#i have to be put on a fucking 'rigid routine'

[unablethethird]

offline for a month not my choice

tags could be triggering

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

[cryobabiess]

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x concubine!reader

Summary: After a public tantrum at a senator's gathering, Geta sends Caracalla's most beloved concubine to comfort his mad brother. Tags: hurt/comfort, slightly NSFW, implied/mentioned sex, Caracalla has serious mommy issues, nipple play, breastfeeding :/ (sorry), short fic, Caracalla is obsessed with your big naturals I guess idk AN: I'm not sure if there's any Otessa Moshfegh enjoyers out there, but this lil mini fic is inspired by Lapvona. Caracalla's man-child vibe reminded me of Merek, so naturally I had to write the most strange and off-putting fic to satisfy my weird-girl impulses. Enjoy, freaks!

Hurt by his brother’s callous words, the divine emperor Caracalla had fled the senator’s banquet in a fit of rage. It only takes a single tense glance from Emperor Geta for you to receive his silent command to follow after his mad brother. It does not take long to find him.

Like always, he hides away under a golden table tucked in the far corner of the throne room. His sniveling echoes off the tall marble walls. You slowly approach his curled up form, as if not to startle a wild hare.

“Caracalla. You must come out now.” You call his name softly.

“I will not.” He croaks through his tears, turning his back towards you. With a sigh, you sink to your knees, extending your open arms towards him.

You wait for Caracalla to find his sense. After a few moments, He finally turns to you to reveal his face—pale, rosy, and wet.

“Has brother sent you to scold me? I am no child!” Spite coats his words. You smile at the absurdity. He could order your head on a pike if he so pleased, but prefers for you to indulge his brooding. A god-king with the whims of a spurned child.

“No, I do not seek to scold, little prince. Come now, so that I may hold you.”

And with that, the emperor crawls to you.

He settles into your arms and you cradle his torso, the luxurious fabric of his ornate robes pooling at your lap. His cheek rests atop your bosom like a newborn babe—he weeps like one too.

“It is unjust! Brother always has the last word, yet I am eldest!” Caracalla laments, his tears wet the bodice of your stola.

You use your free hand to smooth tendrils of copper hair away from his damp face. A tantrum of this magnitude was not uncommon for the young emperor, though you often wondered how a man could display such behaviors at the age of twenty and one. Caracalla was distinctly tender, despite his blood lust. His ego was delicate, easily wounded by Geta’s pragmatism and rigid sensibility.

“He wishes to be rid of me, I know it.” He sniffles, his hand reaching to fiddle with the pendant resting at the base of your neck. You smile softly despite growing weary of this routine.

“Don’t be without reason, mea dulcis. You are invaluable to Rome and all her subjects. Geta speaks without tact when he is cross. You must know this too, hmm?”

Caracalla thinks for a moment, brows knitting together in contemplation.

“He is unkind. It should have been him to suffer in the womb, not I.”

You can’t help but laugh at his juvenile description of his brother's malicious cruelty. Frustration flashes across Caracalla’s face as water threatens to brim his eyes again.

“Peace, my lamb. No more tears.” You coo, using a thumb to swipe away at the wetness—but it is too late. Your laughter invited a new wave of angry tears. He buries his face in your breasts, jeweled fingers dragging down the fabric of your stola. His mouth quickly finds your nipple. You hiss, resisting the urge to pull him away from your flesh.

It brings the emperor great comfort to suckle you. Geta had explained Caracalla’s affliction once before.

“Our own mother denied him her breast; she believed him to be cursed. Perhaps he held on to that trangression. He called for a wet nurse until the age of ten and two. My brother has always suffered from madness, you see.”

You had taken prior notice of this habit. After he fucks you like an animal in heat, he often drifts back to your tit, lazily sucking and nibbling until sleep takes him. You thought nothing of it until emperor Geta revealed it’s cause to you.

And though you had no milk to bear, tranquility came over the man as if he had been fed. Eyes closed and breath even, he plays with a tendril of your hair as he rolls your swollen nipple in his hot mouth—lost in bliss. It is odd, but you pity him. With his lips so flush against you and his expression finally at peace, one could forget the madness, the carnage, the rage.

Sometime later, Caracalla regains his composure, standing straight with his shoulders back, returning to a proud and stately posture. He crudely wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“You will attend to me in my chambers tonight.” He commands before returning to the festivities.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Shift in the Routine

Author’s Note: Vibes are up from episode one of Hard Knocks starring Batman but I really wanted to write something angsty.

Part II

The morning started off with an entire 16 oz cup full of coffee spilling all over the kitchen floor. The brown puddle continued to spread and you watched in horror as the caramel frappuccino you’d just spent the last 20 minutes carefully curating to perfection went to waste. Then, your apartment key got stuck in the door, snapping in half so you had to make a call to your lovely landlord who charged you $150 to replace the key, and get the maintenance guy to come in and get your old key out. There went the money that you wanted to use to splurge on lunch.

Just when you thought you’d turned a corner for the better when you got off work early, your best friend Rachel called in a panic, putting an immediate end to the relaxing afternoon you had planned.

“Hi babe! I need you to do me a huge favor.”

You sighed, mentally saying goodbye to the Netflix binge on the couch with a fluffy blanket you were desperately looking forward to. “What’s up?“

She chuckles softly, breathing out a sound of relief that you were willing to help. “You know you’re my favorite person in the world, right?”

“What do you need Rach?” You bite out, your patience mostly nonexistent after such an awful day. Even her best attempt at buttering you up wouldn’t fix it.

“Okay, okay jeez. Who pissed in your cereal this morning? Anyways, I need you to run to my office and grab my other laptop. The one I have with me died and the tablet just isn’t cutting it right now,” you can hear her whispering to someone while you wait on the other end of the line for further instructions, “texting you the address as we speak.”

Your destination was 48 minutes away from her office, much closer to your job. Rachel owed you. Big time. “Fine. Be there in an hour.” You hung up a little in the midst of hearing her say “thank you” for the sixth time.

Rachel was an interior designer, working on some top secret project with a client for the last year, whose identity she refused to reveal, that was until today when she clearly had no choice. She’d apparently asked the client if it was ok for you to come to the house and they were clearly cool with it because the gate opened and the mansion you were faced with was unlike anything you’d ever seen. Every part of you wished you’d worn nicer clothes to work today.

Before you could even knock, your friend opened the door and ushered you in, plugging the laptop into one of the kitchen outlets and pulling up whatever she needed, thanking you again for saving her ass.

You looked around the room, exquisite marble covered the countertops, super cozy looking white swivel chairs and every square inch of the place just screamed luxury. “Who the hell lives here alone? Head of the mafia?”

Rachel snorts out a laugh, typing away without looking up at you.

“Not exactly,” a male voice is heard behind you, scaring you a little. And that makes Rachel laugh even more. “I assume you’re Rachel’s friend y/n.”

No fucking way.

You glance at Rachel before turning around to face him, nodding your head. “I’m so sorry your highness, you’re more…King of the Jungle, right? The mafia is more of a Bills thing.” All the secrecy made sense now and you turn towards her, your eyes full of disbelief.

“You signed an NDA didn’t you? Because I know you’re the world’s worst secret keeper and you’ve worked for the Bengals starting quarterback for a year and I haven’t heard a peep. Wait,” you look at him again, “does this mean I have to sign one?”

“Would you like to?” Joe deadpans, a hint of amusement pokes out behind his rigid exterior. He looks even better in person, you think to yourself.

“I have always wanted to sign one but I’ve never really been in the position to do that. But now…”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Rachel cuts in, “he’s not gonna make you sign anything, you don’t even know the gate code.”

Waving her off for ruining your fun, you grab your keys and get ready to head home when Joe’s voice stops you in your tracks for the second time in the last 20 minutes.

“You don’t want water or anything before you go? I have an entire fridge just for Voss water. The glass bottles.” His voice is so relaxed, a calming energy surrounds him and he delivers his words with such a casual tone like it’s not one of the most absurd things you’ve ever heard.

“Are you being serious?”

“No! I’m kidding,” he laughs, a genuine hearty sound that you hope to never forget. You need to leave this fortress as soon as humanly possible before you find yourself attracted to the way the man breathes.

Rachel has long forgotten the two of you are in the room, completely in the zone while deciding between white oak and alder so the gorgeous man walks you out. Has he always been this tall? “Rich and funny. It’s very nice to meet you Joe.”

He’s about to let you leave, but he doesn’t want to regret not going for it. “Would you—maybe want to um, see each other again? When you’re having less of a bad day? I promise there will be no coffee involved, just a little dinner?” This is a stark difference from his earlier nonchalance, you can tell he’s trying to keep the nerves at bay.

“You heard all of that?” You look at him wide-eyed. Of course Joe freaking Burrow heard you complaining about spilling coffee everywhere and damaging your keys, not your finest moments. And somehow, none of that deterred him from asking you out. “I’d love to. Rachel can give you my number and I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Dinner turned into dinner and a movie which turned into several nights of ordering in. That became FaceTime dates when he would travel across the country, helping him pick out clothes to wear for his foundation’s golf tournament or getting up at ungodly hours to answer his calls during Paris Fashion Week. Then he came home to lock in for the season but not before giving you a jump scare by randomly buzzing and bleaching his hair. Everything you thought you knew about him from the media or via word of mouth living the city, was nothing compared to actually getting to be with him. He was funny and kind and the most caring person in the world and you really owed Rachel your entire life for asking you to drop off that laptop.

Admittedly, you were nervous going into the season. You’d seen him go down last year in Baltimore, watching on tv like every other fan feeling helpless as his season ended. Now you’d seen first hand how much work had gone into not only getting him back to what he was before but transforming him into a better version of what he once was. And routine was everything. Workouts and meals were scheduled down to meticulous detail, meetings with his nutritionist and strength trainer happened frequently and the closer you got to week 1 the more dialed into the process he was. You just tried your best to navigate the controlled chaos.

Friday evening before you drove home after work, you made a pit-stop at Joe’s to drop something off. Having already decided that you were staying at your place for the rest of the weekend as to not be distraction, you placed your surprise in the fridge feeling proud of yourself before closing the door, meeting your boyfriend face to face.

“Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!” You playfully smacked his chest as he grabs onto your hands, enveloping you in a warm embrace. “I didn’t think I’d see you. Thought you’d be up to your eyebrows in New England film right now.”

“Took a break to grab a snack,” he sidesteps you to get to the fridge, taking a look inside before he spots the item you just placed in there. “What are these?”

You nod toward the tupperware in his hand, “open it.”

Joe carefully takes off the lid, looking at the contents inside like a kid on christmas morning, recognizing the look of his favorite dessert, with a twist.

“They’re protein pumpkin pie cups. The bottom is peanut butter.”

“Two of my favorite things. Well, three now, including you. Thank you.” You want to pretend to have a toothache at how sweet he’s being but instead you stand on your toes, inching your way up to kiss him on the lips and when you pull away to stand at your normal height he sneaks another kiss, pressing one onto the side of your head. It’s getting late and you really don’t want to leave, but you can’t mess up his routine. The next time you see him is after the loss, he’s understandably disappointed but also a little relieved to shake some of the rust off and come back more relaxed the next game.

Slowly but surely the losses piled up and they added more weight to his often slumped shoulders. You tried to lighten the load by being a constant presence, reminding him of how well he was playing, but the once comfortable, homey atmosphere that Joe created for you became tense. Long conversations about how the team could be better turned into shrugs, “I don’t knows” and exhausted sighs.

And now? The team was 4-8.

You’d been staying at Joe’s since the bye week ended just to make sure he wasn’t isolating himself and completely consumed by football. When he came home after the Steelers game you could instantly tell it was going to be a long night. As soon as he set foot in the door he dropped his bag off and headed up to his office without giving you so much as a glance.

Dinner was cold by the time he emerged again two hours later. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing. And you also didn’t want to just sit there and say nothing. The elephant in the room was doubling in size by the minute. “Joe, you—”

“If you’re about to say I played well you can just…not. I fumbled the ball twice and threw a pick. Three turnovers isn’t exactly a recipe for success.”

You closed your eyes, trying to come up with something that would get him to see things the way you did. “I know that, but you still fought your way back and you guys were so close to completing the comeback.”

His adam’s apple bobs uncomfortably slow as he swallows some of his frustration. None of this was your fault and he knew that. He just, really didn’t want to talk about it anymore today. He’d discussed it with the team, with coaches, the media. The game had ended long ago and he was still having to explain himself. Glancing at the clock, he let you know he was heading to bed and he was just…gone. No hug, no kiss on the cheek or anything. Which usually wouldn’t have bothered you but then you found him fast asleep with his back facing you. You climbed in behind him, treating him like the little spoon as you wrapped your arms around him but he easily removed himself from your grasp, covering himself with the blanket, mumbling something about not feeling like cuddling tonight. You had this overwhelming urge to cry so you turned away from him, squeezing your eyes shut, begging sleep to overtake you.

Waking up the next morning, you decide to shake off whatever that was last night. You texted Joe’s chef and asked him what was on the menu for tonight, thinking that a good meal and some lighthearted conversation was just the thing he needed. The work day was long and frustrating, some random sponsors came in to do some long winded presentation about the new health guidelines which was about as entertaining as watch Geno Stone miss tackles. One thing was motivating you to get through it and that was Morgan, Joe’s chef texting you that he would have everything ready when you got home and all you had to do was put your finishing touches on the evening.

All of the food was prepped, the table was set, candles lit and all you needed was Joe. You wait 45 minutes for him to walk in the door, looking surprised. “What is all this?”

“Nothing special, I just figured we could eat together before watching Monday Night Football in bed.”

The look on his face isn’t promising. “I already ate at the facility,” Joe says regretfully. He’s met with silence and it’s uncomfortable, worrying. “How was work?”

“I texted you,” your voice hardens, “twice. No response.”

“Wasn’t near my phone all day. We had a team meeting, guys said things that were on their minds and we had an open and honest conversation. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

You close your eyes, really trying not to cry about something so small. “Right, ok. How did your meeting go?”

“It was fine,” he shrugs, not divulging any other details and it irks you even more. Joe catches you massaging your temples, a clear sign that you’re stressed. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you echo his words, hoping he gets the hint, “had a long day.”

The quarterback places his hands on your shoulders, hoping to ease the tension in your posture. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“That’s rich,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

You grab his hands and pry them off of you. “I said that’s rich. You know, coming from you.”

He looks irritated but keeps his voice even, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you want me to open up and talk about my feelings when you’ve been an emotional brick wall the last couple weeks! I can barely get two words out of you. Joe, I’m trying babe. I respect your time and your space, I never stay the night on Saturdays or ask you do anything past 8pm and you still shut me out. Why is that?”

“You don’t think that doing all of this is a little much right now? Everyone wants something from me all the time. I just need a second to think, on my own. And I get it, you’re trying to help but you’re always here, pestering me about little things. I really don’t need you breathing down my neck and smothering me this week.”

You stare at him for a while, processing every word he just said.

You’re pestering him.

You’re smothering him.

Breathing down his neck.

That’s why he didn’t want you to hold him last night. He thinks you’re too needy, too clingy.

You’d done the one thing you’d been telling yourself you wouldn’t do. You had disturbed his peace, messed up his flow. In trying to be helpful and proactive, you had actually gotten more in the way. And he didn’t want you here right now. He’d just made that painfully clear.

“No you’re right,” you tell him, in your most normal tone, “I’ll stop with the questions. You probably have stuff to do so I’m gonna clean this stuff up.”

