#and also just. this month has been so so stressful Jesus Christ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetcocopowder · 1 month ago

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Day Thirteen: Stress Relief

Synopsis: Three and a half months of non-stop jobs back to back and Dean can feel the tension residing in his muscles. In every fiber of his being. Spa days don't work. A casual beer doesn't help to rid of this feeling. He needs someone to fuck the tension away. And he has his angel to do so.

Word Count: 3.3K

Pairing: Castiel / Dean Winchester

Warnings: Multiple orgasms. Oversensitive. Massages. Cum as lube. But also lube is used as well. Handcuffed. Anal sex. Masturbation. Hand job.

Note: Jesus christ we're already this far into october. where did the first two weeks go?

The angel blinks, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. He stares at Dean for a tad too long that the man groans with a hand swiping down his face. Embarrassment sinks heavily into his gut, causing Dean to advert his gaze down to the floor.

“Dean,” Castiel speaks firmly, “I’m not protesting,” he admits.

The hunter sits on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the blanket. He’s asked for similar stuff in the past, but this. This concerns Castiel more than it does anything else.

“I just wished you had told me before how stressed you were,” the angel admits. “Have you tried a spa day?”

“You know those don’t work!” Dean snaps. “They work for a day, but I wake up still feeling tense as ever!”

Cas just wishes he had noticed sooner. Or that Dean had spoken out sooner. Him and his brother have had job after job after job for the past three month and a half with little to no breaks in between. Yes, Dean has been doing this his entire life, but he’s admitted to Cas that he doesn’t go out to bars at all these days. No time to or he just doesn’t see the need to.

Dean’s a complicated man hence why the angel doesn’t care when the hunter goes out late at night. Or hooks up with someone on the side. He would hate to put a claim on a human soul. He’s been owned in the past himself and it sends a shiver down his spine. Uriel’s touch still lingers in some spots if he thinks about it too much.

But with moments like these that Dean does come to him, allows himself to move past his father’s words that spin around his mind that linger like an early morning fogs, Cas takes what he’s given. And he’ll gladly, in Dean’s words, fuck all the tension from him.

A firm hand pushes Dean back onto the bed with a thump. The tension in Dean’s room quickly melts away as fast as it came. The angel looks down to Dean through hooded lids, his blue gaze like steel. The usual colour is so much darker in the shadows of the room that it sends a chill down the hunter’s spine. He doesn’t move from the bed, staring up at the angel as he breathes evenly.

“Take your clothes off.”

The angel’s gruff spoken words cause a physical reaction from Dean. A shiver and a slight flinch of his hands, as if he was anticipating the order. He eagerly takes his flannel and shirt off, all without sitting back up off the bed. While Dean shuffles his pants off, Cas wonders over to his bedside table where he knows lube is stashed.

When Cas turns, Dean is stark naked on the bed. The fresh and yellowing bruises across his torso are hard to miss. There’s a dark purple circle on his ribcage that looks painful. Cas will have to heal that later.

Dean lazily strokes at himself, his head lolled to the side so that he can watch the angel. Cas smiles softly before it disappears. It truly hurts him to see Dean so battered up and bruised.

Cas asks a question as he comes back over to the bed. “How long as it been since someone else has touched you?”

Dean swallows thickly as his green eyes don’t dare drag away from the angel before him. He doesn’t answer, instead watching as Cas shuffles off his trench coat and taking off his tie. He doesn’t stop stroking himself and doesn’t quicken the pace. And the angel doesn’t seem phased at all. He even sits next to Dean on the edge of the bed, his clothes brushing up against his bare thigh.

“Hmm?” Cas hums.

“Around three months,” Dean finally answers.

A single dark brown is raised in Dean’s direction. “So, before you went on the first job?”

“Ye- nah!”

Dean pants out unexpectedly as a small dollop of lube is squeezed out onto the head of his dick. The cold contrast has him hissing but it’s quick to warm up on his hand.

“Don’t stop,” Cas says firmly, his voice blunt. “Keep going for me.”

In the past, Dean was a little taken a back by how pretty much the same the angel was in bed to his usual demeanour. Blunt, to the point and sort of a control freak. He doesn’t know what he expected despite his whole outlook on military men, big softies behind closed doors. Big on control outside of the bedroom but once with someone else, they just melt. They become as docile as a dog. Taking orders and obeying them without question. It’s just taken Dean a little too long to realize that that trope is best fit for him.

Not the angel that watches him idly with those blue eyes that are always so striking. Giving him a simple task so that he doesn’t think of the past couple of months.

“You should have let me come with you on your last job,” Cas admits.

“Too dangerous.”

Even hearing those words come form his own mouth, Dean knows they’re a lie. And by the furrowed brows that quickly turn his way tell him the angel didn’t buy it either. Not with his dick in hand.

“Too dangerous? Or didn’t want me in the way?”

Dean swallows thickly. This isn’t what he asked for. He didn’t want to think of the constant shit that he’s been through. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped stroking himself until Cas’s eyes venture down that way.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks.

“Look,” Dean starts. “I didn’t want you with bec- ah- AH!”

For the second time tonight, Dean is cut off by Cas. The angel wraps a firm hand around his dick and begins a quick pace. He smears his lube covered palm on the head of Dean’s cock before sliding it down the underside, to grip it firmly as he jerks back up and he repeats the notion multiple times.

Both of Dean’s hands fist into the blankets as he slams his head into the bed. His hips jerk upwards and it’s very hard to contain himself when Cas knows how to work him. He squeezes his eyes shut as his soft pants become erratic. There’s so much tension in his body that it doesn’t take long at all for him to tip over the edge.

He comes unexpectedly and he shakes violently as Cas continues to stroke his cock, pumping everything out of him. He smears Dean’s cum onto his dick, making a mess out of the hunter. Dean looks through bleary eyes, swallowing thickly as he tries to collect some air in his lungs again.

“Cas I-“ He swallows again, trying to find his words, “I need more. Don’t stop.”

At that, a small smile creeps upon the angel’s face. As if ecstatic to keep going. That Dean is asking him.

Cas’s filthy hand venture down past Dean’s balls to his ass. The hunter’s breath hitches as a single finger slides in with a little friction. It has been a while since he’s done this with anyone that each by pass of the angel’s touch is like electricity. He’s still coming down from his orgasm, but he shuffles his legs further apart as Cas strokes slowly, thrusting in and out and making sure that the pad of his finger curls into that delicate spot every time. The hunter shivers, his breath hitching at every prod at his prostate. He knows Dean. Inside and out.

After a while of teasing, a second is added and a third not too long after that. Dean digs his palms into his face as he arches his back off the bed. He tries to control the noises that unwantingly come from his throat, but he can’t stop himself. But it isn’t enough. It isn’t scratching that itch for him and it’s going to drive him nuts if Cas doesn’t fuck him right this instant.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean groans into his hands.

At that, a deep chuckle comes from the angel that had Dean’s heart beating all the faster. The fingers leave him but they venture up and give his balls a gentle squeeze. Dean grinds his teeth as he groans, exhaling shakily. The bed moves as Cas stands, his warm touch leaving the hunter. Bringing his hands away from his face, he gets a full view of the angel’s naked back.

His face heats up quickly. He feels like some school girl that hasn’t ever seen a boy naked before. But wouldn’t that be true? Dean ever rarely gets to see the tanned skin hiding under all those fancy layers the angel wears. He feels his mouth go dry as the belt and the pants are the next to be removed. Dean lets his eyes roam to every toned muscle the angel is letting him look upon. The almost, angelic moment doesn’t last long as Cas loops his belt once on itself and Dean is quick to realize what’s going to happen next.

“Hold out your hands.”

Dean complies silently to Cas’s gruff words. He holds his hands out together so that the angel can easily loop his belt around his wrists. He tightens it as tight as it can go, knowing damn well that Dean will twist out of them if he wants to. Once done, he pushes his wrists above his head so that Dean’s body lay outstretched before him. A beautiful sight.

Cas can’t resist to let his hands roam down Dean’s scarred chest. His thumbs dig into his pecs, feeling just how tense they are. He kneads and earns himself painful hisses from the hunter below him as he runs his knuckles into the muscle. But Dean doesn’t stop him. He becomes breathless as Cas moves down to his torso, doing the same that he did to his pecs. Massaging and driving his knuckles and fingers into tense muscle, easing out the knots that are bundled up. He avoids the dark bruise on his ribs, not wanting to harm Dean any more than he’s been put through. Cas would hate to feel his back.

The angel is well aware that he could heal Dean’s muscles. Heal everything so that the hunter feels brand new. Refreshed. But it’s the process that Dean needs. The hours out of his day to let someone touch him. Feel the warmth of someone else’s tender touch caressing away the tension that resides in his fibre. That seeps into his bones. He needs someone to grind it away until he’s nothing but dust.

The angel moves down to his thighs and does the same. Dean shakes and groans, throwing his head back into the bed. He clenches and unclenches his fists where they sit as Cas’s knuckles run down his inner thigh. He tries to shake the angel off by just how unbearable it is to dig a knot out, but Cas holds him with an iron grip. He trembles, but doesn’t dare kick the angel away. It hurts, it hurts so bad when Cas drags his thumb over a certain spot but it feels so good.

“I really should have come with you,” Cas comments.

“It’s fine.”

Only by sheer force is Dean able to grit words out through grinded teeth. He knows damn well he should’ve brought Cas along for the ride on the most recent one. It would have made things go a lot smoother and a damn lot less stressful when his little brother is being hanged upside down by his foot with five witches poking at him with sticks. It was a mess. The entire job was a mess, and it had left Dean drained. He just really hopes that Sam doesn’t come looking for him because he really needs this. By God, does he need this.

After Cas deems the second leg done, it’s only then that he touches Dean’s soft cock. The hunter hisses, jerking away at how sensitive he is but all in the same thought, he wants Cas to touch him harder, firmer. And the angel does just that. He jerks Dean’s messy cock to full attention again before he touches his own. He wipes Dean’s cum and the lube over his cock and by God, the hunter can’t look away. He’s never been one to let things get messy but right now it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Cas drizzles a little more lube on Dean’s puckered hole before resting the head of his cock against it. He isn’t gentle when he pushes in, not like he was with all that massaging crap before. He pushes almost half of his cock in before pulling out slowly to only sink further in the second time round. Dean shakes and whines as Cas is quick to bottom out inside of him. Balls flush to his ass and all six inches inside, Dean feels every bit.

He pants in time to Cas’s thrusts, quickly finding pleasure in the abuse that the angel is giving him. But it’s what he wanted. What he asked of the angel beforehand. It’s what caused the five-hundred-mile stare from said angel and nearly caused him to fall into cardiac arrest.

He pants loudly, keeping his hands above his head as Cas had silently requested. He really hopes that Sam isn’t on this side of the bunker because the noises that are coming from him are borderline whore-ish. Trembling with each thrust, Cas brings Dean’s hips back to his with a firm grip on his waist. The wet clap is overpowered by Dean’s breathless moans that have a shiver running down the angel’s back.

Deam brings his cuffed hands in front of him suddenly, to try and curl in on himself as he nears another orgasm. But a hand is quick to grab at the belt to pull Dean’s arms up over his head, startling him a bit. Cas doesn’t stop his brutal pace, pulling and pushing a thigh so that Dean’s knee is nearly touching his chest. The new angle has the hunter grunting and panting with each thrust, his eyes squeezed shut as he teeters at the edge of his second orgasm. He can already tell that this one is going to be painful.

It’s Cas leaning down and engulfing his lips in a wet kiss that has him coming for the second time that night. He gasps into the kiss and the angel delves in deeper, his tongue venturing into Dean’s mouth. He shakes and trembles in Cas’s touch, every nerve feeling like it’s on fire. He wraps his legs around the angel’s waist to hold him closer to him. He continues to keep a slowly, shallow pace that drives Dean insane. His brain feels like mush but… it’s still not enough.

Dean kisses back breathlessly, trying to capture air back into his lungs. He hooks a foot into the front of Cas’s waist after two failed attempts, his limps feeling like jelly. He pushes Cas away and the angel is easy to do so with no protest. He looks down at Dean with furrowed brows. He expects the hunter to call it quits. Enough is enough for tonight. But Dean flips himself over, face in the bedding with his cuffed hands above his head and his ass in the air.

“Don’t stop,” Dean’s voice comes muffled from the blanket. “I just- Cas, I need you to keep-“ He exhales shakily, still coming down from his second high.

Cas reaches out and massages Dean’s right cheek. The hunter flinches, groaning into the bed.

“I’ll keep going until you ask me to stop,” Cas says as his hands venture up and down Dean’s back. He does the same as he did with the hunter’s front, massaging and digging his knuckles into the knotted muscle. He does this until Dean is breathing heavily into the bed, body shaking with every touch. The angel can’t see, but there’s tears dampening the sheets under the hunter’s face.

The angel re-enters Dean slowly as he continues massaging the hunter’s scarred body. He’s slow and gentle, keeping his pace even as he does so.

A while goes by before Dean orders him to pick up the pace, his voice muffled in the blankets. He drags his hands underneath him, the blood circulation being cut off with how he was angled. He shudders a breath as Cas does as he’s asked, holding onto Dean’s waist as he fucks into him harder. A groan is punched out of Dean with each thrust that’s muffled by the blankets. He becomes a limp mess, the only thing holding him up being Cas’s tight hold on him.

He shakes and moans, panting and whining with each sensitive and painful thrust from Cas. It hurts. Everything burns from being used for far too long. But he just needs a little more. He doesn’t need another orgasm. He doesn’t crave it. Just the act itself of the pain and pleasure, of being used, is enough to melt his brain. He needs all thoughts to be jumbled. He doesn’t want to think.

