It wasn’t where he left it, but he ended up finding it on one of the bookcases in his living room, swiping it and tossing it into his backpack without another thought because he was, once again, running late. 

It’s a habit now. The boys have joked about buying him a better watch and Jack goes along with it, but he knows that he’ll be late no matter how good his watch is or how early he sets it. As long as you keep saying goodbye to him like this, he’s going to be a poor teammate– he’d rather experience this than be on time, any day of the week.

Your moans from this morning are echoing in his mind, so Jack pops his headphones in and presses shuffle on the playlist he was already listening to. He digs his Kindle out of his book to offer himself another distraction. It’s going to take a lot of overstimulation to prevent another boner, which means he’s going to read his book, the one he’s been so excited about. If he finishes it, he’ll get to update his Good Reads and recommend it to Quinn. 

He traces the lines of the electronic before turning it on, touching the charging port and the power button. Jack smiles. The Kindle had been a gift from you on his birthday. The week after, he had bought you the exact same one. You had matching Kindles and you often shared books like your own little book club. He’s read romances because of you and you’ve read biographies of athletes because of him. It’s fun for him. This is special to him because he’s never done something like this with any of his other girlfriends. It gives him hope that you guys will stay together as long as possible. 

Jack finally turns the Kindle on, stopping short at the sight of the photo of the home screen. This isn’t his Kindle. He accidentally swiped yours.

It’s too late to turn the bus back and with him being on the move, it would just be too much hassle to ask you to mail his Kindle to the hotel. 

Jack chuckles to himself a little bit, digging his phone out of his pocket. He types out a text to you: Accidentally took your Kindle instead of mine :(

It isn’t long until the text bubble signaling your incoming reply appears. Sorry :( just download your book onto my account <3 I’ll read my books on yours in the meantime. 

Then, a second text: At work so can’t reply again til later :( have a good trip J ily!!!! Talk to you soon!!!

Jack replies I love you too and puts his phone away. He clicks through your Kindle, which automatically opened to the app that houses your library of books. He scrolls through, recognizing some of the titles and not recognizing the others. While sliding his finger along the screen, he accidentally fumbles the Kindle as the bus goes over a bump. When he gets a hold on the device again, he sees that his finger tapped one of your books and it opened. 

Jack goes to exit out, ready to download the book he’d been waiting for, and then he spots a familiar name in the first line.

He reads the sentence like a habit– that’s what you do when you see your name somewhere, right? 

The first page is just half of a page. It’s exposition and it’s looking like this book is somewhat of a romance, but he can’t really tell all that much.

“Every year, you go to the lake house with Jack.”

Like any good first line, it leaves Jack intrigued. Who is Jack? Where’s this lake house? How long have you been going? You say every year, but how many years is that?

Jack immediately thinks of his own lake house. He misses Michigan. His imagination solves one of his questions: the lake house in this story, in his mind, is in Michigan. It’s on the same lake as his and it looks the exact same. ‘Every year’ is vague enough that Jack can accept it. It’s meant to be vague. Only one question remains: who is this Jack guy? 

It’s fun to have a character that shares a name with you, so Jack reads on. He’s determined to figure out who this guy is. 

“The past few trips, it’s been a special occasion. You get your mid-summer break from work and you get to spend time with your boyfriend.”

So Jack is the boyfriend of the main character. Jack laughs to himself again– maybe you downloaded this book so that you could think about your boyfriend while you read it. He’s tempted to text you again with a picture of the page, but since you’re at work, you won’t reply for a while. If he’s going to rib you for reading a book about a guy with the same name as him, he wants you to be able to reply immediately. 

“You’ll sit on the patio and watch him fool around with his brothers. You know them both well after dating Jack for so long, but you’re closer with Luke. After all, he rented out the second bedroom in your and Jack’s New Jersey apartment this entire past year. You know Luke better than you ever thought you would because of that.”

Jack is starting to purse his lips as he reads. He has brothers. One of them is named Luke. He lives in New Jersey with his girlfriend and Luke lived with them last year. He’s since moved out, but the coincidence is still there. It’s still…

Weird.

He reads on anyway.

“Jack loves your relationship with his brothers–”

True. 

“but what he doesn’t love is when all of your skin is on display all day for everyone to see. Your little bikinis drive him insane– because everything he wants is right there, but he can’t have it.”

Jack is a little confused about the turn this is taking. This is only the second page of the book– he told himself he wouldn’t read past the first one, but this is just too intriguing– and it’s already talking about sex? The characters are in a long term relationship, so it’s not like this is a one-night-stand, inciting-incident sort of thing. Why would the book start here?

Also– the romances he’s read because of you are a lot more tame than this. Already, he’s starting to squint at the Kindle in disbelief. Is this the kind of shit that you read on your own? He’s ribbed you in the past for not updating your Good Reads enough and now he gets it. Maybe you don’t want the whole world (all of your followers, including your boyfriend and his older brother) to know that you’re reading porn.

“All of his frustration at not being able to do anything about your skimpy clothing comes to a head one day when the Hughes house–”

Jack stops in his tracks. The other coincidences were fine. Jack is a common name. Luke is a common name. Everyone has brothers. Lots of people have lake houses. New Jersey is just one out of fifty states in the U.S.– almost ten million people live there, partially because of its proximity to New York City. 

But all of it together– Jack and Luke Hughes, living together in New Jersey, with another, older brother and a lake house– Jack is convinced. This book was written about him.

He knows fanfiction exists. He’s never interacted with it before, but he has known about fanfiction since the early 2010s. There were a couple of girls in his classes in middle school that loved One Direction and they would talk about fanfiction all the time. It was just amongst themselves, but Jack sat right next to them, so he couldn’t really help but eavesdrop.

Jack knows that he went viral after the draft, considering the influx of people that have followed him in the years since. A lot of those followers, and he’s not bragging, have been women. He just didn’t expect to ever find fanfiction about himself. He thought that was a thing for actors and musicians, not athletes… but the evidence is right in his hands.

Another thing clicks. You, his girlfriend, were reading fanfiction about him. You have it downloaded to your Kindle. Why would you do that if you’ve got the real thing? You could just call his name and he’d be there. Jack isn’t exactly coy about wanting to get it on with you. You’re the one who’s batting him away more often than him brushing you off. He’s always had a higher sex drive than you and been more overt about it–

…until recently.

Jack looks up from the Kindle and he starts to grin. He catches himself and brings his hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his bottom row of teeth with the tip of his fingernail. 

His initial surprise, which manifested in that weird smile and his breath of laughter, turns into a brief flash of judgment.

It’s weird that his girlfriend is reading fanfiction about him. He’s right there. Does he not satisfy you enough? Are you unhappy with how he acts in bed? You’ve never complained– if you don’t like something, you should talk to him. Right?

Jack finds himself frowning and clicking through the Kindle again. He’s searching for something in particular– the book that compiles all of your highlights and notes. He knows how you are– you’re a highlighter. You have a lot of opinions and thoughts about the things you read and you’re all about writing them down. You do it so you don’t forget what to say when you talk about your books with Jack later. There’s no way that you didn’t have anything to say about the porn about your boyfriend.

He finds the highlights and notes easily. He starts to flick through it, scanning the page for comments from books that he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t find anything until the tenth page of notes. 

He catches the first comment in the same way that he discovered your smut-stash in the first place. He sees his name.

“Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.”

Jack’s lips part in surprise. He taps the highlight, looking for more information. He’s looking for your comment– and all he gets is an “oh.”

It’s frustratingly vague. “Oh”? What does that even mean?

Jack releases a scoff and clicks along. He reads the sentence again, this time focusing on a familiar detail. Jack was fucking his girlfriend in an elevator. You jumped his bones in the elevator a few weeks ago. Jack’s not sure that’s a coincidence– after all, none of the details in the first story were coincidental.

He checks when you left that comment– and he was right. You left the comment while he was in Prague.

Jack feels a bit like a detective as he repeats the process, searching for more highlights and comments. He finds several interesting ones:

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully” was also highlighted while he was in Prague.

“You make your way into the bathroom and press your back against the door, feeling lightheaded at the rush– in just a few minutes, you’re going to have your boyfriend’s cock inside of you, but thousands of feet off the air. The thought of it, how dirty it is to have sex in such a public yet confined space, makes you whimper” while he was in Carolina and Ottawa.

“‘Wanna sit on this pretty face,’ you tell him. ‘While I gag on your cock’” while he was in Edmonton. 

The next one is– dirtier. Jack feels warm when he reads it. You highlighted it while he was gone in Florida and it’s clearly the inspiration for the goodbye you gave him before he went to Long Island that one night, the night when you nearly gave him a heart attack by coming on the pillow between your legs.

The other part that you highlighted… didn’t happen… but Jack has a feeling that you want to try it, given the comment you left on the highlighted page.

“Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weight next to nothing.”

Your comment says: “...& he spits on the ice all the time but never in MY mouth??”

He would if you asked. But that’s not the end of the quote– his favorite part is yet to come.

“The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs.”

Yeah, he likes that one.

The final comment that Jack reads is from his most recent roadie in Ohio and Missouri. It’s what happened this morning. 

“‘Nah, I don’t think I will,’ Jack replies. ‘How about you get yourself off on my thigh and I’ll consider rewarding you for being so pretty and self-sufficient?’... ‘Let me see how pretty you are when you make yourself come, thinking of me.’ Your hips are rocking along the strong muscle of his thigh as he kisses you again.”

“Dirty girl,” Jack murmurs aloud, not realizing that he said such a thing audibly. Luckily, Nico is the only one close enough to hear him, and he always sleeps like a rock when they’re driving to the airport, or on the plane, or driving to the hotel from the airport. It’s the perfect combination.

So you’ve been reading smut while Jack is away. You’ve been getting ideas from fanfiction about how to fuck him.

Jack should be upset and uncomfortable because you’re reading about a fake version of him, but really, he’s just turned on. You think about him. If it was some other guy, maybe he’d be more upset… but no. You’re reading fanfiction about him and recreating the parts you like with him. Even in your little romance books, you want to read about him.

He’s elated, because, well… two can play at that game.

Jack was excited to read his book, but reading your books seems like a much better time and a much better way to entertain himself on this roadie.

He spends the next two weeks perusing your Kindle library for more books about him. They’re all short and most of them are written in second person, although some are in first and third person. Most commonly, though, it’s in second person as some sort of “Reader-puts-herself-in-Main-Character’s-shoes” sort of thing. Jack doesn’t like the books where the author writes “Y/N.” He’s not quite sure what it stands for, so he just tries to avoid it. 

Is it weird that he’s reading fanfiction about himself? Maybe, but he tries not to think about it too long. He’s doing it for you, for his girlfriend, because he wants to show you exactly what he found. Dirty, dirty girl.

About halfway through the roadie, he tries to hint that he knows about your secret. You’re on the phone and he tries to start a little phone sex action based on something he read the other day, when Merc left the hotel room and Jack was left alone. He’s alone again now. He doesn’t know where Dawson is, so he isn’t very subtle with his hinting.

He just parrots his favorite sentence back to you. 

“So, baby,” Jack says, grinning to himself. “‘Why don’t you touch your pretty little clit for me?’”

It doesn’t work. You just start laughing. “Jesus, J. That came out of nowhere.”

Jack pouts to himself. Maybe you haven’t read that one yet. He figured you would recognize the words.

He gives up on the reveal, deciding to save it for when he’s home in just another week. He gets to tell you how much he misses you and how much he wishes he could see you. He wishes you a belated Merry Christmas and he gets to spend midnight on the phone with you– your time, not his. He blows a kiss through the phone… and that’s that.

He’s back to being alone with your little stories. Jack’s able to restrain himself for the most part, but he is willing to admit that they pique his interest... and his cock sometimes grows to reflect just how interested he is.

He returns to the first story on the bus ride back from the airport to Jersey. It’s symmetrical that way and he kind of likes the idea of finishing his journey with your Kindle and your fanfictions where it originally began. It’s a full circle moment.

The story is a few thousand words, just about ten pages on the device. There are multiple rounds written into it– definitely a score, because in real life, multiple rounds is a luxury for Jack. He gets sleepy after the first and needs a break. Fictional Jack might be setting some unrealistic standards compared to real Jack, but at least real Jack can actually fuck you. All fictional Jack can do is… allude to it. He never actually gets to do it.

Jack’s favorite part of the story comes toward the end. You’ve been wearing your bikinis all summer, teasing Jack with the knowledge of what’s beneath the scrap of fabric. He’s seen your tits plenty of times before, but it always gives him a thrill to see them. One of his favorite things is getting to come all over them and mark them as his, which fictional Jack gets to do.

“You kneel below him, looking up at him with wide and bleary eyes. Jack smirks at you, his hand leisurely stroking his cock. His tip is an angry red, bleeding precum from his slit, but he still doesn’t increase his pace.

‘Ask me for it,’ Jack says, tilting his head to the side. When you open your mouth, Jack taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip, distracting you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum away, but Jack evades you, laughing softly. ‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right? You want to walk around with your tits out all the time, but you’re so easy for my cock. You’re all mine, aren’t you?’

‘Jack, please,’ you pout. ‘I want your cum. Come on my tits.’

Jack slows his hand. Then, he stops stroking himself altogether.

‘What–’ you question involuntarily, brows furrowing and frown deepening. You push your chest out, trying to make the canvas more appealing for Jack. Why did he stop?

‘Give me your hand,’ Jack instructs, holding his hand out with his palm up so that you can take it. You give him your hand, waiting for him to help you up like a gentleman. That’s how this feels, like the momentum of the moment has completely halted. You’re so confused that you’d accept it if Jack just… denied you completely.

Instead, he brings your hand to his cock. He encourages you to curl your fingers around the length, watching your eyes as it slowly dawns on you. You resume his pace, lacking confidence at first and then realizing that this is better.

‘Do it yourself,’ Jack says. ‘You want me to mark you up?’ He bucks his hips forward once, just to throw off your rhythm. ‘Make me.’

You’re whimpering a little bit, puffing out your chest again and shuffling closer on your knees. Your body is practically brushing his from mere proximity. Your other hand comes to Jack’s thigh, tracing his light hair gently in comparison to the increasingly rapid strokes to his length.

Jack gathers your hair in his hand like he does when he fucks your mouth. As if on instinct, you open your mouth. Jack’s smirk reappears. ‘Easy,’ he reminds you again, taking his other hand and cradling your chin. He tilts your head back and spits, aiming at your lips. The difference is, he’s standing and you’re kneeling, so the spit doesn’t find its mark. Instead, it lands on your face. You blink in surprise and Jack uses his thumb to corral the saliva towards your mouth. There’s nothing really left by the time his thumb finds your lips, but you latch on like his digit is a flowing faucet in the middle of Death Valley.”

It turns out, spit is a thing for Jack too. He’s always liked to come on your body, but he didn’t even consider the possibility of a different liquid. Coming on you is a possession thing, and spitting is similar… it’s demeaning, showing that you’re under his control, but Jack likes it because you’d trust him enough to take it. It’s gross, but you’d still let him spit on you and into your mouth.

Well, in theory. He’ll see if you’re actually willing to do such a thing tonight.

Like he said, two can play at that game.

Jack barely bids adieu to his teammates. He speeds home, probably faster than he should knowing how the NJPD can be. He has no plan for if he gets pulled over. Luckily, he doesn’t, and he makes it home in record time. 

You’re asleep in bed. It’s early in the morning, but only about an hour before your alarm goes off for work. Timing might be the one thing that really annoys Jack about his job– the game wasn’t finished in California until almost one in the morning in New Jersey, then he had to take the bus to the airport, fly home, take the bus back to Prudential Center, and drive home. It took more time than he wanted it to and he feels bad waking you up, so Jack just climbs into bed and wraps his arms around your sleeping figure. You must’ve felt bad about waking him, because when he blinks his eyes open, you’ve already left for work.

Jack doesn’t find a good time to reveal your secret in the days after his return. You both do your normal routine. Jack returned on Tuesday. His next away trip isn’t until Friday, and once again, it’s a one-night, tiny roadie. He’s only going 30 minutes up the road to MSG. You’re coming with him. By all accounts, he shouldn’t even count it as a roadie.

Jack is desperate to show you that he knows. He also wants you to know that he’s okay with it– that he likes that you read about him and imagine him while he’s gone. He might be eager and rushing things, but this is his first chance to catch you off guard and he’s going to take it. He wants to establish this new routine early– now.

He sits on the couch, his hockey bag already packed and by the door. It’s a night game, so you’ll have time to get ready after work. Jack doesn’t have time. He’s hoping to intercept you as you walk through the apartment door, getting his kicks before he ends up being too late to the arena. Because it’s so close, he gets to drive himself to the arena. He can speed again, but New York City is so fickle with traffic that he knows he’ll run into trouble if you don’t get home, like, imminently. 

Big word, yes, but he’s been reading a lot lately. He was always better in school than Quinn and Luke, too. Not a brag– just a fact.

He also seems to have a future (ha, get it?) in predicting the future, because you arrive home just a few minutes later. You set your stuff down on the dining room table before joining Jack on the couch and greeting him with a little kiss.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” you say, pressing another kiss to his lips and curling into his side. 

Jack wraps his arm around your waist and grins at you, crooked and shit-eating. “Couldn’t leave without getting my good luck charm first, eh?”

You laugh at him, pressing your hand against his chest, right over his heart. “It’s barely a roadie. You’re literally coming back here tonight and I’m going to the game.”

“You know how hockey players are with their superstitions,” Jack pouts, poking your side until you let out a sarcastic and dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes while you climb onto his lap like you don’t love sitting there. 

“I know how my hockey player is with his superstitions,” you reply, placing your palms on Jack’s jaw and squishing his cheeks together a little bit. 

Jack wiggles beneath you, still grinning and jostling you on his lap in the process. He’s already half-hard from his excitement about surprising you with your own fantasy. 

“But,” you continue. Your hands fall to his chest again. “I don’t have any ideas for you, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I have plenty.”

You laugh, tossing your head back. “Of course you do.”

“Well, I was reading this book on my roadie,” Jack starts.

“Oh, yeah, we never talked about that. Was it good? I know you were really excited to read about–”

“Not that one,” Jack interrupts. “I didn’t end up reading that. I’ll probably read it when we go to Toronto next week.”

A look of confusion passes over your face. “Then what did you read?” You question.

Jack just smiles, waiting for it to click in your head. There’s only so much that he’d be able to read on your Kindle. You’d read one of your normal books last night and clearly hadn’t noticed anything different on the device, so you can’t immediately think of a book that Jack would read.

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “What did you read?” You repeat, voice cautious.

Jack wiggles his eyebrows, hands inching down to cover your behind. He rolls his hips up against your core. He’s still smiling.

Your lips part, mouthing half of an interrogative word to yourself while you think. You’re fiddling with Jack’s t-shirt, evaluating him.

Jack brings a hand up to your neck, cupping the back and pulling you in for a kiss. You come easily, kissing Jack’s lips. Your movements are slightly stilted, still thinking about Jack’s literary options.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to your jaw. He lets his thumb and his forefinger smush your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Wait– open your mouth again, baby?” Jack prompts, feigning concern. 

You automatically obey him, still looking confused. “What?” You try to ask with an open mouth, the word coming out garbled. 

Jack grins, subtly gathering a wad of saliva in his mouth while he looks into your mouth. There was nothing there, he just needed an excuse to get your mouth open. This is better than outright saying it. From your comments, he knows that you’re at least interested. If you hate it, you’ll talk about it later. He wants to see the realization on your face. It’s a big risk, knowing that you could cringe and flinch and react negatively, but Jack has a feeling you won’t.

He grips your cheeks, keeping your mouth open as wide as you’ll allow. Jack misses the flash of alarm and understanding in your eyes because he’s busy aiming at your mouth. Jack spits his saliva onto your tongue and releases his grip on your cheeks. Your mouth clamps shut and you stare at him, eyes wide and thoroughly shocked.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, satisfied by your frozen figure atop his lap. He checks the clock over your shoulder, seeing that he’s really running out of time. He was supposed to leave about five minutes ago. 

An idea pops into Jack’s head. He could leave you here, processing things, and go play his game. Then, he can come back later and pick up where he left off. 

Deciding to do that, Jack plops a chaste kiss on your lips before he stands, still cradling you with your knees squeezing his hips, but legs not quite wrapped around his middle. He lays you on the couch and kisses you again before returning to his full height. He thumbs over your bottom lip as if he’s wiping away his kiss. 