Joe nods simply, heading upstairs to crack open the Dallas film. A few stray tears escape your eyes as soon as he’s gone. You gave yourself 10 minutes to have a little cry and then the leftovers were placed in the fridge, dishes put away, candles blown out and everything back in its rightful place. Then you headed upstairs to Joe’s room to pack your stuff. He clearly needed space from you and you weren’t going to stay anywhere you weren’t wanted. Carefully placing all of your bags in the car, you took a shuddering breath before putting the keys in the ignition.

He woke up out of his sleep around 4am looking for you, feeling the cold space where your body was supposed to be. Chalking it up to you maybe having slept in one of the guest rooms after the tense conversation from earlier, he turned over and went back to sleep. You knew you had a problem, tossing and turning aimlessly, growing accustomed to being next to him, literally proving his point. The honeymoon phase was over and you desperately needed to pull it together.

“You don’t need to freak out, every couple goes through a rough patch,” Rachel tries to reassure you, digging into her bowl of popcorn as you lay face first, mumbling into your pillow. “Babe I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

It feels like there’s a ton of bricks weighing you down after one disagreement. “Rach you didn’t hear what he said. And the way he looked at me. He hasn’t even called or texted or anything. And I’m not texting him, that would be smothering or pestering or everything else he said. God I just, I don’t know.”

She hated to see you struggling like this. “Just give yourself some time and you’ll eventually know the right thing to do. You two are annoyingly into each other and those genuine feelings don’t go away because of a stress filled heated moment.”

She was right, all you needed to do was give him space. You dove face first into your job, attending every meeting five minutes early and staying later to get ahead on the next day’s to-do list. Joe did eventually text late in the afternoon, asking if you were coming over for dinner but you told him you had a work thing.

By day three of you having “work stuff,” Joe was calling bullshit. All of your responses were either dry, a simple “yes” or “no” or you kept it short and sweet. And he didn’t like it. Even though he prided himself in being able to compartmentalize, at home it felt empty and void of color and joy without you. He’d pushed you away and embarrassingly said some things that he didn’t even really mean, he just lashed out of exasperation and now he hadn’t heard the sound of your voice in almost 80 hours.

He needed to fix this.

“Can open the door? We need to talk.” He sounded out, in between semi frantic knocks on your door.

Slowly cracking it open, you let him in. “What do we need to talk about?”

His hair is messy and still slightly wet, like he ran here immediately after a shower. Seemed like this couldn’t possibly wait another second. “I’m sorry. I said things I shouldn’t have. I was upset because you’re right. The other night,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “you called me out and I didn’t want to admit you had a point so I dug myself a hole. And I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

You wanted to melt into his arms and forgive him. You wished it was that easy. But his words just kept playing over and over in your mind. “I appreciate the apology.”

“So…you’ll come home with me?”

“Joe I am home. And you have—a strict sleeping schedule. It’s getting late, I’m sure you’re tired.”

He wonders quietly how long you’ve been like this, giving robotic, monotone responses like you’re just saying things that you think he wants to hear. “It is getting late, but I’ve gotten so used to you being next to me that I don’t sleep as well when you’re gone.”

“Really? Cause I thought I was smothering you. Or what was the other one? Oh right, breathing down your neck.”

“Babe, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well you still said it! And now I’m wondering if I’m too much for you or how you had to drive over here instead of going home and getting your rest trying my best to be what you need,” you pause, looking at him through watery eyes, “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

He seems visibly shaken, hesitantly steps toward you, reaching out to hold your hand to make your not going to disappear into thin air and leave him on his own. “Wh—what you mean?”

“I just, I really think I’m the one that needs some space. To figure out where the hell I even fit into all this. If I still want to fit into all this. I’m not saying I want to breakup I just think—you’re in a really pivotal time in the season and I don’t want to get in the way.”

Joe gives your hand a squeeze, “you’re never in the way. Actually it’s the opposite, I just wasn’t appreciative enough of everything you’ve done for me this year. But if you want space then, take all the time you need.” He swallows the lump in his throat and presses his lips to your forehead, uttering out that he’ll be waiting until you’re ready.

You take a step away from him as his soft lips linger on your skin whispering, “Joe…can you please go?”

He nods, slowly closing the door behind him. You imagine him walking away, climbing into his Porsche and heading home alone. Maybe this is how it should be, him over there, you here.

Tonight almost hurts more than the last time, so much so that the tears won’t even come. You’re just…numb. But you need this space to see if this life is something you’re ready to commit to. Because the last thing you want to be is another thing on his schedule.

[diejager]

New Beginings

Pairing: dark!Krueger & König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, smut, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, mean!Krueger, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Your new body was… odd. Once, you didn’t need substinence, you could live without eating, or drinking, or breathing, but you now needed food, water, sleep and air to continue on. You didn’t understand how humans could live with such restraint, a body so easily broken and weak when all you did was sit and collect dust until you were cleaned by your caretaker. It was difficult to live this way, it was such a stark difference to your usual life. You were a fragile thing, spending most of your days limp and tiredly laying on your nest of blanket and softness in the golden cage Kruegerbought you.

Krueger was a distant relative of your father, he might’ve shared your father’s blood and pride, but he was nothing, if not vastly different from him. Sebastian Krueger was a crude and brash man, voice low and arrogant while he manhandled you with cruel and careless hands, pushing and pulling you around his broad figure. Unlike your thin and artistic father, Krueger was a firm and strong man, skin scarred from past battles, some won and some lost, but it added to his terrifying image as much as his veil did. 

After your rebirth, he moved you to an elegant, golden cage where you would live the rest of your life, completely at his mercy. He knew you would depend on him for nourishment, for relief and for company, locked away in the shadow of his bedroom to stare and admire like someone would do to a dove —you were his dove, an angel who’s wings he clipped to keep. He kept to a strict routine, he woke you up with a rough shake, his calloused fingers sinking into your softer skin to pull you out, whether or not you were used to using and feeling your legs didn’t matter, whatever he said goes. 

He fed you three times a day with snacks spread across the day, stuffing you round with food despite your complaints about not being hungry anymore, unused to having an body that necessitated food to work. Then he’d sit you on his lap as he worked, his hand sliding down your waist to grip your hip, sometimes staying put while he signed papers, and others straying to your thighs, kneading your oversensitive fat until you squirm and whine. 

He mostly kept his hands to himself when he was busy working, his mind cued sharply into finishing his work for the day to lounge and relax, but he liked - insisted on - touching you whenever he could, rucking up the edge of your dress and cupping the uncomfortable heat of your mound, curling his fingers through your slit and thumb your throbbing clit. He seemed to enjoy your high mewls and writhing, back arched forward and grinding your ass into a hard and painful bulge in his pants. 

Often times, you’d end up splayed over his desk, your clothes ripped in half from the top and left hanging under you while he rammed into you, his low grunts and cruel degrading left you in a wet and cock dumb mess of whining and crying. The red and swollen head of his cock battering your cervix, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until he had his fill, the tip spurting hot and heavy ropes of thick cum. When he was done, he sat you on his half-hard cock, the girth still wide enough to plug you without reaching for one, your tear-strained eyes blinking tiredly and head resting against his neck.

That was usually what he did: breakfast, work, fucking you, dinner, fucking you, relaxing, supper, relaxing and fucking you to sleep, rarely diverting from it if he could. Krueger was a creature of routines, familiarity and strict form, thriving off his military training to teach you how to walk and talk, building a rigid structure to teach you. He could be cruel with his words, rough with his hands and perverted with his eyes, but he was… loving in a sense, despite how mean he was, he cared for you and provided for you in your uselessness. 

But unlike Krueger, who was heartlessly taunting to you, his roommate - König - was gentle and careful with you, playing with you as if you were still the porcelain doll you used to be. König was the giant of the two, a tall and broad man who stood twice as tall and twice as big as you, a seemingly monster in his rights. His wide palms petting your mop of hair, thick fingers carding through the bothersome knots and dressing you up for the day. He was a second factor of your routine, if you weren’t with Krueger, you were with him. 

He wasn’t cruel like Krueger, dauntingly stern, yes, but he never degraded you and laughed when you teared up. He was surprisingly tender with you, handling you with a softness that reminded you of your late father, mumbling quietly to you and showering you in affection. König praised you and loved you in his own way, a sickening and possessive obsession, mumbling promises that he would protect you from all the world’s cruelty, but what about his roommate’s ruthlessness? He told you not to worry your pretty, little head about him, Krueger couldn’t be fixed, it was the effect of whatever he lived through in battle.

König might’ve been your favourite between the two for how he isn’t purposefully mean, he didn’t degrade you, he didn’t growl and hiss at you, and he didn’t break his word. But he was still your captor, a man with as much - if not more - needs and wants as Krueger, with how often he pawed at your shorts, pushing them down your thighs to rut his cock between the sweep of your ass, carving a space between your clefs. If he was feeling particularly merciful, he’d stretch you enough, a thick and long finger filling your tight cunt before another pushed in, drowning your pained mewls and pants with his scarred lips. He always made you come once or twice, stuffing three fingers in an effort to fit his monstrous size, his girth and length too much for you. Much to your dismay, he made it fit, it was hot and steely, ploughing through you like you were made to take it, your slick and his abundance of pre making his thrusts smooth and easy.

If he was feeling sadistic, he would spend hours preparing you, holding you against his chest by a firm grip on your throat, your ankles hooked under him as he took his time fingering you. He praised you, his deeper growl wonderfully soft while he pampered you with his unending insistence of wetting his sheets with your musk, for the smell of your cum and sweat to stick to his room. He held you down to thrust his fingers, the palm of his hand rubbing your swollen nub, landing sharp slaps on your wet thighs until you’re sobbing out in overstimulation, writhing and fighting him with every claw and hit. 

Only when you stared blankly ahead, drool rolling down your chin and limbs spasming, does he finally fuck you, bottoming out in a quick snap of his hips and pounding you into his bed. He moved you to his whims, sometimes face down and ass up, other times folded in, your legs swung over his shoulders and back curved almost uncomfortably. You’re lucky you were made flexible, seemingly outworldly with how easily König and Krueger bent you over every surface of the house and folded you in half to watch their cocks break you in and your cunt gape, oozing their thick and bitter cum.

You hoped you’d get used to the workings of your body soon, your shaking limbs and painful cramps hindering you in your attempts to flee, to spread your wings and escape your golden cage.

“We just wants what’s best for you, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @rae-pottah @cassiecasluciluce

[themeraldee]

YOOOO THE “figuring out how to control his strength” fic was SO GOOD, I saw spanking at the end of that, a wee request to expand on that idea mayhaps 👀

Kissing you for enabling me, mwah mwah mwah. I tried going with gender neutral reader for the last one but had to switch to female for this one. Hope that's ok! I'm happy you enjoyed the last one hopefully this one hits the spot!😉

[Masterlist] [A follow up to this]

18+ Only | 1.5k | Homelander x female!Reader | Communicating during sex. Spanking. Riding. Unprotected sex. A dash of dirty talk.

Homelander has been trying to get his paws under your clothes for the past hour of the movie you were adamant you should be watching together. ‘It’s my favorite movie!’ You had said earlier. And not that he has anything against sharing your interests, he loves having every piece of you to himself. But now you are warm and soft against him, cuddling and leaning into him in a way that pretty much puts you in his lap.

He inhales the lingering fragrance of the expensive hair products he got for you. Something in him stirring at the thought of how utterly he’s changing your life, marking you with his touch with every little change he’s making to your routine. Ever since he’s had you move into his penthouse he’s been meddling with every aspect of your life, wanting to add his touch. Just as a reminder that you were his. So anytime you spritz his choice of perfume you think of that and in turn he gets reminded everyday that you make the choice to be his again and again and again.

So it’s no surprise that he’s now peppering your neck and cheek with kisses, pulling you closer no matter how much you protest. “Come on babe, fuck the movie. We can finish it another time.”

“But it’s my favorite…” You pout like a child, trying to pull away but he’s having none of it.

“Shhh. Come on now, don’t be like this.” He’s nuzzling into your neck. His hands wrap around your body, resting on top of your tits, giving your nipples a pinch through the fabric. “Be a good girl for me.” 

Now that sends a shiver down your spine, slowly pooling heat in between your legs. It also gives you a great idea. 

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should spank me for misbehaving.” You’re not facing him but the cheekiness of your grin is audible.

However as much as you’d prefer him to lean into the dirty roleplay of it all, he pulls away, tensing up.

You turn to face him.

“Are you sure? You know I could hurt you.” He’s carrying his worry openly. But just like with the choking you know there’s nothing this man wouldn’t do for you. 

“We’ve been over this baby. Sometimes the pain just makes things feel better.” You caress his cheek, giving him a sweet kiss flush on the lips before you pull away and take matters into your own hands. You lay yourself over his lap, face down, wiggling your ass right in front of him.

Tucking your fingers underneath both the waistband of your soft luxurious loungewear and the panties he’s picked for you, you pull both pieces down to reveal the bare skin of your ass.

“So…maybe you could spank me for not giving you enough attention?” You try to tease him into it, shaking your hips gently to give him the green light.

This does the trick. Homelander places both his hands on your cheeks, giving them a squeeze, really just playing with the softness of the flesh before he remembers what he’s meant to be doing.

Slap.

“Holy shit! Oh-ohhkayy. Fuck. T-that was pretty hard.” His hand is rigid, hard, unforgiving. With his added strength it was definitely a lot for the first slap. So sharp it jerks tears out of your eyes. 

“Fuck—I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” You can hear the fear and panic in his voice. In this instance it’s both at the idea of hurting you and at disappointing you with not being able to do the act justice.

You gather yourself, as the sting slowly eases off. 

“No, no. It’s okay. It wasn’t bad, it was just a lot. Just rub it a bit. It helps with the stinging.” His hand is barely touching you now, almost worried that he could cause more damage but he rubs your sore skin anyway. His touch is soothing. His hands are perfect. Unmarred, not a single scar or blemish and you feel the softness melding right against your ass.  

“Next time, keep your fingers together. Keep your hand loose, relaxed. Don’t make it too stiff.” You give him instructions, not wanting to dissuade him from continuing. It may have been hard and definitely a slap you’d be more likely to handle better as the spanking went on rather than from the start but it was still exhilarating. 

“Homelander,” you say his name, to break him from the trance while he’s still rubbing your ass gently. And as much as that feels good you really want to get the party started so you convey the need for more with a little, “please?”

He takes your instructions to heart and he slaps your ass again. This time a little gentler. With his palm less splayed open it makes a deeper sound which is just music to your ears. 

“Oh fuuuck.” And it feels just as good as it sounds. Really good. Its gentle sting burns through your skin, thoroughly wetting your pussy. Your eyes roll back at the sensation. 

“Was that better?” He asks with gentleness you never expected him to be capable of.  

“Y-yeah.” You slurp back the saliva you feel pooling in your mouth. “It was perfect.”

He takes that as his hint to continue as he lands another. And another one. And more. All in the same spot. Your skin is getting brighter and brighter red. The burn is making your toes curl and your pussy throb.

The more you moan the more he spanks you, alternating between your cheeks until they’re both screaming bright red. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re leaking all over me.” Homelander says in an almost incredulous tone, as if he’s surprised that pain could make you this riled up. Finally, he sees it for the pleasure it gives you.

“Uhh, s-sorry.” You slur, drooling, already having melted into the couch. 

“You’re really fucking kinky, you know that?” 

You laugh at that. “What can I say? I know what I like.” 

“Clearly.” He ran his hand down the hot, red skin, making you hiss. His hands settled in between your cheeks, spreading them out while his other hand made its way to your pussy, sliding his fingers through the mess you made of yourself. 