The angel suddenly tremors, his breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts in deeply. He comes silently, the only noise being the heavy panting and breathing coming from the angel. Dean groans as Cas fucks himself through his own orgasm, using his own cum to ease the burning friction. He doesn’t stop, despite feeling Dean shaking beneath him.

Dean turns his head so that he can peer at Cas from the corner of his eye. His head is bowed, hair falling over his forehead as he concentrates on Dean. And only Dean. The hunter grinds his teeth at the thought, burying his face into the bedding once more.

He lets Cas use him until Dean can’t take it anymore. Until everything burns and until a third, dry orgasm is ripped from Dean that shakes his body. Everything becomes too much. His cock hurts and each movement from Cas is like sand paper.

“St- nah, stop.”

Dean voice is all but a whisper, but Cas hears it all the same. The angel stops instantly, letting Dean fall onto the bed with a shaky exhale coming from the hunter.

Cas is quick to reach under Dean and unbuckle his belt from his wrists, throwing it aside without a second thought. He flips Dean onto his side gently, looking the hunter over with thin lips. Bleary, hazy green eyes stare back at him before a cocky grin comes across his face. It’s faint, but it’s there. One that has Cas returning.

“Would you like me to heal you?” Cas asks softly, his voice still gruff and deep.

Dean swallows thickly, licking his dry lips. “Lemme just lay here for a bit.”

Cas nods before wandering off. Dean closes his eyes shut, concentrating on his breathing. He can’t think of anything. His body shakes and everything is oh so sensitive, but it’s probably the best he’s felt in months. He doesn’t even think he can stand let alone sit up right now. Doesn’t even feel like he can raise an arm, nor does he even want to. He’s lost track of time and damn be if Sam has been looking for him. He just needs a good nap after this now. He feels like he could sleep for days.

The bed dips again and Dean hisses softly as a cold, damp face cloth begins to clean him up. He lets Cas do his thing, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at him. When he feels the angel leave the bed, a sudden strike of panic washes over him.

“Stay,” he all but mumbles out, or may as well whined by the way his own voice sounded in his ears.

The bed dips again and a calloused hand runs down over his side, ghosting over the purple bruise. “Are you sure?”

Dean’s features furrow deeply. He reaches out blindly and grabs onto Cas’s knee. “I said stay,” he grumbles out.

He hears the angel chuckle softly. “Okay.”

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marthawrites · 2 years ago

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Pretty Girl

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: There's been some weird stuff happening in the woods and your boss buys top of the line security cameras. You definitely weren't expecting to hit it off so well with the tech guy who is much more than a tech guy.

Includes: Meeting, first date, some drinking, explicit sexual content (fem receiving oral, p in v)

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is my first modern Aemond story. This idea has been rolling around my head for a good month or two. I wasn't expecting to go so deep, but the ideas kept coming and I ran with them! Reader is nondescript and implied to be 21+ due to alcohol consumption. As always, please enjoy! ♥

read pt 2 here

The bright chime of your text tone cut through the mellow voiced narrator of your current podcast obsession: supposed real life horror stories. Perhaps not the smartest thing to listen to while alone ten miles deep into the forest in the ranger's cabin. But, whatever. What's life without a little risk, anyway? Swiping your screen open revealed your boss' message.

Hey kid. Running late. That tech guy is scheduled to be there for the installation at 9:30. We had a minor family emergency here. Everything is fine. I'm working to head out within the hour. Text you when I'm on the road.

It was already 9 and you knew there wasn't a chance in hell Joey would be there by the time the install person showed up. Great. You ran a hand down your face and, since you were alone, didn't fight the groan that adamantly broke free. Customer service – this could be considered customer service, right? – was never your forte. There was a reason you went to school for forestry. Mostly so you wouldn't have to deal with customers on the regular. You texted back:

I'm glad everything is fine! But, if I end up ax murdered by this freak I'm going to haunt you forever. Also, you're to take care of Charles. He's very needy.

A minute later the chime broke the podcaster's voice again:

Oh please. They're a very respectable family. How is a fish needy? Don't they just need tap water?

You laughed out loud, reading the message in Joey's rumbling baritone.

That's right, boss. Tap water and cheerios!

When you didn't hear back from him within the next few minutes you could only assume he started driving.

You had a good twenty minutes to kill while waiting for this person and weren't quite sure how to spend your time. A cool early-spring rain poured all morning, and an angry late-winter wind sent the trees swaying all around. You weren't going out there if you didn't have to. In fact, you threw another log into the wood stove and brewed up a fresh pot of coffee. No reason to stress about trying to look busy when you knew your boss would be doing the same thing if he were here with you waiting.

Once the coffee was finished you fixed yourself a cup and sat by the fire, completely absorbed by the tale in your ear: friends camping with no one else around, being taunted by something. A truly unsettling tale regardless it it were paranormal, a druggie, or a stalker.

A knock on the front door nearly sent the remainder of your hot beverage spilling and your fingers visibly trembled as they touched your earbud to pause the story. Jesus Christ. Did the person arrive in a fucking spaceship? You didn't hear anything coming up the gravel road nor parking in the gravel lot. Taking a few deep breaths to settle your racing nerves, you stood and walked to the door. You cracked it open to the width of your head, just enough to see the person standing on the, thankfully, well covered porch. “Can I help you?”

“Hm. You don't look like a Joey Wagner,” the man on the porch mat said, a single pale brow arching.

Holy shit. He was really handsome. “No. He's my boss. I'm one of the forest rangers beneath him. What can I help you with?” You opened the door wider in an attempt to get a sight of whatever vehicle he showed up in. Despite not having much knowledge in cars, you knew that “T” anywhere. So, you were right: he might as well have shown up in a spaceship.

“I'm Aemond Targaryen. I'm here to install the Vhagar security system and cameras,” he paused and looked around, curious of the exterior of the ranger's lodge and surrounding woods. “I'm.. a... I'm a little surprised you want such a system here.”

“You and me both. Apparently it's your best one, right? I dunno what's been spooking Joey but whatever it is must be pretty weird. That thing's probably my entire yearly salary and then some,” you laughed dryly, gesturing to the briefcase he held. “I'm Y/N,” you added with a smile. “He's running late this morning, but told me you'd be here. I was expecting someone more, uhm...,” you tilted your head and closed one eye as if you were looking at him through a telescope. “Nerdy?” You mused aloud, nose scrunching with the somewhat embarrassing admission.

That sent a grin across his face. His chin tilted up as he regarded you down the long straight line of his nose. “I could say the same about you and forest rangers.”

Beneath your green and tan uniform your skin prickled. Something in you thrummed. This was bad news. Very bad news. When the hell was Joey going to be here? You tried to shake off the sensation his sweeping gaze gave you. He had a long paling scar over his the right side of his angular chiseled face, and there seemed to be something off about his right eye too. You didn't say anything about it and tried not to stare. “Anyway, wanna get started? It's warmer in here, I promise,” you gestured a thumb over your shoulder and swung the door wide so he might step inside.

“Yeah, thanks. It'll take awhile to get all finished. The rest of today and maybe half of tomorrow or so, too,” he admitted as he strode inside.

You whistled lowly at that – at his remark, not his backside – unaware it'd be such an ordeal. “That long?” His hair was long and beautiful in a way you didn't often see men wear their hair; so blonde it was a silvery-white. He had it pulled back in a simple ponytail. It hung a little loose and you couldn't help but wonder if he put it up in haste this morning. Aside from his Adidas shoes (which stuck out adorably, you thought to yourself), he wore all dark colors. Blacks, grays, and only the barest hints of white. Jacket, sweater, the neck of what you assumed was a t-shirt, and straight legged pants. Casually and mindfully layered.

Inside was much warmer, indeed. So much so that Aemond immediately took his jacket off. The simple gesture sent clean laundry and the faintest trace of cologne wafting your way; the fine muscles behind your ears flexed with the reveal. His sweater looked unbearably soft and you hated yourself for being so drawn to a man you literally just met three minutes ago. He was unfairly good-looking, yeah, but what if he was a jerk too because of it? "You weren't lying," he said, giving you a glance from his left side. "It's cozy. Is it just you here?"

You gestured him to follow you through the place. "For now, yeah. Here's the security room. Everything's open and unlocked so you should be able to do whatever you need to. Joey will be here eventually." The room was a little cramped with multiple monitors, desks, cabinets, and general clutter; papers, writing things, wrappers, cups, the like. "Oh shit. Sorry sorry. I should have cleaned it up. I didn't realize the boss left it such a mess," heat rose in your cheeks as you rolled your eyes, annoyed.

"I'm not worried," he replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by the mess. Taking advantage of a clean space you just cleaned, he placed the briefcase atop it and opened it up. With your back to him he found himself giving you another glance or two, grinning privately. How could someone make that uniform look so good?

"Care for coffee or water?" You asked, all the counter space now clear of clutter. Various wrappers crinkled in your pockets and you held four empty cups between both hands.

"Coffee, please. Black," he answered.

You pushed the door further open with the help of your foot and butt, leaving Aemond alone to get started on the lengthy process. Once in the kitchen you gave yourself a few extra minutes to collect yourself. Frankly, you felt half-silly for being so enamored by this tall, lithe, long haired stranger. He probably had a girlfriend back home!

"Here you are," you said upon returning, placing a mug down for him.

"Thank you," he said, turning his gaze up to you appreciatively. "Do you ever see weird things on these in the middle of the night?"

Instead of sitting down you opted to stand with one hand on your hip and the other flat atop the desk. You leaned against the edge and turned your head to look over the various monitors in an attempt to not stare at him. "Sometimes," you answered honestly, weighing how much you wanted to divulge. "Lights with no apparent light source are a more common occurance. Sick animals can look extremely strange," you paused and chuckled nervously. "Of course, there's always random homeless people, vagabonds, and even drunk or drugged out people." From your peripheral you realized he hadn't taken his eyes off you and it sent a shudder of embarrassment down your back. Did you have something on your face? "What?" You asked, turning your attention to him, then, breath catching in your throat.

It was his turn for color to creep in his cheeks. "Ugh. I was staring, huh? Sorry. You're just, uh... really pretty," he said, caught and guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was expecting a Joey to match that deep voice on the phone. Not like a Dawson's Creek Joey."

Before you had a chance to reply the front door swung open and the booming voice of the actual Joey called, "hey, hey, so sorry to be late! Damn dog killed another squirrel and my youngest was the one to find it. Poor thing nearly had a panic attack."

"Oh damn. Sorry to hear that, boss," you hollered back, cringing.

"Hard lessons for kids to learn," he said, appearing in the doorway sipping on his own cup. He was a big man and easily took up the whole width of it, and the chair he sat upon groaned beneath his weight. "Enough of that though! If it isn't Aemond Targaryen of Dragon Security! I was surprised as shit to hear it'd be you installing these. Don't you normally have grunts to do this work?"

Aemond chuffed and shook the older man's massive hand. "Usually, yeah. My dad's fixing to retire soon and my older brother doesn't want to take up the mantle. So here I am doing boots-on-the-ground training to get a feel of things before taking his place."

"Good boy! You'll be the youngest wealthiest mother fucker around!" He belly laughed and clapped his free hand atop Aemond's. "Now! Walk me through this. This ain't no joke. There's been some wild shit going on and I intend to catch whatever it is. If I get famous I'll be sure to mention you too, boy," he drank half his coffee in a single chug and put his game face on.

"I've got rounds to make. I'll check on you guys in a couple hours," you said with a grin. You lingered on Aemond a moment longer. When you caught his gaze you give him a little look, letting him know you heard him and thought similairly. At least, you hoped that's what you silently communicated.

You never believed in love at first sight. But, lust at first sight? Maybe that's what burned low in your belly.

Through the single window he watched you jump into one of the ranger's newer model orange jeeps. A perfect ride for out here, he thought, distracted as you backed the wrangler out and drove away – a stark difference to his Tesla.

Your rounds took much longer than originally anticipated and you didn't return until nearly 5 o'clock. Thankfully, the turn of seasons was happening and it was still light outside. Pulling in to park you were surprised to see Aemond's car still in the same spot. It seemed the day was longer than anticipated all around! With the assistance of your visor mirror you took your hair down and ran your fingers through it, glad to finally let it fall free after a day's work. Joey was still here too, and you wanted to at least say bye to him before leaving for the night. You hopped out and started making your way in that direction.

"I'm right here, don't let me startle you," the unfamiliar voice of Aemond called from the tree line. Thank God he said something because he would have startled you out there.

You let out a half strangled laugh. "Thanks for the heads up. But, what are you doing?" You asked, curious steps walking in his direction. He was on a ladder about halfway up a tree. Each time he reached up the hem of his shirt lifted to flash a peek of the pale skin of his lean abdomen and slender hips. Damnit. He must have ditched his sweater sometime ago for he only wore his plain white t-shirt now.

"Just finishing getting the cameras up. Twenty-four in total across the nearest five miles or so," he replied with a final click. "There." Despite the chilly temperature sweat still glistened on his face and neck. He tipped his head down and rolled his bicep up at the same time, using the arm of his tee to wipe his brow. As he came down the ladder you saw his ponytail was replaced by a sloppy bun instead. Loose strands stuck to the dampness of his skin, and some of the more wispy fly-aways stuck out at varying directions. If you thought him handsome before, he, somehow, was even more so now.

"Joey made you do that all by yourself!?" Five miles of carrying ladders and equipment? You wanted to smack your boss.

He shook his head as he landed on both feet, momentarily breathless. "No. We've been together until just, oh, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Wife called him," he gestured to the lodge.

"Oh. Good! I was gonna kick his ass." Secondhand tiredness crept into your bones. "I'm gonna go say bye before heading out. Need help with anything?"

He shook his head for a second time. "I don't think so. Mostly just want to get back to the hotel and shower. I feel disgusting." Lifting up the neckline of his shirt he used it to wipe his face dry, thankful to finally be on the ground to do so without fear of falling off. "And I am starving. What's the best place to eat around here?"