“Bye, baby,” Jack bids you, then gathers his stuff and leaves the apartment.

You don’t say anything or move an inch until after he’s gone.

Jack plays a great game. He knows you’re in the wag suite and he knows that he makes it onto the jumbotron a few times– probably even more on the live television feed that plays in the suite– just because of how well he’s playing. He makes sure to spit on the ice way more often than he normally does, just to send you a message.

In the back of his head, Jack realizes that people who write fanfiction will be thirsting over these clips of him spitting. Good. More things for you to read while he’s gone.

You’re home by the time he makes it back. You’re on him from the second he walks through the front door. 

“You read my–”

“Your secret fanfiction?” Jack teases. “It was an accident at first, but then I realized who it was about.”

You groan, whining as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Jack knows you’re blushing and he just laughs, cradling your body in his arms. Jack kisses the side of your head, burying his nose in your hair and smelling your shampoo.

“Is that why you spat in my mouth?” You question, voice muffled against his skin. 

Jack laughs again, smiling and swinging you around in his arms playfully. “You seemed to like that bit in your books.”

“It was only in, like, one,” you deflect. 

Jack snorts. “It was in four, baby, and those are just the ones that I read.”

You grumble again, pressing your lips against his neck in a miserable kiss. “You’re so weird,” you tell him. 

“You’re the one reading fanfiction about your boyfriend while he’s away,” Jack replies. “Then you’re recreating it.” He pauses. “‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right?’”

“Oh my God,” you wail.

“Tell me, baby, what do you do when you’re reading those little stories? Do you touch yourself?”

“Jack,” you complain.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ll take my spit in your mouth but you won’t tell me if you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

“You are so weird,” you say again. 

Jack feels triumphant, proud of himself. He’s glad that you’re still wrapped up in his arms, even though you’re embarrassed and red. 

“Can I recreate my favorite one?” Jack asks, kissing your head again. “Like you did?”

You pull back from him, fingers finding the nape of his neck and toying with his hair. You seem skeptical, eying him. “You really read them enough to have a favorite one?” You ask, bottom lip sticking out for Jack to lean down and capture between his teeth. 

He nibbles playfully until you start tugging at his locks, convincing him to back away. “‘Course I did,” Jack says, shrugging. “These writers seem to think I’m very good at pleasing you.”

You start to laugh, shaking your head.

“Do you write them?” Jack asks.

That brings you up short. “Do I write them?”

“Yeah. You know how I fuck best, don’t you?” Jack taps your nose with his own. “So, do you write?”

You make a face. “No. I’m not much of a writer.”

That’s true– you’ve often complained to Jack about how you’d like to be able to write as well as your favorite authors. He should’ve thought about that. Instead, he goes back to his most pressing question.

“So?” Jack asks.

“So, what?”

“Can we recreate one?”

He wants you in a tiny bikini or your prettiest push-up bra, your meticulous hand jerking his cock until he comes all over your chest. He wants to spit in your mouth again.

“Which one?”

Jack detangles you from his arms and crosses over to the thermostat. He punches up the heat to 80ºF, turning to look at you.

“Oh, no,” he simpers sarcastically. “It’s so hot in here. It’s like when we’re at the lake house in Michigan during the summer and you wear your bikini around the house all day, teasing me.”

You look thoroughly unimpressed. “You don’t have to turn up the thermostat. You can just ask me to put on my bikini, baby.”

Jack sticks his tongue out at you and resets the thermostat. “Will you put on your bikini for me?”

“Yes. Also, J, I didn’t read that one yet.”

Jack is delighted. He really gets to guide you through this, leaving you in the dark like he was the first few times you acted out a fanfiction together without his knowledge. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll be just as surprised as I was when I read it.”

You roll your eyes once more, hiding a smile, before you disappear down the hall and into the bedroom. Jack puts his hockey stuff on the balcony like always. You tend to complain that it stinks. He’s used to it by now, having played hockey for so many years. The smell is nothing.

He joins you in the bedroom and finds you in your bikini, just like you said you’d be. It’s the white one that you’ve had for ages, since before Jack started begging you to go to the gym with him. He asked you to do so so that he could watch you work out and get all sweaty– hot– and he doesn’t regret it one bit. You were less broad then. The musculation broadened your hips and your chest, like it was expected to. Age has also helped– you once complained to Jack about looking different than you used to, so he looked it up so that he could find some way to comfort you that was steeped in fact rather than sympathetic words, and he found that women go through a second kind of puberty in their life where they become even more womanly. That’s the best way he can describe it. Jack doesn’t care that your body has “changed” since he started dating you. He barely even notices, except in moments like these. 

The swimsuit is small on you. It doesn’t cover everything the way it used to when you first bought it. The triangular cups spread only so far over your tits, leaving sideboob for Jack to gawk at. The bottoms are wrenched up over your hips and you’re facing away from him, so he gets to see the way that the fabric bunches and tries to ride up between your cheeks. 

He can’t help it. He crosses the room and grabs at your ass, completely groping you. It would be inappropriate if you weren’t together and minutes away from fucking. Luckily, Jack gets to touch you whenever he wants. It’s the best thing ever.

“Ja-ack,” you complain, drawing his name out and turning towards him. Jack is reluctant to let go of your lower half, so he circles his arms around your waist to keep his hands on your skin. He splays his fingers out as much as he can before he cups the weight of your behind in each palm, pointedly inching closer to grind his hips against your front. 

“Pretty girl,” Jack compliments, claiming your lips again with his. He never gets enough of kissing you. 

You kiss him back, then you bring your hands down and grope his ass in the exact same manner as he’s groping yours. 

“Hey,” Jack exclaims, his touch flying to your hands and removing them. 

“Oh, so you can do it but I can’t?” You question. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have an ass like yours!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

This is your go-to line when Jack compliments your figure– particularly your ass and your tits. He was absolutely shocked and affronted the first time you pulled that line out of thin air, but this time might be the millionth time you’ve asked him if he thinks you’re fat, so he’s used to it.

Jack bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows, putting his hands on your assets again. “Calling your ass fat,” he replies. “I love this fat ass.” He punctuates his tease with a squeeze.

You burst out laughing. “You’re so fucking weird!” You repeat again.

“Get on your knees,” Jack says. He’s trying to inflect his words like Bob asking Linda to undress in Bob’s Burgers. He knows you’ll get the reference, even though you don’t react.

You give him a little look, just a slight cut of your eyes, and then you kneel down. Jack’s cock twitches in his pants at the mere sight of it.

He cups your jaw with one hand and tilts your chin up, biting his lip as he admires you. “Easy,” Jack says.

“Well, I’m not going to fucking fight you, Jack. You’re the one who wants to recreate this fanfiction and I’ve never read it, so obviously I’m going to listen–”

While your mouth is moving, Jack gathers spit. Instead of letting it fly from his mouth towards your face, Jack lets it drip in a long line until you realize what he’s doing and stop talking. He quirks an eyebrow, prompting you. 

You open your mouth again and let his saliva fall onto your tongue. 

Jack pats your cheek and you close your lips. Jack waits, but he sees no movement in your throat. 

“Swallow,” he tells you.

And you do. 

Jack can’t really describe the feeling that washes over him. It’s simultaneously exciting that you will take anything he gives you and like an honor that you’ll do something so– odd? Is that the word? Jack doesn’t know– just because he asked you to.

There’s also the sexy bit, where it’s something from his body that you’re swallowing. He’s always loved it when you swallow his seed, but that’s so much more normalized. Every guy likes that. Not every guy does this spit thing.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says. He bends down and kisses your forehead as a reward. 

You don’t seem to have the words to form a reply.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks. He needs to make sure that your speechlessness is because it’s sexy and you like it, not because you’re staying quiet and dealing with his actions, just waiting it out until he’s finished. Then, you’ll never do it again and he’ll never be the wiser that you hated it.

You nod. “Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I like it.”

Jack’s anxiety melts. “I’m not making you do this?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s–” You shrug and look down.

“Tell me,” Jack implores gently. “I need to know.”

“It’s different is all. Now I’m thinking about it too much, I don’t want to think about it.” You pout up at Jack, looking a little sad. 

He wants to solve it for you. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. As long as you like it, that’s enough.”

“I like it,” you confirm. You touch his knee, then the front of his pants. “Can I show you how much I like it?”

Jack nods, bringing his hands to his belt and undoing it. He unzips himself and drops the dress pants to his ankles, letting you do the work on his briefs. “You can,” Jack says. “But you have to stop before I come.”

You’re pulling him out of his underwear as he speaks, but you pause when he tells you when you have to stop. You look up at him, hand circling his cock. He’s been growing hard this whole time, so his cock is standing out towards your face even without your hand guiding it. Once, you were making fun of him, and you compared his dick to a compass trying to find “true North”– you. Jack has thought about that moment every single time you take his cock out since you said it. He’s been able to move past it, but he thinks about it nonetheless.

“I’m never the problem when it comes to stopping,” you bite at him, your words pointed and knowing. 

“Fuck off,” Jack sneers playfully. You might be right, but that’s not fair. He likes to come, he doesn’t want to stop himself. “Suck my dick, baby.”

You stick out your tongue at him, but then you take him in your mouth.

Like most times, all thought leaves Jack’s head. When he fucks you, or when you’re taking care of him, there’s rarely anything actually flowing through his head. His mind is just automatically filled with holy shit– mouth– warm– tongue– oh, I hope you do that again– fuck, shit, oh my God– wait, don’t thrust, you don’t want to gag too much– on a loop. 

When he looks at you, his heart is lurching because of the slopes of your cheekbones and the wide, blown out look in your eyes. He can’t look at you and feel your movements at the same time because he will come down your throat. He’s just a man. He’s simple. 

Jack takes you by the hair and stops you, pulling out of your mouth and stepping away. He’s breathing more heavily than before and his cock is throbbing with a need to release. His hand circles his base, trapping himself and providing a bit of relief. 

Some of your spit keeps his dick connected to your mouth. It’s hot. Briefly, Jack tries to decide if he’d let you spit in his mouth, but it requires too much thought for the moment, so he tables it for later. 

“Give me your hand,” Jack says.

You comply and Jack curls your fingers around his shaft. You wait for him to tell you what to do– which Jack definitely likes.

“I want to come on your pretty tits,” Jack says, trying not to twitch and jerk his hips when you start to move your hand. “And I want you to make it happen.”

You grin up at him, dipping your head to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before you guide him towards your chest. Jack’s cockhead bumps your collarbone before you start to drag your hand in thorough strokes, pointing the tip towards the valley of your cleavage. You look up at him all the meanwhile, watching his face as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re providing to him. 

Jack touches your face with one hand. Your free hand is resting on the front side of his hip, just feeling him. He places his other hand over yours, gripping the appendage in a distorted version of holding your hand.

Warmth shoots through his body, your clenches and twists along his cock hurling him towards the powerful climax that he’s been anticipating since he started reading your little stories on the bus on the way to California.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good at that,” Jack tells you, praising you in the way that always brings a sweet blush onto your cheeks. 

You thank him quietly, bashfully, continuing your ministrations until the pleasure overcomes Jack and he moans, watching his cum splash over your skin. It’s the strokes of a masterpiece, but at the same time, Jack is marring the masterpiece that is your body with the white ropes that you’ve drawn from his cock. He’s privileged because he gets to ruin you.

After he comes, Jack brings you up to your feet and kisses you again. He can taste himself on your tongue, tangling with his as you kiss him back. Jack brings his hand between your legs, dipping into the fabric to find that you’re deliciously wet between your folds. 

He teases you with his fingers while he kisses you, letting time pass until you’re wiggling against him and making little noises into his mouth. Jack dips his finger into your hole, only going up to the first knuckle. It’s barely enough to satisfy you, but it allows Jack to belittle you a bit before giving you more, when you beg for it.

Surprisingly, you don’t beg for him to finger you more. You don’t ask him to take your bikini off. You keep kissing him and whining into his mouth, grinding your hips. After only a few more rolls of your hips, you pull away.

“Let me try something,” you whisper, kissing him once more before returning to your knees.

“‘Kay,” Jack agrees, watching you carefully. 

You kneel tall, pursing your lips and focusing on his cock, which is doing its best to fill up entirely for the second time. 

Jack’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when you push your breasts together so that Jack’s cock can rest between them. The pressure from your hands against your boobs, sandwiching Jack’s cock, drives him crazy.

The smug look on your face, knowing what you’re doing to him, makes Jack even crazier. It’s like when you’d recreate your little stories. You were in the know, but Jack was not. Now, you knew that you’d be tittyfucking your boyfriend, and you knew that he’s got a thing for your chest�� oh, it’s a dream. Jack might never be able to look at anyone else sexually ever again. Holy shit.

It doesn’t take long for him to become fully hard again. He’s about seconds away from blowing a second load on your chest– an appealing idea, but evidently one that you won’t let happen. 

You pull back, drawing a complaint from Jack’s throat. You stand and push him back onto the bed, Jack pulling you with him. You land on top of his chest with a little ‘oof.’ You push yourself into a seated position, heavy on his lap. 

“Did’ya like it?” You tease, hands planted securely on Jack’s ribcage. You grind down against his naked cock. The soaked fabric of your bikini bottoms bunches up as you roll your hips, then shifts the other way when you rock back. The sensation is far too much for Jack in this state.

Jack puts his hands on your hips and halts your movements. You resist a little bit, ironically going against your words from earlier about not fighting him.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” Jack says. “I want to come in you, baby.”

“Okie,” you agree like a goof, which gives Jack a little reprieve. You laugh and pat his chest, kneeling up a bit so that you can take his cock in your hand. You shift the crotch of your bikini bottoms to the side and sink down on Jack’s member, enveloping him entirely.

Jack breathes out as you settle against him. He has to close his eyes and push all the air out of his lungs before he can look up at you again.

His cum has dried on your chest. Your hair is wild. Your fingernails are digging into his chest as you start to rise and fall. Your tits bounce, drawing Jack’s eyes. He can’t really decide where to look– your tits, your face, your pussy… which is swallowing his cock greedily and perfectly, the way only you can.

Your walls are gummy and hot. It’s impossible to escape the pleasure or stave off his second orgasm, especially not when you flex your abdomen and rotate your hips in a little figure-eight that has you inadvertently clenching down on him. You’re like a vice, the one with the crank that takes a tight grip and makes it almost clinically impossible to un-attach. 

Jack is probably babbling, although he’s more focused on the sweet little moans and breaths that escape from your mouth. You’re biting your bottom lip, so Jack reaches up to pull it from your teeth. He thinks again of what it would be like to have you spit into his mouth from this vantage point, but then you start to bounce again and he loses the idea into the ether of pleasure. His first two fingers find your tongue and you start to suck, more noises leaving your mouth and sending vibrations up his arm.

His insides start to feel warm and fuzzy, which is when Jack stutters out a brief warning that he’s going to come. He doesn’t know how close you are, but your fingers on one hand have started to flick against your clit in quick motions. Jack watches your fingers move, enraptured by the sight because they’re just so deft– and then he remembers that those fingers spurred him towards an orgasm before, which landed across your chest– and then a little bit of your saliva slides between his fingers and cools in the bedroom air– and Jack comes inside of you. It knocks all of the breath and all of the tension out of his body, leaving him completely blank and new like he’s floating in space without anything around.

The first thing he sees after whiting out from the orgasm is you, legs shaking, writhing so violently from the gratification of your own climax that his cock is displaced from its home in your cunt. His cum drips out of you and the rapid emptiness allows you to pull off Jack’s favorite trick– your orgasm manifests in a squirt that washes over Jack’s pelvis and leaves you grinding into the air for more. 

Jack pushes himself up to a half-seated position to catch you when you sag forward from sheer exhaustion, kissing you again and bringing you to a position where you can straddle his thigh and continue chasing the aftershocks of your climax. You’re mewling into his mouth desperately, hips working, and Jack wants to give you another but he just can’t. He’s entirely spent.

He plugs you with two fingers, filling you because he knows that’s what you need. You hump against his hand as you come down, your kisses becoming less wanton and needy as you exit the rush of emotion you’re experiencing.

Your kisses turn sweet and long, sensual but not intentional. You’re making out just to feel each other, just like how Jack has his fingers inside of you just so that you’re full. 

“That wasn’t exactly what I read,” Jack is able to joke after your rocking stops. 

“No?” You ask, voice thick, the way it is when you first wake up in the morning and you’re not sure what’s real and what’s a dream. Jack loves when your voice gets like that after he fucks you– it means he did a good job and you’re so satisfied that you’re sleepy. Your eyes are closed now and you wrap your arms around Jack’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“I was supposed to spit on your face before you made me come,” Jack says. 

You hum. “I think ours was better.”

“Maybe you should write it down,” Jack teases, which earns him a sharp tug to his hair. He laughs. “Okay, message received.”

You sit in silence for another few minutes. Jack draws shapes all over the expanse of your back– although his favorite is the attempted rose that he puts between your shoulderblades or the series of loopy hearts at the base of your spine. 

“I have another question,” Jack says.

“Hm?”

You really are sleepy. Jack might have to sit you on the counter in the ensuite bathroom and clean you up with a wet rag instead of washing your body of his cum in the shower, which is what he was fully planning to do. That being said, Jack asks his final (series) of question(s).

“That stuff wasn’t, like, actually published, right? People aren’t making money off of my name and life? I don’t have to sue anyone?  I feel like that would be a little embarrassing. I don’t want to go to court because of fanfiction.”

He makes you giggle. “No, baby. They’re not real books. Although, there are probably some real books whose love interests were inspired by you.”

Jack hums. “I’ll allow it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they don’t even compare to the real thing.” You kiss his shoulder and toy with his hair a little more before Jack decides to take you to the bathroom and clean you up.

You continue to share your sweet kisses, puckering your lips to ask for another every few minutes, and Jack is hopeless to deny you. Not after you did so well, anyway– letting him do exactly what he wanted, and even improving it by working him over with your boobs and squirting because of his cock. 

Jack takes you back to bed after you’re all clean, cuddling up behind you and spooning you. “Love you,” he murmurs in your ear before kissing your neck. 

“Love you,” you parrot back. “Can’t believe you’re making me find a fanfiction that’s better than that for your next goodbye.”

“I’ll do some research, too,” Jack offers. 

You scoff, shaking your head fondly and laughing at Jack one last time before falling asleep. “So fucking weird.”

notes: this has been in my inbox since MAY ELEVENTH. Cappy's patience cannot be overpraised. she sent me FIVE requests outlining this whole thing, complete with dialogue, most of which was completely thrown out the window when i got my own ideas and actually started writing. you all will likely never see the original requests, but they are so silly goofy looking back on it. i have them written down in my notes app, having done that before i embarked on this journey, and i will probably not delete them because it's a nice little memory. back to my roots.

like i told cappy: this fic was a canon event, a fixed point, in my writing journey. i hope you all SINCERELY enjoy it. i know i've said this before, but this could be my magnum opus <3 i think it is the best contender at the moment.

i hope you all enjoyed!

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 11 - Two For One Special

The best things come in twos :)

WC: 3.4k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

A/N: yes I know this isn't how snake dicks work, but also he's not a snake so 😤

It'd been a few days since Kid had announced your official joining of the Kid Pirates, and the crew had welcomed you with open arms. While you hadn't had much chance to get to know them, you had become decent friends with Quincy, Hip and Emma, who had accompanied you on several shopping trips over the last few days so you could stock up on all the things you needed, like clothes, sanitary items and furniture to be delivered to the Victoria Punk in a few days. Right now the Punk resided in a dry dock, being coated by Rayleigh in preparation for the journey to Fishman Island. It was nice having the guarantee that the crew would make it to the New World unscathed, given the low success rate for pirates passing through. As predicted, Rayleigh had been thankful for Kid's help in getting Cammie out of the auction house, even if it hadn't been his intention. It would take another day for the coating to be finished, and in the meantime the crew had been staying on Sabaody. You'd even had the chance to visit the amusement park with the girls, and Quincy may or may not have fingered you in the ferris wheel, a lady never kisses and tells. You liked Quincy, she was fun. If you were gonna sleep with anyone on your own fruition, outside of the big four, it'd most likely be her. A little bit of pussy, for variety.