“My, my, that got you excited.” He shoved two fingers in, meeting no resistance as he pumped them in and out. Even with the TV playing in the background the squelching sound of you is still obscenely loud. You should be embarrassed, really, but it feels so good to finally have something soothe the throbbing pain that’s been building up with each slap. 

“Fuuck. Can I have you, please?” You whine out, really just wanting to get pounded into the couch while you’re feeling all woozy.

“So you want me to spank you, and now you want me to fuck you? See, good girls participate. So hop on sweetheart. You gotta work for it too.” Now he was getting it. With his reservations out of the window, he slips right into teasing you.

You feel yourself flush and throb at his words. He’s so good to you. No matter what, he always makes you feel otherworldly.

With his help you peel yourself off the couch, straddling his lap where he’s pushed down his pants. His cock already hard and flushed red. Just like your cheeks.

You sink down on him, letting out a whimper when your cheeks meet his thighs. The skin on skin contact burns, reminding you of each slap you received. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, but really you just want to be close to him.

He kisses you, as if he’s been starved for it. This whole time you were facing away from him so it’s not like he could have enjoyed your gasps and moans against his lips.

You ride him as hard as your thighs allow, chasing the high of feeling full after the empty feeling you had to take each slap with. With each bounce your ass meets his thighs and your eyebrows pinch together in pain. Good pain. You’re sure he can feel just how blazing hot your cheeks feel.

Homelander grabs your ass from both sides, helping you up and down. His hands squeeze the bruising flesh, making you gasp for air.

“Good?” He asks as he massages the flesh, catching you off guard by another slap.

“Yea-AH!—s’good. Really fucking good.” You mumble, your speech slurring as you lean your forehead against his. It was intimate and debauched at the same time and it didn’t take either one of you long to finish. His cock was hitting you just right and with the added sting of your skin and the occasional slap he landed on alternating cheeks you unraveled on his lap. As you cling onto him with spent, burning thighs he finishes inside you with a few more strokes and you fully collapse into his arms. 

“See? I told you it’d be fun.” You’re panting against him, trying to calm your poor body down. Spent, satisfied and still burning up. You wonder how long you’re gonna feel that everytime you sit.

Hopefully for a while.

“Mhm. You got any more of these great ideas?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic): @infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss @hom3landr @mrsdesade @nommingonfood

[emma23]

Touch her again, I dare you :

Joel miller x reader

If you’d like to support me, check out my page 💕

https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile

It had been a relatively quiet week in Jackson, Wyoming. The town had settled into its usual routine, with everyone going about their business, doing their part to keep the community running smoothly. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the town square as people milled about, bartering for goods, chatting, and getting ready for the evening.

Y/N had just finished trading for some supplies—dried meat, a few cans of peaches, and some much-needed fresh bandages. Life in Jackson had its challenges, but compared to the world outside the gates, this was paradise. And she was grateful, especially since she had Joel.

Joel Miller, the man who everyone seemed to both respect and fear in equal measure. The man who’d been through more than anyone could imagine, who had seen and done things he’d never fully talk about. And the man she’d somehow ended up married to after a whirlwind of events that neither of them could have anticipated.

It wasn’t always easy. Joel could be gruff, emotionally distant at times, and prone to his own version of protectiveness that sometimes made Y/N want to strangle him. But underneath that hardened exterior, he was the man she loved—the man she’d built a life with, in this new world where everything felt fragile and temporary.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and turned to make her way back to their house when she felt it—a hand on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

A man’s voice, too close for comfort: “Hey there, sweetheart. Haven’t seen you around much. You new here?”

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she turned slowly, looking up at the stranger who had dared to touch her. He was tall, maybe in his early 30s, with an arrogant smirk on his face that made her skin crawl. He clearly didn’t know who he was messing with—or rather, who her husband was.

“I’m not interested,” she said flatly, shrugging his hand off her arm and turning to leave, but the man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just trying to be friendly.” He reached out again, this time brushing a hand across her waist.

Before Y/N could even react, there was a low, familiar growl from behind her. “Who the fuck are you?”

The change in atmosphere was immediate. The man’s hand dropped away from her as he turned to face the source of the voice. Joel stood there, eyes cold and dangerous, his body rigid with tension.

“I’m her husband. Put your hands on my wife again, and I’ll break them.”

The stranger blinked, clearly taken aback by the sheer intensity of Joel’s words. “I… I didn’t know, man. Just thought she was—”

Joel stepped forward, cutting him off, his face darkening. “I don’t care what you thought. I’m tellin’ you now. If you so much as look at her again, you’ll be eatin’ through a straw for the rest of your life.”

Y/N couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. It wasn’t that she found the situation funny, exactly—more like she found the poor idiot in front of her utterly ridiculous. Did he really think he could just smooth-talk his way out of this?

The guy raised his hands in surrender, backing away. “Alright, alright. No need to get violent. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Good,” Joel grunted, his eyes never leaving the man until he was completely out of sight.

Once the creep was gone, Joel turned his attention back to Y/N, his expression softening just a little, but not by much. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging. “He was just some idiot. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Joel grunted, clearly still agitated. “Yeah, well, I don’t like anyone touchin’ what’s mine.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. “Oh, I’m ‘yours,’ am I?”

Joel’s mouth twitched at the corner, his version of a smile. “Damn right you are.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her own lips. “You know, you don’t always have to go full ‘I’m gonna break your face’ mode every time some guy talks to me.”

“Not just talkin’,” Joel muttered, his hand resting on her waist now, pulling her a little closer. “Touchin’. And I ain’t gonna let that slide.”

There was something possessive in the way he held her now, something that made Y/N’s heart race a little faster. She couldn’t deny that she liked this side of Joel—this fierce, protective side that wouldn’t hesitate to tear apart anyone who messed with her. It was primal, raw, and very, very Joel.

“And what if I want to touch you?” she teased, slipping her arms around his neck, leaning up into his space.

Joel’s eyes darkened, the tension from before shifting into something else entirely. “That’s different.”

“Oh?” she smirked. “How so?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the kind of kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. His hands moved down her back, gripping her tightly as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and Y/N found herself melting into him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down her spine.

“And you’re mine,” she shot back, her voice breathless, her body pressed flush against his.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumb brushing across her cheek, his eyes intense. “Damn right I am.”

Later, back at their house, they barely made it through the door before they were all over each other again. Joel had barely closed the door when Y/N grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for another heated kiss. This time, there was no one around to interrupt, no town square full of people—just the two of them, and the electricity crackling between them.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice rough as his hands roamed over her body. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know,” she teased, grinning up at him as she tugged his shirt off over his head.

Joel didn’t waste any time. He scooped her up, carrying her to their bed, where he laid her down gently before climbing over her, his lips finding hers once more. Their movements were frantic, desperate, like they couldn’t get enough of each other fast enough. Clothes were discarded, hands explored, and before long, they were tangled together in a way that made everything else fade away.

In that moment, it was just them—no creeps, no dangers, no post-apocalyptic world threatening to tear them apart. Just Joel and Y/N, lost in each other, in the heat of the moment.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, catching their breath, the room filled with the warm glow of the setting sun filtering through the window. Y/N rested her head on Joel’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You know,” she said after a while, her voice soft but teasing, “you really didn’t need to go all caveman on that guy.”

Joel huffed a laugh, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her arm. “Yeah, well… he had it comin’.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his tone playful.

Y/N grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Joel’s hand moved to cup her face, gently lifting her chin so he could look her in the eyes. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you, not while I’m around.”

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection for the gruff, stubborn man she’d married. “I know.”

He leaned down, kissing her softly this time, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity. It was tender, sweet—a reminder that beneath all the bravado and gruffness, Joel Miller had a heart that beat for her.

As they settled back into a comfortable silence, Y/N couldn’t resist one last jab.

“So… you think you could maybe hold off on threatening to break people’s hands for a bit? At least until the next town meeting?”

Joel snorted. “No promises.”

[atoltia]

As the wind blows, remember that I'll come home to you.

started listening to "No Choice" by Fly By Midnight and this happened :')

March x Gender Neutral Adventurer/Farmer

-0-

You had to leave.

You didn't want to, of course you didn't, but you had to.

You were an adventurer first before you became a farmer, before you decided it was time to leave the thrill of adventure. To let your body rest, to abandon the horrors that you've seen in your years on the road and settle into this little town.

The life you had built here was nice, far nicer than you ever expected it would. You made friends, you found community. You were settling down.

But you, of all people, knew it wasn't going to last.

The missive arrived days after the last snowfall of spring. You thought it was another mail from Adeline or another letter from Errol asking to meet you and Eiland at the museum. Or maybe it was from March - you hoped it was - telling you that your ass better be at the inn that night.

A chill ran down your spine when you opened the mailbox. A single envelope sat inside, snug, the golden filigree emblazoned over the plush red on the quality paper glinted once the sunlight You didn't have to see the seal, didn't have to see the signature. Didn't have to see to know the colors of your guild.

But you were retired, right? You made sure of that. Made sure that you were off the ledgers, made sure that you would no longer be contacted.

And yet here it was, the ghosts of your past sitting prettily in the mailbox on the land that you so carefully tended.

There was a punch in your gut, a deep clutch at the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to open the envelope. Felt you already know what it said. But you did. You had to.

And felt your heart ice over.

Aldaria was at war. Every soldier, every adventurer within the central kingdom's guilds, every able combatant, retired or otherwise, are required to go to the frontlines.

No one is exempted.

Those who are to run will be deemed as traitors to the Crown and will be put to death.

Fuck.

-0-

The grief of it hit you quickly.

So much that you sat at the stone bench, one that you placed by Caldarus. You didn't think you could talk, didn't think you could form any of the words. Caldarus didn't pry. You thought he could sense what it was, anyway.

You didn't know how much time passed by. Didn't care. Not even hunger, not even the rain.

You had to leave. Immediately.

Adeline and Eiland were horrified. Elsie was rendered speechless. All of you were in tears.

You packed up quickly. It wasn't as if you had a lot of belongings, anyway, even though you've already spent several months here in Mistria. It had to be quick, it had to be soon, as your heart couldn't take it anymore.

The goodbyes were the most difficult of it. More tears, more fear. Hugs, promises to come back.

But you couldn't quite look at everyone in the eye. One person, at the back of the inn, just staring. Dark, dark eyes devoid of emotion. You noticed that his drink remained untouched, his food already cold. You didn't want to say goodbye, not to him. But you needed to.

You took him aside late into the night. His body was rigid, his eyes ice cold.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tried for a weak smile. "I guess you're right. I didn't even reach winter."

"Don't." His voice was hard, shaky. "Don't fucking blame yourself for this."

"March, I-"

He grabbed your shoulders, hard, looked directly into your eyes. "Don't die,' he murmured. "And come back when this is all done. Are we clear?"

The silence descended upon both of you as you stared at each other. Sighed. Weakly smiled.

"Clear."

And you knew, neither of you wanted to think of that promise being broken.

-0-

The day you left was a particularly rainy day.

Mistria was quiet, as if the joyous energy that usually engulfed the town was washed clean.

People tried to resume their routines, their normal, but watching you leave on horseback, alone while getting soaked, was one of the most difficult sights most of them had in recent years. And yet life has to move on. Days, weeks, months had to pass.

March was not handling it well.

He managed to easily slide back into routine. Being a tradesman, the work was never-ending, especially since he decided to expand their enterprise by accepting orders from the other surrounding towns.

It made sense to expand, especially since Mistria already rose up the ranks quickly in the months the farmer was here. Wartime was an opportunity for more profits. Times were changing and he had to catch up.

(And it wasn't because he just wanted the work to keep his mind off of you.)

Every hit of the hammer to the anvil was a second that he wasn't thinking about you.

Every nail, every screw, every project was something to keep your smile, the crinkle of delight in your eye when you give him another gift, the way the sunlight streaked your hair, out of his mind.

He didn't want to smell your scent the moment he picks up the blanket you made him. He didn't want to think about you when he eats something that you liked. He didn't want to remember the feeling of you, all the curves and angles of your body, the callouses of your hands, the scars that littered your body. He didn't want to see even the barest of glimpses of you in his dreams.

And yet he couldn't escape it. Couldn't escape the way his heart weighed him down. Couldn't escape the dull thrum of longing at the back of his head.

So he worked.

And worked.

And worked no matter how much Olric told him to take a break. No matter how much his body screamed at him to stop. Not even when Valen put her foot down and demanded he rest.

Because his hand shook when he struck that hammer. His breath hitched when he stepped away from the anvil. Because his eyes teared up when his back hit against the wall when the entirety of you consumed him, assaulted his senses, his memory.

"Fuck!"

He threw his hammer down as he crumpled to the ground, shoving his head into his lap as he breathed in the way you showed him how.

When were you coming back? He just wanted you back.

-0-

They were keeping up with the current events, of course.

It was slow all around, as messengers didn't always come or the roads were blocked off. But Balor, through his contacts, made sure that Mistria got the news as soon as possible.

The North Everett Garrison fell to the enemy a week ago and proved a heavy blow to the kingdom. Massive body counts on both sides. No news yet on those who fell.

They hoped, prayed, that you weren't there. That you weren't one of the ones who died. That you were still alive and well.

It's been over a year since you left and they still hoped.

It was three weeks after the news that another messenger arrived.

March snarled when the knock on the door came. The shop was closed, goddammit. Why can't people just leave him the fuck alone? He shoved open the door, stopped when Adeline and Eiland stood outside.

Dread pooled at the base of his stomach, his body crumbling into a cold sweat. In Adeline's hand was a familiar helmet. The perfect, silver helmet that he made for you over a year ago.

-0-

They said they couldn't find you.

When the garrison fell, it was immediately reclaimed by the arriving forces. For days, the soldiers and holy people recovered and identified the dead.

But there was nothing else that they could find of you. They only found the helmet, damaged and bloody, with March's trademark on it. By the time the forces managed to collect as much as they could, you were listed as one of the missing, potentially (probably) dead.

It was enough to send him into a spiral.

March hasn't left his room in days. The meals Olric left by his door barely touched. For days he held the helmet, his hands raw from keeping it close and tight to his chest.

His usual proud eyes were dull, the shine of it diminishing slowly ever since you left. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. This was supposed to be your start at a new life, a new beginning. He saw the grief in your eyes when you first moved in. He saw the twitchiness. He saw the strain. And he saw the way you let the shadows of your past eventually fall.

Only to be thrown back again against your will.

He couldn't feel anything. Just that steady throbbing, the heavy pulling of his heart down, down, to the depths of his despair. Couldn't feel the sunlight that streamed through his window. Couldn't feel the cold of the stone floor. Could barely feel the weight of the helmet on his lap.

Time didn't exist anymore. Every single breath he took was like inhaling shattered glass. The world seemed to have lost all color.

"March?"

"Go away, Olric."

"It's not Olric."

He whipped his head back, confusion marring itself on his face. With effort, he hauled himself off of the ground.

Opened the door.

It's been a while since you've seen him.

He's a bit thinner, a little gaunt, which worried you. A shadow of a beard rested on his face as he stood there, wide eyed, as he held your helmet in his hands.

He was just as handsome as you remembered him to be. You smiled.

"Hey, March."

He had you in his arms not one second later. You felt the shudder run through his body as his strong hands pulled you tight into his embrace. This was something that you dreamed off, the one thing that pushed you through, pushed you to survive. The thought of coming back to him was the light in your darkest days.

"March-"

"Quiet."

He took his time with you. Embracing you. Taking in your scent, memorizing your body once again. You had new scars, new injuries. But he doesn't care.

You were here and that's what mattered.

"March," you murmured as you buried you face into his shoulder, your bandaged hands digging into him like a vice. "I'm home."