Was he fishing or were you wishing? "There's a really good sandwich place just as you're getting into town. That's where I'm stopping to get dinner anyway," you smiled, belly rumbling loudly in answer.

He sighed contentedly at the idea. "I'll be hitting it up, thanks. If I didn't have to stay and finish a few things I'd ask to meet you there, but...," he paused, eyeing your reaction. You didn't say anything, yet he must have caught the excited glimmer in your eyes. "Maybe next time."

You smiled and unintentionally fluffed your hair up from the roots, hip propped out with your casual stance. "Sounds fun. Good night, Aemond. Drive safe," you said before turning and walking with a little too much purpose to the lodge, gravel crunching beneath your heavy work boots.

"Hey, Y/N," he called after you after a moment, long strides closing the distance between you. When you stopped and let him catch up, he asked, "can I get your number? So I can warn you when I'm here tomorrow. You looked a little scared this morning. Don't wanna do that again." His features remained neutral. His eyes (eye? that one seemed almost completely unresponsive and you weren't sure if it was even real), however, sparked with a mischief that sent your stomach flipping. Obviously you barely knew the guy, but you swore his voice dropped a little lower with the new closeness.

You exhaled. "I was that obvious? Dang. I was hoping I played it off more cool," you tsked yourself beneath your breath, pulling your phone from its pocket. He did the same and you both swiped them open to exchange numbers. His thumb tapped a few times on the screen and your phone dinged. 'Aemond' appeared at the top and a single dragon emoji was the only thing his text read. Despite yourself, you smirked.

"See you in the morning, ranger girl."

The next morning you found yourself fixing another fire and pot of coffee, peacefully idle and waiting for the others to arrive. Your phone chimed. It was a message and photo from Aemond.

Hope you're hungry. The girls at your fave sandwich place knew your order. On my way now.

Attached was a photo of a paper food bag seat belted into his passenger seat. Something more than excitement rose in your belly and you actually giggled. Handsome and sweet? No way he was single.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived with a soft knock. "You didn't have to get me breakfast. Way too kind of you, honestly."

He squinted and smirked softly. "Good morning to you as well." He stepped inside and closed the door behind, happy to be where it was warm. "It really wasn't a bother. Gives me an excuse to spend a little more time with you," he winked.

"Were your ears tingling last night? I only thought about texting you fifty times, at least," you admitted, flirting back.

"Should have. Hotels by yourself are terribly boring."

You two ate fully loaded breakfast sandwiches and you were more than a little surprised he ate all of his. Those things were huge! Before any time at all passed, it was already noon and you and Aemond had chatted the morning away in the security room. Everything seemed to be working well. He'd done a fantastic job at setting the cameras up yesterday and Joey beamed in excitement.

"I need to do my rounds before I don't. Catch you both later," you said reluctantly.

Just as you were stepping out of the room, Aemond called after you, "hey Y/N! Before you go..." His face spelled mischief. You arched a brow at him, waiting. "About Lord of the Rings and Frodo's journey...," – your conversation a few tangents ago – "why didn't Gandalf just call the eagles for them to fly to Mordor? Seems like that would have been a lot faster and smarter."

You were dumbfounded. "Excuse me?" You asked, fluttering a series of blasphemous blinks at him. "Seriously Aemond? And here I thought we were vibing. We're not friends anymore." You slammed the door but not before flipping him off. With both middle fingers. In the hallway you snorted and laughed in disbelief.

The door did little to block Aemond and Joey's uproar of laughter.

Handsome, sweet, and a jerk in good humor? How dare him!

The next day you didn't hear from Aemond, and you weren't going to lie to yourself: it kind of sucked. Despite knowing him for so brief a time, you missed him!

Thankfully, it was time for your weekend though. It was full dark by now and you were worn out from the week. You quickly changed into pajamas and flopped on your bed to find something to watch. Settling on reruns of one of your favorite shows, you found yourself staring at the black screen of your phone. Should you text him? As if your thoughts had traveled miles away right into Aemond's brain, it chimed with his message.

Hey ranger girl. I wanted to swing by the lodge today but wasn't able to. I'm in town for a few more days and was wondering if I could take you out to dinner before I go?

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. You texted back embarrassingly fast.

Only if you swear to never talk bad about LotR again.

Pinky promise. Tonight?

You looked down at yourself and snorted.

Definitely not, sorry. Tomorrow?

Yes. God I can't wait to see you out of that dorky uniform.

You had nothing appropriate to say and left him on read, lest you say something humiliating you'd regret.

The following evening was a clear cool night and you were glad you wore pants instead of a dress, and a leather jacket instead of a cardigan. Part of you was sad to leave the toasty confines of your 4-Runner, but it quickly dissolved once you saw Aemond standing outside the bar and grill restaurant talking to someone on his phone. He wore an elevated version of the outfit you originally met him in. What caught you off-guard, however, was his hair. Those long silvery-white tresses were pulled back into an intricate braid and you couldn't help but gawk. He looked devastatingly handsome. You saw him notice you, and butterflies turned in your belly at the heat and weight of his gaze.

"A leather jack and red lipstick? How did you know that was my favorite?" he asked as you hopped up next to him, twirling playfully for his attention. "Shit, you're lovely. I'm so glad you said yes to this."

You smiled at him, pretty white teeth beaming as you tired to reel your excitement in. "So are you. I'm going to have to sit on your lap so no other girls think you're free for the taking," you half cooed, black lashes giving your eyes an opened appearance that only elevated your playfulness.

He hummed and gave you a long look, tilting his head in direction of the entrance. "You'll get no argument." He reached out and you took his hand, suddenly bashful as his long fingers laced between yours. His palm was very warm; thoughts and images filled your mind of those hands all across your bare skin. The natural bow of his mouth lifted in a little smirk.

The restaurant was fairly busy tonight: you were lucky to snag a booth by the window. You both ordered a drink and agreed to skip the appetizer to instead indulge on something from their dessert menu. Him, an old fashioned bourbon, and you, a gin with pomegranate liqueur and lemon juice. Conversation flowed easily while you waited, the ambiance of the restaurant absorbing both of you in with ease.

With the help of a little liquid courage, you found yourself asking a question that'd been on your mind since first meeting. "I gotta ask," you started, looking over the scarred half of his face curiously. "What happened?" You gestured over your own face letting him know what you meant.

He briefly bit at his bottom lip. "Childhood accident," he answered with a sigh. "It was pretty brutal, actually," he added with a dry half-laugh. "One of my nephews got me with a knife. We were wild boys. Them moreso than me, but still, wild like boys can get. I ended up loosing my right eye and opted to get a prosthetic one instead of having an empty socket."

You gasped, truly in shock, and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Oh my God, Aemond. That's horrible."

He wasn't hot or sweaty, but your skin was delightfully cooler than his and he got more comfort out of it than you realized. "It was. The scar actually looks much better now than in the past. I've learned to live with it well enough. Driving is sometimes a struggle because of it, though. That was a big learning curve."

The waiter came back for your food order. Aemond chose the pork tenderloin with apricot almond chutney, herb roasted potatoes, and broccoli, and you chose the crusted ahi with cucumber, bell pepper, and red onion salad topped with a ginger soy vinaigrette – with no onion. Red onions, raw or cooked, destroyed your palette.

Both of your drinks were nearly gone by then; you couldn't speak for Aemond, but you were definitely feeling looser. Not drunk by any means, but a warm buzz that blushed your cheeks, hooded your eyes, and made your smile all the easier. "So, Aemond Targaryen of Dragon Security, what else do you do in and outside of your work?"

"You looking like that across from me is making focus very difficult," he replied, idly trailing the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass. He leaned back and flashed you a little smirk, the lovely color of his eye seeming to shrink. "It's a family business. We make high quality security cameras. My brother's invention, the Sunfyre system, specializes in daytime monitoring, and my sister's invention, the Dreamfyre system, specializes in nighttime monitoring." He sipped at his drink, wetting his lips with the smooth, fragrant liquor. "And mine, the Vhagar system, takes and elevates both. The beefest and strongest system by far. So, whatever your boss wants to find in those woods, he'll have the absolute best chance with what I set up for him."

You listened, genuinely interested, and did your very best to focus on his words and not the he sat across from you. "Honestly that's an entirely different world than anything I know," you shook your head amusedly. "Gross rich people stuff."

You continued talking about it until your meal came. It looked and smelled divine. "I'll check on you again shortly," the waiter said with a wide handsome smile.

Sticking out like a sore thumb was a pile of red onions atop your salad. All it took was a single glance between you and Aemond for him to know you wouldn't mention anything about it to the waiter – instead choosing to pluck them off your plate and try to enjoy your dinner regardless.

He wasn't about to let that happen. "She asked for no onions," Aemond said flatly up to the other man, one of his pale brows arching up in silent judgment.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Let me have them remake it for you," the waiter said apologetically, disappearing with the plate quicker than you could say it's okay.

You wanted to sink down into the booth and disappear. Before you could stop giggling, and before Aemond could wipe the smug expression off his face, your new plate arrived. As well as a refill of your drinks.

"Her entree and both beverages are on the house tonight," the waiter said brightly as he placed everything down. You reached for the drink and sipped appreciatively.

"Just a refill for the lady, thank you. I'm driving," Aemond said with a hint of that same expression as before. That worked for the waiter and he was off again, busy with other tables. "Hey," he muttered to you, lower and softer than you've heard him before. He scooted closer to the window and patted the spot next to him. "Come sit by me, pretty girl."

An excited blush crept into your cheeks as you did so, and you leaned your knee against his beneath the table. His free arm draped across the back of the booth, engulfing you with the warmness of himself. You both ate and chatted, and you found out he travels far and wide. "French is my favorite language," you admitted blissfully. "So lovely to listen to. I can't speak it for the life of me, but listening to it?" You made an approving gesture with your hand.

"I don't quite have the accent down, but I'm fairly fluent in it...," he said, low and husky, as he tipped his head closer to yours. He whispered by your ear, and his breath fanning across your skin tickling your spine. "Je veux parler français entre tes cuisses."

A satisfied sigh escaped your lungs. You reveled in the way the natural rasp of his voice sounded with the language. "What did you say?"

"I want to speak french between your thighs."

A breath caught in your throat and you nearly choked on it. "Shut the fuck up. You did not just say that," you sputtered, immediately turning your head to meet his gaze.

He chuckled, palm trailing across your thigh beneath the table. "I did say that. And I do mean it."

"Aemond Targaryen...," you whispered in return, looking him square in the eye. You were pleasantly buzzed and the courage it gave you prompted your next movements. "Let's say we get out of here and you can show me that boring hotel room of yours." With a tilt of your head you slowly pressed your mouth to his, kissing him with the fire that began building in your core.

He hummed into the kiss and deepened the affection, holding the side of your neck with a need of his own. Pulling away, he quickly laid more than enough cash on the table, not bothering to wait for the tab.

The smear of your lipstick matched the faint stain of it on his own lips as he lead you out of the restaurant.

In the room, Aemond closed the door with a deliberate click and wasted little time in pushing you up against the nearest wall; your arms draped over his shoulders all the while, lips barely leaving each other. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted to do this since I first saw you at the lodge," he rasped against your mouth, kissing down your chin and throat with sloppy need. His hands were somehow all over you at once: waist, hips, ass, throat, everywhere.

You gasped, arching between him and the wall, shuddering in anticipation and excitement alike. "You should have," you murmured in reply, hands tugging off his jacket in near desperation. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw your hair in that stupid bun. I should have taken your clothes off to help you cool down right then and there," you teased in response.

A groan came from the back of his throat. "Je suis peut-être tombé amoureux," I might have fallen in love he rumbled with a smirk. You didn't know what he said but you also didn't care, because next thing you knew his teeth sunk into the slope of your neck and shoulder and you moaned. "Like being bitten?" He asked, doing it again in a slightly different spot.

"Yeah," you managed to gasp out, turning your head to entice him along. His laugh vibrated against your neck as he sucked the sensitive skin between his teeth, aiming to leave a mark. "Hey!" You gasped, giggling.

"Not gonna let you forget this, pretty girl." He tore your jacket off and threw it near his, already gripping the hem of your shirt. "Plan to make you feel it tomorrow," he added smugly, lifting your shirt off and tossing it aside. You wore one of your fun bras, lace and straps accenting the curve of your bust. "Oh, fuck, look at these beautiful tits," he groaned again, immediately bending to kiss and lick over your bare cleavage.

"You're a big talker. Are you sure you can follow through with all of that?" You questioned as if your skin wasn't already goosebumped, nipples weren't already pebbled with need, and the apex of your thighs wasn't already hot with the primal desire to be fucked and stuffed full.

He growled with your challenge, single eye looking down at you darkly. "That's the plan." In three motions he wrapped an arm around your waist, turned with you flush to him, and stepped to push you onto the bed. You landed heavily, thighs clenching as you watched him discard his shirt. He was long and lean like a swimmer, with a pale patch of hair at the center of his chest and trailing below his navel to disappear beneath his pants. A new wave of warmth pooled between your thighs and your pants felt much too tight.

"Stronger than you look too, Targaryen," you taunted, squeezing your thighs together. You looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes. Lust burned through your blood and you couldn't help the heave of your breasts.

Both his hands moved to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants to ease some of the pressure on his obvious arousal. He made no move to do anything else. "You're a big talker too." Kneeling at the edge of the bed he pulled you further down the mattress, calculating and amused. You helped him help you out of your pants, hips squirming so he could pull them down your legs. Carefully, he parted your legs and laughed a deep mocking sound. "I haven't even touched you and you're wet through your panties. So needy," he crooned, thumb barely grazing down the line of your covered slit.

You shivered, unaware and unable to bite back a whimper. "Aemond...," you gasped, the shocks his touch gave you sparking yet even more heat to pool inside you.