You spent the first few nights staying with Wire, since fucking him when you should have been resting did in fact turn out to be a mistake, and Wire was the least likely to jump you when he knew you needed time to recover. You were offered your own room, now that you weren't a prisoner, but you didn't feel comfortable being on your own in a place known for kidnapping and selling people. Kid wasn't happy about being separated from his ship, because it meant he couldn't work on your collar, but it was just as well since you weren't up for being free-used right now anyway. It was nice spending more time with Wire, he wasn't as stuck up as you initially thought, he was actually pretty easy to get along with now that you were a crewmate and not a prisoner. He hadn't allowed himself to get close to you when there was risk of you being a traitor and being disposed of, but now that you were a permanent fixture he was allowed to let himself care about you. He wasn't as cuddly as the others, but he was good company. Last night though Heat had practically begged you to spend the night with him, and pinky promised he would be on his absolute best behaviour, so you'd relented.

Heat had kept to his word, not going any further with you than cuddles and some pleasant making out, and now he slept soundly beside you in his wyrm form, forced on his back by his horns, his long tail hanging off the end of the bed. You were nestled up against him, wearing one of his old shirts with nothing underneath. You owned clothes now, but the boys all had such soft shirts that were so oversized and comfy to sleep in. While he was on his best behaviour, you were feeling a bit frisky. You were well aware that your period was close, and it was making you antsy. You didn't know how keen the boys would be on period sex, so you decided to take advantage of the short amount of time you had before your cycle started. You were already cramping lightly, so it wouldn't be long. Not to mention you usually had quite painful periods, so you usually didn't want to be touched due to how miserable you felt.

You also had a curiosity after the gangbang, after watching Wire toy with the slit that hid Heat's cocks. You wondered what it looked and felt like inside the slit, and since Wire had done it, surely it was okay to toy with - it certainly seemed like Heat had enjoyed it. Quietly you pulled the blankets off him and straddled his pretty mauve tail. His scales were always so beautiful, you loved to run your hands over them and admire the iridescence. He was especially beautiful in the sunlight, when his whole tail sparkled with that iridescence. Heat stirred a little in his sleep as you lowered your weight on to him, but didn't wake yet. You ran your finger over the closed slit, feeling bad for a short moment for invading his privacy, before remembering how many times you'd woken up with Heat's dick buried in your cunt.

You used your thumbs either side of the slit to gently pry the scales apart, a little surprised at what you found inside. It almost looked like a pussy, the tip of the higher cock where you would expect a clit to be, the other tip lower where you would expect the vaginal opening. It seemed like they were laid one on top of another, the shafts going up towards his belly. Pretending it was a clit, you fiddled with the pointed tip of the upper cock, making Heat whine in his sleep. You pushed your fingers in further, between the two shafts, feeling the piercings and bumps that lined the lower side of the upper shaft. It was warm and a little moist inside his sheath, a bit like a pussy. No wonder Wire liked to toy with it, and it made you feel flustered to technically be inside him.

Leaning down, sliding your butt a little further down his tail, you held the slit open and flicked the upper cock with your tongue. You pushed your tongue between the shafts, tasting the musky slick that coated them, a taste you were familiar with whenever Heat was in this form. You sucked on the tip, feeling it move as his cocks sprang to life and tried to slide from the slit. The more you worked at his cocks, the less you could get inside him, until both phallus were proudly presented. You took turns sucking on each one, listening to Heat's quiet whimpers, until his own moan woke him.

“[Y/n]?” He groaned, hips wiggling and fingers gripping at the sheets as he realised the situation, “ohh, fuck, fuck [y/n], that's so good.”

“You're so pretty, Heat,” you cooed before focusing on the lower cock, bobbing your head as your hand worked the other. Heat whined and whipped his tail excitedly against the bed, one of his hands burying in your hair and beckoning you to swallow more of him. You let him guide you, wanting to please him and hear more of his cute little whimpers, gagging occasionally as his tip hit your uvula. You'd had a lot of practice these days, and could almost take all of him in this form, the thinner tip far easier on your throat than a human cock. Your eyes watered as finally you were able to successfully meet his base, and Heat let out a high pitched whine that was your only warning before his grip on your hair tightened, holding you against him as he emptied right down your throat. His other cock likewise spilled out, drenching your face and hand with a stream of cum.

When his grip finally loosened you pulled off with a pop, licking at the cum that dripped on your lips with a fiendish smile. Heat sat up and kissed you fiercely, before licking a wide swipe up your face to clean off his cum. It aroused you to taste his own cum on his tongue, and you ground your bare cunt against his tail and the base of his still exposed cocks. His hand slid down your front, catching the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. He dipped to suck on your tits, groping each of them and squishing them together, pressing his face against the valley he created. He had to be careful of his horns, but mostly they just pushed flat against your clavicle.

“I could die happy in these tits,” he sighed, “fucking incredible. You're so beautiful.”

One of his hands travelled down your soft front, until it could cup your mound. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he groaned against your nipple as he felt how soaked you were. His cocks were twitching back to life as he heard the wet squelch your cunt made as he pushed two fingers inside you, pumping you deep and slow. You were practically dripping on his hand with how wet you were, bouncing slighting to try fuck his fingers faster. Heat added a third finger and stretched you out more. He focused on pleasing you, using his other hand to rub your clit as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth making a pretty little ‘o’ as you hit your orgasm and shuddered against him with a gasp.

“Heat,” you panted against his chest as he pulled his fingers out of you, “I- I want your cocks.”

“Plural?” He questioned with a raised brow. You'd never asked for both.

“Plural,” you confirmed, nipping at his neck and making him groan until he gave in and pushed you onto your back beside him, quickly rolling to take his place between your legs. He spread your legs wide and rut his lower shaft against your soaked cunt.

“Relax for me, treasure,” Heat cooed, holding both cocks squeezed together in his hand and pressing the tips to your entrance. He was overly excited to bury both of his dicks inside you at once, but didn't want to hurt you by being too hasty. The tips slid inside you easily, the tapered ends meaning that the first quarter or so of his lengths only amounted to about the girth of his human cock. It was when he pushed in further that you began to feel the stretch, and you made a low groan as he bullied his cocks inside you. You gripped his forearms bruisingly tight as he stretched you out, his combined width being even greater than Wire's as he reached the thickest part. It was easier for him to press the rest in once you'd eased enough to accommodate, and Heat let out a stuttered breath as he stilled with his cocks deep inside you.

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he groaned, “so good to me, my perfect treasure.”

“So.. so full,” you whined, “feels good, hnng.”

“Yeah? You like having both my cocks inside you? Stretching you out, like the good little slut you are?” Heat purred, slowly pulling most of the way out before sliding back in again. You made strained groans as he fucked you slowly, your belly bulging from how full you were, fingernails digging into his arms and back. “Fuck you take me so well.”

Heat was barely moving but you were so full that every inch of your inner walls were being pressed against, and it was driving you to madness. He'd hardly entered you and you already felt like you were going to cum again. Your legs wrapped around his tail at the same time as you grabbed his horns, and you pulled on them to bring his face closer, capturing his bottom lip with your teeth and tugging on it. “Harder,” you growled, “fuck me harder, Heat.”

“Fuck,” Heat groaned as he picked up his pace, the bed underneath you creaking with every thrust as you started to scream like a bitch in heat, the whole inn would no doubt hear you. Let them hear, you were in heaven, cock drunk as Heat fucked you hard, pulling what felt like endless orgasms from you as you cried out. “I wanna see you covered in cum,” Heat groaned, “can I finish on you?”

“Please,” you whined, “wanna- wanna be painted. Paint me Heat, give it to me.”

“You're such a good girl,” Heat cooed as he pulled one last orgasm from you, making you go limp as you panted, dazed and blissed out. He pulled his cocks from you, making you whine at the emptiness, before he held them in one hand and jerked himself off. Heat made deep grunts as he fisted himself, releasing volatile ropes of cum over your belly and breasts as he quivered above you. With a contented sigh he rolled to your side, breathing heavy next to you. Your hand lazily ran through the cum, rubbing it over your breasts as you sleepily groped at them before falling limp again.

“I thought you were taking a break,” Heat asked.

“I was, but I woke up horny,” you explained, “I'm always like this when I'm about to get my period. It'll probably come in a few hours.”

“Boo, that means Kid will want you staying with him,” Heat pouted.

“Oh? He's into period sex?” You asked.

“He likes blood,” Heat replied, in a tone that made you think he was a little confused that you didn't realise that.

“I could just not tell him,” you suggested mischievously.

“He'll smell it a mile away,” Heat sighed, “there's no avoiding it. He'll treat you good though, he's well practised with periods. You'll be spoiled for sure.”

“Well then,” you giggled, “I guess I can't complain about that. Though I get the feeling you'd spoil me too.”

“I'll spoil you after,” he promised, “my pretty treasure. In the meantime…” you giggled and squirmed as he leaned over and licked a long stripe up your belly, cleaning off a lot of his cum and tickling you in the process, “... I've got a few more hours until you get Kid-napped. But I'm gonna have to groom you first,” he made several more licks all over your breasts and tummy, “before I get you all messy again.”

A couple hours later and just as predicted, your period had come. Heat offered you some weed and more sex to help with the pain, which you happily accepted, resulting in a round of dizzying, giggly, shower sex. After that the two of you met up with Wire and Killer, the four of you heading off to do some shopping. Kid had ordered them to find you an appropriate weapon, and for your training to start as soon as the crew were back at sea. You knew you were good with a rifle, from all your hunting trips with your dad, so you were on the lookout for a suitable one. The boys had also noticed that you were decently strong, not to mention the potential of your armament haki, so they were also looking for a close combat weapon that took advantage of those strengths. You weren't very fast or agile though, so they also had to keep that in mind. The boys had high standards though, and it felt like it was going to take all day to find weapons they approved off. They couldn't decide on the type of weapon either - Killer wanted to train you with swords, Wire wanted to train you with something long like a spear, and Heat wanted you to get something that would just look cool and take advantage of your strength, like a battleaxe.

The rifle was the easier weapon to find, your eye caught by a beautiful single shot rifle, the wooden parts made from the blue stripes of one of Sabaody's giant mangroves, trimmed with silver metal that had been delicately engraved with florals. It was a beautiful gun, and close to what you were familiar with using back home. Right now it was slung over Heat's back - the boys wanted Kid to inspect it before you were allowed to use it. You felt a little like a princess with the way they were all treating you like some precious thing, it was nice to feel like they all had your safety in mind. Not to mention it was such a beautiful gun that they were worried someone would try to snatch it from you, and without knowing your fighting capabilities they didn't want to risk that.

Heat and Killer were currently debating a battle axe Heat had found, while on the other side of the store you followed Wire, who was examining the range of polearm weapons for sale. You hummed to yourself as you walked behind him; despite your cramps you were in a good mood, you felt truly special with the care the boys were taking to choose your weapons.

“Someone seems chipper,” Wire noted as he pulled a spear from the rack and inspected it, “have a good morning with Heat did we? We certainly all heard you, and by the sounds of it he either he fucked your brains out or murdered you, and I'm gonna guess it wasn't the later.”

“Actually, I'm feeling quite proud of myself,” you replied with a grin, “I took both of his dicks today.”

“Oh, in the same hole?” Wire put down the spear to give you his attention, this was far more interesting than weapon shopping.

“Yeah!” You smiled, running your hand down the staff of a halbert. Now that you looked at it, it was quite lovely. It was made from that same blue wood, and the silver axe-like blade featured ornate cut outs that could be mistaken for matching your gun. A weapon like this would give you a lot of options; it was long, so you could keep enemies a little further away, it had the blades either side for swinging motions that took advantage of your strength, and it had the long spear tip for stabbing motions. “What about this one?”

“I told you you could do it, good job, proud of you,” Wire pressed a kiss into your hair before looking at the halberd and pulling it from the rack, “Looks well made, I think this would suit you nicely.”

“And it matches my gun!” You beamed.

“It does indeed,” Wire offered a soft smile. He liked how enthusiastic you were about learning to fight, he appreciated someone willing to stand up for themselves instead of relying on others. As much as they were all treating you like some delicate, precious thing, Wire had high hopes for your fighting capabilities, and if you selected the halberd it meant he could train you himself. As much as your pussy was the hot commodity you were kept on board for, he was growing quite fond of you, and he didn't want to always be worrying about your safety when they got to the New World, so he'd make sure you had all the skills you needed to hold your own in battle. “If this is what you want, I'll teach you to use it. Give it a hold, see how the weight feels.”

Wire handed you the halberd and you held it with both hands, Wire gently shifting them to the correct positions along the staff. “Feels good, not too heavy,” you hummed, “I think I could work with this.”

“You look good with it,” Wire noted, “OI, KIL, HEAT, GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE.”

Heat put the axe back on the rack and the two of them scurried over, playfully pushing each other as they moved. Wire made a gesture with his head for you to hand them the weapon, and Killer took it and looked over it carefully. “Not bad,” Killer mused, before handing it to Heat to look at, “This what you want?” Killer asked you.

“Yeah, I like it,” you replied as Heat handed it back.

“You look good with it,” Heat praised.

“That's what Wire said!” You giggled.

“I agree,” Killer added, “of course Kid will want to check it over, but I think we're good here.”

“Yay!” You squeaked, messing around with the weapon, “Look! I can stab AND slice! It's a two for one special! Yippee!”

“You're fucking adorable,” Heat laughed, ruffling your hair as the men made their way to the checkout counter, “you're gonna look so cute covered in our enemy's blood.”

“Aw, thanks Heat,” you smiled, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek. Heat had a cute pink flush for the next hour, every now and then touching the spot on his cheek like he was remembering the feel of your lips there.

[Next Chapter] - coming soon

Hiatus Notice - Ship Full of Monsters will no longer be on scheduled Tuesday releases for a little while. There will be sporadic uploads when I have time until my real life chaos is over in about a month, thanks in advance for your patience ❤️ Once real life stuff is over it'll go back to being on a schedule~

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[ramblingoak]

Could I please request a kiss goodnight with Copia dearest Oak?

A Kiss Goodnight

Copia x Reader

Warnings: little bit of dirty talk but otherwise just a sweet moment between you and Copia, nsfw just in case so 18+ only, mdni, 1100 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet for the Italian help!)

He had fallen asleep again.

You couldn’t blame him though, he had been touring for three months straight now with two more to go.  Their tour bus was nice but it was still a bus and not the most comfortable place to sleep.  Plus add eight ghouls and well…things were cramped.  There were a lot of clashing personalities shoved into a small space and at this point in the tour nerves were frayed and everyone was on edge.  On edge and exhausted.

Copia muttered something too soft for you to hear before snorting and jerking awake.  Your view of him tumbled as he knocked his phone from its perch on the pillow next to him.  When he came back into view you had to stifle a laugh seeing the pillow creases on one side of his face.  There was still makeup tucked into the wrinkles you loved so much and his hair was wild, the salt and pepper strands sticking up aggressively.  

Your heart ached with how much love you had for this man.

“You should go to bed, Papa.  There’s another show tomorrow, yeah?”

“Si, tomorrow and the next day.”  He reached a bare hand up and rubbed at his eyes, smearing the makeup that was still there around some more.  “But I’m good, mi sento bene.  I want to hear about your day.”

It was hard to stifle your grin because you had actually told him about your day already.  He had just been so out of it he was half asleep when you’d started and snoring by the time you were done.  You decided to humor him though, clearing your throat and starting an abridged version of things.

“Well, Terzo and Secondo were summoning more ghouls but apparently they got into an argument half way through the ritual.”  Copia rolled his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow with a laugh.  “Next thing I know, Primo is running down the hall screaming about hell hounds.”

“Hell hounds?!  Quegli idioti, is everyone ok?”  

“Oh yes, Alpha and Omega were able to keep them contained in the summoning circle.  When Primo showed up he banished your brothers into the hall and then the hounds back to their home.”

“Lucifero, those two are going to burn the abbey down some day.” 

You were both quiet for a moment, Copia’s eyes were drooping again and you just smiled softly as you watched the lines of worry smooth out as he relaxed.  Hopefully next tour he would let you tag along.  These nightly video calls were nice but you missed seeing him in the flesh.  You missed holding him close and burying your nose against his neck to smell his cologne.  You missed his touch, the way the leather of his gloves felt on your skin.

You missed his kisses.

“Amore?”  It was your turn to startle and you gave him a sheepish smile, half hiding your face behind your blanket.  He had a look of amusement on his face, his eyes suddenly a bit brighter and more awake then they were a moment ago.  “Thinking of anything in particular?”

“You.”  He grinned as he brought his phone closer to his face while you did the same.  “It’s always you.  Idiota.”

“How cruel you are to me, I should punish you.”

“Punish?  And how will you do that from so far away, Papa?”

“Hmm, maybe tomorrow night I’ll be too tired to call.  You’ll have to go to sleep without seeing my handsome face.”

“Oh that would be cruel.”  You bit your lip before you decided to take this a bit further, letting out a little grunt as you stretched out in the bed.  “I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time in this big bed of yours.”

“Like what?”  Copia’s voice had gotten a little deeper, his eyes not leaving yours as he stared at you through the phone screen.  “Tell your Papa what you would do.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll slip into your bed naked.  These sheets feel so good against my skin.”  He groaned a little before you continued,  “If I can’t talk to you I’ll just have to pretend you're here next to me.  Touching me in all the places I like to be touched.”

“I do enjoy touching you,”  He groaned a little louder and you shushed him, not wanting him to draw the attention of the ghouls.  Copia ignored you though and you watched as his shoulder shifted, his arm no doubt moving so he could touch himself instead.  “With my hands and my mouth.”

“I enjoy that too, Papa.”  You let your hand travel down your body, your fingers dipping into your underwear so you could touch yourself.  “I love your mouth on me.”

“Fuck, yes.  I’d taste you everywhere.”  Copia’s arm began to move faster and he let out a feral sounding groan before he spoke again,  “Want to dip my tongue as far into you as I ca–”

“No phone sex on the bus!”

You and Copia both yelled out at the sound of Swiss’s voice.  Your cheeks flamed and you slammed your phone face down onto the bed.  Their voices were muffled but you could hear Swiss and Copia yelling at each other.  You didn’t move until the noise had quieted down and you heard Copia’s voice softly calling out your name.  When you grabbed your phone to look at him again he had a sheepish look on his face.

“Eh, I forgot I made this rule after the first week of the tour.  There was an incident with Cirrus you see and,”  Copia trailed off and shrugged.  “Maybe one of these nights I’ll get a hotel room so we can try this again.”

“Sounds like a plan, Papa.”  He smiled softly, his face once more showing how tired he was.  It was time to say goodnight so you both could get some sleep.  “What will we do for tonight though?”

“Tonight?  Uh, I’m not sure I can stay quiet enough…”

“Can I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You couldn’t help yourself and reached out to gently touch your screen with your finger, the yearning to actually be able to touch him so strong you wanted to cry.  He brought his phone up to his face, waiting for you to do the same, the both of you gently pressing your lips to them at the same time.  When he started whispering something soft in Italian you pulled away, your eyes trying to trace every part of his face before you said goodnight.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, Papa.  I’ll be here.”

“Naked in my bed?”  He laughed when you rolled your eyes, reaching up to get ready to flick the light switch.  “Buonanotte, amore.”

“Goodnight, Copia.”

You let a few tears fall after the call ended and you quickly buried yourself in the sheets to surround yourself with his smell.  Two more months without him was too long and you decided then and there to see about that hotel room first thing tomorrow.

And a plane ticket so you could share it with him.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

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[lovelettersforthedamned]

guess who just got their period 😒 .... now i need peter all cuddled up next to me just rambling while he holds me and rubs my back or my stomach as i fall asleep in his arms 🥺-🎀

The Importance of Touch (and Peter)

--genre: fluff that's so sweet, your teeth will start to hurt

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 0.4k

--warnings: reader is a person who has a period, fluff.

love this cutsie little request ohemgee

--gif credits: @gatorstillman

More often than not, your period struck you like a damn bus. Obviously, you’re bleeding, but it’s not just that. Your cramps loved to attack your entire body, causing you to lay in bed all day. The thought of getting out of bed killed you, and when you did, you were hunched over doubling in agony. 

And when you’re in pain, Peter follows. He’s always by your side, mostly for moral support, but also for when you need another ibuprofen. You couldn’t have asked for someone better when it came to things like this. 