He breathed in, sobbed out a sigh. Smiled.

"Welcome home, farmer."

-0-

hello, if you like my stuff i have more on my masterlist! :DD

also feel free to send some requests. I'm currently in a March headspace rn but I'm willing to try other characters too o: (might take a while to get to them tho since I'm gonna be in a convention crunch time qwq)

[thelosers-club]

HELLO so I heard people talkimg about Stan having OCD and I just really really needed to clear up misconceptions about OCD and Stans character so if you like stan uris or mental health studies at all this might be fun to read for you

none of this is like drama relatef at all it was just a fun little thing i wanted to do so i could learn about mental health and my favorite characters at the same time

sorry if none of this makes sense i wrote it all in one go at 2am (feel free to add any info you want or clear up anything i might've explained poorly)

This started because I was sick anf tired of people saying stan has ocd because that just doesnt make sense towards any canon material (If you want to headcanon him as it, that’s fine, but please read through this so you can do it more accurately) and it seemed to be just a dramatic stereotyping of what OCD is.

After doing research, reading the literal DSM’s sections on OCD, I’ve come to the conclusion that: I was right, Stan very very much does NOT have OCD.

People said he has it because in IT 2017, he makes sure to clean the windows properly, and in the book he has germaphobia. That’s about it. I looked at other things I tried to find as evidence for him having OCD, but I couldn’t find anything else that fit. And this is not a case of opinion because I like to be as absolutely objective as possible in these types of things and see no point in anything otherwise

So anyway, I’ll try to put this all simply because if I get too complicated I’m gonna get lost and this will turn into a rant on literally anything because currently I’m unmedicated for my adhd

Why does Stan not have OCD? To put it simply, he does not fit any of the criteria. I do think he has germaphobia, but I believe that to be part of his autism (as it’s very, very common in autism) and/or anxiety.

To delve into that a liittle bit more, the OCD criteria is this:

A. obsessions or compulsions, such as recurrent and persistent thoughts, impulses, images, that are, at some point, intrusive and inappropriate and cause distress. the thoughts, impulses, or images are not simply excessive worries about real life problems. the person attempts to ignore/suppress such thoughts as to neutralize them with some other thought or action.

Thinking back on the book, which is what I like to adhere to as much as possible, Stan does not have these thoughts recurrently enough that it is affecting his life. I can see that he has a fear of dirt and ick which sometimes spikes when he’s stressed, but otherwise he is able to go through his day to day life easily enough with these thoughts.

Other diagnostic criteria to fill up the cracks in this is that the obsessions or compulsions must be time consuming (taking up more than 1 hour a day) or significantly interfere with the person’s normal routine and functioning, or social activities or relationships. Stan is not shown doing things like this repeatedly and, in my mind when I try to follow stephen king’s writing and ideas as much as I possibly can, I do not think he would if the book were longer either.

But, I very much think these traits are there; And they fit perfectly into autism traits. I think right now is a good time to note that autism gets mixed up as OCD quite a bit because they have overlapping traits.

Now to defend my case for why he might have Autism;

He acts to put it quite simply, insanely fucking autistic. Alllll the fucking time. That man is incredibly autistic there is no denying this

His whole character is set on the fact that he is a very black and white person, very very rigid, and you can’t deny it because he literally killed himself over finding out he was wrong about the guidelines and rules he made up for the world. he is so autistic

A common trait of autism is having an abnormal way of speaking, like a weird rhythm, and Stan’s tone WAS described as pleasant but it was also described as abnormal and such..

Look at how much he likes birds. it feels a little obvious to me here lol

the meltdowns he’s had because, again, his routine and rules were interrupted

He was insanely good at math/accounting which I think also has to do with the need for rules he has, math is ruled and never changes 4+4 will always be 8 yada yada

Also stan just in my headcanon world has very very limited romantic and platonic feelings and I think thats common in autistic folks because we’re so different from other people

anyways im tired and i think you all get it by now if youve watched any of the movies or read the book Stan acts quite autistic. i swear im not self projecting pleas

[borom1r]

WEIRD fuckin ask but we talked about it once and it would not exit the brain. Flavours of neurodivergence within the fellowship: discuss?

OGH. no, good ask. good ask I love it. AUTISM FLAVORED bc that is my own experience :3

Aragorn— autism of the “I Am 100% A Changeling, I Have No Idea How To Relate To Humanity” variety. like yea being partly raised by elves didn’t help but he absolutely wandered around mimicking people to learn how to Behave Like A Person. autism trait absorption for the win!! comes to Minas Tirith and gets a painful crash course in masking, but never quite figured out how to Not stare at someone like a feral cat when he wants something from them (despite the Stare, HATES eye contact)

Boromir— OPPOSITE AUTISM. very direct. EXTREMELY rigid routines. military history special interest (literally just undiagnosed dad autism). probably has food sensitivities but he’s spent so long as a soldier he can just eat anything now. he hates it and he won’t eat a big portion of non-safe foods, but at least he can swallow them. he IS absolutely 100% undiagnosed and doesn’t think there’s anything wrong but if he doesn’t get to perfectly make his bed every morning he will be in a Noticeably Bad Mood for the rest of the day < does not understand that this isn’t normal

Gandalf— oh there’s definitely something going on there, but good luck with figuring THAT out

Legolas— AuDHD king. the autism/ADHD comorbidity is real and he barely bothers to mask. least of all in front of men?? he’s an elf prince and you expect him to act “normal” by human standards? I love how jacked up the Hobbit film timeline is bc Thranduil implying to Legolas “yeah go hang out in Rivendell with a ten year old” is SO funny. canon to me tho. there was a very significant chunk of time where Aragorn was just Mini Legolas. hell world for civilized Rivendell elves. unlike Aragorn, however, prefers very direct eye contact. WILL fully hit you with the 👁️👁️ almost unblinking for a whole conversation

Gimli— I’m gonna be real here. I think neurotypical but in the sense of like. literally nobody cares. dwarves are craftsmen, artisans, smiths, you think they’re going to risk squandering talent simply because somebody needs some accommodations? are you nuts???? like yea maybe somebody’s a Little Weird Sometimes but they can work the forge just fine or tool leather for straps/handle wraps, or draft designs, or stamp metal for decorations, like?? doesn’t particularly grasp the need for labels when you can just work with ppl to figure out what’s best for them + then everyone’s happy. fully has to stew on the fact that Men Don’t Do That, men are actually very rigid about what is socially acceptable and won’t provide accommodations Unless there is a label. wild.

Frodo— autism/depression hell combination. no meltdowns, only shutdowns. auditory processing disorder!! definitely also has poor temperature regulation (CONSTANTLY cold). hey did u know that’s a symptom of ASD? crazy. WILD. anyways. Sam knows he can barely handle the feeling of mittens/gloves so half the time when they’re hanging out is Sam just holding Frodo’s hands so they actually fucking warm up for a bit. not too rigid about Big routines, most of his are Little (always putting a specific amount of sugar in his tea, for example)

Sam— neurotypical but in the sense of my dad where he was just SO used to me being Autistically Strange that he was just like. “well, that’s Strider!” < blissfully unaware. fully just SO used to whatever’s going on w/ Frodo+Merry that it’s Normal to him. like wdym they’re different?? those are just his friends?? hello??

Merry— ADHDDDDDDDDD. and look ik Tolkien said pipeweed is just tobacco but that’s a lie and we all know it, right? right. self-medicating with pipeweed.

Pippin— neurotypical but Pippin-flavored

[drewsbuzzcut]

Roughed up

sidney crosby x fem!reader

warnings: smut smut smut (curse words, teasing,rough sex, cream pie, cum play, squirting)

Your body was rigid as you watched Sidney push at the other player. It wasn’t usual to see Sidney being rough. You only got more concerned when he was ejected from the game. For the first time in his long career, he got thrown out, and it was kind of hot. It was going to be interesting when he got home.

You tuned out the game, and made a quick dinner for Sidney when he eventually got home, although you’re not sure how he’ll be when he returns. He’ll either be moody or disappointed with himself, or a little of both.

You were changing into your pjs (panties and one of Sidney’s shirts) and doing your skincare routine when you heard the front door open followed by the thump of his hockey bag hitting the ground. Walking out to the living room, you find him with his head leaning against the door, his breathing is heavy. You walk over to him and put your hand on his back to let him know that you were behind him. He turns to face you with his hands already placed on the small of your back. Looking into his eyes you can see that he’s still a bit pissed. You let your lips twist into a slight smirk, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You okay?” You ask, kissing his chin softly, trying to melt his hard exterior to get him to loosen up a bit.

“I’m still pissed,” he says stoically.

“Why?” You ask, almost innocently. You’re trying to rile him up only because you’re amused at the whole situation. You know you shouldn’t be, but it was rare seeing this side of Sidney and boy did it turn you on.

You make sure to frown and part your lips in confusion. In return, Sidney scoffs and takes a step or two back away from you.

“What do you mean ‘why’? I got my ass thrown out the damn game on a shit call,” sid exasperates.

You try not to make the gleam in your eyes noticeable as you bring your body closer to his, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“I asked because you were so sexy out there being all rough and mad,” you tell him and nip at the shell of his ear.

The way he immediately tightens his grip on your hips lets you know that you got him right where you want him.

“It’s nothing to be amused about,” he states.

“Sure it is. I don’t care it was hot as fuck,” you tilt your head to let him know you’re not changing your mind.

“You shouldn’t care either. It was your first time getting ejected, ever,” you continue.

“That’s exactly why I should care! I’m mad and I have every right to be!”

He’s mad and sexy.

You pretend to mull over what he said. Too turned on to realize that when you pressed your legs together to have some kind of contact, Sidney noticed. Now he knew why you were being nonchalant about everything.

“You’re right. You should be mad, and you should take your anger out… on me,” you say kissing all over his neck and making sure to nip and lick certain spots all while you raise a leg to be set on his hip.

All it takes is one particularly hard bite on his pulse point, and he’s lifting you up to carry you while you have a heated makeout.

It’s messy, so fucking messy but it’s so good. You’re pulling at his hair while the both of your tongues tangle together. Your hips keep grinding against him in search of some contact, and his big hands are massaging your ass. The sounds of your lips smacking together and moans fill the silence. Sidney pulls back and lets one of his hands pull at your hair which makes your head tilt back. He then starts attacking your neck with soft suckles. The moans and gasps are flying out of your mouth left and right. You’re so wet and Sidney can feel it through your underwear and the button up he’s wearing.

“Fuck me. Hard.”

Sidney doesn’t need convincing. Your body is being slammed into the wall and his strong upper body is enough to hold you up. He pulls his suit pants down with the help of you undoing his belt, and then you move to unbutton his dress shirt, just wanting him to be in his naked glory. Once he’s mostly naked, he moves your hands so that they’re pinned to the wall and kisses the soul out of you.

“Touch me, baby,” you say into the kiss.

He lets go of your hands and they move to rest around his neck. Your legs are still wrapped around his hips and your back is firmly against the wall. Your breathing gets heavy when you see him pull out his hard cock, anticipating him filling you up. He guides his member to your core, nudging the head against your clit. You automatically let out a slew of moans and curses. He continues his movements for a few minutes and then he’s moving so that his whole shaft is rubbing against your heat, teasing you until you’re near tears. There’s a cocky smirk on his face; he knows he’s making you wetter than ever. He can feel your slickness all over him.

“Sidney, fuck me!” You demand, nails digging into the skin of his neck.

Your head is already so far in the clouds and you haven’t even orgasmed yet. Each time his length slips in between your folds, your hips rise as if it’ll make him enter you faster. You feel his spit drip onto your pussy and it makes you quiver. You’re closer to getting what you what. When you think he’s about to thrust into you, you’re surprised to feel that it’s two of his fingers. While his fingers are long and thick, they’re not long or thick enough to settle your craving. However, you forget about that craving when his fingertips hit your sweet spot repeatedly. You’re withering in his hold, trying to escape and savor the feeling at the same time. The sounds of your sopping core are enough to tease Sidney, getting him to finally give in and fuck you.

You’re nearly screaming when he drives his cock into you. Your grip on his shoulders tightens and you try to throw your head back as far as the wall behind you will let you. His body is grinding into yours and the feel of his abs only adds to the sensations surrounding you.

“Just like that.”

“Fuck. You’re so big.”

“Harder.” You chant out. It only spurs Sidney on.

He fondles your boob with the one hand that isn’t holding you up, and even though you’re still clothed, it doesn’t stop it from feeling amazing. His pace speeds up and you’re so close to cumming. Sidney knows this so he rapidly thrusts in and out of you while circling your clit, and it doesn’t take you long to combust.

Your moans are sweet and loud. You don’t let your high take over because you need to be pressed to Sid in every way. You wrap your arms around him and wrap your legs tighter around his hips, sealing your lips to his. It’s a heavy kiss, but it’s still sweet; your silent appreciation for the orgasm. It’s not over, though, Sidney still hasn’t cum and if he’s going to cum anywhere, it’s going to be inside you. To keep things from ending too quickly, he starts to finger you again.

You lift your hips with each thrust of his fingers, dying to reach another orgasm. He notices your eyes starting to brim with tears, and he leans in to kiss you on your neck. His fingers start moving faster and he even lets his thumb start to do figure 8s on your clit.

“More,” you beg with a whine.

This makes him enter a third finger inside you. Your body tightens at the new stretch in your pussy, you’re so close to your second orgasm. 3 more caresses against your g-spot and you’re doused in flames. Your body slightly shivers at the sensitivity as Sidney has yet to remove his fingers. There’s no pause in Sidney’s movements; he knows that if you couldn’t handle it, you’d say something. The rapid thrusts of his cock bring you back down to earth. He holds your body against the wall by the lower part of your legs. This means your back is flat on the wall, your knees are pushed to your chest and held there by his hands as he fucks into you.

“Sid. Sid. Sid. Sid.” You cry out.

Lips pressed against his cheek, so he feels every vibration coming from your moans and shrieks.

At one point your body is so lax, you start leaning to the side, almost falling but Sidney is quick to catch you.

“You’re so tight. You like when I fuck you like this?” They’re the first words Sidney has spoken in a while, but they do wonders for progressing your incoming orgasm.

His thrusts are so fast and hard, the thumping against the wall almost drowns out every moan, and the picture frames hanged on the wall are close to falling off. When he squeezes your nipples you’re coming with a loud gasp, and you tremble which causes you to squeeze your walls around Sid, making him finally paint your walls. The sweat covering both of your bodies would usually make this situation uncomfortable, but if you’re honest, you’re covered in more than sweat.

Sidney lets you breathe for a minute. A minute in which you feel your mixed cum draining from you. The shirt you were wearing finally comes off, thanks to Sidney. And even though you’re supposed to be catching your breathe, you get distracted by the wet mouth encasing your nipple. The suction around the hard bud has you bucking your hips, making a mess on sid’s bare stomach. When he catches a glimpse of his cream pie dripping, he’s quick to push it back into you with one finger.

“Ughh fuck!”

Thinking you’re done, you try to let your feet hit the floor, but Sidney just moves you away from the wall and adjusts his hold so that he’s holding you from under your knees. He gives you this look, a look saying that he wasn’t done, so you guide his length back into you. As soon as you do, your tears are falling. Not in pain but in overstimulation.

His thrusts are unending and rough. You have to grip onto the back of his neck with one hand, the other too busy scratching down his chest.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Fuck! Harder baby, harder,” you scream out. Hopefully your neighbors weren’t home because if they were, they’d be hearing everything.

He bounces you up and down his thick length, the veins dragging along your walls sends you into orbit. You pull on his chain so that his lips land on yours, but his cock nudging your sweet spot, makes it almost impossible for you to be quiet. You can’t even focus on kissing him properly.