"And sensitive," he purred, watching your face as he continued to slowly trace along you; heavy eyed and smeared lipstick made you look all the more adorable. "Si amusant à manger. Embrasser. Lécher." So fun to eat. To kiss. To lick. He kissed the inside of your thighs in punctuation, the sounds of them sending embers up your spine. Wide hands trailed up and down your legs, over your belly, across your hips. He kissed your covered mound until the full length of your legs tightened.

"Take 'em off... move 'em to the side. Something," you panted, eyes already threatening to unfocus with the tantalizing teasing.

He had nothing to say, his mind just as clouded with lust as your own. Tugging the damp center of your panties to the side, he licked a long line up through your soaked, silky folds, groaning a hitched sound from the center of his throat.

You rolled up against him while your hands flew down to his head, fingers sinking through the smoothness of his intricate braid. Pleasure left your parted mouth.

A little moan of his own answered yours. Lick, suck, kiss. Over and over again with varying speeds and pressure, pulling more of those lovely sounds from your pretty mouth. The combination was nearly obscene; wet, lewd, eager. He carelessly pulled your panties full off and discarded them.

"Oh my God...," you drawled, gripping into his hair as he continued his delightful assault on every part of your pussy. Sucking your clit, sinking his tongue inside your saturated walls, licking over everything as if his own orgasm depended on it.

Stopping for only a moment, he reached up to the front of your bra and pulled the cups down to send your breasts spilling free. He palmed over them roughly, squeezing the soft flesh until you hissed between your teeth, body arching for his mouth's attention once more. He pinched at your nipples as his head dipped down again, hot tongue and handsome lips going right back to work.

"Yes... please, fuck! I'm so close!" Your core burned and tightened, and you were past caring if anyone in the neighboring rooms heard you.

"That's right... be a good girl and come so I can really fuck you," he hummed, delving right back in until you were trembling beneath him.

The intensity of your climax left your fingers tingling and toes curling as your thighs squeezed around his head. You were sure you'd rip some of his hair out, but the near desperate groan that left his throat told you he fucking loved it. He eased his actions on you but never truly stopped, increasing and lengthening the waves of your pleasure as you rode them out.

Once you were done, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, he finally stood and joined you on the bed. "Open the front pocket of my bag right there. Yeah, that one. Grab the condom for me," he said as he kissed over your jaw and neck, beginning to shift out of his own pants.

"I have an IUD. We're not using that bullshit," you replied cheekily, helping him out of his pants. He kicked them off and his briefs followed, and you instantly saw why he made sure you came first. Not only did he have a beautiful cock, but it was big.

"Fuck, babe, you're gonna let me come in your pretty pussy?" He asked, gripping your body to roll you onto your belly.

You moved with his prompts and nodded. "Yeah," you said and looked up at him from over your shoulder, shifting your legs to prop your ass up. It accentuated the natural curve of your spine and that sight alone would have gotten him hard.

With one hand he held onto the soft meat of your hip while the other held himself, lining up with your hot little cunt that was on full display for him. He inched in, drawing back once half of him had sunk into you, only to plunge into you all at once. "Shit...," he hissed, grip denting harshly into your flesh.

You fisted the sheets, whimpering at the absolute fullness of his cock buried in you. While nestled in you, he unclasped the back of your bra and helped you out of it, briefly lingering on the faint lines it left on your skin; an odd sort of intimacy making him appreciate the sight. "Take me," you whispered, breathless, belly slowly building up with a new coil of bliss.

Pulling his hips back, he snapped them forward against you. "Taking me so well, pretty girl," he praised. Using both hands, now, he propped you up into a better position, steadily rocking into you as he did so. The sounds that poured from your mouth were a mix of elation and lust, desire taking hold of all your senses as your body yielded to his intrusion. The way he slid in and out of you, the way your tight walls gripped around him, and the way the muffled whines that came from you each time he rammed into your deepest parts made him half insane. "Getting sooo messy, baby," his words were accented by his pelvis slamming against your upturned ass; sticky, squelching, skin on skin.

You were embarrassingly close again, eyes rolled closed. "Feels so good," you cooed from beneath, mind fully drunk on him.

"Yeah? Gonna fuck your pretty face into the mattress. Can't have you so loud that someone comes knocking," he said as he fisted into your hair, turning your head into the blankets and pillows that smelled like him. His pace grew faster, sloppier, and you knew he had to be close too. That deep sensitive spot inside you was being absolutely bullied; cockhead slammed against and past it, meeting your deepest wall, only to drag backwards along it, over and over.

"Aemond!" The mattress muffled your cry of pleasure and your second peak left you numb and weightless, mind totally blank save for the man who drove you there.

With a final push he drove into you with a guttural groan. The full length of him twitched inside your pulsating walls, coating your insides with his release. An obscene mixture of your creamy arousal and his seed oozed out from around him to dribble onto the bed. You both laughed in the aftershocks, static buzzing your brain as the lewd, heady scents of sex filled the air around you.

"Fuck, that felt good," he rasped, slowly pulling out of you and watching his cum leak from your core. "I'll get us a towel in a minute. I just need to catch my breath," he added with a lazy, glorious smile, laying flat on his back with momentary exhaustion.

You laid on your belly beside him, taking in the angles of his face and how they softened in his post-sex bliss. "No. Not yet. I'm not finished with you yet," you said slyly, pushing yourself up to flip a leg over his middle. You bent and kissed him, pushing your fingers through the damp hair from his hairline to his crown, braid no longer neat. Already half hard again, it didn't take long for him to catch his breath beneath you; fiery and refueled from your display of sensuality.

"What about you car?" He asked, biting the top of your shoulder.

"What about it? We can get it in the morning. I wanna ride this big cock."

There very well might have been some noise complaints from his room that night. Neither of you cared. Once you were both finally satisfied to the point of silliness, sleep came easy. When the morning came and he drove you back to the restaurant? You were mesmerized at how his features glowed golden with the cloudless sun.

"A 4-Runner? Lots more room in there than mine...," he teased and gave you a questioning look, testing the waters.

You hummed thoughtfully, returning his look. "Well, yeah. But, might need to put it to the test. Just to, you know, see which one is better."

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

Here is my masterlist

tag list: @melsunshine @iiamthehybrid @rottingviserys @arcielee @nina2697 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sahvlren @aemondsdaemons @obsidian-hearts @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragon @aemondmama @meggiemay82

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #fic

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bones-of-a-rabbit · 6 months ago

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status of babbit's life yeehaw

tl,dr: busy moving and a couple of other big life things that just complicate things, but well on the way to being back to normal! new fic chapters and better quality art coming soon.

tl,wr (too long, will read):

Helloooo what's up its me, Babbit. or Rabbit. or Bones. or Idiot Moron Menace Child, idk im not picky lol

i know a lot of you guys have been wondering wtf is up with my upload schedule lately and the extreme lack of even basic content and also i am extremely aware that i have not updated my fics in a few millennia and for that i am very, very sorry. this post is to answer a few questions you might have, if anyone was curious about the 'reason' instead of just the 'when.'

my family and i have had a hell of a year, y'all. like, jesus christ, i really hope things level out and calm down for a while once we're moved in to our new apartment bc god damn we are so tired. the list goes: 1. we got kicked out of the house we were renting-to-own bc we wouldn't be able to afford the new rate, so they gave us two months to find a new place to live (not long enough, it turns out) and then foreclosed to get us out. 75% of our belongings were still in the house when we had to leave. that includes all of our christmas ornaments- including the ones kept for decades, and the ones made by me and my siblings, and the fancy ones made from blown glass. 2. the first night out of the house, one of our dogs, freaked out by the strangeness of the situation, panicked and slipped her harness and ran off. that was over a year ago. we haven't seen her since. 3. my cat got very ill and became unable to eat. she passed away almost exactly a year ago. she had been 14-15, and had been my baby since i was maybe 8. 4. one of the tires on my dads car blew out. during the night, while it was parked on the curb so he could put the spare on in the morning, one of the in-tact tires was fucking stolen LMAO 5. we applied to rent at so many places and got rejected so, so many times. it costs money to apply, btw. we're talking like $200+. no, u don't get that money back. 6. i lost my job bc knowing i would have to work 8 hours at a job that stresses me out to the point of exhaustion (at a place where no one takes me seriously and would actively laugh at me when i try to express my need to step away for a minute) sometimes paralyzed me and made me sick to my stomach and made me feel unable to leave the house, and i called out one too many times. a day after my birthday, too! 7. just recently, like within the last week, my dad's car got fuckin totalled!!!!!

THE GOOD NEWS IS WE OFFICIALLY, FINALLY, AFTER A SOLID YEAR, HAVE AN APARTMENT!!!!! I'LL HAVE MY OWN ROOM AGAIN!!! THERE'S AN ENTIRE KITCHEN!!!!!!!

the 'oh god' news is we still have to move in, and replace a lot of the stuff that we just couldn't take with us when we moved out (mostly stuff like bookshelves, dining table, dressers, etc) AND get the few things we could cram into a storage center out and moved into the new place, which isn't a lot but at the same time is more than we can realistically handle on our own. and then, we have to get my mums cats (a pair of kitty sisters that we had to temporarily house with my aunt, who got tired of looking after them and let them outside to be outdoor cats a few months ago. yes, this was an extremely shitty thing to do, and we've been working hard to get them back safely) AND my gecko (who my cousin has been looking after, even tho feeding him worms freaks him out LMAO yes i plan on compensating him) moved in, as well... basically oh my god there is so much to worry about but at the same time it's nice to have to worry about it bc it means we're making progress sdkfhsjdkfhdsjfh

basically i am just so tired but so busy and also thinkin abt so much im so sorry for lack of stuff but i am so looking forward to being able to bounce back, pls stick with me, it'll be sorted out soon i think and then i'll hit y'all with some good stuff i promise!!!!!!!

anyway thank u guys i love u and appreciate u all for sticking around

#bones of a rabbit #rambles #life update #lore of a babbit #babbit lore #personal stuff #vent #rant #in case anyone was curious #long post #tldr #tw death #tw grief #tw pet death

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munchkinfox-the-deviant-fox · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on the Bros' Sexual Behaviors

I have been having some thoughts and I figured why not share them with the class! Also, please give me your thoughts as well! I like hearing from other people!

Ahoy, 18+ NSFW ahead.

Also, Jesus Christ, this got much longer than intended.

First off, I'm not going to get into their true demonic forms. I'm just going to focus talking about their mostly human forms, otherwise this post is going to be even longer and I might cry.

Secondly, I subscribe to the idea that demons go through heats/ruts. The frequency varies from each demon type/sub-type, but it can range from yearly to every 100 years or so (with their long lifespans, can you imagine having a heat/rut ever few months?!).

Third, I partake in the thought that the brothers do have sexual relations between each other. Not all of them, but it works for some of them. I don't think angels and demons have the same concern as humans do when it comes to "family" considering angels are created by God and there are a few different ways which demons can be made. Though, non of their relationships are romantic. Sexual and intimate, but not romantic.

So in case that wasn't clear enough... Content Warning: demoncest.

Lucifer

So my thoughts on Lucifer have changed quite a lot and I've kinda settled on the thought that he is definitely a Switch.

[In my world/story] Lucifer and Diavolo have an intimate, sexual, non-romantic (not yet at least huehehehe) relationship. There is a level of trust and respect there that Lucifer has not experienced since Michael, but look at how that relationship frayed and fell apart. It's because of that trust and respect that he can let go of his need for control, need to be perfect and fulfill that image of the Avatar of Pride, and instead just... be.

When Lucifer steps in a dominant role, control is absolutely necessary. Brats will not be tolerated. Knowing and witnessing his partner do as he says is both comforting and arousing, no matter what he puts his partner through.

Kinks & Fetishes:

+Sadism +Control +Orgasm Denial (giving) +Behavior Modification/Obedience Training (giving) +Crops & Whips +Sensory Deprivation (giving & receiving) +Slave/Master dynamic (specifically Lucifer as the Dom/Master) +Covert Bondage

Lucifer's flavor of sadism focuses on pain, as punishment and reward. Of directing his partner, to the point where his partner changes their behavior for him. That's where the behavior mod/obedience comes into play and it extends to his life outside the bedroom. Having absolute control of his partner and their lifestyle brings him the utmost pleasure.

Mammon

Mammon's and Lucifer's relationship is so interesting and my thoughts continue developing in my head about these two. Lucifer's punishments for his brother cater to each individual, but Mammon's punishment is unique. Like, who physically ties up their sibling and strings them up as a punishment for being a pain in the ass?

Mammon, one hundo percento, is a Sub. He really enjoys taking care of his partner on one end and fulfilling their needs, and on the other end being denied and humiliated.

Mammon, being the caregiver he is, recognizes the stress Lucifer deals with and that he adds to that at times. Lucifer would never share the burden of his responsibilities, so Mammon gives Lucifer an outlet when things start to bubble over. Their relationship doesn't always take on a sexual tone; more so Lucifer's release comes from giving punishment, and it just so turns out, it's not the worst thing in the world for Mammon.

Mammon has also, over the millennia, gotten himself a number of piercings (gold, of course). We're talking nipple piercings and a slew of dick piercings: Reverse Prince Albert, Ampallang, Dydoe, Frenum, a Deep Shaft piercing, and 3 Frenum ladder piercings along the underside (technically making it a Jacob's Ladder)

Kinks:

+Masochism +Humiliation/Degradation (receiving)+Bondage/Ropeplay +Nipple Play +Service +Edging & Orgasm Denial +Praise

Mammon's humiliation/degradation kink is also intricately tied to his praise kink. Unlike Levi's who thrives on being degraded verbally, Mammon's degradation is specifically tied to the physical aspect: being played with or put in embarrassing positions. I'll emphasize, verbal degradation is the biggest of no-nos. Instead tease this man about how much he's actually enjoying himself and praise him!