Peter is extremely patient, with all things, but especially you. And as he’s under you, rubbing your lower back, you reflect on how much you love him.

He’s been rambling about his spider duties as his rhythmic motions on your skin slowly put you in a blissful daze. The sun is shining through your windows, a warm glow pouring in like it always does during this time in the afternoon. 

As you’re lying on his chest, you can hear his steady heartbeat, the rise and fall of your head as he breathes in and out, and the deep hum of his voice as it reverberates through his body. You wish you could stay like this forever, but for now, you’ll have to keep this moment in your memory. With Peter, it was like he took all your pain away, allowing you to have a moment of peace within your hectic day. 

You’ve been responding to Peter as he recounts his night, painting you a descriptive picture in the process. Simple ‘mm-hmm’s were enough for Peter to keep talking until he noticed your silence more than anything. 

Craning his neck, he sees how your eyes dart back and forth under your eyelids as you sleep. He can’t help but bring his other hand up to your face, softly running his fingers over the skin on your cheeks. Bringing his head down, he places a deep kiss into your hairline, “Good night, bug. I love you.” 

Just because you were asleep doesn’t mean he stopped rubbing your back. Peter kept a steady pace until he fell asleep with you, both of your breaths in sync with one another's. 

--author's note: something short and sweet for the kids, alright? also helloooo, i've been in a weird burnout funk recently (womp womp). this is my little contribution to writing my baby girl peter parker LOL. ALSO 🎀 anon you're cooking with these asks, and also i'm on my period too...don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support your fav writers!!! my inbox/asks are open to send in requests babes. ok, ily bye<3333

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day twelve

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, some degradation), angst, fluff, Yungblug appearance lol

length : 8.3k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens @sunsshinesunny

a/n : time to find out what you've been craving to know for a week! enjoy and leave a comment 💕💕

•••

day twelve

Spending the whole night talking after an exhausting show, knowing fully well we had an early bus call, a four-hour drive to London, soundcheck and another show, wasn’t the wisest decision Oli and I had ever made, but it was a completely necessary one.

It started with a lot of confusion and reassurances that I’d heard correctly.

“Say that again,” I whispered. I didn’t care that he was still inside of me or that our sweaty bodies were sticking together or that my thighs were in danger of cramping as they wrapped around him that little bit tighter. Right now, it was just Oli, his eyes, more beautiful than I’d ever seen them, and those words hanging between us. “Please.”

“I love you, Aubrey,” he repeated. Something in his face changed. Like a weight being lifted. Like there was a new lightness in his being from having said those words out loud. He was earnest. Everything about him screamed honesty. But believing it was another thing. After pining for him for so long. After wondering whether I should let him know about my feelings just this morning.

“You mean that?” I asked, unable to keep the worry to myself. I needed to know. If not now, I’d question it forever. “You’re not just saying that because you just came in me, right?”

“Fucking hell, Aubrey,” Oli laughed. Taking hold of my thighs, he removed them from his waist, then pulled out slowly, discarding the condom. He didn’t hand me a tissue or a wipe but I couldn’t care less about possibly leaking on his sheets. There were more important things. When he lied down next to me, his hands found my body again, holding me close, bringing our foreheads together once more. “I didn’t mean to tell you that way, yeah? But I mean it. I might as well admit it now. I love you.”

I was convinced I was going to wake up from this dream any minute now. Things like these didn’t happen. Wishes didn’t come true like this. But Oli felt nothing short of real in my arms.

“Again,” I demanded.

“I love you.”

I had to bask in the delight for a while. Giggles and smiles and soft kisses peppered all over his face followed. Then, more questions.

“How long have you known?” I whispered, still, as if we were discussing a secret that was just ours, just for now, before the rest of the world was allowed to listen in. Now that the seal on his secret was broken though, I wanted to learn every single thing about it.

“Well, once upon a time, many, many years ago, I entered my tour bus and the first thing I laid my eyes across was the greatest ass in the world in the tiniest pair of hot pants sticking out from my bunk because someone had gotten mixed up on where they were supposed to sleep-”

Oli avoided the playful slap coming his way, catching onto my wrist and pressing a kiss on it before letting go again. I could feel him smile on my skin.

“You absolutely did not fall in love with me from seeing my ass before you saw my face.”

He sighed in mock annoyance. “You’re really going to make me go all sappy here, aren’t you.”

“I’m not letting you out of this bed until you do.”

“That’s not as much of a threat as you think it is.”

I allowed him to press a kiss to my forehead but pulled back quickly. He wasn’t going to get away with not answering, not now. I was desperate for every tiny sliver of truth I could get from him.

“I happened gradually, you know?” Oli explained and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever seen him this serious, this sincere. “I think it’s been in the making for a while. But when we didn’t see each other for, like, a year, it just hit me differently. So me inviting you on this tour might just have been a tad selfish.”

I couldn’t even blame him. Not for this. I knew he hadn’t expected anything of me when he offered to get me a job on this tour. And realistically, none of us could have seen coming what had transpired in the past days. But suddenly I was more thankful than ever for that fateful phonecall just a few months back.

“I’ve been in love for you for a while,” he admitted. “But now I also know that I love you.”

He got buried under a plethora of kisses for that alone.

The kissing distracted us for a while. Every time I looked at him and those eyes that suddenly shone so clearly with love, I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing his face and pulling him close again. It was like a drug whose dosage had just increased tenfold and I wanted more and more and more. Only when he finally separated from me for a moment, his eyes not quite shining the way mine did, did I realise.

“You don’t need to say it back,” he mumbled, stroking my hair in such a delicate manner that I wished I could purr to convey just how perfectly comfortable I was. He was trying to be brave. As if it was okay for him that he’d just bared his soul and I’d simply taken it all with open arms and a smile. As if he didn’t need to hear those words just as badly. That he could accept if I didn’t feel the same.

In reality, I’d simply been so caught up in this utopia that had just opened up for me that I’d not even noticed I hadn’t said it. Those three words that had been swimming in my brain for longer than I’d consciously been aware of.

“Oli,” I whispered, laying both of my hands on his cheeks so I could direct his face back toward me. I needed to make sure he was looking at me, really looking at me. I knew he would have trouble believing it otherwise. “Oliver. I love you.”

“Are you-”

“Yes. I love you. And I’ll tell you a thousand times if you let me. I’ve been thinking about telling you I’m in love with you so many times, you have no idea. Just going over it in my head again and again. I was so scared to say it and ruin everything. But if I’m being honest with myself, I couldn’t have held it in for much longer. You simply had the guts to say it first.”

“Aubrey-”

“No. Shush. I love you.”

I couldn’t tell how many times we repeated those words to each other. Neither of us seemed to be quite able to grasp the novelty of the situation. How everything between us had changed now, officially. No more backing away. No pretending that we were just having fun, no strange friends-with-benefits situation that kept crossing lines. It was terrifying as much as it was absolutely exhilarating.

When night slowly started giving way to morning though, our ridiculous happiness experienced a bit of a damper. It wasn’t just the fact that a new day was starting, throwing us into new chaos and questions on how to navigate whatever we now were. It was also the knowledge that this mess didn’t just include the two of us.

“What about Noah?” I unhelpfully threw in. I didn’t even know where to start that discussion. I didn’t even know what needed to be discussed after all.

“I don’t… I don’t want to stop. Whatever we’re doing with him. It’s just…”

“Me neither.”

A sigh rattled through Oli’s chest, so deep and full of worries that I couldn’t help pulling him a little closer, as if that would alleviate his stress or somehow make the situation better.

“I’m not sure what I want. In the long term.”

I let the silence fall for a moment. He was so deep in thoughts I almost felt bad about pulling him back to reality. But he was in danger of going into overthinking territory again.

“Do you know what you feel for him?”

Maybe it was the darkness embracing us that made it a little easier for Oli to talk about it. Maybe it was the euphoria still coursing through his veins. Maybe we’d managed to elevate outselves to a new level of trust between us.

“I think…” He paused for a moment. I didn’t say anything. I simply allowed him to take the time to sort his thoughts as much as he was able to. “I think I know. Somehow. I’m just not sure if I can put it in words yet. And Noah…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Even if he hadn’t said it out loud, I had an idea of where his train of thought was taking him. “He’s… I think he needs some more time.”

“Do we tell him?”

“Tell him what? That we said ‘I love you’ to each other?”

“That you’re my girlfriend.”

The blush came so abruptly and with such heat, even before I’d fully registered his words. Suddenly, my heart was beating with the insane intensity of being in love once again. I didn’t know if I wanted to throw up or laugh until my body gave up, just to alleviate the feeling.

“Am I?” I giggled, much more high-pitched than I usually sounded, but my voice was beyond control. “Is that what we are now? Girlfriend and boyfriend?”

“Fuck off,” he exclaimed, but he was sporting a smile so big I could see his sharp canines. In an instant, his hands moved, suddenly tickling my stomach and all I could do was cry out attempts of ‘no’ and ‘stop’ while gasping for air and struggling to get away. “This is not funny.”

He was laughing out loud anyway. When he stopped, fingers still hovering in dangerous places, my breathing quick and hectic, he stared down at me with a grin.

“Say you’ll be my girl or I’ll keep this up until bus call.”

I had no fight in me and no energy to survive another attack.

“I already am. I’m your girl, Oli.”

I could have stayed in our little bubble of love forever, doing nothing but staring at Oli and reminding myself that this was real. That he loved me. That he wanted me. Even with the nagging feeling in both of our beings that we hadn’t quite figured it out yet. Not with the third puzzle piece missing.

I wondered how Noah’s night had been. If the guys had managed to talk to him. How he felt. If his bed had seemed as empty as ours.

The ever-increasing alarm on my phone, still somewhere in a bag in Oli’s living room but rising in crescendo to the point where we easily heard it still, reminded me that I was waiting for some sort of information from Nicky. It was enough motivation to get up and get ready for the day. Just about.

Kicking Oli out of bed with me (under loud protest about his lack of sleep which I really couldn’t undo), I quickly made my way to my phone, caring much less about being completely naked than the sound that was starting to grind my gears. Two messages were waiting for me. I swiped away the one from my roommate, who unfortunately now possessed my number after I’d called her, deciding that her question about when I’d pick up my stuff could wait another day. The other one was more interesting anyway.

Unknown number Barely got anything out of Noah last night but I think he’s open to talk to you if you have some time. Maybe hop on our bus for the ride to London? I’d made sure the two of you get some space. Let me know so we don’t drive off without you. Nicholas Ruffilo

I chuckled at the way he signed the goddamn text with his whole name as if this was a business transaction, then added his number to my phone.

“Oli!” I shouted for him. His head poked around the corner almost immediately. “Mind if I drive to London with Bad Omens? Nicholas said Noah might talk.”

“You’re my girl for, what, four hours and you already leave me for another band!” He exclaimed, approaching me with long strides, hands immediately on my bare ass. He had only just managed to put on a pair of clean boxershorts and I repaid the gesture by letting my fingers trail down his chest. “Unbelievable.”

“I’ll make sure to make it up to you when we get there.” My fingers ghosted over his bulge, just for a second, before I pulled away completely. As much as I wanted to play him, I knew we had no time and several people waiting for us. “You can decide how.”

“That’ll do,” he chuckled, pulling me in for a kiss so bruising and passionate it almost knocked me off my feet. “I kind of need to run an errand before bus call anyway.”

“An errand?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you a cab to drop you off there and then I’ll see you in London, yeah?”

I worried about it immensely but there was no chance he was going to tell me anything so I nodded instead. I needed to get dressed and leave soon anyway if I was going to make it on time. Oli had already pressed his phone to his ear, the ringing loud enough for me to hear, but even with the other person picking up any minute, he couldn’t seem to help himself as he started at me and mouthed another I love you.

I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to tell him the same words for the rest of my life.

•••

Nick greeted me with a hug when I found him in the car park which felt new but not entirely unwelcome. He looked pretty fresh and awake which I took as a good sign. I hoped it would mean no one got terribly drunk last night. And that it ended on a good note, without any fights or insane stress to either party of the band.

“How was last night then? And this is not a small-talk question.”

Nick chuckled as he let me through the parked cars and busses. “Not terrible, which seems like a win. We let him know we were worried about him and he basically apologised which was unnecessary. There’s… a lot going on in his brain I think. But toward the end of the night he kept babbling about how he just wanted to talk to you, again and again.”

Nick caught my worried look immediately as we came to a half in front of the bus.

“He wasn’t drunk, don’t worry. He had like, two beers. I think he was just overly tired and… well, stressed. We got him into bed as early as possible but he’s a bit beat with the early start.”

“I think we all are,” I laughed, more to myself than anything else. I’d not gotten a single minute of sleep after Oli’s confession and neither had he. Which was why he was under strict instructions to spend the drive sleeping to at least have some sort of energy for tonight. I didn’t need to be responsible for him falling asleep on stage.

Nick agreed with a smile, unlocking the door. I was halfway to entering the bus when his hand on my arm stopped me.

“I think you could be good for him, you know. Both of you.”

I willed the blush to keep at bay. “Even Oli?”

Nick laughed, loudly bur earnestly. “Even Oli.”

•••

I found Noah in the lounge at the back, on his own, playing with his phone. He seemed surprised to see me there for a split second but then opened up his arms in a silent plea for comfort. Who was I to deny him. Leaving my bag right where I stood, I walked up to him, dropping down on the couch and pulling him into my arms. If they were anywhere close to being a safe place for him as his and Oli’s arms were for me, it was truly the least I could do.

He was so warm and comfortable against me that I silently hoped we would stay like this all the way until London. The motor of the bus had started, rumbling through the whole vehicle as we exited the car park, and I had to fight against the monotone lull that threatened to make me fall asleep. I wanted to talk to Noah first. Even if my eyelids were heavily protesting.

“Did you have fun with the guys last night?” I carefully asked.

Noah didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he proceeded to sink lower and lower, shuffle in his seat until he was basically horizontal, and then put his head in my lap. I slid a little further as well, trying to make my thighs a comfortable pillow for him, and started combing through his hair with my fingers. I figured he was a little bit like Oli - even if he was ready to talk, sometimes it was simply easier to do so without having to look at the other person.

“I missed you,” he mumbled. “And Oli.”

“That’s very sweet, but not answering my question,” I chuckled, enjoying the softness of his strands on my palm. “I hope they didn’t stress you out too much?”

“No.” A sigh. “If anything I’ve been stressing them out. I’ve been a little irate with them for no good reason.”

“Disregarding your judgement of it, there was a reason for it though, right?”

“I guess so.”

I poked his shoulder, unsatisfied with the answer, which took him by surprise because he twitched so heavily that he almost rolled off my lap and the couch. I slung one of my arms around his middle, keeping him in position.

“I’ve just been thinking about what we’re doing, a lot,” he admitted. “And every time the guys teased me about some shit regarding you or Oli, it just hit a nerve because I wasn’t figuring it out and it reminded me of the fact that I had no idea where this was going. I shouldn’t have taken my moods out on them.”

“I think they understand.”

“I think they can’t risk losing their frontman,” Noah commented, but even he couldn’t stay serious at the idea, a light and airy giggle erupting his throat that I couldn’t help but join. “I apologized to them. And I’ll make sure to… talk to people instead of figuring it out on my own. And tell them if they’re crossing my boundaries.”

“Well done, Noah.” I grabbed one of his hands, briefly bringing it up to my mouth to press a kiss on it before dropping it again, then resumed to comb through his hair. “Have you… have your figured out some stuff, though? About… about what you want? I know we had that talk in the pub a while ago where we agreed on just fun but…”

I let the question linger in the air. Truth be told, I was terrified of being any more direct. Of asking him straight out. I had literally just figured some things out with Oli mere hours before, now I was in the eye of the storm of another deeply emotional conversation and it left me exhausted and on edge. The idea of being the first one to speak up about what I was feeling proved to be a little too much right now.

“I lied.”

The short statement caught me off guard. I didn’t realise the hand in his hair had stilled until he patted at it with his own, trying to get me to continue. Only when I did, did he resume speaking.

“I lied when I said that. I… I never really wanted to just have fun. But the idea of anything more than that terrifies me.”

I wanted to ask him if it wasn’t a bit late for that. If he thought going out on dates, spending day and night with us, learning all about each other, sharing so much more than kisses still meant he was in safe territory. If he believed that he could be in the middle of this without catching feelings. But I didn’t.

“What is it about it that terrifies you?” I asked instead.

“What doesn’t.”

The urgency to prod further, force him to explain was burning inside of me, but I knew it wasn’t fair. Noah was already being more honest with me than he had been in days. The least I could do was have some more patience.

“I think I need some more time,” he finally said. “I want- I want to figure this out. Can you give me some time? All these new things in my head at the moment. I’d never even kissed a man before and now-”

“Now what, Noah? You can say it, you know. I won’t judge.”

“Now I can’t stop thinking about being on my knees for him all the time and letting him do whatever he wants with me.”

The heat between my legs erupted as suddenly as it did forcefully. Whatever I had expected, it wasn’t a confession of this sort. Of this level of honesty. And now that the idea was planted in my head, I knew I’d have the utmost trouble thinking about anything else.

But this wasn’t about me and my arousal, not right now.

“I’m pretty sure Oli would love to do that for you, darling. All you have to do is ask.”

“Maybe you could tell him,” he replied, so quietly I was barely sure I’d heard it at all. “And… and I’d like you to be there too.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want? For me to tell Oli to do you however he pleases? That you… want to be a good boy for him? Be told what to do? And you’d let me watch, too? Maybe get a little involved?”

He squirmed a little underneath my hands, but ultimately nodded.

“I’ll let him know, love. We have a lot of time tomorrow before the show. A lot of time to explore whatever you want, okay? Maybe…” I took a deep breath. “Maybe it’ll help you figure out what you want a little more.”

I could only pray it would.

•••

“Do you know if Dom’s here yet?”

Oli was walking half next to me, half behind me as I made my way onto the floor of the arena, awkwardly trying to rub my sore neck that had been through hell after accidentally falling asleep on the bus with Noah for… a while. I shook him off when Becky waved me in to the sound booth, feeling strangely awkward about his public display of affection when we hadn’t quite told anyone about this new development in our relationship.

It was weird, really. Just yesterday, I wouldn’t have minded, knowing that people would talk and gossip if they wanted either way. Now that I knew he loved me, wanted me to be his and that we hadn’t let Noah, who was fumbling around with his mic on stage, know anything about it yet, I felt a lot more nervous about how everything could be interpreted.

“Who’s Dom?”

“Dominic Harrison. Yungblud.”

“Right,” I sighed. Apparently my brain was so full of questions about my bloody love life that I’d completely forgotten about the fact that Oli was going to perform Obey with him today. I attempted to visualise the agenda I’d double-checked just before, knowing Oli would have to fend for himself a little more now that I was helping Becky out. “No, not as far as I know. He’s scheduled to come in for soundcheck.”

“Ah, boring,” Oli complained. “Well, I’ll leave you to… whatever you two need to be doing here then.”

“Wait,” I called after him after he had already turned away. “What was that errand about? Everything go alright?”

“Everything went perfectly. You’ll find out later.”

He left me with a smug look on his face and an undefinable feeling in my stomach. Asshole. He knew very well I was going to be thinking about this for the foreseeable future.

At least work actually distracted me sufficiently enough that it wasn’t quite as torturous. Becky did her best to dumb down everything she was explaining to me to a level that my brain could at least somewhat process and I was very thankful for it. I could tell she wanted to throw all the technical jargon at me, but that would have simply ended up in even more chaos. It didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to learn - anytime we had a small break in between things that actually needed immediate attention, she explained every single step, every decision, every reasoning behind it in as much detail as she could and I soaked it all up like a sponge.

We successfully made it through Bad Omens’ soundcheck with minimal problems. Bring Me The Horizon went almost as perfectly, minus the fact that we now had to adjust Dom’s mic as well and Dom was so bloody excited about everything that he kept ignoring our questions and orders alike. Him and Oli were an explosive combination, but Oli looked so ridiculously happy that I couldn’t even be mad at them for slacking off.

“Alright, we’re done here for now,” Becky announced after we’d finally, somehow, managed to get both Dom and Oli in check enough to make sure they’d sound perfect on stage later. “You can take the next two hours off and then I’ll meet you back here?”