The moment you feel his cum spurt into you, you’re cumming as well. The circles being pressed into your bundle of nerves has you squirting; not a lot but enough to wet Sidney. Your moans aren’t stopping anytime soon, too blissed out to comprehend anything. Your body is shaking so much that Sidney is now holding you tightly. He has one arms under your ass and one holding onto your neck. Little kisses are delivered to your lips to try to get you to come down, but you’re too numb to feel his lips.

It takes about 5 minutes for you to even out your breathing, and when you do, you finally give Sidney a long, passionate kiss. 5 minutes wasn’t long enough. When he sets you on your own legs, your body jolts and your legs are jelly. He’s quick to support your body, having you lean against him.

“Are you okay?” He questions in concern.

“That was the best sex we’ve ever had, but I think my legs are dead. I don’t think I will be able to function,” you state with slight whine, earning a chuckle from your man.

His chuckle makes you smile.

“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up and into bed,” he says into your hair and slaps your ass, making you almost fall.

“Not cool,” you whine.

“I love you.”

“I love you more. I don’t care if you got ejected from the game, you’re still one of the best players and captains to ever grace the nhl,” your words are laced in confidence, knowing that he needs to hear this.

He gives you an appreciative nod and kisses you like he’s never kissed you before; kissing you and kissing you like he never wants to stop and he doesn’t want to stop.

You spend the rest of the night cuddled in bed, in his arms. Talking and teasing each other light heartedly, and you listen to him as he expresses his thoughts about the game and what happened. And if he ends up making you cum on his tongue, well, you won’t be complaining.

a/n: Thiswas just a random thought that I couldn’t get out of my head. I’m not really great at writing smut, so hopefully this wasn’t terrible. Hope y’all enjoy! Also, happy Valentine’s Day lovelies!

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 & 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

⬷ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞┊ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: dancer!minho/artist!felix. brothers best friend troupe. college au. age gap (abt 4 years). minho pov. extremely dark themes throughout, including smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

word count: 3.6k

the playlist 🗡️

a/n: GUYS GUYS GUYS !!!!!! ITS SOO VERY FUCKING SERIOUS FOR MEEEEE!!!! 😫😩 TODAY IS SKZPALOOZA AND IM ABOUT TO FUCKING KMSSSS!!!! 😭😫 okay anyways, back to our regular programming... this episode was a lot heavier and darker than all the others ones, and it will only get worse from here. I didn't want to make it very long and drag out the scene for this, or to make light of it. I wanted to treat everything that happens to Felix in this as delicately and gently as I can. I hope you guys are enjoying this lil series of mine, and I can't wait for ya'll to read the next few parts! 💗

🗡️ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

̶﹒⊹﹒ᴀ ᴡʜɪsᴋᴇʏ ʙᴏᴛᴛʟᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs sɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ！،، 🌌  𖥻 𓂃 ᴀ ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴛᴀɪʟ ғɪᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ǫᴜɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴋɪss╰╮ 🌑

  Thankfully, the campus was pretty dead and deserted on the weekends, since everyone was sprawled out across the place or getting lost somewhere in the city. 

  Minho did run into a few of his classmates in the practice hall while he worked over that weekend, but since there were a handful of rooms for each class year, he didn’t have too much trouble finding time to himself. 

  So that’s how he spent his entire weekend, sweating off all of his problems and shoving down all of his feelings with gallons of water. By the time Sunday night rolled around, he was completely exhausted. His legs felt like jelly and his arms trembled each time he tried to do that certain part of their routine that he was having so much difficulty with.

  He had started getting a headache earlier in the afternoon — probably from all of the stress of classes — so he had turned off the studio lights. With it being so late at night on a random Sunday, everyone had gone home and he was the only one left in the Technical Dance Studio building. 

  The waning crescent moon shone outside the studio window like a toenail, offering enough light on the hardwood floors for Minho to see his steps and what he was messing up. Besides, he had an unusually exceptional vision in the dark, so if having the lights off helped his head, he was able to put up with it. 

  “Fuck— why can’t I get this right?!” He exclaimed in a frustrated tone, stopping his movements and staring at himself in the mirror. His shoulders heaved with each breath he took, with his entire upper half drenched in sweat. The white t-shirt that he always wore for luck to practice was completely see-through from how much he had been dancing. 

  Silence ensued across the practice room, as Minho blew out a few deep breaths to regulate his racing heart. The dark shadows curled around the corners of the wooden floors, making the place seem eery in a calming kind of way.

  “You shouldn’t push yourself so much.” 

  Just like that, his body was completely freezing up. Pulling taught like a bowstring, he could feel his entire spine going rigid and pin-straight. In the reflection of the mirror, his eyes searched the darkness behind him. 

  There, he found the source of the voice. 

  A soft, light, familiar tone. 

  In the shadows, it was hard to make him out entirely, but the blonde locks that were slightly messy were unmistakable. 

  Minho yanked his eyes away from the reflection as Felix neared the moonlight slowly. “What are you doing here?” He asked, reaching down to the ground and grabbing his towel to wipe off the sweat that was dripping down his forehead. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.” 

  Felix was quiet for a few beats after that- like he was calculating and deciding his next words. Then, “I never fucking said that… I just meant that I—”

  Dropping the towel back on top of his bag, Minho turned around to face Felix. “That, what? You’ll always hate my guts and I’m a horrible person? Trust me, you don’t have to tell me twice, I already fucking know.” He ground out, giving Felix a deadpan stare without any bit of mirth. 

  But he was trying to put up a front. Because inside, the concern was burning him up. Eating him alive, from how thin Felix looked since the last time he had truly seen him at the party a few weeks before. 

  Almost like… he hadn't been eating. 

  His clothes weren’t as put together as Minho was used to seeing him wear around campus. His dark blue hoodie and matching sweatpants hung off his limbs like if the autumn wind blew hard enough, they’d rip right off. 

  Felix shoved his hands into his pockets roughly, finally meeting Minho’s gaze. The pain Minho saw there, the disheveled hair and the wrinkly eyebrows, Minho didn’t know how to process it all. “I’ve never hated you, Minho.” He said, a little quieter than before. “I don’t know how I ever could.”

  “Well, you should. Because I’m a horrible person.” 

  “Don’t say that, you’re not. If anything, I’m the shitty one here— I fucking invited you to that stupid party when I knew how it would be and I don’t know why I thought it’d be a good place to—”

  Minho canted his head to the side just a tiny bit, leaning his back against the mirror behind him. In the moonlight, Felix’s blonde tresses shone like spun golden starlight. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I shouldn’t have gone in the first place, it was a bad decision and I should’ve listened to Chris.” 

  Felix’s eyes darkened a little bit at the mention of his older brother like he had some personal vendetta against him. “Why, because my brother said I’m a bad boy these days and my choice of friends are shit?” 

  Shrugging slowly, Minho’s eyes scanned down the expanse of Felix once more. And he could feel the younger’s eyes tracking him, as Felix subtly shifted his stance so that his shoulder was leaning against the wall right beside the floor-length window. Like he was self-conscious and he didn’t want Minho to study him too well. 

  “No, Chris never said anything like that. He just— didn’t think it was a good idea, with the opposite grade years and stuff. Maturity-wise, I guess.” Minho’s voice had grown a little quieter in the silence of the practice room, watching as his words changed the emotions displayed on Felix’s face. They went from anger to sadness, to defeat rather quickly.

  Felix hit the side of his head rather roughly with a fist, “I’m so fucking stupid— I just wanted to— I just wanted to be with you. And I couldn’t even do that right because I can’t do anything right and—”

  “Felix, hey— stop. It’s okay, you’re not stupid. It’s not a big deal so don’t worry about it,” Minho said, waving a hand in the air to try and dismiss some of the tension in the room. But he was lying right through his teeth. Because the things that had happened that night at the party still stuck with him, even weeks later. “I’m over it, so it’s fine.”

  By then, Felix was covering his face with his hands, sighing so deeply into them that his fragile shoulders were shaking incrementally. “But I’m not! I fucked up like I always do! I ruined everything and I know that you hate me— and that you’re lying!” His outburst forced Minho to freeze in his place, waiting for him to continue. And then Felix was pulling his hands away from his face and Minho watched as the rivers started running down his cheeks. “I just— I really missed you and I—”

  Minho didn’t afford him any more words. He was crossing the small expanse between them and enveloping Felix in a hug before anything else could happen. It was muscle memory, truly. He didn't think about anything else at that moment - about himself or his own emotions. And instead, all that rang out in his brain was: comfort him, comfort him, comfort him. 

  It was their first hug since Felix had started at the university. He felt so light and fragile in Minho’s grasp, and he made careful work of wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist. Slowly, he brought a hand up to Felix’s neck, stroking the back of his head in a soothing motion. 

  “It’s okay, Lixie. I’m not upset, really,” Minho said, completely being truthful. Because how could he be any more upset than Felix was? How could he continue to be, when Felix was breaking down in his arms? Felix’s shaking hands clawed at his sweaty back, small fingers gripping the damp fabric there. “Please, don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry.” 

  Those were the same words he had told Felix the day he broke the news that he was moving away from their small hometown in Busan to university hours away in Seoul. He always remembered that day, like it had only happened recently. 

  He remembered the look on Felix’s face, happiness shattering completely and the tears already clouding the corners of his eyes. 

  Fourteen-year-old Felix was a sight to behold, with his midnight-black locks and rosy cheeks. 

  Even still, eighteen-year-old Minho watched Felix’s heart break that day, as he reached forward to him and desperately grabbed for Minho’s waist. He remembered the ear-piercing wailing, the shaking from Felix that day. The way he couldn't stop crying or beating at Minho's chest. Just begging him not to go- begging him to say sike and stay with him there. 

  And the way that Felix was holding onto him in the practice room, it felt like that day to Minho all over again. But not as loud and not as open. Like… Felix was holding himself back.

  Felix was muttering something into the crook of Minho’s neck, over and over again between his tears. His shaking overtook Minho’s entire body, making it hard to breathe from how badly his heart was breaking. He just wanted Felix to be okay, no matter what. That’s all he had ever wanted. 

  With gentle hands, he hoisted Felix up onto the windowsill that was just behind him. The small alcove afforded enough room for Felix to perch on it easily, and with the added leverage, Minho was slowly able to start pulling him away from his form to talk. 

  But the moment he grasped onto Felix's wrists to peel him away from his body, the younger man flinched unmistakably, yanking his arms out of Minho’s reach. 

  Minho could feel the blood in his system grow cold instantly. Running chilled in his veins, his heart slowed down inside his chest. Beating weakly against his ribcage, Minho’s lips were moving before he could even process the words. “Did someone hurt you, Felix?” 

  Through his tears, the younger man had the sense to shake his head in a reply. But the way he was cradling his arms told Minho something a lot different. With slow movements, like a hunter not wanting to scare away a deer, Minho took hold of Felix’s wrists again. 

  He brought them close to him once more. Felix was completely frozen in front of him, spine rigid as a board, eyes screwed shut as the tears raced down his freckled cheeks in silent despair. “Please— d-don’t—” He begged, tone breaking and cracking like a shattered piece of glass, the desperation so palpable, Minho could taste it on his tongue. 

  But the pleas were completely irrelevant, both of them knew. Minho was going to, anyway. Like he had always done in the past. 

  Then, he found himself pushing up the thick sleeves of Felix’s hoodie, all the way up to his elbows. The darkness of the room made everything go incredibly quiet and hushed, but the moonlight afforded enough light for Minho to decipher the redness and fresh lines there, imprinted into Felix’s normally milky-smooth skin. 

  “How long?” 

  Is all he asked, focus still on Felix’s arms and on the way he had been hurting so much without Minho even knowing. Without anyone knowing, like always. 

  “I-It doesn’t matter, I’m going to stop.” Felix shook in his arms, and Minho slowly covered up his arms again with his sleeves. 

  “It does matter though, Felix. You always matter.” Minho spoke softly so that only Felix was able to hear his words. And no one else, ever. 

  Felix wiped away his tears, the tip of his nose red from crying so much and his cheeks still wet. “Since the party, I guess… I just couldn’t—”

  Minho could feel his heart break even more at the confession. Since the party. Since everything had blown up in their faces and Minho had ruined it all. “I’m sorry— I never meant to hurt you like this…” He whispered, bringing Felix closer to him again and squeezing his sides in a hug. 

  “It’s not your fault. It’s no one's fault, Min. It’s my stupid issues… after everything, it’s how I cope sometimes.” Felix said, nuzzling his head into Minho’s shoulder like a kitten seeking attention from its owner. 

  Moving his head to the side, Minho closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Felix. Of his floral perfume and the hidden smoke of weed and the fruitiness of his shampoo. His lips hovered over Felix’s head, not touching, but not backing away either. Yet he couldn’t force himself to kiss his head, either. There was still so much time lost and feelings unknown that was stopping Minho from doing anything else than giving comfort just then. 

  “I guess, I assumed because you’ve changed so much since our childhood, you’ve worked through everything,” Minho started, sighing against Felix in defeat. But that notion was flawed, to begin with. Because the fact that Felix was so changed didn’t necessarily signal a good thing. “That’s a stupid thought, I know. I shouldn’t have assumed it.” 

  Pulling away from Minho again, Felix stared up at him with gaping, wide eyes that were puffy from crying so much. He bit down on his lips, focus going everywhere in the room except Minho. “Yeah, I— high school was a lot, when you guys left. But I don’t really… wanna talk about it.” Then Felix’s eyes were landing back on Minho’s. 

  When their gazes met once more, Minho caught the bit of hurt that Felix tried to hide away. It was tiny and waning, but he still noticed the dim light nonetheless. He had noticed it the first time they had met in the campus gardens, and again at the party. It was so small and sheltered, that anyone else would have never even caught a glimpse of it. 

  But Minho did, like Minho always did when it came to Felix. Just like every time he knew when Felix had turned to harming again during their childhood. He could read it on his face, on the way he carried himself. They were two depressed boys who sought refuge in each other for a time. And it seemed like even into adulthood, they were still two depressed boys seeking out one another in their lowest moments. 

  Lee Minho was not stupid. He could read people similarly to how Hyunjin could.  He knew when something was amiss, and when someone was hiding things from their past.

  He knew that Felix was doing that exact thing. But Minho had yet to figure out what exactly he was hiding. Felix put on a good show — wore a pretty, popular mask — but Minho had a sneaky suspicion that underneath all of the smiles, glitter, and sex, there was a lot of darkness and scars. 

  “You don’t have to tell me anything, ever. I just want to know that you’re okay and safe and that you’ll work on stopping again.” Minho said, motioning with his head down to Felix’s arms again. He had seen him do it before — fall into bouts of depression and turn to cutting, but then pull himself up with the help of Minho. “If you ever need to talk, ever need to distract yourself from it, you tell me, okay?”

  Felix was shaking his head in agreement, blinking back the last bit of his tears and tucking a few messy strands of his hair behind his ear. “You… don’t have my phone number though. So how can I—”

  Minho waved his words away with a nonchalant hand, “It’s still the same one ending in 0325, right?” 

  “Uhm… yeah?”

  “Then I have it.” 

  At that, Felix’s body froze again. Eyebrows rising in surprise and pupils sparkling just a tad bit, he couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile. “You mean you saved my contact from all those years ago?” 

  Minho didn’t know how to reply to that. Should he tell Felix how he felt, after all of the years that had passed? Or should he wait for things to happen naturally and let everything slide into place, however that happened? He decided on the latter, at that moment. “Yeah, I figured I’d run into you at some point since you’re my best friend’s little brother.” 