He loves to be made into a panting mess. Restrain him (he is such a rope bunny), tease him, work him up and then tell him he can't come until after you do, and your spirit will be exorcised from your body. It helps that Mammon also actively wants to take care of you first.

Leviathan

I have a hard time fleshing out thoughts of Leviathan due to having a more difficult time connecting with him than most of the other brothers (an issue I also have with Asmo), but I still have some thoughts. Personally, I headcanon Levi as being asexual. He's not sex repulsed (he is, I believe, a sex-positive asexual or even a Grey Ace), but he does have some anxiety around sex when it comes to other people. For him sex (masturbation) is an experience that's akin to him playing video games. When he's in an isolationist/depressive mood or when he's frustrated sex/masturbation is a feel-good stress relief. If he develops a relationship with someone that has enough trust and interest build up, well, having a Player 2 for that kind of game opens up a whole new level.

I am a big believer in double dick Levi. I actually headcanon that he has a human standard external penis and that his second one is actually internal and comes out when he's stimulated.

Levi doesn't so much care for power dynamics, more so, he needs a partner that is patient and can work through the anxieties he has. He will need praise and encouragement because every movement he makes he'll feel like he's doing something wrong. Hence, at least at the start of the relationship, Levi will need your guidance and you to take the lead.

But then again, that boy do love to be degraded.

Also: bioluminescent cum.

Kinks:

+Humiliation/Degradation (receiving)+Costumes/Dressing up +Role Play

Something that will help ease Leviathan into his own skin (ha, snake pun) is role playing. Together, talk about what kinda of scene you two want to set up, decide on roles, and watch this man flourish.

Satan

Satan is a dom.

Satan hasn't had many encounters or experiences due to some... unfortunate past situations. So to even broach this topic, Satan has to have an immense amount of trust built with you. He is so careful the first time you two are intimate, especially being human. He's also always eager to try new things, wanting new and different experiences.

Kinks:

+Brat Handler +Exhibitionism +Pet Play +Primal +Take Down and Capture +Chains

I could see Satan trying out interrogation play, taking on the role of the detective interrogating the criminal, though he might or might not enjoy the "torture" aspect of the scene.

Satan will thrive if his partner is a brat. He enjoys the challenge of trying to tame them and if his partner submits too easily, it is likely to kill the thrill.

The pet play ties in with chains and cages. He loves watching his pet whine and beg for him whether chained to the wall or kept restricted in their cage. Collars and leashes, and cute little plugs that have an enchantment on them that allows them to move the tail attached as if it were their own. And of course he has to show off how good his cute little pet is, how well they whine and beg for him, how well they take his cock. Look it how jealous they (Lucifer, because he has to flaunt his obedient pet to him) are of him being able to play with his precious pet.

Once Satan becomes comfortable with knowing he won't hurt his partner, then he will be able to fully lose himself in his partner. To fall mindlessly into his baser instincts and just fuck and breed and enjoy. If you feel comfortable with it, Satan would love to let you lose in the woods surrounding the house, him having to hunt you down before he can have you.

Asmodeus

As I mentioned, I struggle with Asmo and fleshing him out as a more in-depth character, but even still I have some thoughts.

Asmo I think always takes a dominant role with sex, though he can jump between top and bottom on a whim. His preferences are flighty in the moment and so he can't rely on his partner to always keep on top of his moment-to-moment needs. Which isn't a bad thing: Asmo knows what he wants and he enjoys taking it. Though, Asmo and consent are a whole ass other topic I won't get into in this post.

A lot of fans of Asmo really downplay or just completely forgo Asmo's notoriety for being a narcissist, and again, that is totally fine! But speaking for myself as someone who really enjoys working and playing with the moral and ethical differences between human and demon society and the WHOLE slew of shit that comes with, I salivate at the opportunity that comes with exploring Asmo's narcissism. The depth and potential for character growth!!!

Kinks:

+Bimbofication (to partner)+Cuckolding (enjoys basking in the display that someone else's partner prefers him)+Exhibition & Voyeurism (anything that includes people watching and adoring him) +Needle Play +Objectification +Praise

Asmo really loves pushing the boundaries of his partner(s) and definitely has a bimbofication kink. He derives so much satisfaction and pleasure seeing how he has brought so much pleasure to his partner(s) that they are pretty much nonfunctional and can't rub 2 brain cells together.

Asmo thoroughly enjoys cuckolding (consensual or not). Having someone watch as he pleasures their partner better than they ever could, that their partner wants him more than them... It pretty much comes to there extent where Asmo can be considered a Zelophile: someone who takes sexual gratification and arousal due to jealousy; specifically for Asmo, someone’s jealousy over him.

I played with the idea of Asmo and needle play

Asmo enjoys the fact that others will allow him to use them however he wishes, including using them as objects or furniture. The needle play actually fits into this. Part of the needle play comes from his demonic scorpion form, the visual sink of the skin dipping from the needle just does something to him and he can't really explain it, but there's also an artistic/beauty element for Asmo. Depending on whether he wants to inflict pain or not, Asmo will use acupuncture needles.

Beelzebub

I see a lot of people headcanon Beel as not having much sexual desire and while I TOTALLY respect that, I whole heartedly disagree. I honestly think he's second only to Asmo in terms of libido. Granted, in human terms libido is affected by a lot of things, most which I kinda feel mirror demon biology. One of these things is exercise, and the amount this man works out and keeps athletic is ridiculous! Exercising and athleticism boost testosterone, which has been shown to have a direct correlation with a higher desire for sex.

So this man be hungry and in more ways than one.

He doesn't really play in the dom/sub power dynamic wheelhouse. For Beel, sex is more of a sensory experience, a means to fulfill his body's needs, and the bigger the mess made, the better the experience for him. I think the need for mess stems from his demonic traits.

Hygrophilia and Sloshing differ in that, sloshing deals with non-bodily fluids compared to Hygrophilia and bodily fluids. "Mess fetishists enjoy the mess created by sexual fluids, both male and female fluid. They may use the fluids as lubes, to drink, to “paint” on their partner’s body, or passing it back and forth orally (snowballing)."

Piss and scat don't bother Beel and don't take away from the experience, but he doesn't absolutely need them. He recognizes most people (humans & demons) don't typically enjoy interacting with that, but if his partner wants to incorporate it, then they can. For Beel, cum is his biggest bodily fluid that he enjoys covering him and his partner in, pretty much tying with blood and gore. Though, again, his human might not enjoy being covered in viscera.

When it comes to Sloshing, it's always and only food items.

However, for Beel, sex is an intimate act so he absolutely does not take part in dalliances. So if he needs a partner, he most often turns to Belphegor, and if not his twin then Asmo.

Kinks:

+Creampie +Mess fetish/Hygrophilia +Wet & Messy/Sloshing +Size +Inflation

Both Beel and Belph have knots.

Belphegor

Belphegor has the lowest of the sexual drives of the brothers (thanks depression!) due in part to being the Avatar of Sloth. I cannot put into words how much I love @thalfox's breakdown of the sin of Sloth [link to her post here]. It really helped me to have a better image and understanding of Belphegor.

But that doesn't mean he is never DTF, it just takes some work to get him in the mood. Belphegor is a Switch and teasing this man will either have the effect of activating Brat Mode and he will resist and crawl out of your reach, or it will activate Sadist Mode, and he will, again, resist and keep out of your reach. You will not be getting what you want if he has any say in the matter.

Belphie will always enjoy not having to do work, but sometimes he enjoys forcing his will on his partner and making them cry and suffer, making them a babbling mess hungry for his touch and for his cock. To be clear though, unlike Asmo, as long as Belphegor cares for his partner, he will always respect consent.

Kinks:

+Sadism +Orgasm Denial (giving) +Breeding +Entrapment +Consensual Non-Consent

Belphie's sadism is both physical and emotional/mental sadism.

The breeding kink ties in with the entrapment: forcing his partner to be tied to him in a way they cannot escape from. Plus, he kind of likes the idea of a little squirt running around...

#obey me nsft #obey me nsft headcanons #obey me demoncest #obey me smut #obey me smut headcanons #obey me nsft thoughts and prayers #obey me lucifer nsft #obey me mammon nsft #obey me leviathan nsft #obey me levi nsft #obey me satan nsft #obey me asmodeus nsft #obey me asmo nsft #obey me beel nsft #obey me beelzebub nsft #obey me belphie nsft #obey me belphegor nsft #what the [itty bitty] fox says

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bonefall · 1 year ago

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So, does Harestar pick a different deputy or…

I cannot stress enough how much I do not want to see Crowstar in-canon and I hate him :/

Crowfeather' Trial: "Look at this cringefail wet dog. Look at how much he sucks. Look at how he has never considered another person in his life and would flounder in any position of authority. Anyway he makes up with his son because Breezepelt actually was fine all along (LIVE BONES REACTION) and Crowfeather can totally be a good deputy now"

Breaking my femur and sucking the marrow right out of it. Breezepelt very much chose to do what he did and NO it wasn't completely a cry for help, he was an adult and responsible for his actions. Crowfeather's abuse was a contributor to it, yes, BUT this book discards all of that because Crowfeather is popular and soooo marketable

Breezepelt should have continued to be a problem until HE was able to reach conclusions about his behavior. Like, a real redemption arc or something?? You know?????? His crappy dad shouldn't have been able to apologize Breezepelt out of being a problem jesus christ

And Crowfeather never demonstrated ANY behavior that looked a smidge like leadership quality, until he BECAME deputy. He isn't charismatic. WindClan doesn't like him. He's selfish and wrapped up in his own head. His entire personality changed, that's not "growth" that's just writing a new character

but ugh. They did that, and we are DEFINITELY going to get Crowstar, and I will be screaming into the sunset.

So I feel obligated to it :/ I'm targeting some fixes though;

Crow does have a reputation as StarClan Blessed for the Journey and leading them to their new home

From a much earlier point in time, Crowfeather is shown as having friends and not being completely incapable of being social (Gorsetail is at least one of them)

I want to push up his maturation to be after the secret is revealed.

Now that it's out, he dramatic about his exposed love of Leafpool, even declaring in front of his wife that he still loves her.

Onestar puts his foot down and says, "You porked a Cleric, you won't shut up about it, get out of my Clan for a month"

So instead of him being a total piece of work until just after OOTS, he is visibly improving and working on it earlier.

Though, still snappish, somewhat selfish, and not ready to be in power unlike Harespring.

In AVOS, Crow will also be part of the rescue party. VERY important.

In fact that's so important let's zoom in on that;

Current lineup of the "Defy Onestar to rescue Kin cats" party:

Brushblaze

Harespring

Crowfeather

And I'm thinking to just toss two younger WindClan cats here to give them some good setup for future arcs, since canon WindClan is lacking interesting background dudes

They are explicitly defying Onestar together. He put up an embargo on the Kin and they rejected that to save Sun, Furze, Heather, and Breeze, along with any others.

So TL;DR, BB!Crowfeather is getting some big changes in anticipation, because I don't like canon Crow.

My ideal would be Crow on kitchen patrol tbh BUT leaders are a really big change, which I try to avoid for modern main arcs.

#better bones au #BB!AVOS

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insomanic-fanfication · 2 years ago

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🍃🌹I feel like this could help my Mutal Writers🌹🍃

Author's note: Writing can be entertaining and a way to let that creativity from your mind flow. For some, it can even be a coping mechanism. However, you can even get burnt out from things that you enjoy. That's okay! And it is, in fact, normal! Believe it or not, even professionals get writer's block; it's part of the writing process to help you think outside the box or different perspective.

Sources to help with writer's block:

youtube

How has my writing process been? How do I tend to do writing?:

Let me use one of my drafts as an example! Important understanding: When figuring out how to eliminate your own writer's block or write your fanfictions. It's prevalent to see how others write or their working process and feel discouraged when their way doesn't work for you. So here is some context about myself before I show you my writing process and why it works for me. While it may not work for others.

I am an Autistic 19-year-old (20 in 4 months, Jesus fucking Christ..), Transman. Working a full-time job and made this blog a side project and hobby. While being polyamorous, I am also Ace! So this will bleed into my writing without me knowing.

I've found ways to help me write are being in places where other people are working too; this is why you can often spot them in local coffee shops. Seeing a lot of college students and genius people working on their laptops and being productive tends to help me do the same!

Whereas, if I stayed in my room, I find it's much easier to get distracted or begin to procrastinate.

My actual writing process, Using one of my drafts as an example:

Draft in Question: "Shotgunning" Stoner Wally West x Male Reader

The title, content warning, author's notes, and summary are great places to start. It can help you understand where to take the fanfiction, no matter how long it's been since you opened the draft.

Don't be afraid if you don't know exactly where to start! There is no rule saying you have to start at the beginning of the fanfiction; if you have an idea of part of it, then you can start from there. Once you write that part, make a paragraph about how the situation gets to that point. Doing the same after the section.

The 2 purpose rule:

"When re-reading to edit, there must be 2 reasons for the edit that furthers the plot."

As someone that creates something, we often become our most prominent critic by deleting an entire paragraph because we believe it's not good enough. This is where we can become burnt out or discouraged about our writing abilities. By doing this, you are limiting your editing and, in return, limiting your stress about getting it " just right."

An expectation of this rule is to make sure the work is easy to follow. Write as much as you can, then step back from it for an hour or two, Then re-read it and write for better clarity. Only allow yourself to do this once or twice after finishing the fanfiction. Then press post! Post it before your anxiety tells you to keep editing or "Let's change this one thing first.". No! You're done, post or schedule it, and go to the next draft!

______________________________________________________________

I hope this helped someone that's struggling with some things. If the draft seemed interesting, check out my blog or more posts! I also reblog others' works; check out my reblog master list!

Have a fanfiction idea that you don't have time to write yourself? Request it! My request/ ask inbox is always opened!