“Sounds perfect. Actually, I could very much do with a nap, maybe-”

“Aubrey!” Oli’s voice cut through the whole arena now that it was mostly quiet again. “Dinner with Dom and Noah! Come!”

I turned back to Becky with a sigh.

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.”

•••

If I’d thought having dinner at our hotel right next to the arena meant that we might finish quickly enough and give me time for some shut eye, I was solely mistaken. Noah and Oli were quite chaotic as it was - but with Dom added into the mix, I was surprised we didn’t get kicked out for the ruckus caused. Every now and then, Dom and Oli would get into ridiculously specific anecdotes from their respective hometowns, their accents growing thicker and thicker until all Noah could do was stare at them in utter confusion and amazement.

“So, who here is fucking because I’m getting mad sexual energy from all of you guys.”

On top of it, he seriously lacked a filter. I watched Noah closely, waiting for the awkward blush to appear on his face, but it didn’t happen. He looked mildly uncomfortable at worst and he was definitely not going to be the one to speak up, but it was a world’s different to the last time someone had insinuated the three of us were more than friends.

Oli, on the other hand, was more comfortable than ever. Maybe it was that Dom was a close friend and he simply didn’t mind sharing with him. Maybe it was down to the fact that at least he and I had gotten closer to officially defining our relationship. I embraced it either way.

“Can you blame me? Look at these two!”

Now it was my turn to blush, caused entirely by the way Dom was eyeing me up and down, one eyebrow raised suggestively, the look in his eyes unmistakable. He gave Noah the same treatment which simply ended up with him fixating very hard on what was left on his plate, randomly shuffling some food around, just to avoid the stare. Apparently, Oli treating him like eye candy was one thing, an essential stranger a very different one.

“It’s pretty hard to escape Oli’s charms,” I mused, playfully kicking him under the table.

“Is that what you call his dick?”

Oli erupted in laughter as Noah sank deeper into his plate, but even that didn’t fully hide the grin emerging on his face. “Fucking hell, Dom, I’m gonna have to pay off the waitress to keep quiet if you don’t stop shouting through the place.”

“What, you didn’t do that before I came? Bad planning on your part, pal,” Dom chuckled, heavily hitting Oli’s shoulder. “Right, gimme the details though. You three hooking up or are we talking something more? Because you know I love me a good threesome. For sex and anything else. From experience.”

“Wait, you’ve been in poly relationships?” I couldn’t help but ask. I’d never personally had the chance to meet Dom, so most of my knowledge came from interviews or social media or whatever escapade Oli decided to tell me about. This was new.

“Sure! The more the merrier, I say! Well, up to a point, after that you just kinda lose track, ya know?”

“Was jealousy ever a problem?” Noah spoke up out of nowhere. He’d been so quiet I’d almost forgotten he was part of this conversation at all. And now he wasn’t just joining it but posing relevant questions. It was hard to keep my mind at bay when it came to the possible implications of it.

“In which way?” Dom asked, suddenly more serious than he had been all day. As if knew how badly Noah might need some answers. Some clarifications. Some reassurance. I didn’t want to be too hopeful, but it seemed like a good sign.

“What if…” He swallowed, hard, as if on the edge of pulling back, making a stupid joke, get his shield back up so we wouldn’t see his vulnerable side. So we wouldn’t know. But, to my utmost surprise, he didn’t. “What if there’s just a different familiarity between two of them because… because they’ve known each other longer and they live closer together and… yeah.”

Oli really didn’t need to kick me but he still did, as if there was any chance in hell I’d not understood what exactly Noah was referring to. I tried desperately to make sense of it before Dom would start speaking again. Did this mean he actually wanted this? Us? Were the insecurities holding him back? Did he think he wouldn’t be a full part of this relationship if he agreed to it? That Oli and I, somehow, had something between us he’d never get to the level of? I had a million things to say but I knew it wasn’t my turn.

“Nah mate, you gotta let go of that kinda thinking,” Dom said. He had pushed his plate away and was now leaning on his elbows, on the table, staring at Noah so intently that the latter had no choice but to listen. “History doesn’t matter like that when you get into a relationship and neither does distance. So what if they’ve known each other for years? Unless you’re joining an existent romantic relationship, this is new for all of you and you gotta figure out how the three of you work together.”

Noah nodded, gravely, before going back to playing with the scraps on his plate, as Oli and I exchanged worried looks. Or were they hopeful? It was hard to differentiate all the emotions coursing through me. I wanted to know more, figure out what else had been plaguing Noah’s mind, but it was clear his moment of bravery had run out.

“Any more tips for the newly polyamorous then?” Oli asked with a giggle in his voice. Noah briefly looked back up at him with something akin to shock but hid it quickly enough that I wasn’t sure if anyone but me had noticed at all.

“Get to know each other as much as you can and never take anyone for granted. Make the distance work for you. Get everyone as involved as you can, but remember that when someone feels left out because of things like being far away, it’s not a matter of the other two loving them any less.”

“I think that’s the wisest thing I’ve ever heard you say, mate,” Oli laughed, causing a ripple of chuckles around the table as the tension fell off.

“And it’s gonna stay the wisest thing I’ll say tonight because as soon as I’m off that stage, I’ll get myself drunk, watch me.”

“Dom, you’ve already had two drinks,” I remarked, pointing at the empty glasses on the table.

“I never said I was staying sober until then.”

•••

The show went more than well. I had less time than ever to actually watch what the bands were doing on stage and just get myself lost in it, but now it felt like being involved, being part of it, in a whole different way. I was trying hard to keep up with Becky and her orders, but she kept enough of an eye on me that any mistakes were quickly spotted and fixed. It felt exhilarating. Even more so when I got showered in praise about how well I’d done for essentially my first ever life show afterwards.

Understandably, I was riding a high when I was picking up my stuff backstage, trying to figure out where everyone was. My phone quickly answered the question.

Oli You got a key to my room? Come round Got a surprise

Suspicious. Suspicious as hell, actually. Still, I did have that keycard and I couldn’t resist a good surprise. And with Oli behind it, there was no doubt I was going to like it. The walk to the hotel was quick, as was the ride up to the correct floor. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was expecting. Right now, it could truly be anything from Oli lying naked on his bed with whipped cream all over himself to a cosy movie night with my favourite hot chocolate.

Apparently, the surprise wasn’t a visual one though, because the only thing I saw when I opened the door to his room was Oli and Noah on the couch kissing so softly that it almost made my heart ache. They were fully intertwined, limbs entangled and all over each other and it gave me hope like nothing before ever had. That wasn’t making out or fucking for the fun of it. This was both of them pouring the emotions they couldn’t vocalise just yet into every single movement.

I briefly contemplated leaving, giving them some space and time, but I knew Oli had specifically asked for me and it simply felt too good to be alone with both of them  once again. So, instead, I let the door fall back into the frame very, very gently, locking it for good measure. It was enough to get their attention. When they looked in my direction, both of them had glazed eyes and lips they’d kissed red and all I could think about was taking a picture to keep this image in my mind forever.

“Aubrey!” Oli called out, sounding as ecstatic to see me as ever. I was relieved to see Noah send a serene smile my way too. “First things first, your surprise.”

He was on his feet in an instant, rummaging through his bag. I shot Noah a look, but he simply shrugged his shoulders.

When Oli turned around again, his hands were behind his back, hiding whatever he had just located in his luggage.

“I know you’re not a fan of handouts, so I want you to know that this isn’t one, yeah?” Oli explained. “But I wanted to help out and I could, so I did.”

“Oli,” I whined. “Just tell me.”

“Just- before I give it to you, one more thing: This is completely on your terms and you decide how we do this, but… yeah.”

I didn’t immediately realise what I was seeing when Oli opened up his hand to me and revealed the item in his palm. In fact, I spotted the keychain first - the missing, beloved Powerpuff keychain I’d already assumed I would never see again, but here it was being offered back to me, now attached to-

Keys.

A pair of keys.

“Is that-”

“The keys to my place. Again, we can handle this any way you like, we can be roommates, I have a spare room I can empty out or you can just… stay with me. In my bed. And all. Up to you. But you have a place to stay, always. Temporarily until you find something new or… permanently. Okay?”

I wasn’t sure how I managed to let him finish his awkward and slightly jumbled speech before I all but jumped on him, arms wrapped around his neck, hanging on for dear life as I willed the tears to disappear. I buried my face in his shirt, hoping I wouldn’t leave a stain and I whispered words of gratefulness.

It didn’t feel like a handout. Not with him. Not when I knew he wouldn’t do this out of anything but love for me, never pity. And with the words we’d exchanged just that morning, it meant even more.

“Is that the errand you needed to run this morning?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, almost as if a little embarrassed. “I’d been planning to get copies made for you for a while but that was the only time I could fit it in.”

“I can’t believe you had the fucking keychain all along and I almost cried on Lee’s shoulder.”

The kiss I pressed to his lips through my giggles, with so much force that I almost toppled both of us over, said more than I could in words. It was only when I let go of him and caught sight of Noah out of the corner of my eye that I realised how awfully quiet he was. He smiled up at us from where he still sat on the couch, but it wasn’t the honest kind of smile he’d graced us with earlier. It was stilted and forced and I knew exactly why.

Luckily, so did Oli.

“And now, for the sad-looking doe eyes over there.” Oli made a little spectacle out of pulling another pair of keys from his luggage, dangling them in the air like a prized possession. “I really tried to steal your keychain too but it was fucking impossible because I couldn’t figure out where you had it, but you get a set too. If you want. I know you have a place and all that but… You’re welcome at mine any time, no asking or prior notifications needed. It’s yours to turn up to anytime.”

If anything, Noah now looked a little embarrassed, possibly at Oli so easily realising what he was battling with and fixing it so brilliantly. I could just imagine Noah’s head spinning thinking Oli wouldn’t care for him like that, only for him to turn it around completely and proving he had, in fact, thought about this situation long before Noah had even known it would exist.

Noah sheepishly took the keys, letting himself be pulled into another kiss by Oli.

“So pretty when you blush like that,” Oli mused, which only deepend the colour on Noah’s cheeks, but even he had to chuckle then. Another kiss ended up on Noah’s nose, then on mine, and it was so unexpected and unfamiliar that it had all of us erupting in giggles.

It continued like that. There was no need to discuss what we were doing as clothes started dropping on the floor, all of us overly tired but needy and touch-starved and willing to push sleeping just a little further back to finally be reunited as the three of us. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in a while and even though we all knew that there were things left to figure out and things left to say, just for the moment we let ourselves fall into the idea that this could be easy.

The clumsiness that came with it only spurred on the mood, Oli stumbling as he got stuck in his trousers, Noah throwing his own away and then immediately retrieving it to get the condoms from his wallet, neither of them succeeding in unhooking my bra until I swatted their hands away and did it myself.

I kicked my panties off without any further help, fearing we’d risk injury if we continued having any garments at all around us, and crawled up the bed, leaning back on my elbows, watching as Oli pushed Noah down next to me to kiss him again, their growing erections touching and letting moans erupt between them. I silently reminded myself to talk to Oli about what Noah had said earlier. Just seeing them together now manifested my wish to be there when they took their next step, if they let me.

“How about we get our girl here ready for us?” I heard Oli whisper against Noah's lips. “I get her nice and wet on my dick and then you finish her off.”

My breath audibly hitched, much to the amusement of both men next to me. In an instant, Oli moved from Noah to me, hovering over my body but denying me the kiss I was hoping for. Instead, his lips found my neck, leaving little love bites all the way down until they settled on my breast, eagerly lapping at my nipple until I was arching my back toward him, a hand tangled in his hair, quietly gasping for more. I didn't realise Noah was moving until I felt his mouth on my other breast. The pleasure was intense, shooting straight down my body as I wriggle under Oli. Both of them kept switching between sweet licks and kisses and teasing bites until I was sure I could feel the wetness drip from between my legs.

“One day, we'll make you come just from this, but tonight we've got other plans,” Oli grinned, pinching my nipple so hard that I cried out in surprise, briefly taken aback by how much I enjoyed the roughness of it.

I didn't have enough time to think about it when Oli and Noah removed their mouths from me, only for the former to descend on my pussy, leaving long, teasing licks on it before plunging it inside me. My hands immediately flew back to his head, but he only needed to look up and shoot a stare at Noah for the other man to understand. Immediately, my hands were removed, a tight grip on my wrists as Noah lifted them above my head, heavily pressing them into the mattress without any wriggle room.

“Come on, Aubrey, be a good girl for Oli. He's prepping you so nicely for our cocks. Doesn't have to do that, you know? We could just fuck you like this, see how much you stretch around us, how well you take us without any help.” I moaned so loudly at Noah's words that even Oli briefly lifted his head. “You want that, don't you? You want us to push your limits.”

Oli didn't give me a chance to confirm or deny as his strong arms flipped my body over on my front without any effort at all. Noah threw a condom at him, so perfectly in sync that I wondered just how much they had discussed beforehand. Oli pulled my hips up to meet his, his hard cock pressing against my arse while Noah grabbed onto my chin.

“How about you give me that mouth again while Oli fucks you good, hm? And don't you dare come until it's my turn.”

I complied willingly. Oli entered me slowly but in one single stroke until he was fully buried in me and my head dropped at the welcome intrusion, sweat prickling on my skin as I tried to accommodate his size. Noah didn't have any pity on me though as he sat down in front of my face, easily leading my mouth to his dick, forcing me to take it straight away. I moaned around his length as Oli started finding his rhythm.

“Fuck,” Noah moaned as he pushed my down a little further. “I've made some bad decisions but thank fuck they led me right here.”

“Yeah?” Oli piped up from behind me, briefly slowly down. “Some bad, bad decisions, Noah?”

The laugh ripped from my throat so harshly that I accidentally choked on Noah's cock before I freed my mouth, sputtering with giggles.

“Oh, come on,” Noah groaned, absentmindedly petting my head as he shot daggers at Oli.

“I'm just saying, you have a lot more sexy lyrics to choose from. Like the way you fuck, the way you taste and all that.”

I felt another bout of laughter rise up, but Noah obviously thought it was time to stuff my mouth again and pushed me back onto him.

“Why don't you stick to your own lyrics,” he mumbled, already getting distracted again by my tongue running along his length as I willed myself to take a little more every time.

“You know I might,” Oli remarked, resuming a hard rhythm that left me completely at his mercy. “I'm quite partial to I love the way you choke.”

The next thrust was even harsher, forcing me to indeed choke on Noah as Oli was now fully in charge of the way my body moved. Every time he almost pulled out, he dragged me back with him to the point where I barely managed to keep my lips on Noah's tip, then he pushed back in so doing that I came close to deepthroating him.

I loved it.

I loved being brainless, losing all my agency, being treated as nothing more than a little toy for them to play with. It had never been so incredibly obvious to me but I already knew I'd be begging on my knees asking for more soon.

Now, however, Oli was getting close, his moans getting louder and his movements a little sloppier and much too soon he was pulling out, wrecking me away from Noah and pushing me onto my back again. I watched, utterly restless and impatient and empty, as he shed the condom and started stroking himself. I'd expected him to ask to come on me, my tits, maybe my face but instead he was looking at Noah.

With a small nod, their communication completely silent, Noah moved toward him, slowly palming his own erection and within moments, Oli's eyes never leaving his, Oli came, covering Noah's chest and abdomen in beautiful streaks.

Oli fell onto the bed, utterly spent and showcasing a satisfied smile, but Noah was more hungry than ever. Fumbling with the night stand, he made quick work of putting on a condom, hissing at every touch as his thick cock immediately bounced against his stomach as he let go, before roughly spreading my legs and without any further warning pushed into me.

He was rougher than Oli, hovering over me as his arms caged me in, pressing his forehead to mine as he pounded into me so hard that I knew I'd feel sore tomorrow, but I welcomed it with open arms. I could feel the remains of Oli dripping on me, coating us both in it further. I let him push my legs backward, bent at the knees, almost folding me in half and the change of angle almost brought tears to my eyes. He felt even larger like this, moving against every single spot I craved with every thrust.

“Such a good little whore for us, letting both of us fuck you and just taking it all,” Noah groaned roughly. I was close to unravelling. “Can't fucking get enough, can you? Perfect little pussy that's just made for us. Come on, touch yourself, squeeze around me, I wanna feel you.”

It barely took a moment when I touched my clit, and when he gave me particularly hard thrust I all but screamed, grinding into him and against my hard, the whole world quieting down for a moment as my orgasm took me, prolonged by the way he sounded when he came too, nothing but bliss left in my body.

Oli welcomed me with open arms as Noah pulled out carefully, kissing my hair and whispering words of praise. A bottle of water was handed to me, then Noah appeared with a towel to clean me up. I hissed when he reached down between my legs, his rough treatment still tingling.

“Did I go too hard on you?” he immediately asked, halting his movements, worry in his eyes.

“No!” I immediately rejected his fears. “No, I loved it, honestly. Just a little sore now.”

He pressed a loving kiss to the inside of my thigh, then cleaned me up as quickly as possible. When he came back from the bathroom, he slid into bed next to us and I couldn't back bite a smile at the realisation that he'd chosen to lie down on Oli's other side instead of mine. He didn't hesitate as he moulded himself to Oli's back, looking so relaxed and comfortable. I crawled into Oli's arms too, noting that he looked just as happy about Noah's affections.

There were a million things running through my mind still. Questions about our relationship, about Oli’s and Noah's feelings for each other. A reminder I needed to speak to Oli about Noah's wish. A nagging desire to tell them I was realising just how roughly I liked it with them. But none of them made their way out of my brain as sleep took over all three of us, letting us fall asleep in a puddle of post-orgasmic haze and at least temporary happiness.

[slut-taylorsversionnn]

y/n on her period and her boyfriend tom blyth comforts her

“ughhh im actually dying.” i whined to my boyfriend tom as i walked into the kitchen. my period had hit me HARD this morning. but the smell of tom cooking pancakes distracted me for a second.

“aw baby i’m sorry” tom said as he came over and wrapped his arms around me. i nestled my face into his chest and inhaled his comforting scent. he felt me tense under his grip as another wave of cramps hit me like a bus.

“hey baby why don’t you get back in bed and i’ll bring you your heating pad and some breakfast in bed today?” tom offered.

“that sounds awesome, can you just carry me there because i physically can’t move and everything hurts right now.” my period was not letting up this time.

“of course y/n would you like me to chew your food up to while im at it?” he grinned as he scooped me up bridal style.

“haha very funny” i said sarcastically “maybe if you felt like there was a knife stabbing into your gut right now you wouldn’t want to do anything either.”

“sorry baby i’m just trying to get you to smile, i know how hard this week is and if i could switch places with you i would.”

now i felt bad, tom was literally the sweetest and these stupid hormones had me lashing out on him. “tom i’m sorry i—“

“no y/n dont apologize, i get it the hormones are raging and your in pain and lash out it’s totally fine and i love you for it so don’t you dare start to apologize to me ok?”

“ok” i said blushing. how did i get so lucky with tom? he kissed me on the forehead and carried me to bed.

“i’ll be right back with the heating pad and breakfast ok darling” he said as he headed back to the kitchen.

the rest of the day was made up of me cuddling with tom and him being at my beck and call because he’s actually the best boyfriend ever. we watched sooo many movies and ate a little too much chocolate but it was one of the best days ever even with the period cramps.

authors note:

hey guys this is my first post so sorry if it’s bad but i’ve been wanting to make some tom blyth fluff for a while and decided to go for it! please leave me requests and i will get to them as soon as i can! i hope you enjoyed :)

[skele-bunny]

I don't mind not being on anon :) can you tell me more about Calida, specifically while Dew is still carrying? How did the pack at the time handle that? Could we also get Ifrit reacting to Dew telling him he's expecting? Thank you!

Thank you! For sure I can give you that :D

(CW - Lightly implied abuse and pregnancy from sa, but this is a fluff post!) Aether/Dew/Mountain ftw

Super long post!

Oh boy, oh boy... When Dewdrop found out a few weeks before the start of tour let alone just how far along he was? A fucking MESS!!! He had been nesting so much lately, more emotional and hungry, cramping n puking all the time, and just so damn tired when he finally caved in to go see Phil. Dew has always been tiny, neglecting his health and never eating. Honestly, when he started gaining weight, he thought it was because of Mountain's cooking! He doesn't show whatsoever besides a singular bump that makes him look bloated constantly. He's just rubbing over his bump with nothing but fear. How is he going to tell Papa? The pack? Ifrit?