  Felix glared his way, rolling his eyes just a tiny bit in exasperation. “Don’t fucking remind me.” 

  Chris was an amazing brother to Felix, but Minho knew how rocky their relationship was at times. Chris knew a small bit about Felix’s struggles with depression and anxiety growing up, but he had no idea about the cutting. The first time Minho found out about it when they were in high school, Felix had begged on his hands and knees, face wet with tears and snot, for Minho not to tell Chris. 

  And ever since then, Minho had kept to his promise. So Felix never had to worry about Minho tattling, since he was a man of his word. 

  “But, it’s really late now. You’ve been practicing all day and you’re exhausted so I should let you go…” Felix’s voice drifted off into the hushed space between them, pulling Minho out of his thoughts. 

  “I’m not exhausted.”

  Reaching out, one of Felix’s hands ran up the length of Minho’s damp bicep. Tracing across his shoulder and brushing against the back of his neck, Felix stared up at Minho with slightly hooded eyes. “Then why are you shaking so much?” In the darkness of the room, the shadows seemed to dance underneath his eyes, curling around his face and making his bleached-blonde hair look smokier. 

  Taking in a deep breath, Minho held it in his chest, watching the way that Felix’s eyes ran over the length of his face. He could feel his fingers moving behind his neck, brushing against the nape there before going into his hair and combing through Minho’s locks slowly. 

  “You and I both know nothing can happen, Felix. It never can, not again.” He decided to not answer Felix’s question but instead lay down the boundary line of what they were. He was saying, in a masked, gentler kind of way, that they could only just be friends. 

  Felix’s fingers froze in his hair, and Minho watched as the look on his face melted into a puddle of sadness. The disappointment flashed in his eyes just as his shoulders slumped a little bit in defeat. “Why… because you think I’m too far gone these days?” 

  “No, it’s not that,” Minho started, but couldn’t find the right words with Felix still touching his bare skin. So he reached behind his neck and grabbed his hand. Taking it into his own, he squeezed Felix’s fingers lightly. “I just— I think we both need time to process everything. We’ve been through a lot in the past few years and we both need healing from it all.” 

  “But we can help each other. We can heal together." 

  “Not in the way you think, Lixie.” 

  At that, Felix was gradually pulling his hand out of Minho’s grasp. “I’m sorry… It’s getting late, we should both head home.” And just like that, the atmosphere was changing again. Minho could sense Felix shutting himself in again, hollowing out his shell and hiding once more. He stared up at Minho, offering him a bright smile. But the older man knew that it held little mirth beneath it. “Besides, you probably have to practice again tomorrow, so you should let your body rest.” 

  Then Felix was moving away from Minho’s presence entirely, slinking towards the studio’s doors. The soft, calming energy surrounding them snapped like a rubber band in an instant. Minho could hear his heart beating in his ears, his blood thrumming through his veins with fiery-white heat. “Please don’t be upset, Felix. It’s for the best, trust me.” He said, trailing after Felix as he quickly grabbed his things from the floor and slipped through the front door. 

  “I’m not upset, I promise,” Felix said, turning to him and reaching out to squeeze Minho’s hand comfortingly. “Besides, now I know your phone number is still the same from our high school days. So I can text you to hang out whenever I want. As friends.” 

  Then he was pulling away from Minho’s side entirely, turning in the direction of the freshman’s dormitory which was on the other side of the campus. 

  “Call me, please. I’ll always pick up and I’ll always text.” Minho shouted in the wake of Felix leaving him. The younger man turned around after that and flashed him a thumbs-up with a bright smile. “Text me when you get home safely!”

  Minho watched the entire time, as Felix slinked into the foggy night ahead. The chilled air bit at Minho’s sweat-slick skin, but he stood there until he could no longer decipher Felix’s blonde locks from the golden leaves around campus. 

  And as he turned around and made his way home, he had the distinct feeling that he had royally fucked up. Even though he had put down a boundary, and spoke his mind about what he wanted in that moment, he was quickly realizing that Felix possibly wanted something entirely different. 

  But Minho would rather sweep everything under the rug — as in, their true feelings for each other — instead of deal with the problems at hand. That was his specialty.

  It’s just too bad that Felix wanted the exact opposite of that. 

  And it was too bad that they were too far apart in age and maturity and… their journeys in life, to ever come together again. 

  To be back in the same place that they shared during childhood, which was suspended in time. But there was no turning back the clock, so Minho thought there was no use in pondering over it any further. 

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

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[studywgabi]

Looking Back

Whenever I try to talk to my mother about my autistic traits, she always says, "but you weren't always like that" or "but you didn't do that when you were younger." This is true, and there is a very simple reason why: because I wasn't allowed to. Because it was rude not to make eye contact when an adult was speaking to me. Because it was weird to keep smacking my lips over and over again like that. Because I had to wear the clothes she bought for me and eat the food she cooked. Because I needed to broaden my horizons and not do all the same things all the time. Because I needed to make friends and be more outgoing. Because I needed to be more flexible and not so rigid all the time, go with the flow, be okay with changing my routine. I didn't seem autistic until I was an adult because I couldn't as a child.

Now, I overcompensate. I fill my head with facts about Elizabethan era fashion. I tic as loud as I fucking feel like. I put my hands in the air and flap them like I just don't care. The different types of food on my plate do not touch each other under any circumstances and turtlenecks have no place in my closet. I listen and understand instead of having to concentrate on staring at someone's eyes. I take care of myself and make up for the lost time when I was younger.

To have this kind of freedom is an incredible privilege that many autistic people of all ages do not. To anyone who can't freely and safely exist, I am so sorry, and I want you to know my blog is a safe space for all shawties with the auty to be yourselves and brought the aut.

[bbluesrreality]

I’ve posted a really hot clip of me jerking strap to twitter that I can’t stop watching over and over again and thinking about hypno and editing and my creation process and dance and the person in the mirror and self worship and rumination and how to be a better person. I spend a lot of time staring at my own face and body and perhaps it’s a defense mechanism to eroticize myself to myself, or maybe my ability to do so is why I decided to do what I do, but watching my own body orgasm over and over again on Premiere to monitor sound levels and color grade and make sure the pacing is good and crop to what I want to audience to focus on or change angle at the right time to maintain visual variety, makes me wet in my seat.

Being able to pay my bills with ass money has done a lot of my self esteem, genuinely, but it kind of makes me fear the day something goes wrong. Something changes about me that I didn’t know what was made me desirable enough to be paid in the public’s eyes… the day I share too human an experience, or become disabled in a way that effects my ability to work. (more than my moderate depression and anxiety and adhd effect it already) will be a very difficult one on my ego. I will continue to cultivate other skills and I feel lucky to feel like I have other options in life if I decide this is no longer fulfilling me at some point. I feel like I will add on other jobs or skills to what I’m doing now, most likely, rather than change up completely, but that could become a lot very quickly and I don’t want to spread myself too thin, and I’m not meeting my personal goals for media production in general at the moment, so I’m going to continue to focused on getting organized and regular with my life and establishing internal routine that feels healthy and natural, outside of the rule of the academic calendar. I’m feeling really unstructured in general.

New tangent: I’m excited to explore using lifestyle BDSM with my partner to help me fulfill my own goals. He’s got a pretty self-controlled mindset with his own goals but he… he has a soft spot for me and it makes it hard for him to be strict. I’m a little bit of a brat and am less on top of my own self control with work than I want to be, but the moments he’s tried a sternness with me, especially with me putting off streaming, it’s made me want to do it less. I usually enjoy streaming, but the worry of how it will feel IF it ends up being a bad night, and how long the setup takes me in my bedroom-as-studio-and-camroom organization, keeps me from starting enthusiastically pretty frequently. Aside from that there’s a sitcom-like cast of family and loved ones in my life and I have various, sometimes unpredictably time intensive responsibilities to them that can drain me before I’m able to do the actively money-making part of my job, streaming or filming.

I keep rearranging my room to try to minimize the amount or room I have to clean to stream, that would be a big help, but I hate the idea of putting the desk in the middle of the room kinda and chopping it up. I need space to dance close up, and far away, and sit on the big leather office chair, or sit in the big plush loveseat, or sit myself on the ground and stretch all sexy and stuff.

He’s really my biggest fan. He got me a lovense mini fucking machine to help motivate me and also bring in that BANK and I’m so pumped to unveil it on stream. We do monthly check ins and I think this next one, we’re going to sort of reflect on and rewire our whole system- look at what was working, what was not, adjust and set new goals, and I want to learn more about how lifestyle stuff could help transfer his ability to abide by a more rigid structure to me through sexual rewards and motivation. I mean my job makes me horny anyway, we did a week where he hid my vibrator until I posted on Reddit each day and it worked, but he’s not around to do that all the time. Ohhh maybe a lockbox…

It can work. I know it can work. This year I intend to revolutionize the way I use BDSM as self-help and focus in on what I want from it. It’s really good for conditioning new desired behaviors, it seems like, and I want to be upswing these tools more frequently and with more intention. And to learn to articulate and share those methods with others. Kink is a powerful tool that is stigmatized in part by its ability to enact a great amount of harm, but, kinks is fun and beautiful and cathartic and has huge capacity to be constructive for the lives of a huge number of people. I feel so profoundly thankful that I get to be a person who is afforded the time to think about sex and psych and sociology so much. Adults allowing themselves to play, questioning deeply what it is they want in life and what experiences they derive pleasure from, and forming intricate, intimate social bonds, is an opportunity we all should be afforded and I am happy to be a hot person encouraging more people to be hot and chill and comfortable with their desires and seek satisfaction and connection that makes us all better, more empathetic, more productive, whatever, together.

Happy 2025!

[tecchous-thicc-buttocks]

Do you have any bsd headcannons you'd like to share? (literally anything, I just love learning about other peoples hcs)

OMG YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE IVE BEEN USING THIS IN MY DRAFTS AS A COLLECTION OF JUST ABOUT ANYTHING THAT GOES THRU MY MIND AND I'VE JUST DECIDED I'M GONNA POST IT ALR

chuuya's hat is so old (bc it keeps getting passed from person to person and he brings it with him everywhere obviously) and WORN OUT but he has no idea how to fix it. he treats it like his child but it's inevitable that the material will deteriorate over time, so he's been trying to convince himself to go to a hatter for ages and can't swallow his pride. he drunkenly told it to hirotsu once night while they were drinking, and hirotsu just sighed and got it fixed for him that night while chuuya was passed out. they never spoke about it.

dazai has met several women who actually did say yes to a double suicide. the majority didn't mean it and just wanted to toy with him, but ran when they realized he was serious. a few actually did mean it. he pulled strings and invited them to a romantic date, except that he sent therapists there instead of him, basically playing matchmaker. all those women are now doing better but ask him about it and he'll act dumb and say he knows nothing about it.

fyodor needs glasses. his eyesight definitely sucks and the hours he spends at a computer don't help. however, he manipulates himself into thinking that he's actually fine when he's not. nikolai also has shitty eyesight bc of his dull eye and the other one he's probably abused looking at the birds in the sky and thus the sun. they are literally the blind leading the blind. nikolai places his portal 2 meters from where he meant to put it and fyodor says "good job". it's incredible how they're feared terrorists.

sigma gets tired wearing heels all day. he wants memory foam but doesn't know it exists. give him his goddamn memory foam. anyways one of his employees saw him holding his feet in pain and offered him orthopedic shoe inserts. he hasn't been the same since. would give them a raise if he knew how.

tachihara used to get acne from having his bandage on his nose all day. so, he's developed an incredibly rigid skin care routine. his face is soft as hell. cheeks are smoother than you'd think.

kouyou made it her first demand as executive to raid her favourite shop where she gets all her kiminos and accessories. hirotsu led the black lizard battalion into the shop and the workers were so fucking confused. stole expensive silk fabrics and clothing of the highest quality because she doesn't settle for less, and in the process has gotten hirotsu more into fashion. they go shopping together.

speaking of shopping, kajii only goes thrifting. have you seen his clothes?? they're not his size and torn as hell but they're so damn cheap he can't resist. his sandals are so goddamn iconic. yeah he's blowing you up but his dogs are OUT like a mf psychopath. i maybe love him a little too much.

ivan has greasy hair. while doing his surgery thing wtv tf that was, fyodor was continually grossed out (ironic aint it). pushkin was then ordered to help ivan wash his hair and they died just a little bit. neither knew what the difference between shampoo and conditioner is, and they struggled with it for a long time. eventually when they came back for fyodor to do the surgery, ivan's hair smelled like flowers and was braided cutely because they gave up and went to a salon where the people working there fell a little in love with his hair and went overboard. pushkin's hair (if you can call it that...) was also in a little bowtie. they enjoyed their little adventure just a little bit. just a little ofc.

odasaku has no idea how to cook curry. he loves it and fears doing it wrong, so he just buys it from the same place over and over. considered asking for the recipe but never did because why change what is already perfection. dazai however is convinced oda has housewife abilities and can cook like a god. he never knew the truth.

fitzgerald can't do math. he pretends he's good at converting currencies but in his head it just doesn't add up. 20 000 yen? that's like.... 5 freedom eagles obviously. no biggie *throws a bunch of american dollars at the workers and just takes the item and leaves* he also doesn't give tips when it prompts on the machine, and instead prefers sliding a crisp bill to them directly. cried a little when his favourite shop told him they ran out of an item he wanted and they didn't budge after he slid them a stack of 100s (he has no idea how many were in the stack)

fitzgerald also owns an airline but he doesn't manage it personally ofc. his only interaction with it is that they provide him and the guild with a private jet to travel to japan. lovecraft did not get on. he swam??? who knows, but he did not get on that plane. lucy got sick and louisa freaked out every time there was turbulence. mark was snoring loudly the entire way and steinbeck had his nose pressed on the window looking outside the entire time the lil cutie.

agatha has the super power of drinking tea while it is still piping hot. she never burns her tongue and never complained about its temperature, except when it's too cold. the water was literally boiling once (her subordinates wanted to find out how hot she can go) and she gulped it all down without a single contortion of her face. incredible.

shirase doesn't understand english and keeps trying to learn it but every time he thinks he's getting the hang of it, someone throws cockney slang at him and he gives up.

adam finally figured out how to blow a bubble of gum, but keeps swallowing it. one day, it clogged his internal system (he's not supposed to be eating obvi) and he's been afraid of it ever since. thinks it's possessed by evil spirits his android brain can't understand. i also hc that he recharges thru solar panels integrated onto his skin and for this reason he goes to the beach to 'tan' often. HE'S SO PALE people get a little concerned for him when they see him not apply sunscreen and just lay down for hours at a time. one lady actually told him he could get skin cancer and he opened his eyes "ackshually 🤓👆" then began reciting every fact known to man about skin cancer. rip that lady

verlaine and rimbaud complain about france all the time. "fuck france i fucking hate the french this country goddamn sucks" then as soon as someone else says anything bad about it they give them death glares and threaten death for disrespecting their country.

wells has memorized a whole lot of things about quantum theory from her days studying to be an engineer because it was her favourite class. she cannot handle mechanical or civil engineering topics and physically ascends at the mention of anything to do with dynamics. i also think she's been hit on a lot while wearing disguises; she tells them she's actually a woman, they freak out, then she sends them back in time. this time, they do not approach her and thus she doesn't have to deal with the awkward rejection and doesn't even remember it.

jules verne has made little dolls and pretended that they were his friends and invented scenarios in which they hung out. i will not elaborate on this.