Tags: @prismuffin @n0cturna1-m3 @gatorbites-imagines

#Youtube #writers block #writer problems #creative writing #transman writer #fanfication #helping fellow writers #fanfication writers #Crow!Writes

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muffinrag · 6 months ago

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what's up everybody. who wants to hear about my fucking situation

i live with a lesbian couple, they own a house and I stay in one of their spare rooms. They've been together for like. twenty years. I met them on overwatch about 8 years ago. just to be clear, my relationship with both of them is completely platonic.

well, about... four days ago? time is a soup. One of them, H, "went out for weed" and didnt come back. complete communication shut down. this woman literally pulled the "my dad went out for cigarettes and never came back" stunt, except her children are cats. whatever. anyway

day one, she sends a single text - to ME. not to her fucking goddamn wife. she texts ME. I think mainly because I kinda texted her and scolded her for being "childish and straight up fucking mean." but all she said was "I'm safe"

which, great, okay, thanks.

so her wife, my other roommate, S, was having an absolute mental break because her wife just left with absolutely zero warning or explanation and won't talk to her. Now me, I'm a simple bitch with a lot of emotional repression. I'm doing my best but oh my god.

day two there's still nothing. S was trying to contact H's friends and figure out what in the shitting hell just happened. we basically sat on the couch and watched TV all day.

Day three S finally starts getting information from H's best friend - apparently H thinks she has bipolar disorder and also that she might be a system. Also that she's extremely manic and staying with an old "friend" who is like, hugely toxic and manipulative. (This friend nearly caused H and S to break up a few years ago.) Also turns out she's cheating on S with this friend and has also been cheating online for years. Also that she plans to stay with this friend "indefinitely."

so. Jesus fucking Christ.

S and I went to her bank and got her a new bank account because H started spending money from the shared account, which was S's only account. After that another friend came over to help keep her company and we watched a lot more TV.

end of day three the stress got to me and I came down with some nasty fucking cold. (it's not COVID, I tested.) So I've been hiding in my bedroom for two days. The same friend was over to keep S company yesterday, thank god for him.

and on top of that, my new job has scheduled me for exactly 3 shifts during the next two months.

so. fuck

#personal #emotionally and mentally i feel like a wrung out dishrag rn #obviously what she's doing to her wife is fucking horrific #but did she even remotely consider what an insane situation she was putting me in??#i gotta be honest im not fucking thrilled about this situation. honestly pretty pissed.#im not asking for money or anything we'll make it work #but this is gonna be. fucking difficult. for a while.#no idea how long either!#she could come to her senses tomorrow! or never!#god. jesus. fucking hell. does anybody know anything #monologue

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redpiperfox · 6 months ago

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If I listened out everything I've walked through, objectively, this past semester, I think it might seem like the hardest several months you've ever heard from me.

It might sound overwhelming and horrible and that I'm barely treading water, and at the time of writing this, I will admit that it feels like I'm failing in most areas of life and the areas I'm not are so sorely misunderstood, misrepresented, and misconstrued that they feel like added burdens to my troubles.

But I had known some of this burden coming into the semester. I had realized, and accordingly, run to where my strength comes from, and carefully kept connections only to where I knew God's wisdom and grace would come from. God decided that I wouldn't be able to attend church much this semester. He decided to push my confidence in my own skills to the edge. He broke down my pride and slowly builds it into something more solid, firm in humility. And He also put my support systems through some of the hardest, most stressful stretches of life. He overwhelmed and tested people around me, in times where I did not even feel adequate to turn around and support them.

He gave me a warning bell of the final lap my grandpa has on this side of eternity. Label it "dying" if you will, but my grandpa's been "dying" for 15 years and altho he's only just lost his license to drive, can still out talk everyone around him. [Edit before this posts: Grandpa died a month later. We were in his hospital rooms, his final breath literally on my mom's face. We were singing and praying for two hours around his body after. It was sacred and holy in ways I cannot describe. I took an exam and did a final presentation the day after and with my sister and cousin, the three grandchildren gave eulogies that weekend. And then I went into finals week. A series of details that doesn't seem like I should attach the word "precious" to them, but I do.]

My God sounds like He's robbing me, doesn't He? If I list the facts, it sounds like a horrid trial. I don't think that idea had ever crossed my mind until I realized I didn't have the words to explain my last little lifetime without someone looking at me in horror.

So here is my attempt:

I had been talking to my sister, about the importance of giving children solid "affirmations" to hold onto, not just for them in that moment, because they will not understand it fully then, but more for the person they will grow into, small and scared and in a big chaotic world. Let me give an example of a good one:

"My God is so big. So strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do."

Nothing? How often do we think about that I wonder, and what it implies? Nothing? So then the things that I wanted Him to do that did not come to pass.... not because He cannot... and if He will not, and I know He works all things together for His children's good and His glory, and my chief end is to glorify Him... hmm... not something a preschooler thinks, but when we do?

Or how about:

"Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. They are weak but He is strong!"

That second one covers the sufficiency of scripture, the power and grace of God, and our inadequacy in our own will. Human depravity, God's sufficiency, Christ's work in justification, sanctification, and glorification, that's a whole theological lecture in there! A rhyme and affirmation the preschooler might declare and believe simply and wholeheartedly, but might make the early adult stumble a little. Faith like a child looks a little harder than it sounds now.

Now for this song I picked and my little life update to finally make sense.

Those truths? Those affirmations and beliefs and intellect? Your brain is a muscle you strengthen or lose, and the intellect of faith is no different. Fighting the good fight and the race well run is a path of God renewing His child, in His child's deepening desire to look to Him and know Him more. Because knowing Him more is going from "My God is so Big" between two little hands, to "My God is so Big" in seeing His handiwork in each and every little detail.

The practice of seeing God weaving Christ from Genesis to Revalation, is to suddenly see it from your birth to death. The study of David and all his sin and God using him to lead a nation He set apart from the rest for His purposes, is to see God working through a sinful preacher's words and a stumbling Church's hands, and building a community of His purposes of reaching to save.

So I entered this semester like that. Knowing I would be stripped and exhausted and stretched thin and lost for words. Knowing that even this moment where I'm struck with the clarity of a thousand words would be rare and far between. Knowing my flesh and weakness would roar an uglier shade than I care to admit, and I would hear myself saying self-pitying loops when I could barely keep my eyes open, or keep my fingers from complaining.

So I did what anyone with forsight does, and I storm-weathered.

I hate complaining. It has no business in a Christian's life. To complain is to question a perfect God's perfect plan and call it imperfect and inadequate, because from who else does all detail flow? It is to claim wisdom over the wisdom-giver. But it is easy, and it is easy in the company of other sore hearts. And where the tongue writes it goads the heart, so that the heart gives black, bloody ink to the tongue, and a vicious cycle of digging yourself to a hole where God is suddenly nowhere in sight is done rather easily. And I personally decided I needed to learn to guard the pattern of my tongue, and till I did, I needed to guard where my tongue had power. Which is why, when I am full of praise, like a child validating good behavior, I make extra effort to pour out my words fully and true-- not because I have mastered any art or claim any pride in it, but because it is a good practice for me to guard my heart "desperately deceitful above all else, who can know it?" And then I fed my heart from a fresh well that promises to never run dry, and my lens of the world grew brighter.

So yes. These past months have been hard, truthfully objective. It has been trying and draining and there are days I have felt like drowning.

But thanks be to the God of wonderous mercies. Who promises to answer when we call, and urges me to call upon Him more. Who carries me when I don't look upon Him. Who weaves a tapestry more magnificent than I can imagine, to be revealed on the other side of eternity.

Job never learned why He was robbed so severely. He never needed to. God showed him something better. He showed Himself. And to see God in everything? What more do I need to see than heaven's light leaving fingerprints and blooming flowers for me to pick?

So I say, having walked these months with my eyes searching and never failing to find My God, that these have been the dearest, most precious months, and lift up a song of thanksgiving, over how He has blessed me, time and time again, in my shortcoming and in my weakness, in my heart and in my testimony of witness, may it be that He was lifted high.

#red's personal sitcom #red's week in music #red qu(eu)te #red's thoughts #and i will say that i cried bitter tears the day i write this. i even talked to resolve and was given an apology but not to completeness.#But God #i brought my bitter to the throne of grace and laid them down in confession where forgiveness is given with mercy and i lay my head in peac #it is not in the absence of my emotion but in the fullness of my recognition of where they must submit to. and to there i will submit them #and am given a peace that surpasses all understanding and as promised guards both soul and mind #i def dropped scripture the whole essay and didnt quote lol may go back and fix may not XD #Spotify

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f4ll3nf34th3r5y5t · 4 months ago

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Tw vent. Not too hardcore on trauma just hardcore on description And stress (I don't think anyone reads these?? But if your ocs need trauma or issues ig????😭 This is just a convenient way to get things off my chest)

Spades and diamonds am I so fuck stressed lately!! I start a new job today, cool. Best friend A is moving STATES AWAY in less than a month, that's hip. Best friend B has spotty availability due to recovering from a surgery, awesome sauce. My younger sibling is moving out in less than a month, chillin. I'm being kicked out before the year ends, fucking. Cool beans. dude. Jesus God damned Christ.

I don't want to love my family or need to be nice to them!! I just fucking learned that me and my younger sibling both dislike my mother!!!!! My older brother keeps trying to act like my dad at the worst. Fucking. Times. And I'm going NUTS.

Basically Everyone™ at my new job LOVES my mother.

When getting kicked out, it's probably either I take my cat or cats or they get put in a pound or left outside. Fuck. Fucked fuck fuck fuck fucker.

Like do I leave early or what. God damnit. Advice might actually be useful, Tumblr. I'll try to censor and explain easily.

NON TW STARTS HERE.

I'm 17 years old physically and I'm 18 on December 10th. I will be homeless but I have a couple options on housing.

A) I beg and beg and cough up all money to stay here with my mom, her fiance, and my older brother

B) I go live with my friend cat. Pros is I can bring my cat probably, cons are the transportation is unreliable and it's cramped.

C) I see if I can live with best friend b. Pros are I might get my own room or suchlike and I'm basically family, cons are my cat can't come I think.

My mental health isn't really the priority right now. I have a bit of things to take aka my clothing (about 1 large tote? Maybe), a 7ft shelf and the things on it, xbox, my bed if needed, and my stuffies(tote full). Other things are honestly sentimental or just small idk.

I'm still in school and I will be for at least 3 more years. Not including college, if I can go.

I make around $400 per check but this job pays less so it'll go down to about $250 I think?

I can't drive and I take medicine (prozac and meclizine), I'm also undiagnosed depressive and possibly (heavily) auDHD. I need to find a dentist too but wtvr.

On a list of things to do should I

A) start downsizing possessions to 3 totes max minus the shelf itself

B) start talking to cat about moving in, see how it'd work etc

C) pack a bit. Idk.

My options aren't a lot since my mom, who I'll start calling Diane now (not her first name it feels weird), places a 7pm curfew on me since I've been to a psych ward(self admitted). She tends to stick her nose in my business if I'm not too careful and anytime we're alone there's a 70/30 chance she'll mention me being kicked out and ask about it. I plan to keep being as secretive as possible, she isn't even aware of any arrangements or stress. She's not sheltering but she's not a good mom. It's a weird balance of careless and overbearing.

To inform more on my mom I'll write a separate post that'll probably be shorter but wtvr I'm just scared I guess. Mostly for my cat. He thinks I'm his mom or something so I'm scared that if I don't take him with me he'll die. Advice of any kind is appreciated, any questions too.

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banannabethchase · 1 year ago

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Adam's connecting flight gets delayed, and who else should be on the flight but Jon Moxley. They decide to share a hotel room, but, oh no, what could possibly go wrong? Or right?

Being in an airport really does inspire a person, doesn't it? Also this has been lingering in the back of my noggin for months.

Adam drops his head when the announcement comes on again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters. He should have taken the Bucks up on their invite to stay in one of their guest rooms – there’s no way he’s getting home any time soon at this point.

Stuck at the airport want to die, Adam texts Matt

It’s almost immediate that he gets back, told u so

Sometimes I actually hate you

<3 <3 <3 <3

He resists the urge to text Nick, who will probably be the exact same as Matt, just a little less overtly bitchy. He stretches out in the airport chair as he listens to the flight attendant repeat the announcement for the third time.

”Again, flight 1883 out of San Diego to Cincinnati is cancelled due to weather events across the Great Plains,” she says, sounding too chipper for the announcement. “We will be happy to help any stranded passengers make alternate plans.”

Adam curses the need for layovers as he gets up to the counter, Orville Peck’s newest album keeping him from losing it as he waits behind soccer moms and business professionals and, to his amusement, one of the crew guys from the night before. He doesn’t seem to recognize Adam, and Adam’s not going to get in the way of whatever he’s got going on in his headphones.

When he finally gets up to the counter, he exhales with relief. “Hey, there, ma’am, I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Certainly, sir,” she says. “Tell me what your situation is.”

Adam begins talking, and practically jumps when he hears an obnoxiously familiar voice go, “Oh, fuck me.”

Adam squeezes his eyes shut and exhales. He should have known this was coming. “Lord save me now.”

“I know,” says the counter attendant, sympathetic smile not helping in the slightest. “Flight delays are frustrating.”

“Oh, no it’s not that. It’s just – ” He stops himself from going into a detailed rant about just how perfect it is that he’s going to be stuck in the same airport as Jon Moxley for the foreseeable future. “Never mind. Regarding the flights, I have a connection that there’s no way I’m making.”

“Yeah, unfortunately that’s going to be the case,” she says, frowning. “How about this. We can book you a hotel room,” she does some clicking, “and get you a new fight for…well, it looks like, in order not to give you a 12 hour layover, we can get you out of here on a flight directly to Virginia tomorrow at 4pm.” She smiles at him. “Does that sound like it could work?”

Adam nods. “That sounds like a great alternative. I appreciate your help.”