It's so unusual for Dew to go into Ifrit's room on his own accord, gently knocking and looking at his packmate so nervously. Sitting down next to him and just unsure what to say, before just out right-

"I'm pregnant."

Which is instantly met back, "How do you know it's mine?"

"You're the only one that's touched me in the past six months..."

Ifrit just shrugs. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

And it's right there that something inside Dew just snaps into place. He's thanking his unholiness it's just one and not an entire clutch that many water ghouls get, just nodding and whispering. "I'll handle it." And that's good enough for Ifrit. So Dew excuses himself, and goes to Aether who's of course with Mountain and Zephyr. "I'm pregnant, I'm not changing my mind, and you're all dealing with it."

They just frog blink before Zephyr is the first one to start clapping, squealing. "Yes! I knew it! I told you he smelled different!"

Dew didn't even realize his hands were clenched, but seeing their happy faces and even Mountain coming over to butt horns made him release, exhaling and completely taken off guard by it. He just starts bawling and now they're concerned, bringing him in and cuddling close, shaking his head and just clinging to the nearest one.

They honestly take it really, really well... Dotting over him, cranking their instincts up and starting to get things ready, even scrolling through websites for a baby registry; things they need and what Dew wants. Papa finds out next day, and he's the exact same, just jumping up and down at the fact his ghoul is going to be expecting. Papa Terzo sets things moving since he's already so far along, they gotta rush and-

....Oh fuck. Tour.

Now they're stressing out, and of course Ifrit is no help (unless Papa is around.) That man is pissed off when Terzo tells him he'll be in charge of the majority of Dew's equipment with Mountain. Being on the bus is even worse, but they're positive they'll be back before the baby pops! Settling him up nice and comfy in his bunk, even Zephyr giving Dew his duvet since he'll definitely need it more. He's not moving so much on stage, his Bass rested so comfortably to protect his bump.

It's after a show where they're all high fiving when Dew just gasps, a sudden stream going down his legs and he's just in full panic mode. "My water broke."

Mountain has never moved so fast before, scooping Dew up and running back to the bus - Terzo telling at the stage hands to get everything while they run off. Ifrit stays behind. Lucifer must've felt pity as thank FUCK it was the last show before a three day break as they traveled across the states. But now Dew is in his instincts, none of these ghouls or Papa know what the fuck they're doing, and now he's scared as much as them. He's placed in a nest in the back of the bus and he's just screaming at them to get out, even throwing his shoe at Papa while he tries closing the door.

He's on his own at this part. Naked waist down, nails digging into the leather couch, huffing and trying to soothe himself. There's no urge to push yet, so he's trying to calm down. Dew rubbing his much larger bump, purring and singing at the same time. Even after they're finished packing up, Dew hasn't gone in just yet, and refusing for anyone to come into the lounge besides Zephyr quickly rolling back a bottle of water. Papa hasn't let the bus move an INCH.

It's around 2 in the morning when they wake up to Dew's screaming, now wide awake and grimacing as it sounds like nothing but agony and they can't... Do anything. They hear sobbing, curses in Ghoulish, and a particular rattling scream that's meant for luring prey into the depths that Aether ends up hitting his head on his bunk trying to follow it before sense is literally knocked in... Then quiet besides the high little cries of a kit.

Dew hasn't stopped crying, but reaching down to and holding this bloody little girl that's still attached to him, snuggling against her cheek and starting to groom. He's an absolute mess both mentally and physically, not giving a shit as he's covered in blood and his own mess.

It's later in the afternoon when they can hear little chirps. Specifically calling for them. Mountain peeks in first and Dew is just sitting up, skin-to-skin with this little blob of black. He holds a finger to his lips and ushers them close, and that blob of black quickly becomes a little girl with black hair, identical to Dew's. Zephyr starts bawling like a baby, Aether and Mountain in absolutely shock, Terzo rambling as quietly as possible about how "he can't believe this! A baby kit! I've never seen one before besides pictures Sister had!"

He opens his arms a bit more to show her off, his smile never leaving. "This is Calida..."

Aether tries leaning closer and that's when Dew hisses, bringing her back. He shows his palms and is apologizing, going down to his knees with the others at a comfortable distance. Then, he's back to showing her.

"She's so small..." Zephyr is just trying to wipe their eyes.

"I was only 8 months..."

They're just looking in awe at this tiny being that gets latched to Dew's chest, holding back their purrs as they can see her little tail just curled around Dew's finger.

"She's a fire ghoul!" Aether chirps and it clicks. "Let me get Ifrit-"

"No!!" And they stop, even Terzo goes still. "No, I don't want him back here, don't you dare let him back here."

While their elements are different and one even a human, they know better than to go against a newly parents wishes. Once again, instincts to the max. Ifrit glanced back when the bus started moving and Mountain has never growled so hard since being topside, snapping his jaw and looming up. Ifrit got the hint. Dew quietly asks Mountain to help him get dressed, and is the one to carry Dew in the hotel when they got to their destination, little Calida hidden away and tucked into Dew's jacket. Mountain is just holding them so securely, and in return is given the ability to scent on Calida, his eyes dilated and his tail hidden in his pants can't stop wagging.

Dew feels comfortable enough to be bunked with the earth ghoul, Aether peeking in a while later to drop off food and GOD BELOW... Dew is tearing it up, licking his fingers and moaning as somehow this cheap fast food now tastes like a 5 star Michelin meal. Even Mountain loses his burger with no complaints. After some more heavy nesting and Mountain helping him shower while Terzo watches Calida, he's snuggled in the nest and feels safe enough to sleep with the promise Mountain won't.

In the other room, Aether is just projecting himself in Dew's room to look at both of them, just purring up a storm. Even in the plane, he sends gentle soothing magick into both of them, easing pain from Dew and letting Calida sleep longer so he can, too.

They only get two hours in before Calida wakes up, Dew responding by sitting up to feed her. Dew and Mountain just start talking back and forth and then;

"Do you want to hold her?"

The earth ghoul is just in silence before nodding, letting Dew finish before he carefully is handed Calida. He can tell Dew is nervous by his shaking and smell of distress, so he keeps Calida right in his eye sight, gently poking his nose at her chest and shoulder, licking her cheek. She lets out the smallest coo and wriggles in his hands. She's so, so, so small. Mountain eyes her with nothing but love, whispering about how she's so lucky to have the greatest parent in the world.

"I don't mind mother, really..."

Greatest mother in the world.*

Dew ends up taking her back after a few more minutes, asking for Aether and Mountain is so reluctant but goes without fighting it. They swap places, but Dew is still nervous. Doesn't want Aether anywhere near her, but he trusts him so, so, so much.

"It's nothing against you, I promise, I just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. It's your kit and your decisions."

Dew let's Aether cuddle him on the side, and slowly Dew just falls asleep, Calida still against his chest and not moving in her own sleep. Aether just moved his hand to hover out just in case Calida wiggles, Dew's head on his shoulder so he's absolutely still. His smile is so wide as he admires another thing about Dew he's so in love with.

[welcome-to-puppet-hell]

Lovingly (Part 1) - Character Study (Puppet!OC)

Content Warning: Disturbing imagery, slight violence, mentions of Dermatillomania (skin-picking disorder), subtle references to OCD, a special appearance of the WH black mold/sludge

[divider credit to @saradika-graphics]

There’s comfort in doing crochet. Something soothing about the motions; the insert of the hook into a hole and the yarning over of the working yarn and the pull and loop, the completion of a stitch. Sure, sometimes a cramp started from the fingers when first working on a project; but once you get used to it, the ache barely comes.

I loved doing crochet. It kept my mind calm during my commute to and from work, muffling away the other voices on the bus. It kept my hands occupied, especially when my mind would begin to wander to nightmarish scenarios that I knew would never happen—but would still result in me obsessing and obsessing until I felt ill—when my fingers would twitch with a familiar compulsion to pick the skin along my body until my nails drew blood. Fortunately, I haven’t done that in years. Therapy had helped a little, learning to organize my life and my mind, even better—but crochet still worked very well.

You would always smile at me when catching me work, eyes soft and full of love. You never figured out why I practiced such a hobby, about the nightmare I carried—the one that killed my father, made my grandmother into a monster—and I liked it that way. I liked having some secrets to myself.

One night, though, worry was wrinkling your forehead. Your eyes looked far away, your mouth twisting with an anxiety that made my own flare up. Then you pulled your lips into your mouth, a shift indicating you were gnawing on them lightly. I finally put down my needle and yarn, unable to take it.

“What is it? Something’s clearly on your mind. Just say it.”

It came out so harshly—sorry, I’m not good with being nice or gentle when I’m nervous—but you didn’t flinch. You never did.

“I got a job offer. Y’know that archiving project I interviewed for? For that old show? I heard back. But,” you hesitated. “It’s going to be in this small town in Montana. I’ll have to relocate.”

Montana? That was so far from New York, where we both came from—where we’d lived our entire lives. That part of the country felt like a whole new world compared to the familiar sounds of trains making the tracks above tremble, of cars honking, the pungent smell of the city streets, the taste of fresh, crispy pizza or the softness of freshly baked bagels. The idea of leaving that behind made me tremble all over.

But when we’d gotten married six months ago, I’d vowed to follow you wherever, just as you had with me.

So, I made sure to force a casual tone when I replied, “Okay, then. When do we move?”

Your eyes blinked, shining as if in shock. Then your mouth spread into a grin, much like I remember, like the first warmth of sunshine in the morning.

And then, the grin continued to grow. And grow. And grow. And grow. And grow. And grow. And grow—

By the time I realized there was something not right about your open mouth, that mockery of your smile, your eyes started to drip with this oily black sludge. I followed the path of the sludge down your cheeks, until it was dribbling down your neck. Then it started dripping from your mouth.

I tried to speak, but immediately felt the urge to gag. My hands slammed against my mouth and my nose. God, that smell. I’ve never come across anything like it, more pungent than sulfur, more insidious than mold. Pure rot, it was. It made me feel so sick, gave me the urge to repel, to run—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I could only stare and watch, tears coming to my eyes. 

What was happening to you? What was doing this? How can I stop it—?

Any more thought in my head froze, my eyes widening. My pulse pounded sickeningly in my veins, despite a chill coming to my fingers.

Because, right from your gaping mouth—coming deep from your throat—was a huge pale hand, dripping with the sludge. Palm open, fingers out and curled, as if in a climbing gesture. Even under the fingernails, I could see a hint of the sludge mixed with the red that must have been your blood or tissue. My stomach dropped to my toes.

What…what is this? Why—?

The hand thrust forward and wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air. I gasped, heaved, and clawed at it, but it just pulled me forward. Spots appeared in my vision, I couldn’t breathe—and yet I still caught how your empty eyes dilated, how you seemed to be shaking with a silent laughter. The tears in my eyes fell as black started filling my vision, my own sobbing voice becoming muffled, drowned.

And then, somewhere in the void, a phone began to ring.

[Next Part]

[ivpapaemeritusiv]

Chapter 17: Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Summary: In this chapter, Addy and Papa wrap up the tour, navigating the challenges of caring for a newborn in a cramped bus. Fortunately, the multi ghoul is on hand to offer support and assistance during this demanding time.

Word Count: 4,100 words

Kaisarion was a few weeks old, and the tour was back in full swing and it was show time! Addeline had missed the fast-paced life of moving from city to city. She missed hearing Papa on stage and the way the crowd cheered for him. She loved seeing everyone else adore him as much as she did—recognition for his hard work. She knew it made him feel good to be appreciated. It was a validation she was unable to provide.

She was in the green room with him, holding Kaisarion in her arms. The newborn was wide awake but very quiet. Ashley was applying the final touches to Copia’s face—a mask that changed him from just Papa to Papa Emeritus the IV.

He turned around in his seat, “How do I look?”

Addy took a deep breath in, “Very dashing.”

“Ah, good,” he responded, giving his child a pat on the head, “That’s what I was going for.”

He stood up so that he could dress quickly. There wasn’t much time until he had to be on stage.

“That is one quiet baby,” Ashley said as she helped the Cardinal with his wardrobe.

As the man threw on his shiny sequin jacket, he gave his wife a small wink, “That’s because his mother is holding him. As soon as she puts him down, he will be louder than the crowd.”

The people in the room laughed as Papa started walking off. He turned around to notice Addy was not following him, “My dear, are you coming? Or should I carry you while you carry him?”

“Oh…” she was confused, “You want me to… you mean I can…”

“Yes, yes, come darling! Did you think I was going to keep you locked up in this green room? Nonsense! My little ragazzo needs to see what his future looks like.”

Addeline ran to catch up with her husband. There were so many people walking in all directions—so many people that made the show possible. It was a rush of adrenaline.

After quite the stroll, they finally reached backstage. Addeline had to admit, she actually missed Sister Imperator being in front of the monitor. Papa looked at his wife who was deep in thought, “A kiss for good luck, Amore?”

She gave him one of the kindest kisses she possibly could and sent him out on stage. Of course, as always, the crowd yelled out for him upon his entrance.

“Good evening, Lyons,” he addressed the crowd as he always had, “We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

He went through and introduced all the ghouls, allowing them to play a solo for the audience one at a time.

“I want to introduce you all to one more person,” he began to say, “Well… two more people. You see, just recently I became not just a Papa but a daddy,” he held up two fingers in the air, “for the second time.”

Upon hearing this, the crowd went insane. She was sure some of the hardcore fans probably knew Papa Emeritus had a family, but the couple was very good at concealing their private lives. Many people had no idea of their relationship.

“Yes, yes. I am a daddy to two beautiful children, a girl and now… a boy.”

The faces in the audience emitted more noise with each revelation Copia threw at them, “And they are backstage right now.”

Oh boy… Addy thought to herself, knowing what Papa was about to do.

“Can somebody get my wife out here for a second?”

Addeline, already hearing that she’d been summoned, began to walk out on her own. She was met halfway by Swiss who helped her across the stage to where Papa was standing. Papa gave her a kiss, and whispered in her ear away from the microphone, away from the busy crowd, “I want them to know what drives me to continue doing what I do.”

She blushed.

“Everyone, my wife.”

Papa let the crowd’s claps and whoops subside before introducing his next guest of honor, “And this little guy right here is Kaisarion.”

The sounds of screams were so ear piercing it stirred the infant and he began to cry, “Shh, shh,” The Cardinal quieted the crowd, “Do not fret everyone. Kaisarion always calms down when his mother is holding him.”

Addeline took this as her queue to leave. She gave Papa a passionate kiss as the crowd ooohed and ahhhed at the sight. Not being a big fan of public affection, she walked off stage as red as a beet.

“This next song is dedicated to that beautiful woman! You might like this one!”

The music started and Addy could hear, “Call me Little Sunshine,” begin to play. She sang the lyrics to her young son who quickly quieted upon hearing his mother’s melodic voice.

The show ended and as usual the crew began packing up. They had decided to drive through the night to the next city so that they could rest at the hotel the next day. Papa, Addeline, Kaisarion, Swiss and Cirrus rode in one bus while the rest of the crew and musicians rode in the other.

The two ghouls were in the middle of the bus playing cards while Addeline was lying next to Copia in their space in the back. He lay very still although she knew he was not yet asleep. He could sense her staring at him—or maybe it was the little movements of the bed that gave her away every time she glanced in his direction.

“Is there something you need, “Bella mia?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

“No… nothing,” she softly whispered.

He was not convinced, “Can you not sleep?”

“I… I…”

“Ah, you want your Papa? Is that it?” he said, still without moving an inch.

Addy let a very timid, “Yes,” escape her lips.

Papa turned his head toward her, “My dear, your Papa is very tired.”

She scowled, disappointed that he had teased her.

“Don’t look so blue,” he told her, “Perhaps I can find enough energy to put my little pet to rest.”

Her eyes lit up. They were so beautiful, Copia thought, so full of optimism at what he would give to her.

“Are you naked, Papa?”

“I am, Tesoro,” he admitted, although he had been too tired to remove his make-up from earlier.

Addy herself was only wearing a T-shirt she’d bought from an earlier concert—of course with Papa Emeritus’s face on it.

Making decrepit noises, he climbed on top of her, being very careful not to press on her stomach. He started to give her light kisses around her ear. A well-placed shiver swam through her body, down to her toes.

“Shh,” Papa tried to quiet her, as she made soft grumbles from underneath his chest, “The ghouls in the next room might be trying to sleep.”

She attempted to stifle her own noises but accidently let out a shrill gasp when Papa grabbed her thighs and forcefully pulled them apart. He pushed himself in between them and slid the tip of his cock into the wanting girl. For her, it was enough to make the room turn upside down.

Addy’s eyes seemed even blacker to him in the dark of the night. They were enchanting. He slowly began to push himself in—as slowly as he had ever done in the past. He definitely did not want to fill her up all the way as he knew they were not even supposed to be playing in this manner.

“Papa, you have to pull out.”

The tiny command from his wife made him chuckle.

“You are telling me how to fuck you?” he asked, not missing a beat.

She recoiled. He continued sliding in and out, delicately and slowly, but it was enough. After going so long without feeling one another, it was more than adequate.

“Papa, I’m not going to last much longer.”

He knew this was her way of asking for consent to get off—something she’d been taught to do from the very first fuck. Normally, he would not want it to end so suddenly, but he too was on the brink of letting go.

“Be my guest, my dear.”

She entered a trance-like state, screaming into the room. The cardinal cuffed her mouth with the inside of his palm and muffled the cries as he went on making love to her. When he saw the intensity of her orgasm subside, he quickly withdrew, spilling himself onto her stomach.

Addy, breathing very heavily, felt the warmth of it trickle down the sides of her, “You… you pulled out?”

“It was difficult,” he admitted, “But we can’t break two rules in one night, eh?”

Just then, a voice from the other side of the curtain shouted, “Hey, will you two assholes keep it down in there? There’s a fucking baby on the bus for God’s sakes!”

“Oh my, God!” Addeline shrank beneath the covers, “I forgot about them.”

“Yes, you did,” he agreed, his ears still ringing from the sounds of her shrieks, “But, Swiss has caught us in the act before. He will not be traumatized by this.”

“Permission to enter Papa,” Swiss said outside the curtain, obviously teasing Addy.

“Ah yes, entrare, entrare.”

Swiss opened the curtain, Kaisarion in his arms, “Here’s your baby. If you guys aren’t too busy, I think he’s hungry.”

Addy reached out for the infant who was making quite a fuss as the Cardinal took his original spot in the bed.

“Thank you so much for keeping him occupied for a bit,” Addeline expressed her gratitude. It was hard to be on tour with a newborn. The infant was attached to her hip every hour of the day. Any time Addeline put him down he seemed to cry but it was established quickly that for some reason the tiny boy enjoyed the embrace of Swiss.

“He’s a sweet kid and he hates everyone but you and me and that makes him okay in my book.”

“You just want to feel special,” Cirrus called from outside the open curtain.

“Yea,” Swiss continued, “Well, you’re just mad he likes me more than you.”

An object came hurling toward Swiss’s head. It caught him right between the eyes.

“Ouch!”

“Alright, out!” Papa shouted, as Addeline began to feed their son.

Swiss closed the curtain and ran to tackle his ghoul friend. The family dynamics amongst the crew were strong.

“Lay down and feed him, my sweet,” the Cardinal told his wife, “You need to get some sleep.”

Addy laid down, her back pressed up against Papa’s chest, and let one breast rest in Kaisarion’s mouth. Now, with the child being calm and her urge satisfied, she was able to drift off to sleep.

* Papa was awoken by the sound of his son’s crying. Still very tired, he grabbed his watch off the nightstand and glanced at the time. He’d been asleep for just 3 hours and there was still another 3 to drive. All was silent, except for Swiss snoring beyond the curtain.

The Cardinal grumbled, “Amore?”

She was sleeping heavily and not answering. The baby continued to cry.

“Addeline?” This time he nudged her. She repositioned slightly but did not wake up.

“Addy?” He said more loudly, “Kaisarion is awake.”

She groaned and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

Papa could see that she was not going to get up. He reached over her body and gently lifted the baby. Trying to console little Kaisarion, he rocked him back and forth, “There, there…”

After several minutes the Cardinal got out of bed with his son and walked into the middle of the bus where his other two companions lay resting. The little screams from the baby woke Swiss.