albatross sometimes interrupts conversations in order to listen to the engine of a vehicle passing by. tries to track them down, too. he'll be the type of guy to ogle at your car without making eye contact with you while you're still in the car. and when i say ogle, i mean ogle. checks out motorcycles more often than women.

the flags bully lippmann sometimes when he acts in a really cheesy scene. he's coming to hang out with them and they're all giggling and chuckling at him stupidly. albatross walks up to him, tucks his hair behind his ear and whispers whatever cheesy thing was said in a low voice before bursting out laughing (he usually starts laughing before he can even finish the sentence). pianoman slides it slickly into conversations, and doc 'fufu's at random moments when looking at him and he suddenly remembers the scene. iceman has not watched the movie and chuuya couldn't care less.

the first time he tried to take the train, ranpo loudly exclaimed and yelled at every turn and stop of the train. he went during rush hour too and got his entire body smooshed into the strangers next to him. he squealed when someone accidentally (accidentally) grabbed his ass in the crowded traincar, then asked loudly who did that. dramatic as hell. got his pockets picked and knew who did it, but couldn't do anything about it. he felt awful and slumped his way back home and collapsed into yosano's arms with a groan. this was the only time she'd ever willingly bought him a bunch of sweets and let him eat them in peace while he ranted to her about the atrocities

kenji is more notorious on the streets than he knows. he got recognized by some huge 200cm tall man built like a goddamn tank with tattoos all over his body who wanted to fight him. kenji was so flattered that he knew his name that he thanked him and burly dude was like. wtf. anyways they got beef ramen together afterwards bonded over cows and are now besties. he's told the agency about it but they think that by "friend" he means someone else his age.

tanizaki ran into kajii once at his favourite thrift shop. he recognized him and ran out freaked never to return. for this reason he had to keep wearing his same stanky ahh uwu girl clothes that don't fit and hasn't had a style update. actually, when doing his research for how to infiltrate the mafia, tachihara found out that there have been a lot of sightings of known dangerous ability users in the thrift store, and that's why he wears the same shirt as tanizaki.

tachihara dreads the hunting dogs meetings because they make him feel like the only sane one there. his back has become so chiseled from carrying teruko around all the time, and once - jouno thought it would be funny - he tripped on a wire laying down on the ground and almost dropped her. he had to use his ability to pick her up from the belt of the uniform to prevent her from faceplanting, and she looked like she was about to explode. he had to let her beat him up a little then she hopped back on his shoulders and nothing changed. he questions his life choices often

jouno can't handle cinnamon or ginger scents, they overwhelm him and he goes into a fucking sensory overload coma. odor orgasm. sinus sex. teruko got sick once and tachi made her the strongest herbal and ginger tea you've ever seen (learnt it from his brother rip the goat) and he collapsed on the ground with a moan. woke up a half hour layer with no clue wth just happened. tecchou eventually heard about it, placed a hand on his shoulder and said "it happens to the best of us" while nodding solemnly then never elaborated.

yeah fukuchi and fukuzawa used to steal food when they were younger but imagine them figuring out milestones together. "dude my armpits are itchy where is this hair coming from :(" "genichiro i don't need to know about that *scratches at his armpit subtly*" i think they were very goofy about it

speaking of puberty elise once freaked mori out by saying she got her period. dude was like. wtf. you're an ability. how tf. she insisted he got her a bunch of tampons n pads and chocolate and heating pads and the works, then once he (the underlings he made go do the shopping threatening their lives if they ever told a soul) bought everything, she looked at his confused and asked why he bought those things. she's an ability how could she have a period? mori cried a little that night.

bram is a swiftie for no reason other than i think it's funny. alternatively, i believe he listens to reggae for no reason other than i think it's goddamn FUNNY.

kunikida's old students sometimes run into him on the street and recognize him. they immediately straighten their backs, nod at him and quickly walk away in the most respectful way because they don't want to ruin his schedule. he nearly tears up from happiness every time.

natsume goes through 5-6 "here, kitty kitty!"s in a day when he's just vibing around. people try to feed him grass blades. people get WAY too comfortable rubbing his stomach. once, a girl saw him on her way back from school and started scratching a random spot behind his ears and he folded so quickly and just melted on the sidewalk. he wont admit it but he has that weak spot in human form too (i want to pet him so badly this is self indulgent ok). the girl was actually gin btw. she's an animal whisperer i dont know why i dont know how but she is.

[lipstickitty]

I Wanna Be Yours

Chapter Twelve

A/N: so sorry for the delay on this chapter, last Thursday was my Starcatcher show and I’ve been running around like crazy trying to get everything done but it’s finally finished, I hope this makes up for it!!

6k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY minors DNI!!, demon!reader, language, fluff, mentions of sex, innuendo, teasing, drinking alcohol, pet names, blood, cheating if you really really squint, slight smut, f/f flirting, mentions of death, mentions of violence

Inspired by my bestie @gracev0609 thank you so much for always helping me with ideas and inspiring me! I love you!!!

Your alarm startled you awake at six AM sharp. Your hand slapped around blindly until you silenced the incessant beeping. You groaned as you slowly peeked your eyes open. “Honestly, 6:00 in the morning? Jake died less than twelve hours ago and we still have to get up at SIX?” You whined, kicking the blankets off of you so you wouldn’t be as tempted to roll over and go back to sleep.

After a long stretch of your stiff muscles, you climbed out of the bed and pulled the sheets and comforter back into place. You walked into the kitchen and topped off Cookies’ food and water bowl before making your way to the bathroom to run through a speedy version of your morning routine. You knew Jake and the other guys would be there in an hour or less to pick you up, their schedules becoming just a bit more rigid when tour was involved.

Cookies meowed at you as you walked back through the kitchen after your shower, towel drying your dripping hair. “Tell your father he’s lucky he’s pretty, because I wouldn’t be awake at this hour for anybody else.” You chuckled tiredly, scooping the cat up in your arms to place a kiss on his soft forehead.

You had decided to pack light, not knowing how much space there would be for your things on top of everything else. One duffel bag for clothes that you may or may not have snuck some lingerie into, and another for all of your toiletries, cat food, a small bag of cat litter, and a few other odds and ends you’d thrown in in case you needed them. It also contained the small litter pan you’d bought, and the spare food and water bowls.

Once everything was all packed up, you ran through your mental checklist a few more times to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. A few minutes later a knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. You swung the door open to reveal a sleepy looking Jake. “Morning, gorgeous. Coffee?” He offered you the cup he’d brought for you, taking a sip out of his own.

“You’re a fucking lifesaver, baby.” You giggled, gratefully accepting the drink.

“I have to take care of my girl.” He smiled, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “You want to get the tiny freeloader loaded in his tiny prison while I put your bags on the bus?” He asked, gesturing to the cat carrier that had been purchased solely for this occasion.

“Jake, baby, I can carry my own bags.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m here, so why should you have to?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“You’re a maniac. I love you.” You squeezed his waist as you walked past to load the cat in his carrier, or his ‘tiny prison’ as Jake had so lovingly called it.

“I’ll have you know that Josh and Sam gave me shit from the time I got home until the time I pulled my pillow over my face and went to sleep. Apparently I was ‘gone too long’. Oh and Danny made fun of my hair and called me a pillow princess so there’s that.”

You snorted. “You didn’t fix your hair before you got home?? Rookie mistake, baby!”

“I TRIED.” He whined.

You watched Jake carrying your bags outside, losing yourself in watching his ass jiggle as he walked for a minute. “Whatcha looking at, honey?” He teased.

“Your ass.” You answered honestly. “I want to bite it.”

“And I’M the maniac?” he laughed loudly. “Come on, greedy little thing. We gotta get going. I promise, both my ass and I are all yours as soon as we get to the hotel.”

“I’m holding you to that promise, Jacob.” You shot back. Jake picked up the cat carrier, only leaving you to grab your purse off the counter on your way out the door. He pulled your keys from the pocket of your shorts and locked the door behind both of you before tucking the keys safely in his own pocket.

Once the three of you made it on the bus, Jake helped you find the best spot to get Cookies set up. The two of you found the perfect places for his litter pan, food and water bowls before giving him head scratches and leaving him to get used to his new surroundings. He hadn’t been around Josh, Sam, or Danny much so you knew he’d likely avoid them for a good while until he got more comfortable.

The other guys were off somewhere, presumably in their bunks. “Bunk nap?” Jake offered. Looking at him, his eyes definitely looked sleepy, barely being held open. Knowing you had a long trip ahead of you from home to the first stop, you enthusiastically agreed.

“Can I sleep on your chest?”

“Yeah, angel, of course. Lay on top of me if you want. Just wanna be close to you.” Jake pulled your body into his and cupped your jaw, capturing your lips with his while his arms wound around your waist and held you close. Then he took your hand and led you to the bunk where he stretched out on his back and held his arms out to you. You curled into his side and threw one arm and leg over him, your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you again, holding you as close as you could possibly get.

“Will you talk to me?” Jake mumbled, breaking the silence.

“What do you want to hear?” You chuckled quietly.

“Anything. Tell me about you. Whatever you think I should know.”

With that, you launched into your life story, only condensing the periods of time where truly nothing important had happened. Your childhood, your adolescence, how you became the person he saw in front of him today, the one he loved so dearly. He had heard a couple bits and pieces here and there but there’d been countless gaps. He had complete trust in you, he just wanted to know you. Baring your soul to him with your skin pressed against his was definitely one of the most intimate moments of your whole life.

Jake was the perfect audience, giving you his undivided attention through the entirety of your rambling. His thumbs gently stroked your skin at your waist where he held you. By the end of your story both of you were yawning, eyes feeling heavy. You let sleep carry you away wrapped securely in Jake’s arms.

“We’re at the hotel, y/n. Let’s get up to the room.” Jake’s soft voice in your ear gently woke you from your slumber, then he pressed his lips to yours once your eyes fluttered open.

“Mmm, hi…” you mumbled sleepily, stretching your stiff muscles.

“Hi, angel.” He giggled, untangling your bodies and helping you out of the bunk. Together the two of you tracked down Cookies and got him wrangled back in his carrier for the quick walk into the hotel. Jake grabbed both your bags while you carried the cat carrier and your purse, their management already at the front desk getting everyone checked in.

“We have to head to the venue here soon for soundcheck, I’d like for you to come with us but you’re more than welcome to stay here and rest if you’re still tired, love.” Jake mumbled, his head leaning on yours which rested against his shoulder.

You weren’t feeling tired anymore after your nap on the bus, you were actually super excited to go to soundcheck with them. It was your first time going on the road with them and you wanted to experience it all with Jake. You told him as much on the elevator ride up to your floor after getting your room keys.

Jake held the key up to the door until the lock clicked, then swung the door open. “Okay, sweet girl. We can drop everything off here then head over there with everyone. We shouldn’t be there too long, then I’m all yours until we have to start getting ready.”

He sat all the bags down in the corner of the room then walked back over to help you get everything set up for Cookies. You were originally worried about leaving him in the hotel room alone, but Jake had told you that he’d honestly probably rather have a little bit of time to himself while he’s adjusting to the new room. You knew you probably wouldn’t want anyone in your face while you were trying to process a new environment either, so you agreed.

The two of you changed clothes and then kissed the cat goodbye after triple checking that he had everything he would need. “Be a good boy, Cookies!” You cooed at the cat.

“You’re the man of the house while I’m gone! Don’t let anyone in!” Jake narrowed his eyes playfully at the cat.

“Yeah, and no parties either.” You giggled. “Come on Jake, everyone’s probably downstairs waiting on us.”

Jake took your hand and led you to the elevator, taking it back down to the lobby to meet the guys. “Finally, what the fuck took you so long?” Sam grumbled when he saw his brother.

“I bet I can guess, huh pillow princess?” Danny winked. Jake’s cheeks burned red. “At least you fixed your hair this time.”

“Should I tell him I was the one dreaming about riding you?” You whispered in his ear, making him cackle. With a couple questioning looks at Jake wondering why he was laughing so hard, met with a shake of head, everyone started back out towards the bus.

Sound check went off without a hitch and you were really enjoying watching all of them be so at home and in their element on stage even though the arena was still empty at that point. You couldn’t wait to watch them come alive in front of the fans later.

Jake was right about it being quick, though you never had any doubt he would be- you weren’t there very long before everyone got the okay to load back in the bus. The whole ride back to the hotel you struggled to pay attention to what Jake was saying, the image of him up on that stage with his guitar playing on loop in your head. Your thighs clenched together subconsciously making him smirk at you.

“Something on your mind, angel?” Jake quipped.

You noticed that the bus had just turned into the parking lot and parked. You leaned right in to his ear and made sure he felt the warmth of your heavy breaths on his skin before you spoke. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” you whispered before standing from the seat and walking off the bus, leaving Jake to catch up with you.

Once everyone was back in the hotel lobby, you were all reminded what time everyone needed to be back on the bus to get over to the venue on time, and then dismissed to do whatever you felt like until then.

“What do you feel like doing today, baby?” You asked after both of you had flopped down on the bed. “We still have a few hours before we have to be back.”

“I think I need a drink.” Jake replied, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Okay baby, you want me to text the guys and see if they feel like going for a drink?”

“Mmm, no, like a DRINK drink.” He let his eyes turn darker and you took in the slight dark circles under his eyes.

“Let’s go then honey, I think I saw a little bar about a block over when we were driving past earlier. We can just walk over there.” You squeezed his hip gently before rising from the bed and pulling your shoes back on. Jake followed suit, making sure at least one of you had a key to the room on you before walking hand in hand down to the lobby.

The walk to the bar was peaceful and before long you were walking up to the parking lot. It was still early in the day so there were only a handful of cars parked in the lot and you knew some had to be staff. After walking inside, you found a table and set your things down on it to claim it.

“You can sit, angel, I’ll get us a drink.” Jake squeezed your hand before making his way over to the bar counter and ordering your drinks.

Your gaze swept across the room, sizing everyone up, and landed on a woman about Jake’s age who had been looking directly at you until you caught her. She had long, wavy dark hair and light eyes with glossy pink heart shaped lips and a curvy build. She was wearing a simple black dress that showed off her chest and legs. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would be like to kiss her, what she would taste like. Her cheeks turned pink and she turned her head to look at Jake instead. You watched her look hungrily at him too. At that your cheeks turned pink and you felt the corner of your mouth quirk up into a little smirk.

She wanted you both. Perfect. You waited for Jake to come back to the table with the drinks before strutting over to her. “Hi, my name’s y/n. What’s yours?” You grinned at her, looking her up and down and offering your hand to shake.

“I’m Violet, hi!” She smiled, giving your hand a shake before picking up her almost empty drink once more. “Listen, if you’re together I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to stare-“

“Shhh.” You hushed. “You don’t have to be sorry, just come join us, yeah?” You gestured to the table where Jake sat waiting for you. He met your gaze with a cocked eyebrow.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude!”

“Positive! What are you drinking, babe? Go wait with Jake and I’ll get you another.” You pointed towards where the vampire was sitting, flashing his signature smirk at both of you.

“Whiskey sour?” Her eyes shyly met yours. “I’ve already had a couple but I can do one or two more.”

“You got it, I’ll be right over!” You gently pulled her in by the hand to brush a kiss to her cheek, making her blush as she walked away.

You flagged down the bartender and ordered three of them, arranging them in a triangle formation so you could safely carry all of them in your hands. Jake stood from the table to help you set down the drinks. You sat down next to Violet and across from Jake, placing a drink in front of each of you. You scooted close enough for your thigh to brush against hers.