She prints him out a boarding pass and a hotel receipt, only to turn to run smack into Mox.

“Jesus, you’re charming as fuck even in a stressful situation,” Mox says, grinning at him. “Ever turn it off?”

“You’ve seen what I do when I turn it off,” Adam says, refusing to meet his eyes. It’s unfortunate, then, that his gaze lingers on Mox’s lips. On the way his tee shirt gaps a little at the collar. “You get hung by a chain in front of thousands on a pay per view.”

Mox’s grin goes a little predatory. “Yeah. Anyway, hope your day sucks.”

“What? I – fine. You too. Prick.”

Mox winks at him and gets into line just in time for Adam to get a phone call he’s not going to be able to finish without plugging in his phone. So he, with CD on the other end of the line checking in on him, is privy to the shitshow in front of him.

“There’s no more hotel rooms?!” says the lady who had been standing a few people behind him. He remembers she was the one loudly listening to videos on her phone in between complaining. “Then find me a different one!”

“Ma’am, there are no more hotel rooms we are able to –”

“Well that’s your fault, isn’t it?!” she shrieks. She turns to the line of people behind her. “Aren’t you all just as angry? We want to get home! We paid good money for these tickets!” She turns back to the attendant. “Are you the most competent person I can deal with? Do they only hire idiots?”

“Chris, I gotta go,” Adam mutters into the phone. “I’m good, though, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Alright, Hanger.” Chris sounds skeptical, which is fair, but he hangs up anyway.

Adam’s in the process of standing up to go give the lady a piece of his mind when Mox steps out of line to swagger up to the complainer. “Yo, lady, I’m not sure what your problem is, but you don’t see any of us acting like toddlers who didn’t get a cookie.” He does that stance, arms behind his back, like he’s daring someone to hit him. “Chill out.”

“I,” she says, “am a very important oil executive, sir, and I have places to be. People require my presence to complete their jobs.” She looks Mox up and down, taking in his ratty jacket, ripped jeans, and faded tee shirt. Her eyes linger on the scars on his forehead. “I can see you don’t have much experience in that arena.”

Mox scoffs. “Lady, I’m a wrestler. Like a pro one? Like on TV? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty sure I’m just as whatever as you are and I’m not being a bitch.”

Adam snickers into his hand. It’s not quiet enough – Mox glances over his shoulder and grins at Adam. “See? That guys a wrestler, too. And he was perfectly civil. So you can grow the fuck up and act like a human or you can keep this up and I’ll put you in a headlock.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says. Adam knows that face. She’s trying to call Mox’s bluff. Adam giggles again.

“Hey, Cowboy,” Mox says, “what did I do to you in that match?”

“Before I choked you out with a chain?” Adam asks. “You tried to break my hand between two bricks.”

“Right,” Mox says. He turns back to the lady, whose face has turned a weird shade of green. “So, like, if you’re gonna go after this nice person trying to help you, I kinda hope you go full on nutjob and jump the counter. I’d love give you a suplex onto the floor.”

Adam’s full on laughing as the lady sputters some nonsense. She snatches the boarding pass that the flight attendant had been holding out for her and stomps off. “I hope you get a concussion,” she snarls at Mox and Adam as she leaves.

“Been there, done that, lady,” Mox calls after her.

Adam lets the laughter fade. “You got a way of handling assholes, that’s for sure.”

“Only way I’ve survived being coworkers with you,” Mox says. “I’m fucked, though. Stuck sleeping on airplane chairs like it’s 2003 again.”

Adam practically sees his options scatter across his vision. Take the hotel room and enjoy a night to himself. Offer the room to Mox and be stuck here. Give the hotel room to someone else so they’re both miserable together.

Or.

“I mean, you can come with me,” Adam says. “I’m sure we can avoid killing each other for a night so we can both get decent sleep.”

Mox stares at him for a second. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” Adam says, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. “Just saying you could be, like, not a weird martyr and take the comfortable option.” He’s about to walk away, hand on his rolling carryon, when Mox sighs.

“I like that you think spending time with you is better than being stuck in an airport,” Mox says, but he grabs his carryon and starts walking. Adam falls into pace next to him.

“Dick,” Adam says, grinning. “You look like you’re coming with me, though, so I’d say I’m better than an airport.”

“I’m too fuckin’ old to try and sleep on airplane carpet,” Mox says, rolling his shoulders. “Plus, I got that GCW match on Sunday and I really don’t want to be fucked up for it.”

“Oh, right,” Adam says, sliding out of the way for a family of what appears to be four thousand blocking the path, “because a GCW match requires tip top shape to get bludgeoned to death with a trash can.”

Mox stares at him. “We just bludgeoned you and your boys with worse than trash cans, so I have no idea where this high and mighty bullshit is coming from.”

Adam opens his mouth to argue before realizing, annoyed, that Mox is right. “Well shit.”

Navigating the airport to get to the hotel is easier than Adam had thought, but with a chattering Mox behind him making commentary on everything it’s less smooth.

“Do you ever shut up?” Adam asks as they settle in line at the hotel. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve said anything in ten minutes, but you’ve spoken a novel’s worth.”

Mox shrugs. “I’m fidgety. I talk when I’m fidgety. That a problem for you?”

“If you talk in your fuckin’ sleep, it is,” Adam says, but he’s sure to smile to make it sound like less of a death threat. The people in front of them in line keep looking back at them, concerned. Adam doesn’t want the cops called on him. “Now shut up for, like, two minutes while I get checked in.”

“You better ask for two beds,” Mox says. “I ain’t cuddling with you, Cowboy.”

“I’m sure there’s two queens,” Adam replies.

Mox giggles.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Just, if there’s two queens, it’s the Bucks, right?”

Adam kicks him in the shins.

“And there’s a king bed in this room,” says the attendant when he gets his key cards.

Adam blinks. “I’m – just a king bed?”

“Yes, sir,” she says. “It’s the only room left.”

“Alright,” Adam says. He’ll sleep in the bathtub if he comes to it. Anything to get this shit show over with. “Yeah, it’ll work. I appreciate the help.”

Mox steps in pace with him, like a puppy learning how to heel, as Adam makes his way to the elevator. “So, we gonna fight on who gets the bed?”

“I’ll sleep in the tub if it means you shut up,” Adam deadpans, pressing the button for the elevator.

Mox slides into the elevator, and grabs Adam’s carryon to move it with him. Adam’s…confused, but appreciative. “I was kidding about the cuddling bit,” Mox says. “I mean, you’re letting me stay in your hotel room. I’ll sleep in the tub or on the floor.”

“That can’t be much better than an airport carpet,” Adam says. He checks the key card – fourth floor, room 451. Before he can press the button, Mox has reaches out and practically punched the button for number 4.

Mox is quiet for a few minutes, long enough to make Adam wonder what he’s planning. “Or,” Mox says as the elevators doors open. He grabs Adam’s carryon again and hauls both suitcases down the hallway. Adam decides not to mention his has wheels – he kind of wants to see how long it’ll take Mox to notice. “I mean, we can share. The bed, I mean. If you’re okay with that.”

Adam considers it as they walk down the hallway. “You’re not gonna try and cuddle me, are you?”

“I – that was a joke, you fuckwit,” Mox says. “And you could thank me for carrying your bag all the way here.”

“First off, it rolls, so you didn’t have to carry it,” Adam says, sliding the key card into the lock on the door. “Second, I didn’t ask you to carry my bag.”

“I had to,” Mox says. Adam barely gets the chance to push open the door before Mox is hauling all their bags and throwing them into the room with zero ceremony or care. “It was the nice thing to do.”

Adam shuts the door behind the two of them. “You saying that right after chucking the bags into a wall feels weird.”

Mox shrugs and throws himself onto the bed, arms behind his head. “What, you want me to, like, apologize or something? Did you have something breakable in there?”

Adam shakes his head as he carefully unzips his boots and sets them neatly next to the desk. “Just wondering what the fuck goes on in that weird head of yours.”

“You don’t get to call me weird,” Mox says, and he’s grinning when Adam glances over at him. “You’re just as much of a freak as me, Cowboy.”

Adam throws the pillow from the chair at Mox and sits down. “Am not.”

“Oh, so the whole hanging me using a chain is normal behavior to you?” Mox shifts, grinning at Adam. “Wrapping barbed wire around yourself like a fuckin’ corset is vanilla in your world? I’d hate to see what you’d consider freaky, then.”

Adam adjusts in the seat, desperate to lay down but not ready to cross that bridge with Mox. “I’m sure you would Mox.”

They’re quiet for a moment, as Adam tries to figure out if getting up will be seen as an offensive maneuver. Then Mox groans and stretches, his arms above his head on the bed. He grips the bars of the headboard, which Adam tries not to think too much about. “Well, Cowboy,” he groans, “if we’re gonna act like an old married couple and share the same bed, least I can do is wash the airport offa me. I’m gonna go shower.”

Adam nods, because there’s not much else he can really do. “I, uh. Appreciate it?”

“You should,” Mox says, swaggering over to the shower. He pulls his shirt off and throws it on top of his luggage. Adam recognizes a fresh scar on Mox’s back as one he placed there with barbed wire. He ignores the voice in his head that growls mine at the sight. “I’m a fuckin’ saint.”

“I absolutely wouldn’t go that far,” Adam laughs, but he follows Mox with his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom, allowing himself to look at the way Mox’s ass fills out the jeans.

Adam’s halfway through his compulsive daily email clear out when a noise jolts him out of his focus.

He looks around the room for the source, only to see an outdated phone buzzing on top of Mox’s bag.

“Mox,” Adam yells, “Mox, your phone’s ringing!”

Adam stands and walks over to the phone to pick it up. He wouldn’t normally impose, but he glances at the screen and it’s Tony’s number. “Dude,” Adam says again. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes.”

The phone stops ringing and Adam relaxes. And then it starts up again.

“Asshole,” Adam grumbles, almost stomping down the short hallway to the bathroom. “Hey dickhead!” he yells, and he’s surprised when the door swings open under his grip.

He should have remembered he’s never been in this bathroom before.

He should have remembered this is Jon Moxley.

He should have remembered that boner he popped during Anarchy in the Arena.

The shower is in perfect view of the door, so he can’t even act like he can’t see what’s in front of him. He feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Here to join?” Mox asks. His hand is curled around his cock, grinning over at Adam through the water droplets on the glass shower door.

“No,” Adam says, averting his eyes, a little too late, “uh. Here.” He shoves the phone toward Mox. “It’s Tony.”

“Tell him we’re having a sleepover and he can wait,” Mox says. Adam can sense that Mox is moving, and he’s not strong enough to imagine the kind of movement. “I’m busy.”

“It’s the second time he’s called in, like, four minutes,” Adam says. He moves to stare at the wall, but all that happens is he locks eyes with Mox through the mirror. He fights the urge to run or whimper or something else he doesn’t allow himself to think about too hard. “Just fuckin’ answer it.”

Mox groans and turns off the shower. “Asshole.”

“Dickhead,” Adam replies, and he hustles out of there like his life depends on it.

Mox comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later followed by steam. Adam is unable to ignore the fact that he’s not wearing anything but a towel around his waist.

Adam had waffled between what to do, and ended up sitting on the bed stiffly, still fully dressed, with a book in his hand. He’s made it through two pages and didn’t understand any of it.

“Tony was just freaking out about if I was gonna get home or not,” Mox says. Adam intentionally doesn’t look at the way the water leaves trails down his chest, his back, his arms. He doesn’t look at how low the towel is on Mox’s hips, on the perfect lines of muscle making a V at the bottom of his torso. “Since he booked the flights he got the notification of the cancellation and I,” he rolls his eyes, “am the only one who didn’t check in with CD, so he was freaking out.”

Adam swallows, forcing himself to stare at the wall behind Mox. “You chill him out?”

Mox nods, stretching, and Adam’s eyes snap right back to that chest of Mox’s. “Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Mox says. “Freaks out about everything, Tony. Told him we’re bunking together.”

That’s enough for Adam to set his book down. “How’d he react to that?”

Mox laughs, twisting. Adam finds himself wondering how tightly the towel is tied, if Mox is still hard under there. “Tony freaked out, like always. Wanted to know if we planned on killing each other.”

“It’s not off the table,” Adam replies, adjusting his glasses and going back to the book.

Adam feels the bed shift as Mox sits at the foot of the bed. “Yeah? Planning on strangling me in your sleep?”

Adam looks up to see Mox grinning at him. “Already strangled you once,” Adam says, flipping the page like he’s been able to take in a single word since Mox walked out of the bathroom. “Figured I’d try something new.”

Mox huffs. “Yeah? You been thinkin’ about killing me?”

“No,” Adam says. He sets down the book. “But, you know. Always have ideas in my back pocket.”

Mox studies his face for a moment. “Ideas?”

Adam nods. He’s not sure where this is going. “Yeah. Ideas.”

The silence feels heavy for a second, and Adam’s pretty sure he’s seconds away from doing something stupid when Mox says, “I like the glasses.”

Adam blinks. “Oh,” he says, taken off guard by the compliment. “Uh. Thanks?”

“You don’t have to act all weird about it,” Mox says. “They’re – they look good. Real studious and shit.”

Adam laughs. “High praise from a man whose wardrobe is his own merch.”

“It’s my merch because I like it,” Mox says. He leans back on the bed. His head is level with Adam’s knees. “Course I’ll wear it.”

“You don’t see me in Hangman shirts all the time,” Adam says.

“No, but you were those, uh, those button downs. Very yeehaw. Cowboy shit, right? You dress the part.” He reaches out and pats Adam’s leg. “Even your jeans are all cowboy.”

Adam tries not to flinch or burn at the touch. “I – thank you?”

Mox rolls over. “Are you okay? You’re all tense?”

Adam opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again and says, before he can stop it, “What are you doing?”