“Cardinal?”

“Ah, good,” he said, “You’re awake.”

“Yea, how can anyone sleep with you bringing that racket in here?”

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do?”

Swiss sat up and rubbed his eyes, “He’s probably hungry. Give him to Addy.”

“Addy won’t wake up.”

“Oh,” the ghoul said flatly. “Well, you feed him then.”

Copia looked around, somewhat frantic, “Feed him what exactly?”

Swiss burst into laughter, “Breast milk. Babies drink breastmilk.”

The Cardinal answered frustratedly, “The milk is in the breast and the breast is on my wife who will not wake up.”

“Check the fridge. Adds keeps some in there.”

Swiss watched on shaking his head, as Papa walked to the fridge to get his son’s food, “Cardinal isn’t this your second kid? Have you not been alone with your spawn before?” he continued ridiculing the frontman.

“Fa schifo al cazzo! Just get up and help me!”

Swiss threw himself out of the small cot that attached to the wall and walked over to a black mini fridge, “She keeps bottles in here just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Papa wondered out loud.

“Just in case you wake up in the middle of the night, and don’t know what to feed your kid.”

Swiss handed Papa the bottle, teasingly, and watched him shove it into Kaisarion’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” he wondered.

Papa, somewhat flustered, repeated the question, “What I am doing? I’m feeding the baby!”

Swiss covered his forehead in angst, “Papa, you gotta warm the bottle up first.”

The Cardinal went to put the bottle in the microwave.

“No!” Swiss quickly closed the microwave door shut. He reached under a cabinet and grabbed a pot to fill it with hot water, “You can’t put it in there! You have to let it warm up like this.”

“How do you even know all this,” Papa asked puzzled.

Swiss shrugged, “I watch Addy do it.”

The ghoul took the bottle from Copia and placed it in the pot, “Hey, I know it’s not my business, but you might want to start helping her take care of these babies you keep making.”

“Excuse me,” The Cardinal was a bit offended.

Swiss lowered his tone, realizing he may have been making Copia angry, “No offense, but that’s why you can’t wake her up. She’s exhausted. If you haven’t noticed that baby is literally suckling her for life support. She can’t put him down.”

Papa nodded, “Yes I have noticed that.”

“She told me she’d love to sing in the next couple shows.”

Papa quickly looked at Swiss, moving his neck so quickly it made a snapping sound, “She said that to you?”

“I mean… yea. But how can she? Kaisarion won’t let her do anything.”

“Well, she’s just had a tough delivery. She always thinks she can do more than what she’s capable of.”

“I don’t know,” the ghoul said, “I think she’d surprise you.”

“When does she talk to you about this? What else does she say?” Copia was quite dismayed that his wife would confide in somebody else instead of him.

“Don’t take it personally but you two have this weird power exchange going on all the time,” Papa listened as Swiss explained to him the dynamics of his own relationship, “She hangs on to your every command—she waits for you to tell her what to do.”

The Cardinal seemed oblivious to this information, “I don’t tell Addeline what to do.”

“Cardinal, with all due respect, I’ve never banged a woman who needed my permission to get off before.”

“You think she is afraid to talk to me?”

“It’s not that. She likes being subservient to you. It’s some fetish you guys have had from day one. It kind of makes me want to throw up honestly,” he joked.

Swiss gently removed the infant from Copia’s grasp as he reached for the bottle to begin feeding the newborn, “I’m saying you gotta approach her. You gotta pick up on what she wants, what she needs, cause she’s not gonna tell you. You’re HER master. You gotta tell her what’s best and what’s best is what SHE wants. Make sense?”

The Cardinal wore a blank gaze, his mouth gaping wide. He waited a few seconds before snapping, “It’s too early for this shit, Swiss.”

“Ah go back to bed; I’ve got the kid.”

Copia graciously nodded, retreating back behind the privacy of the curtain that separated him from the rest of the bus.

* Addeline woke up when she heard the squeaky brakes of the tour bus. Finally she thought. The bus was quite an uncomfortable and cramped place to sleep. The movements of the vehicle across the bumps and gravel of the road did not help with slumber. She looked at Papa, who had finally passed out, then noticed that Kaisarion was not next to her. She panicked, frantically looking around for him. She called his name while tossing blankets around the bed. This still was not enough to wake the Cardinal.

She busted through the curtain, hyperventilating but quickly calmed down when she saw the baby sleeping soundly next to Swiss. Oh my God she thought as her fight or flight instincts settled. She walked over to where the ghoul lay and knelt by the bed. She rubbed her son’s head and softly whispered good morning in his ear.

This woke up Swiss whose eyes fluttered open at the sound of Addy’s voice. He took a while to come to but met her eyes after blinking and rubbing his own, “Good morning, you.”

“Thank you. You are so good with him.”

“You need to train your old man, Addy. Poor guy can’t even heat up a bottle.”

She giggled and began to reach for her baby, “When did he eat last?”

“A couple hours ago,” the ghoul said, “He took a bottle and a half but there’s one full bottle left in the fridge.”

“I think I’ll just feed him from the water hose,” Addy laughed, speaking about her engorged boobs.

Swiss couldn’t help but noticed Addy was leaking through her T-shirt, “Looks like you need milking.”

Cardinal walked in to see his wife at Swiss’s bedside, “What’s this,” he asked, perplexed.

Addeline quickly looked up at him and then back to Swiss, hurrying to grab her child so that she could stand, “Nothing, Papa. Kaisarion fell asleep with Swiss. I heard someone had trouble feeding him,” she joked.

Copia grumbled as he walked over to steal a kiss from Addy, “Unfortunately, I am not as perceptive as he.”

Swiss furrowed his brow as Addy shrugged in his direction. At about this time Cirrus also woke up.

“How the fuck did you sleep through the night,” Swiss asked her.

“Why? What happened?”

Before Swiss could answer, the Cardinal walked toward the exit of the bus, summoning Addy to follow him, “Tesoro, can I speak to you for a minute?”

She followed Copia outside, a little uneasy at the manner he called her in, “What is it, Papa? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, my darling, of course not. I wanted to know if you would like to do backing vocals for the next show?”

Her eyes lit up, “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, Amore, I mean it.”

Addeline jumped into his arms. She was ecstatic and the Cardinal quite pleased he had taken Swiss’s advice.

“Do you think my ghoul costume will still fit?”

Copia looked her up and down, noticing that she had lost most of her baby weight already, “You bounce back quickly, my darling. The costume will fit perfectly.”

“What about—”

“—Kaisarion? There are plenty of people on standby to watch him, my dear.”

*

Addy was thrilled at sound check, unlike everyone else who had done the same one an endless number of times now. She walked onto the stage fully equipped in her nameless ghoul attire and walked up to Swiss.

“Wow, you’re the sexiest ghoul here,” he joked.

She took a playful bow, thanking him for the compliment, “So where do I stand.”

Swiss looked behind his shoulder at a small circular platform, “You’re behind me. They’re keeping us altos over here while the banshee stands on the opposite side of the stage,” he referred to Cumulus who was a skilled soprano.

Swiss pulled out a book of sheet music with all the lyrics to the songs they needed to perform, “You’re not going to be on stage the whole time but I’m going to go over the songs Papa put you down for.”

“Okay,” she said bright eyed and ready.

“And you’re not getting paid either so calm down.”

She smirked and crossed her arms, “Just tell me what I’m doing.”

“So, for Mary on a cross we’ll have you matching my vocals, so I’ll show you how to do that. My mic will be louder because I’m better.”

Addeline shoved him playfully, causing him to lose his balance a bit.

He chuckled and continued, “We need you for Darkness. Papa Emeritus likes that thing you do when you’re singing a lower note and you cut to the high note real sharply, it’s almost whiny, so we’re putting you on for Spillways and Pro Memoria—we especially need you to carry the harmonies on the…” Swiss demonstrated, “To ride with me… to ride with me…” raising his hands in the air as though he had a baton, to show Addy a visual representation of the musical note.

Swiss put in a solid hour of hard work, guiding Addy through her parts. As they practiced the ending for Mary on a Cross she struggled to catch her breath before the final note. Frustration escaped in an exasperated “Ugh.”

Swiss quickly reassured her, saying, “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal. Just a long note.” He gently positioned his hand on her back and under her rib cage, sandwiching her diaphragm, “Take a deep breath and stand tall,” he advised. “Save all your breath at the beginning and release it all for that powerful final note.”

Papa walked up to the two to see if Addy would be ready for the show.

“How’s she doing, Swiss?” he asked.

“Well,” Swiss began, “She thinks she’s the main character,” he laughed, “She needs to be part of the vocal harmonies instead of singing on key with the frontman.”

“Trying to steal my job, Amore?” The cardinal joked, giving her a small pinch on the waist.

“There’s actually a lot going on out here, Cardinal. If you don’t mind, I think it might be easier to go backstage with some earpods.”

“Yes, yes, do what you must,” Copia gave them permission to retreat and practice in a quieter place.

Swiss and Addy went to the green room to continue their session while everyone else practiced outside. The two worked diligently for one more hour, preparing for the upcoming show.

“I can’t believe you guys do this so many times in a row,” Addy said.

“Well, if you enjoy something it’s easy to do it over and over again,” he looked down, smirking, “You should know that, Adds.”

She laughed, assuming Swiss was talking about having sex with Copia.

“In any case,” he continued, “I think you’re ready. We need to get out there and do the real thing now. You should probably go find Cumulus so she can grab your ghoulette get up.”

He started to walk off but then noticed Addy’s shirt was wet, “Adds? Go milk yourself.”

The woman looked down and realized it had been a few hours since she fed her son. She covered herself, somewhat frustrated, “Goddamn it, this always happens.”

“Ha!” Swiss chuckled, “I don’t mind it. It’s kind of hot.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze, and her words spilled out, “You know? I love the kids, but I think Kaisarion is my last. It’s not that I don’t adore being a mother, but sometimes I feel like I’m meant for so much more.”

“I’ll buy you a box of condoms then if the show goes well tonight!”

“I’m serious,” she said, “And having Kaisarion was so scary. If you hadn’t found me in the hallway—”

“—But I did find you,” He interjected.

She looked at him, a playful glint in her eyes. He always seemed to be coming to her rescue.

Swiss met her gaze too but quickly shook himself out of it and looked down at his guitar, “Anyway, just tell him you’re done having kids. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Yeah,” she nodded,” a hint of skepticism in her voice.

Swiss himself was being facetious. He couldn’t help but be amused at the idea of Addy telling the Cardinal how things were going to be. He also knew the man wanted more children and that it would be a heated discussion. Still, he was curious to see what would happen.

“Alright, see ya out there,” he said, disappearing from the room, the thought lingering in his mind.

[claritys-silly-things]

Idk this is somewhat of an au. Just a bit of writing bc I got bored.

(Stan is very used to a routine and finds it weird if things aren’t the same way apparently. I wrote basically this line so many times without even realizing 😭 it may change as I edit this, as this is from pre-editing clarity)

[After editing clarity: if you have any questions, comments, concerns or constructive criticism, feel free to give any, because I probably missed stuff in my current half-asleep state. Otherwise, enjoy!]

Stan was waiting by the bus stop, as he did every morning. It felt weird not to do so. He’d been doing it since third or fourth grade after all. It was just routine.

Before Stan could think too much about how long his routine had stayed virtually the same, his best friend Kyle walked over. He was without his ushanka today, something that happened a lot more since Stan said once that Kyle looked good without a hat. Stan didn’t mind.

Stan waved while he watched Kyle make his way over.

Pale, usually decently clear skin and fiery red hair. Green eyes that were brighter than his hat when he wore it, but still went with his accessories regardless.

Stan always found himself observing his super best-friend intently, but wasn’t sure why. He just figured he found Kyle neat, as you should with your best friend.

“Hey dude!” Kyle said, waving, before taking his normal spot next to Stan. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Stan replied with a small smile.

“Glad to hear,” Kyle said.

They stood for a bit in silence, though not an uncomfortable one. They were such good friends that they could go a while without saying anything and not feel awkward.

After a few minutes, Stan pulled out his phone. He opened an app and started scrolling. It wasn’t long before Kyle was watching over his shoulder.

Stan was used to it at this point. Sheila let Kyle have a phone, of course, but she set up a ton of unnecessary, at least in Stan’s eyes, settings to the phone as Kyle got older. One of those was having the screen time off until after school ends each day, with the restrictions lifting at 3 pm.

Which led to Kyle using watching over Stan’s shoulder as a form of entertainment most of the time. Stan didn’t mind though. For some reason, he really enjoyed when Kyle took interest in whatever was on Stan’s phone and leaned in. Just. His super best-friend. Pretty much close as possible.

Stan shook whatever weird could-be-interpreted-as-gayass thoughts he had floating around from his head and switched his focus back to whatever random shit was playing on his phone.

Well.

He tried to at least.

All he could actually focus on was Kyle leaning his chin on Stan’s shoulder from behind to watch Stan’s phone. Kyle was fully leaning on Stan’s shoulder, close to his face, and Stan felt red.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a bit naseuos all of a sudden.

“Oh, dude sorry but I don’t think it’s the best idea to be so close,” Stan said, voice sounding tight.

“Oh, are you alright?” Kyle asked, sounding worried.

“Yeah. ‘m good. Just need to breathe for a sec…” Stan said, trying to calm his cramping stomach.

what the actual fuck was that about Stanley?! Stan said to himself in his head.

The naseua had calmed down, but now Stan had to address the reason as to WHY he had become naseuos in the first place.

Well, he knew that he used to puke around Wendy when he still liked her…

But that would mean…

Stan shook yet another thought from his head.

God, what was wrong with him today?

Yeah, no. Thats something to unpack later…

Right as Stan finished his thought, Kenny and Cartman arrived.

Kenny had chilled a bit on his lowkey-kind-of-perv-y ways as he’d grown, but Cartman was still a bit of an asshole. Stan honestly would’ve thought something was wrong if he wasn’t.

“What’s up f**s?” Cartman said as he patted Stan HARD on the shoulder, shoving him a bit. “Hope we didn’t interrupt a make out sesh or something.”

Cartman started laughing to himself. Kyle just glared at him, and Stan watched as he walked over to yell at the bigoted boy. A normal thing for the four friends to have play out.

“Hey Stan,” Kenny said from under his parka.

He wore it less often now, but it was a cold winter day, and the extra layer probably felt nice.

“Hi Ken,” Stan said with a greeting high five and fist-bump.

They stood for a bit watching Kyle and Cartman argue before the bus got to their stop.

They all climbed in, Kenny and Cartman sitting more to the front to gossip and be social, while Stan and Kyle sat at the very back of the bus.

Stan took out his phone again, plugging his earbuds in and clicking on his playlist. He stuck one headphone in his right ear and gave the other to Kyle. Listening to music together was an every day occurrence to them. One of Stan’s favorite moments in any day.

Kyle leaned on his shoulder, and after Stan made sure no one was watching them too closely, he leaned his head on top on top of Kyle’s and closed his eyes for a bit.

He wondered how far Kyle must be leaning down to pull off the leaning, but Stan didn’t want to interrupt the moment with unnecessary movement.

All too soon, they were at school, and they had to separate before anyone called them GAY.

Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but they didn’t want people to label them as something they weren’t. They were just…best buds.

At least, that’s what Stan tried to get himself to believe.

Whatever. Let’s just get inside, get to our lockers and go to first period. No more gay thoughts about your best friend, Stanley, Stan thought to himself.

And with that, then walked into school for the day.

[tune-a-tyun]

enemy spotted! taehyun x fem!reader ✿ teaser ✿

|| TEASER ||

pairing: taehyun x fem!reader

genre: fluff/angst, academic rivals to lovers

warnings: taehyun being kinda toxic to his own self ig??? intense simping tbh

word count: 885 words

a/n: lmao, i haven't even started writing the premise for this but i just couldn't resist! this will prolly be released as a one-shot? english is not my first language, i apologise for any mistakes and/or typos. this is just a test run tbh.

quite honestly speaking, taehyun didn't hate you that much. or at least, that's what he liked to believe.

your sudden intrusion into his private life had not warranted your subsequent constant presence. and yet, here you were, lolling around on the cramped kitchen counter as he made hot chocolate to calm both of your bodies from the near hypothermic collapse you two went through in the past couple of hours.

he truly did not hate you, but the annoyance in his queasy guts was a bit hard to ignore when you were constantly spitting out chides and snide remarks on his technique of stirring a pot full of hot liquid, or his lack of knowledge of the correct timing to add the milk, or his inefficiency at equalising the portions in two separate utensils and concocting them separately to affirm to both of your individual preferences; you had proclaimed to be likely catch a severe case of diabetes if his cup of overly-sweetened hot chocolate lay within even a foot of your radius. taehyun was only putting up with your antics because he was your host.

and because you had those dumb puppy eyes.

indeed, both of you eyes shone with the thanksgiving decorations his parents had dutifully arranged around the living area, and taehyun spotted fairy lights behind the cabinets projected in your glittering pupils. your hands' warmth that burned through his puffy pullover and seeped down to every single tingling cell of his arms when you held them to better guide the stirring pan, your foggy breath -- a combination of the teeth-rotting gummy bears you had shared with him on the bus and peppermint -- tickled his shivering neck, thighs playing aggressive footsie to knock him off his stool while he grabs the mugs from the lower cabinets, finger flicks against his shoulder which cut into his blades as you scrambled to wrestle him for the disney-princess moana cup for yourself. your broken chuckle and a little gasp sent taehyun into a spiral about your cute little lips puckering at him...about your lip and skincare routine, nothing else.

you waved the little mug under his grumpy nose even as the sight of your wispy baby hair tickled taehyun's throat and your sweet--- no, weird nose scrunch imitated itself in his heart. you irritated him so much that his nerves hadn't calmed down even after you two had flung yourself out of the blizzard and into the comfort of his heated home.

"wow," taehyun muttered, raising his (in your opinion, unfortunately) perky cupid's bow. "i really do hate you."

instead of replying, you just handed him the chipped mug with his poison of choice, just flashing a toothy grin. "ah! good job, genius," you remarked when he spilled it a little bit while taking it from your pink hands.

taehyun could not possibly hate you more in that moment. he witnessed you morph your mouth into that galling pout and pull out frays from his dog-eared early-season woollen pullover and his heart trekked its way to his throat. he saw you take an experimental sip and sink back into the cushioned stool with the lulling comfort it brought, and he went through a physical battle to remember how to breathe. he heard you mumble a tiny, "thank you," with eyes shut and you lazily pulling the stack of worksheets on differential equations taehyun had offered to help you in towards yourself...and with no warning, his ears rang with a soaring wind and he was left speechless.

speechless because a racing, bubbling, overwhelming and tickling sensation had begun from his toes to your chipped nail-paint, from his buck teeth to your awkward fringe tucked away beside you ear, from the unopened sachet of instant coffee resting next to the milk carton to his own trembling lips, your hands fumbling to grab a pen from his limp hands, from the tick-tock-tick-tock of the ever speeding clock to his dizzying vision, from your blushing cheeks when he pulls his stool closer to yours and started pouring over the graphs - to his arm arranged precariously by the helm of your shoulder, from you sparking pencil-box to the deadening college applications on his desk upstairs, mysteriously unfilled.

and then he stopped floating. instead of the cloudy sensation, now wave after wave knocked him out. he was on the ocean floor, gazing through his prickling eyes and piercing pain in chest as he gasped for oxygen, blue water above him, his shoulder distancing the two of you, your questioning look at him for snatching the sheet of his notes away from your hands, dark, murky water around him. he had set off to study in his own room and he was thrashing, the suffocating instinct pooling all the ice from the snow outside to his heart inside, his legs pumping to climb the stairs, black, black, black storm all around him. it was okay; he had a plan. your voice called after him as his slammed him door and pulled out his stationery. your incessant knocks on his doors and his insistence that he wasn't going to teach you jack-shit from his notes echoed through the house.

your thundering silence and noiseless steps down to the living area. your exit leaving a tensing chill across his clavicle.

it all annoyed him.

anyway, he was going to go to a good college. and in reality, he really just hated you.

please send to message to be added to the taglist!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Greenwich Market

So. Laundry's in the dryer cycle, the last batch of cookies is cooling (I just decided to bake, like, all of them), I used the kitchen time to boil some more potatoes for potato salad and those are also cooling, so now I'm going to take a minute to explain my Adventure from yesterday. And coincidentally also explain why my feet hurt so very much.