“Good choice, pretty girl.” You smirked, raising your glass to clink with each of theirs. The three of you struck up a conversation, making polite small talk before diving in to all get to know each other a little better. Throughout the entirety of the conversation, you kept gently touching Violet- her shoulders, her back, her hands. Of course you would’ve stopped long before if she had shown any evidence of being uncomfortable, but she was giggling along and touching you right back, and her foot kept moving under the table to brush against your leg and Jake’s.

Once your glasses were empty Jake walked back up to the bar to order another round. You let your fingers sweep along Violet’s waist as you leaned in to just barely brush your lips against hers before standing up and telling her you were going to go to the bathroom while Jake was getting the drinks.

You did your business quickly before washing your hands and checking your makeup in the mirror. Satisfied that your makeup was still in place, you walked back out of the bathroom to find the table you had been sitting at vacant except for the drinks Jake must have just sat down. You looked around the bar to see if they had gone somewhere else but didn’t see either of them.

You felt worry starting to creep in. First you went outside to see if maybe they had gone out to smoke, but you had no luck there either. Having just come out of the women’s bathroom, you knew they weren’t in there, so the men’s room was your last resort. You pushed the door open to see Jake’s mouth latched onto Violet’s neck, little moans leaving his lips being muffled into her skin as he drank from her. Her face was blissed out and dreamy looking. His arms were holding her in place and his hips were rocking against her thigh. You hated to admit it but the scene you’d walked in on was turning you on immensely.

You heard a humorless, disbelieving laugh fly from your lips and Jake jerked back from Violet to meet your gaze. He opened his mouth to explain but you held your hand up to show him you weren’t interested in hearing it.

You walked right back out the way you came, pulling out your phone to order an Uber back to the hotel before making your way out to the parking lot to wait the 5 minutes for it to get there. It wasn’t a far walk but you knew Jake would follow you and try to talk about it, and the last thing you wanted in that moment was to hear his voice.

You heard the door open just before you heard him. “Angel? Please come back inside, can we talk?”

“No, that’s okay Jake, don’t let me stand in your way. Should probably go find Violet, make sure she’s alright. I’m going back to the hotel.” Your tone was cold and uncaring.

“You’re leaving? Okay, I’ll come with you.” He tried to grab your hand.

“No need. I’ll be just fine getting there on my own. I’ll meet you there later.”

“Angel, will you stop? I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you leave here by yourself.” He sighed, exasperated.

“Suit yourself.” You shrugged your shoulders, eyes going back to looking at your phone to let him know you were done talking for the moment. It was silent for the next couple minutes until the Uber pulled up.

Jake climbed in the backseat on the drivers side and you got in on the passengers side. Normally you would scoot into the middle seat to rest your head on Jake’s shoulder but you stayed put on the other side. “I love you.” He whispered, reaching for your hand.

You kept your hand where it rested in your lap and turned to look at him just for a second. “I love you too.” You rolled your eyes.

“I- I didn’t mean to- I thought-“ Jake stammered.

“Not now, Jake. Not here.” You shook your head.

“Alright.” He mumbled, then the rest of the ride to the hotel was silent.

Once you got back to your room, you flopped down on the bed with a dramatic sigh and put one arm over your eyes. You waited to feel the bed dip next to you with Jake climbing in, but instead you heard the wooden chair across the room creak when he sat down on it.

“Jake, what are you doing?” You mumbled, not taking your arm off your face. “Come get in bed.” You patted the bed next to you with your other hand.

“I just didn’t think you wanted me to.” He said in a small voice and your heart ached a little before you remembered why you were upset with him.

“I’m just mad at you. That doesn’t mean I want you to sit in the uncomfortable hotel chair all the way across the room from me. I feel better when you’re close to me, even when you’re being a shithead.” You met his eyes with your own then, trying to will him to read the sincerity in your face.

“A shithead, huh?” He tried to fight the smile growing on his lips but you still caught the corners of his mouth quirking up as he kicked his shoes off and flopped down on the bed with you.

“Yes.” You said matter-of-factly, cozying up to him and nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and gently pressed his lips to your temple.

“I really do love you, ya know.” Jake whispered.

You left kisses on his skin where your face rested, making him shiver. “I know, Jake. I love you too.” Then you lifted your head and leaned in to kiss him.

Jake kissed you back enthusiastically and immediately, tugging you impossibly closer and grinding his hips into yours. You felt him starting to harden in his pants. You tangled one hand in his messy hair and let the other rest on his throat, just barely pressing on the sides.

Jake groaned against your lips and you started grinding your hips in rhythm with his. “Fuck. Can I touch you? Please?” He begged.

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” You questioned, eyes narrowed.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think I deserve it. But I wanna make you feel good, make it up to you. Please?” You felt him twitch in his pants.

“Okay, Jakey. Touch me.” You gave in, pulling away from him to yank his shirt over his head.

Jake crashed your lips together in a heated kiss. He began undressing you and trailing kisses from your lips down to your neck, then your chest, and finally all down your stomach before leaning down to nibble at your inner thighs.

You were squirming under him, desperate for more than he was giving you. “Don’t tease.” You whined. “You’re still on my list.”

Jake barked a laugh and brought one hand up to your lower stomach to hold you in place. He ran the first two fingers of his other hand through your folds, feeling how wet you already were. You gasped at the touch, trying to buck your hips up into it but his grip on you had you locked in place.

You moaned when he traced a couple little circles on your clit before sliding back down to circle your entrance. It turned into a sharp gasp as he slipped two fingers into you. “Jaaaaaaake.” You moaned out when he curled those two fingers up into your g-spot.

“Yeah? C’mon angel, talk to me.” Jake begged, voice sweet as honey. With that, he ducked his head down to press a kiss over your clit before sucking it into his mouth, fingers never relenting on their assault of your sweet spot. You were writhing on the bed to the best of your ability, his strong grip making your range of motion rather limited.

“Feels so fucking good, baby.” You gasped, hands flying to tangle in his hair.

Then he added a third finger to your fluttering entrance and started alternating the suction on your clit with flicks and rolls of his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You tugged harshly on his hair, an animalistic moan coming from deep in your chest. Jake groaned into your pussy at the sting on his scalp, speeding up his fingers and sucking harder at your clit, rolling his tongue around it.

“Jake, fuck! ‘M gonna cum, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, oh my god!” You sobbed as your orgasm hit you like a train, whiting out your vision and taking your hearing away for a minute as you rained down on Jake’s hand and face. He greedily lapped up every drop of your release he could before looking up at you through his lashes, the whole bottom half of his face covered in your slick while a few drops ran down his neck.

“Fucking delicious.” He growled, crawling back up to claim your mouth in a searing kiss. You wrapped one arm around him while the other hand squeezed his throbbing cock through his pants, palming him roughly over the fabric.

“Stand up for me, baby.” You whispered, climbing off of him so he could stand. You pushed him against the wall before kissing him again, roughly biting his bottom lip.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Jake groaned when your hand made its way back down to cup him over his pants.

“You’re so big, Jakey. So hard.” You breathed against his skin. You felt him twitch in your grip at your words.

“Good boy, baby. Such a good boy, being patient for me.” You cooed, thumb stroking over his cheek. He let out a high pitched whine, cock twitching again.

“Fuck, please touch me, angel. I need to feel you.” Jake pleaded, his hands resting on your hips. You squeezed him tighter, adding a bit more pressure to your strokes.

“Like this?” You asked innocently.

“Please angel, I wanna cum. Need to cum for you, I can’t go on stage like this.” Jake whined.

“Okay. So cum.” You replied in your most disinterested voice.

“W-what?” He stammered out, eyes widening in shock.

“You heard me. You need it so badly, then cum. Right here, in your pants, or not at all.” You sped up your movements over the fabric of his pants.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “No, please-“

“Okay, have fun.” You cut him off, removing your hand and making to walk away.

“No, wait!” He pleaded, hand gripping your wrist gently to keep you in place. “Please, I need you. Anything. Whatever you’ll give me.” He breathed, eyes pleading with yours for mercy.

“Okay, baby. You can grind on my hand until you make a mess in your pants but you better behave.” You warned, replacing your hand over his covered cock. He nodded with a groan, hips thrusting wildly into your hand. It didn’t take long for you to feel him pulsing in your grip, his whimpers and moans growing in both volume and pitch, and you knew he was getting close. “Come on baby, nice and messy, right here in your clothes. I wanna see it.” You cooed, bringing your lips to his neck once more. A couple wet kisses over the skin there and he was coming undone, pumping his release into his now ruined jeans.

Once Jake caught his breath, you helped him out of his jeans and boxers so he wouldn’t get uncomfortable and cleaned him up, then pulled him back onto the bed with you. “Can we just lay like this until it’s time to go?” You mumbled, pulling his head to rest on your chest and tangling your legs with his.

“Sounds good to me. Hey, can I tell you something?” Jake asked a little shyly. You nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I was hoping you’d come join us, at the bar. I hoped you’d come in and have fun with us. I didn’t actually care about her, I just wanted you.” He admitted, his head nuzzled into your chest.

You squeezed him tighter to you, kissing the top of his head. “Oh baby, I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen to you.”

“No, it’s okay, I wouldn’t have believed me in that moment either. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Well, since you were honest with me I suppose I should tell you something too… seeing you in there feeding from her and grinding against her like a slut actually really turned me on. I just couldn’t admit that to you yet.” You giggled.

Jake faked a dramatic gasp, lifting his head to face you. “Angel, you lied to me?” He pretended to be offended but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

You leaned in and bit his shoulder. “Ow!” He shouted through a laugh. You stayed curled up in bed with each other for a little while longer before finally getting up and getting in the shower together. You washed his hair for him and he ran the conditioner through yours for you. After that, you both redressed and made sure Cookies still had everything he needed before heading back down to the lobby to load up on the bus with everyone.

Everything seemed to go so fast once you arrived back at the venue. All the boys were being pulled in a million different directions, everyone was getting everything set up and ready to go. You’d thought seeing Jake up on the stage with his guitar in normal clothes was dangerous but you never could’ve prepared for seeing him in his suit, all smudged out eyeliner and dripping sex. He caught you staring and smirked. “Something on your mind, angel?” He chuckled.

“Mm, maybe a couple things. Nothing important.” You teased, leaning in and planting a big kiss on his lips.

“Ouch.” Jake pretended to gasp, pulling you closer and squeezing your ass.

“Jake, there are thousands of people in this arena. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I don’t see any of them in here…” he took a dramatic walk around his dressing room, peeking behind curtains and furniture. “Do you?” He crossed the room again, pulling you back into his arms. He tugged your body right against his, locking his arms around you to keep you in place.

“Jacob Thomas. We don’t have time for this.” You giggled, giving him a sweet kiss on his lips and teasingly pinching his side. You knew he only had around fifteen minutes left before he had to go on.

Jake scoffed, “I could definitely get you off before I have to go.” With a roll of his eyes.

“And show all the screaming fans how hard you are in your pretty pants? I don’t think so, baby.” Your words made Jake pout so you kissed all over his face until he caved and cracked a smile. “Look at me.” You used one finger under his chin to bring his gaze to yours.

“If we had the time right now I’d be all over you, baby.” You watched the corners of his lips try to quirk up into a grin but he suppressed it before he thought you’d noticed. “That’s what you wanted to hear, right? Even though you already know that I want you, just like everyone else in this arena tonight? Just need your ego stroked a little, hmm?”

He cleared his throat and forced his face into a neutral expression. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, angel.”

“Sure you don’t, Jacob.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “After the show we’re going out for drinks with your brothers and then you can do whatever you want to me, baby.”

“Don’t tell me that, honey.” He groaned, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Sorry, sorry.” You tried to suppress your giggles, pulling him in for another kiss before he had to go. He wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, squeezing you to him, grounding himself with your touch. Not everyone knew, but Jake would almost always get nervous before shows, so desperate to prove himself to everyone that saw him play.

“You’re gonna be amazing, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you. I’ll be watching the whole time.” You squeezed his hands as you both stepped away from the embrace.

“I love you.” He breathed, eyes wide as he checked his reflection in the mirror one last time before holding the door open for the two of you to walk out towards the stage.

“And I love you, Jakey.” You brushed your hand against his hip lovingly before he stepped into his position behind the curtain. He met your eyes over his shoulder once more and you gave him a big smile and thumbs up making him grin.

The noise in the arena had been gradually increasing over the last little bit but when the curtain dropped it became a thunderous roar and you knew why Jake was so passionate about what he does. You’d known he would be, but Jake was electric as soon as he played the first notes. He channeled all his anxiety and nervousness into his performance, feeling the music and making everyone else feel it too. You were in awe of him, trying to watch all four of the boys at once and finding yourself entranced by it all. You knew then that you made the right decision coming on tour with the band, you wouldn’t trade seeing him like this for anything.

Jake came running off the stage to you a sweaty mess, eyeliner smudged a little more from where it ran and hair wild from throwing it out of his face. “You were incredible, baby!” You cheered, throwing yourself into his arms.

Jake caught you, trying to keep his sweaty hands off your body as best he could. “‘M all sweaty, angel.” He chuckled.

“Don’t care.” You giggled, kissing his sweaty cheek and then his lips. “I’m going home with a rockstar tonight.”

He threw his head back and laughed, lacing his fingers with yours. “And every other night, my love. C’mon, I need a shower and a drink.” He led you by the hand back to his dressing room where he quickly stripped down and jumped in the shower.

You shamelessly admired his ass when he turned to face the water, cheeks turning a little pink when he turned back around and caught you staring. “You know, that’s not the first time today I’ve caught you staring, angel.” Jake said with a smirk.

“Nope, probably won’t be the last either. And you wanna know a secret? You didn’t catch me every time.” You quipped back.

“Ooh, scandalous.”

“Shut up and shower, Kiszka.”

“Patience is a virtue, Y/N.”

“Yeah, one I don’t possess. Let’s go!” You were excited to recap the show with the guys over a few drinks, and even more excited to finally get your hands on Jake back at the hotel.

The boys had you laughing so hard tears were streaming down your face recounting the events of the evening as well as telling you some old stories you’d never heard before. You had a few cocktails, the guys all had a few rounds, and everyone was in good spirits as all of you made your way out of the bar.

Everyone was still talking and laughing, barely paying any attention to anything outside of your group when the chatter was cut off with a shout. Everyone spun around to see a strange man grasping Josh by the arm, wrenching it behind his back and spinning him around, pinning him face first against the bricks outside the building. You started running as soon as you registered what was happening, but Jake was way faster.

He sprinted over to his twin faster than even the stranger had expected, catching him off guard when Jake ran up on him and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat. He squeezed tightly, cutting off airflow making the man release his hold on Josh.

You ran over to Josh while Jake was occupied, cupping his face in your hands and fussing over the scrapes on his cheek and nose. “Y/N I’m fine, we have to help Jake!” Josh urged, gripping your hand and spinning you both around to face the two of them.

What you saw was shocking. Jake had effectively ripped the man’s head off (another demon, Jake informed everyone). Dark blood coated the pavement beneath your feet and soaked Jake nearly head to toe. He was panting, eyes nearly black as he snapped out of his trance and let the head hit the ground with a sickening sound.

“I’m sorry, I-“ Jake stuttered, staring at his blood soaked hands in shock.

“You fucking saved me, Jake, don’t be sorry.” Josh breathed, pulling his twin into a crushing embrace, getting blood all over his clothes yet again by hugging his brother.

“Are you okay, baby?” You stroked Jake’s bloody cheek with your thumb, using the spare hair tie you had on your wrist to tie his hair back for him.

“I’m okay, I’m fine. Josh, are you okay? When I saw him grab you I fucking panicked.” Jake rushed out.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Josh assured him, always the one to comfort his brothers. “Let’s get this shit cleaned up.”

Tags: @gracev0609 @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @clairesjointshurt