Mox stares. “Huh?”

“Like, you talk all the time, I know that, but you’re like.” He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know. Trying to be friendly.”

Mox’s face falls, and Adam practically watches him close in on himself as he scrambles to his feet. He can’t explain why his heart clenches at it, only that it does. “Oh.”

“No!” Adam says. “I – no, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just I didn’t expect it. Especially after I walked in on you –” Adam cuts himself off, because saying, ‘walked in on you jacking it’ feels a little too real for whatever’s happening.

Mox’s expression shifts incredibly slowly, from confusion to understanding to amusement. “Oh,” he says, drawing out the syllable. “Oh, you walked in on me with my hand on my dick and you freaked out.”

Adam wills himself not to turn red. He doesn’t think it’s working. “I didn’t freak out.” He forces himself to look up and meet Mox’s eyes, blue and bright. “I tried to be professional about it.”

“Yeah?” Mox says. “What if I didn’t want you to be professional about it?”

Adam’s eyes flicker from Mox’s eyes to his mouth before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Fuck a coworker in a hotel room. That’s great.”

“A coworker?” Mox says, pouting. He puts his hand to his heart. “I’m hurt. I’m at least an arch nemesis at this point, right?”

“Fine, fuck an arch nemesis,” Adam says, and he can’t fight the grin. “But that’s a bad idea, right?”

“Interesting,” Mox says. “You’re not saying no, you don’t want to. You’re saying no, it’s unprofessional? Weird stance to take when everybody knows what you and Cole were doing before your Revolution match.”

Adam shrugs and tries to act like he knew everyone was aware of what he and Cole get up to. “We have a history together. It’s what we’ve always done before matches.”

“You always blow him before a match?” Mox says. “I gotta get that on the schedule for our matches. Sounds nice.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Adam says, but he can’t deny that the picture of Mox with his cock in his hand, that grin on his lips, is burned into his memory. “But I get what you’re doing now. This your seduction technique?”

“Not usually,” Mox says, and he stands, hand going to the place where the towel is tucked in on itself. Adam wants to pull at it. “But I figured, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Adam licks his lips before he can stop himself. “Desperate, huh? You look it.”

“Excuse me,” Mox says, and he finally throws the towel to the ground. “You’re the one staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

“You walked out of the shower with nothing but a towel and started talking about our boss as a weird segue to flirting,” Adam says, and he hopes Mox doesn’t notice the way he spreads his legs, just a little. His hands are threatening to start shaking with anticipation as Mox climbs on the bed.

He is still hard.

“I’ll have you know my flirting is far more than just words.”

Adam can’t move and doesn’t want to as Mox leans in and kisses him, a hand on the side of his neck. It’s gentler than he would have expected, less insistent, and Adam rests a hand on Mox’s hip and pulls him down. His skin is damp and warm, and Adam grabs at it like a lifeline as Mox’s tongue slides across the seam of his lips.

Adam makes an involuntary little squeak and Mox pulls back.

“What?” he asks. “You good? Too much?”

Adam shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes. Jesus, ask one thing at a time.”

Mox grins at him. “Oh, I like you flustered.” He reaches out and brushes his thumb across Adam’s bottom lip. It’s devastating. “You good?”

Adam nods, Mox’s thumb catching on his upper lip. “I’m good,” he says. He’s already breathless, like he’s a horny teenager. This would be embarrassing if he weren’t so into it. “I just – not what I expected, you know?”

Mox shrugs. “Nah, but when the opportunity arises.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Is that a dick joke?” Adam asks. “Of course you’d make a dick joke right now.”

“What, I should make a fuckin’ – what else rises? A sun joke?” Mox asks. “Stay in the moment, Cowboy.”

“You stay in the –” But Adam’s cut off by a kiss, this one a bit less gentle.

He grips at Mox’s sides again, then flips them before Mox can react. Mox makes a funny little sound and adds teeth into the kiss, catching Adam’s lower lip, and Adam can’t help it. He moans into it.

Mox’s hands slide under and up his shirt, scratching at his back in a way that makes him kiss harder, press his leg between Mox’s legs. He chances a hand along Mox’s thigh, not getting too close, not until Mox says so.

Mox pulls his mouth away. “Fuck, Cowboy, you a tease, too? Grab my cock already.”

“Jesus,” Adam laughs, “you could be, like, a little romantic about it.”

“Oh, and you walking in on me jerking off just to give me my phone with my boss on the other line is romantic?!” Mox says.

“Okay,” Adam says, reaching up to spit in his hand, “to be fair, I didn’t know that’s what you were doing.” He curls his hand around Mox’s cock, laughing at the way Mox’s face relaxes, the way his head drops against the pillows. “Believe me,” Adam says, lips at Mox’s ear. He catches Mox’s earlobe between his teeth. “If I’d know that’s what you were doing, maybe I would have joined you.”

Mox lets out a fascinating little whine at the way Adam twists his hand. “Oh, I like this side of you,” he laughs.

Adam strokes gently, careful not to give too much pressure, too much friction. He’s still fully clothed. He’s not going to let Mox have all the fun. “Yeah?” Adam says.

Mox nods. “Hey, wait, you – too much clothes. Get naked.”

“No fuckin’ romance,” Adam laughs under his breath, but he leans back and pulls his shirt off over his head. He looks down to see Mox staring at him. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Just looking,” Mox says. “You got a chance to look at me naked, I’m just returning the favor.” Adam tries not to squirm under Mox’s gaze. “Hot. Alright, pants.”

With an eye roll, Adam unbuckles his jeans and rolls off of Mox, shoving his pants and boxers down his hips in one move. Mox stares at his dick and licks his lips. “Goddamn,” he says, voice low and pupils blown, “that Hung Bucks thing isn’t a joke, is it?”

Adam rolls his eyes and pretends he isn’t blushing as he gets back onto the bed and on top of Mox. As much as he didn’t see this as how his day would end, he’s enjoying it.

“Hey,” Mox says, grabbing a handful of Adam’s ass, “what if we take this to the shower?”

Adam pulls back from where he’d been working a bruise into Mox’s neck. “Shower?”

“It’s big,” Mox says, “Got some little seat things.”

Adam stares at him. “You don’t want to leave wet spots on the bed, huh.”

“There’s only one bed.” He wrinkles his nose. “We fuck here, things’ll get wet. One of us would be stuck sleeping in it.”

Adam pushes himself off the bed and walks to the shower. “For once in your life, you’re making sense.”

“You know this was my idea, right?” Mox says, following him. He puts his hands on Adam’s hips, half steering him to the bathroom. Adam finds he likes being manhandled like this a little bit. “You could be a little nicer about it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Something tells me nice isn’t what you actually like.”

“Am I that predictable?”

Adam laughs as gets the shower started, the water turning warm quicker than he expected, and he steps under the stream. He hears Mox step in after him and then big hands span his stomach from behind him. He shivers under the touch. He has to fight the urge to push Mox off, used to those hands causing harm. But right now he’s gentle, warm, and Adam’s got to loosen up a little.

“Breathe, Cowboy,” Mox says into Adam’s ear, “not gonna hurt you.”

Adam laughs. “You sure about that?”

“I mean, unless you’re into it.” He punctuates it with a nip to Adam’s neck, sending sparkles through Adam’s vision. “But, nah. Just gonna do this.” He slides his hand down Adam’s body and wraps it around Adam’s dick. Adam drops his head backward, resting his head against Mox’s neck. A part of him is screaming to push away and run, but it’s a part that is way quieter than the part screaming fuck me.

“God, that’s good,” Adam mumbles before he can stop himself. He rolls his hips into the circle of Mox’s calloused fingers. “Fuck, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah?” Mox says, lips on Adam’s neck. “How long? With who?

“Me – fuck – me and Kenny used to fuck around a lot, happened once a few weeks ago, when – do that again, yeah – I went back with the Elite…” He trails off, eyes fluttering shut as he leans into the feeling, gripping at Mox’s hip hard enough to leave fingernail marks.

Mox laughs. “Maybe I bring you to the rest of Blackpool,” he murmurs. “I think you’d have a good time. Yoots might be kinda young, but he fucks like an animal.”

Adam laughs. “Yeah?” He turns to catch Mox’s mouth, pushing him backward against the wall of the shower. He’s grateful for the space, for the room in here to really move Mox around. “Knew I was right about that circle jerk shit, you horny motherfuckers.”

“Hey, you’re benefitting from this horny motherfucker, so you better not complain,” Mox says. “I’m gonna blow you now, okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam says, and he lets Mox press him up against the wall. “Fuck yeah.”

Adam watches as Mox sinks to his knees and grins up at him. He should say something, do something, but all he can do is breathe heavily and wait.

“You look good from this angle,” Mox says, and then his mouth is around the head of Adam’s cock and, frankly, Adam forgets how to think.

Mox is focused and determined as he works his tongue and lips around Adam in a way he hadn’t realized Mox could be out of the ring. Then again, he muses, as Mox reaches up to grip at Adam’s thighs, this isn’t far out of the realm. He giggles before he can stop himself.

“Are you laughing at me?!” Mox exclaims, pulling off of Adam’s cock. “Look, I don’t know shit about etiquette or whatever but I’m pretty sure laughing at the guy sucking your dick is bad manners.”

“Not at you,” Adam chokes out. “Just. Look, dude, this is a far cry from us and our friends trying to kill each other back at Double or Nothing, you know?” He runs his thumb along Mox’s cheekbone. “You look pretty both ways, though.”

Mox rolls his eyes at him. “You’re fuckin’ weird. I can’t believe I want to fuck you.” He shakes his head and dives back to wrap his mouth around Adam.

Adam closes his eyes and rolls into it, letting the feeling take him over. This is far different than what he gets up to with the other guys in the back rooms. This feels like they have all the time in the world, like they don’t have to worry or rush. Like Mox has all the time in the world, and he’s going to take it.

He pushes at Mox’s shoulder. “Get up here, I wanna kiss you.”

Mox stands and crashes into Adam, and Adam shivers a little at the taste of himself on Mox’s tongue. He reaches behind himself to get some of the cheap hotel conditioner and fumbles to cover his hand with it.

“Are you washing your hair right now?” Mox turns.

“No, dipshit, I’m gonna grab your dick,” Adam replies. He reaches down between the two of them. Mox is a little too far away, so Adam grabs his hips and pulls him closer so he can wrap a hand around both of their cocks at once. Mox lets out the prettiest little moan at it, a hand flying up next to Adam’s head to brace himself against the wall.

“Jesus,” Mox mumbles. He circles his hips in a way that makes his cock slide against Adam’s with just enough friction to make his head spin. “Kinda glad that our flight got cancelled now.”

Adam laughs, meeting Mox’s movements. “Yeah? There are definitely worse ways to spend a layover.” He glances up to see Mox’s tongue between his teeth, eyes locked on the way their cocks slide against each other. He can’t resist it – he leans in and catches Mox’s lips in his, swallowing the moan that follows.

He focuses on the sensations, the feelings, the sound of Mox’s breathing and of their dicks sliding against each other. That part of him that thinks this is a terrible idea keeps trying to get loud, but he shuts it up every time his lips meet Mox’s.

He feels it build slowly, like the water that trails down Mox’s forehead, in the base of his spine.

“Fuck,” Adam pants, “Mox, I’m close, I gotta –”

“Yeah, Cowboy, I got you.” Mox slides his hand around Adam’s, their fingers tangling, and that’s enough to send Adam over the edge.

He gasps, without meaning to, “Mox,” as he comes all over both of their hands, rocking his hips up to ride it out.

“God, that’s pretty,” Mox mumbles. He gets a little reckless and frantic, and he leans in to kiss Adam as he comes, biting down on Adam’s lower lip. Adam whines at it, and he has to work to make sure he doesn’t slip down the wall.

Mox rests his forehead against Adam’s and they stand there, gasping, as they come down from the moment. Adam realizes after a few moments that Mox is trailing his knuckles gently along Adam’s biceps. It’s sweet. It’s confusing. Adam doesn’t want it to stop.

“Cowboy,” Mox murmurs, pressing his lips to the side of Adam’s neck, “you fallin’ asleep or something?”

“No,” Adam says. He sighs before he can stop himself. “Just – enjoying the moment.”

Mox’s laugh is soft, almost sweet. It doesn’t match the man Adam’s run into over and over again, but it feels right. “Yeah, me too. But we’re gonna get all wrinkly if we stay here.” He steps away, and Adam is suddenly very cold. It fades quickly, though, as Mox adjusts the showerhead to spray warm water on both of them.

“Gotta wash my hair,” Adam mumbles, fumbling for the shampoo.

“Let me,” Mox says.

Adam actually does get close to falling asleep as Mox gently massages his hair. “This soap smells good,” he mumbles. “Gotta stay in an airport hotel more often.”

Mox laughs and Adam’s pretty sure he presses a kiss to the back of Adam’s neck. “It’s probably just some sort of drug store shampoo, baby, don’t get too fancy about it.”

Adam sighs, just a little, at the nickname, and wants to hold onto it.

They finish washing up and drying off in near silence, a few words here and there scattered around, until they both drowsily curl into bed.

“Scoot,” Mox says, pushing his butt up against Adam, “we’re cuddling.”

“I thought you said no cuddling,” Adam mumbles, throwing an arm around Mox’s waist.

“That was before I saw what you look like when you come,” Mox replies. He sounds like he’s already nearly asleep. “Now we got a bond. So you gotta cuddle me.”

It’s not flawless logic, Adam thinks. But he’s cozy and warm, and he’ll let it slide.

Mini Playlist: Magnets - Lorde, Disclosure Familiar - Liam Payne, J Balvin I Want It - Two Feet Talking Body - Tove Lo

#HangMox #in which Sara writes #wtf i like wrestling now???#Hehehe here have this #This is dumb #anxious millennial dreamboat #madly in love with leather daddy jon moxley

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