See, there's this place in Greenwich Market called The Fudge Patch. An old friend of mine who I mostly see on Facebook these days recommended it - apparently he goes fairly regularly and last month they had a deal on delivery fees, so I tried some and I loved it. Then I discovered that some of the flavours they have in store were not available on the website - specifically, coffee fudge. Which ... well, you guys know me well enough to know I just simply had to have. So I decided to look up how one might get to Greenwich from my little chunk of London. Turns out it's not that far - only takes a couple of buses. So I decided that if I was having a not-too-bad day Saturday and if the weather was decent, I would go and get this coffee fudge.

Yesterday, as far as I could tell when I woke up, was sunny and bright and I wasn't feeling too bad. So I thought, "Great! I will go to Greenwich Market". Even checked to see if there were any pharmacies in the vicinity so I could pick up the mallet meds I needed. There were, in fact, two. (This will come into play later.) So off I went on the bus.

Decided to do the pharmacies first, and discovered that neither of these two chain pharmacies had a pharmacy counter at those outlets. I mean, I guess it might have something to do with the fact that the place is very much for tourists - the National Maritime Museum and the Cutty Sark are both there. So I sighed a little, and decided to take a quick trip to local bookstore. Bought a Neil Gaiman short story anthology and a copy of Max Brooks' World War Z (far superior to the movie, as far as I've ever been able to tell), and then went to the market.

Greenwich Market is ... squished. Cramped. Lots of lovely things in a very small space. Which was not precisely easy for me to navigate, especially since I made the tactical error of entering via the food court and an awful lot of people were standing around eating while blocking the entrance into the main market. Then I had to hobble through very small aisles between stalls. I did look at some of the pretties, but not too closely because too many people. So I decided that, while the market proper would get a decent look on some other day when we're not at the start of a bank holiday weekend, I should just get my fudge and be on my way, preferably via a pharmacy.

The shop was also small, and a lot of it was devoted to the area where the fudge slabs were sliced and stored (and also probably packaged for delivery). There were a couple of people in ahead of me and the first thing I heard from the guy running the shop (mid-60s minimum, one of those wiry guys who gets tough and leathery-looking when they get older, long hair, receding hairline, big beard, very engaging grin) was, "No, seriously, take a sample! We are happy for you to taste everything!" and talking about how even if you don't want fudge right now, and leave without buying anything, he's happy to give samples because you might think of the place the next time you want fudge, or a gift for a fudge-lover on holidays, or when you're recommending a treat to a friend. Good way to do business, frankly. So I tried some of the lemon sherbet fudge he was offering (which was really good; I decided at that moment to go for a five-slab box again, and that to be one of the five) and told him that I was very specifically there because I'd ordered some for delivery but the flavour I was most interested in wasn't available online. He asked which one, and when I told him, he went, "Oh; we will definitely rectify that!" So I might be responsible for the coffee fudge hitting the delivery list. Huzzah!

Anyway, he practically insisted that I try a sample of the coffee fudge, since I'd come there especially for it, and in the process he noticed my pin badges. As I ordered my selection (coffee, lemon sherbet, raspberry sorbet, cinnamon swirl, and peanut butter), first he said, "Decisive person; knows what they want. I like it!" and noticed my pin badges - specifically the D&D themed ones. He said he didn't play but that he was peripherally interested in the whole thing and I told him that the fudge was at least partly gaming snacks. To my utter surprise, he asked what I was throwing at my players this weekend. No stranger has ever asked me anything that specific about my gaming before. So I told him and that was a thing.

That brought us to Warhammer, and sideways into books - apparently he's at the penultimate book of the Horus Heresy. Since we were recommending books and he was almost at the end of an apparently very long series, I made a recommendation of my own - the Locked Tomb. When trying to tell him what it was about, the best I could come up with that was short enough not to be too spoilery or involved was "necromancer lesbians in space". The young woman who was packaging up fudge looked up for the first time at that point, going, "Oooh!" and the guy slammed his fist on the counter in a very Thor-like kind of way (you know, the "I like this! ANOTHER!" thing) and said, "YES. Why has no one done this before? I need this!" So I wrote down the title of the first book for him; he can get the rest from there.

Last little bit of discussion was Patrick Rothfuss, who I told him I only knew from his time on Critical Role, and described the letter he wrote to Keyleth in-character a bit. And by then, my fudge was packaged and it was time for me to be on my way. But I think he sincerely hoped I'd be back sometime. Which was nice. Either way, one of the best shopping experiences I've had in a long time.

Then I had to find a bus stop to head in a home-ward direction. This took awhile, because that particular bit of Greenwich has a lot of one-way streets. Finally found it after a bit of a walk, during which I noticed that the sky was going from sunshine and blue to dark and grey. Well, fuck. Waited a bit for the bus, and didn't notice until I was basically on it that it was only going halfway to where I needed it to go. However, it was stopping at New Cross, so there might be a pharmacy there. Even if not, there's a big Sainsbury's, and the start of a bus route that takes me past at least two pharmacies and about a block closer to home than the one I would have taken if it'd stopped at Peckham like it was supposed to. Unfortunately, it let me off a fair distance from the big Sainsbury's, and there were no pharmacies. Woe.

Stopped at the big Sainsbury's, picked up some vegetables and treated myself to a can of root beer, and waited for the bus. That's when it started to rain. "Fuck", was my only real comment to that. There is nothing more annoying than standing at the start of the route, weighed down with shopping, watching the bus driver fuck around, and knowing you can't complain because they are entitled to breaks too. Honestly, I would have just been happy enough with a bench. But nope.

Anyway, bus finally got moving, got as far as Dulwich, got off near a pharmacy, picked up my mallet meds, back to the bus stop, ten minute wait for the next bus, and finally home - tired, sore, but triumphant.

...Then I started cooking dinner, which was roast chicken. I did really well, too. First I discovered that sage and lemon balm are a nice combination of herbs to stuff into the cavity; gives a really nice flavour to the meat, especially in combination with an onion and an entire bulb of garlic. Then I discovered that whatever I did to that chicken (might have been the slight oiling and salting of the skin before I put it in the oven, or maybe the herbs, or both), it resulted in the chicken being exceptionally juicy and tender. As in, when I went to carve off a leg for dinner, the thigh bone just kind of ... fell out. So ... that was good.

Boiled up the carcass, too - onion, garlic, herbs and all. May have boiled it too long, mind you. Or maybe not; what I have is a highly concentrated stock-jelly, of sorts. I figure I do what I would do with stock cubes or those little pots of jelly stock you can get at the grocery store - water it down and heat it, and stock will ensue. Which is good, because the leftover chicken breast is going to be risotto later.

But not today. Today I have done enough, and on top of what I did yesterday, I deserve more of a break. But that's why I have so many reheatables - on days when I have simply Ceased To Can, I can stick a thing in the microwave but still have home-cooked niceness.

So that was my Adventure. The lemon sherbet fudge is already gone, sad to say. But I still have more fudge, so that's nice. No major regrets for the Adventure, but man do I hurt, especially on top of the Adulting. I mean, hell, I mopped the kitchen floor today. Which would be more impressive if the kitchen weren't the approximate size of a postage stamp, but there we are. I have leftovers and fudge and cookies, plus still a lot of my proper American Sour Patch Kids, and I will have potato salad, and eventually some chicken katsu curry and risotto and chili and...

Look, if it's going to hurt no matter what I make myself to eat, I'm going to make sure the things I'm hurting myself to make are fucking worth it.

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Did I ever write an essay here on Edward Bernays and propaganda? Dissociative amnesia go brrr so I'll see if I can quickly bash something out to distract myself from cramps. This post is going to be completely uncited and I'm barely gonna fact check myself so if any of this sounds interesting I strongly recommend looking this stuff up and if I'm wrong then yay! You'll learn something by doing so.

So who is Bernays? No he is not a sauce made out of butter, egg yolk, and white wine vinegar, he is the nephew of Freud and regarded as one of the most influential men of the twentieth century and the father of Public Relations.

He was very interested in his uncles work, and worked in the fields of psychology and sociology. His main schtick was that he viewed humanity as deeply and fundamentally irrational, illogical, emotional, and needed to be controlled lest they fall into chaos. Through Freud's work on psychoanalysis he devised a way to influence the masses by playing on their emotions and insecurities, something which we should all be very familiar today in politics and advertising.

Before Bernays, advertising was very, like, practical. "These shoes will survive up to a thousand miles of walking, they're comfortable and hand crafted with fine leather" kinda thing. People were interested in what products could do for them and made informed choices. Now though advertising is much more about lifestyle and aspiration. No joke in 2021 I saw an advert for a company that sells kitchens that said you needed to drop 20k on a new kitchen to prevent "zoombarrassment" when you work from home because all your colleagues will think you're a bad person and shame you for it.

Where we're at with this stuff today with algorithms and stuff is that engagement is key. If people are talking about you, if you're trending, then that's good. And the best way to get people talking about you? Controversy. Budweiser, Gillette, and I think a brand of coffee machine?, all jump out as recent examples of companies capitalising on a hot social issue to generate free advertising by whipping the masses up into a frenzy. Rainbow capitalism isn't only bad just because they hope that if they put a trans women in an advert that you'll buy it, it's also much worse because they're actively trying to piss off conservatives and fascists and incite flame wars as the official sponsor of transphobia. On the one hand, yay representation, but on the other, every time this happens I get to see just how many people in the world fucking hate me for existing. They're actively contributing to a global pandemic of deepening division and increased risk of violence.

And politicians cottoned onto this too. Boris Johnson is particularly good at this, and it's called the dead cat technique. If he ever feels like things might get tricky and might actually have to do a politics, he throws a dead cat on the table in the form of some inflammatory or bizarre remark because it shuts down the conversation. I mean, there's a dead cat on the table, how can you talk about anything other than the dead cat? His go to increasingly became trans people towards the end of his political career, just constantly talking about penises, absolutely obsessed with penises, but there's this really incredible interview he did where an interviewer asked him what his hobby is and he started talking about making London buses out of milk crates. It's absolutely nonsensical but you can also tell he's choosing his words very very carefully. Why? Because during the Brexit referendum he put a massive lie on the side of a bus and he wanted to manipulate the search results for when you search "Boris Johnson Bus".

Another technique politicians absolutely adore is being completely contradictory in your positions. Say you're committed to providing an inclusive and compassionate asylum system while actively dismantling said system. Say your committed to reducing wealth inequality while actively increasing it. Say you're committed to reducing national debt while actively increasing it. It keeps your opponents confused and unable to oppose you because they never know what your true position is and therefore what theirs should be, and it also provides you a get out clause. If someone accuses you of being against something? Just point to all the times you supported it. If someone accuses you of supporting something? Just point to all the times you condemned it.

So why am I writing any of this in the syscourse tag? Because a lot of syscoursers use these techniques to grow their own popularity and reach. It honestly doesn't even need to be a conscious effort, those who engage on syscourse over at Twitter are rewarded for doing this whether they know it or not, and then it gets brought here. Thankfully Tumblr isn't as bad, but we still feel it's effects. Whenever I see absolutely deranged "anti endos do this" or "pro endos do this" stuff I just assume it comes from Twitter because I struggle to find it here when I look, but the beefs and long standing arguments are still very twitteresque.

I do think it's important to be aware of this stuff though, because when you understand it all becomes deeply unserious. You may not be immune to propaganda but at least you can learn to recognise and step outside of it. When a syscourser admits to openly trying to be inflammatory to the other side and enjoying watching them get upset over it, or if you notice them restarting old arguments after not being talked about for a few days then you can finally give yourself permission to let go and not get involved. You can no longer take anything that person says seriously, because you can't ever know if they are being serious. They literally told you that they do it on purpose, therefore anything they say fails to be credible or sincere. If it pisses you off? It's meant to. If it's factually incorrect? It's supposed to be. Feel like writing a call out post to denounce them? That's exactly what they want you to do because you're talking about them. Keeping them fresh and trendy at all times.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I'm reading an essay by author Marcos Aguinis titled El Atroz Encanto de Ser Argentinos, The Atrocious Charm of being Argentinians, and while it is generally interesting to me as a dive into the Argentinian psyche, and also food for thought and honing of the idea that Argentinians and Americans have, in terms of national spirit, many, many similarities (a thought I most desperately need to refine down to exact definitions that will stop both Argentinians and Americans to get very pissed by it, because I meant it in the most positive way possible), I reached a part where he reproduces in full a satirical email chain, and it's too good not to be translated here for your enjoyment:

How A True Argentinian Should Behave

While driving:

systematically bother the one behind you; at the same time, blink lights and honk to the one ahead of you. You are super fast and nobody can defeat you.

The indiscriminate use of the honk is capable of dissolving a traffic jam on Córdoba street at 6pm.

The Law of Mass is valid. For example, if you are driving in a 4x4 and by your right your "opponent" cruises in a small Fiat, who has the right-of-way? Bingo!

Read the new traffic law: bikes, motorbikes and motorcycles can go in whatever fashion and direction they want; the helmet can be worn at the elbow, so that the hair can enjoy the breeze.

The pedestrian has a right to nothing, but cross wherever they want. If your insurance payments are up to date, run them over; that will teach them to respect you.

The white lines on street corners are just decoration for the asfalt. Nobody knows who the irresponsible guy who told pedestrians they should cross the street by them.

The car on your side is your mortal enemy.

The car manufacturers commited a complete inconsistency: they put in three pedals, when the vast majority of drivers only has two legs. Don't be confused: eliminated the middle one.

Blinking your lights enables you to do whatever crosses your mind. Not blinking them enables you all the same.

The red light on traffic lights indicates "danger!" you must, then, speed up as much as possible and get out of there ASAP.

Ambulances, firefighters and police can wait. Nobody in the Universe has as much a need to reach destination as you.

At a public bathroom:

Do not press any buttons, in case your fingers might get dirty or cramp.

It is to be assumed that there will be paper, soap, and hand dryers, and that everything will work to perfection.

Use aaaaaaaaaall the paper you want; the one that comes after you won't need it.

Throw all that paper into the wc. Modern physics has demonstrated that it disintegrates in water.

Do not forget to carry a safety pin with you, to write on doors and walls the first stupid thought that comes to your mind. Another one, more stupid than you, will find it funny.

On everyday life:

If it rains and you have an umbrella, walk below roofs and balconies, God forbid your umbrella gets wet.

If you don't have an umbrella, and it starts raining, run like desperate, because once you reach the speed of sound, rain will no longer wet you.

If at a shop you don't find the garment you are looking for, don't be impatient: make the clerk show you all the garments. That way they will be kept nimble and alert at work.

Take a cup of coffee or a soda at a cafe, and never forget to tip 5 cents. The little coins are useful for the bus fare.

If you are calling from a public phone booth, and the number you are calling is busy, insist again and again. The ones waiting in line don't have anything else to do.

At home:

If you live on the top floor, don't forget, before taking the elevator, to call up all the other elevators, so that those who are below and want to go up have time, while they wait, to reflect on what they did during the day.

If, on the contrary, you live on the ground floor, do as well call the elevators, which will allow the neighbours living above you the extra time to plan their activities for the day.

Take the trash out whenever you want. You pay so many taxes that you have a right to expect there to be municipal employees ready to collect it at any time.

Saying "good morning", "excuse me", "I'm sorry", and "thank you" have gone out of fashion.

The windows were invented so that you can have a clean house without the disgrace of having to collect trash in smelly cans. Besides, it's very, very, very funny to throw heavy things from your window or balcony.

At the office:

Keep in mind that locks were created by a guy who resented society and wanted to create a test of ingenuity.

Everything is public property, even the belongings of the people working there. Did you forget to buy cigarrettes? No problem: there's always some other kind smoker to whom it is no extra cost to keep up your vice for eight or nine hours.

If you smoke, close the windows, so the rest can share on the smoke that your generous puffs produce.

Comments such as "you look terrible", "that looks hideous on you", "what an idiot you are" help to boost the self esteem of your subordinates.

It is valid and healthy to note to your female coworker that she has gotten fat.

Same applies to the male coworker that is balding.

Speak very loud, that's how people will listen to you, respect you, and even answer.

The person in charge of cleaning has a servant's mindset. Dirty things up thoroughly, so that they can enjoy cleaning your office and making it spotless.

[makeroomforthejolyghost]

so i used to have very ambivalent feelings about this post. glad other people had had this experience, but unsure i liked its implicit promise to other disabled people who're on the fence about trying mobility aids

because i had been exposed to this narrative before i got my first cane, and my experience was more... well, ambivalent. i felt like a wizard with a staff half the time, but the other half the time the cane made me feel (and i quote!) "like a booger on a bus seat."

(as in, like, the knowledge other people found me pathetic/gross/a nuisance and would rather not see me quickly became as or more powerful a sensation than my increased freedom. i learnt to take my new joys for granted sooner than i got used to the social burden.)

aaand also the cane didn't fully satisfy my mobility needs, so i kept seeking out different kinds of aids. seeking out, y'know, mainly just, more practical solutions to the problem of i want to go places and can't, but also definitely hoping to receive a confidence boost like i had with the cane except maybe even better

but instead my first wheelchair (...spoilers) and my rollator made me feel worse. so much worse! i noticed their inconveniences so much more than i noticed any marginal improvements to how i felt/what i could do. and they definitely did not give me a confidence boost. i did not discover my inner badass but got a lot more intimately familiar with my inner bus-seat booger

and i concluded this meant the cane was as good as it would ever get for me. if you notice the nuisance of a mobility aid more than you notice the benefit that means you don't need it, right? so if more Serious mobility aids made me feel caged rather than free then (i thought) i must not be Disabled Enough for them. the amount of extra freedom the cane granted me was the most i could possibly have

except uh.

then i got a powerchair.

how i talked myself into this is still kind of a mystery tbh so i'm afraid i can't at this time offer much advice for the convincing-yourself-to-try-it process. but. what i do know

is that i fantasized about getting one for years but told myself over and over that this was an unrealizable fantasy. and i made this assumption based not just on the nebulous concept of Internalized Ableism that plagues us all! but also on. the concrete, lizard-brain-implicating experience. of trying other mobility aids and fucking hating them. like: i believed that this fantasy i kept having (in which a powerchair would be super convenient and make me feel amazing) was definitely a lie, and the truth was definitely that i would hate it just like i'd hated my manual wheelchair and my rollator.

and then i finally got one and it's uh. yeah it's exactly like the sentiment portrayed in OP's drawing and in the subsequent memes. not just the powerchair-specific one; like yeah i do get to go fast as hell now and it's so fun* but also. the inner-badass thing. the wizard with a magical staff. the amount of space that the people in these pictures happily command. the sense of being able to take on the world--as in, of being the equal of ableism/inaccessibility. turns out that's real.

obviously these things will vary tremendously from person to person. also, i've only had my new wheelchair for two weeks, and it's not unlikely that over time i'll get used to my new sense of power, and that the nuisances of cramped spaces and hard-to-open doors and strangers really needing me to smile back at them because they feel guilty for having noticed i exist, &c., will start wearing on me more.

but. my point is.

if you're choosing to try for the first time a kind of mobility aid that you hope will help you with your existing struggles. like it's not to help you cope with a new injury or a new more challenging environment, but to improve upon a situation that you dislike but are used to. and the new aid doesn't give you this new sense of freedom and joy and confidence

then 1. that may mean it's the wrong aid for you

but 2. it does not necessarily mean that mobility aids in general won't work for you, or that this kind of joy isn't a thing you will ever get to have.

and 3. it especially doesn't mean that how you feel and how well you function right now are as good as it can ever get.

if you want to keep looking then you should do that.

*and then i go out with other people or arrive at a shopping center with sharp turns and other patrons whose locations i can't predict and i have to slow way down and it's so tragic omg pour one out for me (/joke)

also it helps me walk or whatever

[ID: a digitally drawn two-panel comic. / Image 1: Text reads: “How I expected using a cane would feel:” Panel depicts a miserable person in tattered clothes, hunched over a cane and shaking as she walks. / Image 2: Text reads: “How it actually feels:” Panel depicts the same person, now standing tall and wearing flowing wizard robes and a long white beard. Her cane is at her side, glowing with magic, and she looks confident and powerful. /End ID]