#you can blame this on my friend roman

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

army dreamers (kate bush)

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[omgthatdress]

Just a little considerations for those still grieving Liam Payne

So, right now, you are probably still lost in some very real grief over someone you never met but has still been a major part of your life since you were thirteen. You feel like you've lost an extremely close friend. It's hard to imagine your life where he isn't somehow present.

I know all this because felt the exact same way seven years ago when Chester Bennington died by suicide. And I do have a little bit of wisdom to share with you all right now, wisdom that I really wish I didn't have.

First of all, it's okay to be sad. To cry. To feel like shit and wish this had happened to someone else, someone who deserved it. Give yourself the time and space to feel all that because it's the only way you can start to move on. Feeling sad is only a problem when, months later, you simply CAN'T move on. That's depression, and that's when you should seek professional mental health treatment.

Secondly, there aren't going to be ANY easy answers in this. Right now a lot of people are looking for fingers to point, people to blame, and even finding conspiracy theories that Liam was murdered. While it may be initially comforting to fall into the idea that Liam didn't do this to himself, he was murdered for some reason (usually because he was going to expose a pedophile ring of some sort), conspiracy theories are always wrong and will NEVER give you the satisfying answer you want.

It was Liam's decision to step out onto that balcony, and his alone. It is no one else's fault. Accepting that is incredibly hard to do, but it is ultimately what will grant you the most peace.

As for what lead up to that, well, there's a lot. Fucked up celebrity deaths are kind of my Roman Empire, so while I never knew Liam, I DO know a lot about what leads up to huge, terrible tragedies that play out in the tabloids in extremely ugly ways.

Becoming famous at a really young age is an incredibly mixed bag. While you do get to live out this shit 99% of people on earth can only dream of, it does mean you often find yourself at 30 with a career that's basically over. A lot of young celebs simply don't know what to do with themselves once the fame and adoration has dried up, and the answer is usually to do an absolute fuck ton of drugs.

Drug and alcohol abuse changes your personality. I know this from personal experience. Someone very close to me developed a serious problem with alcohol, and turned from a kind, funny, wonderful person to someone nasty, abusive, and resentful. Someone I didn't recognize at all. While I and my person were very lucky that they were able to quit drinking, not everyone is so lucky.

Liam deserved better. He was so young and he still had ample opportunity to turn his life around. But he made one terrible decision, and now he's dead, and there simply is no changing that.

So what do you do? Remember him, and love him. Be grateful for the joy that he brought into your life. Sing his songs, and stay close to the friends you made because of him. The fact that you are so fucking sad right now is a beautiful thing, because it only shows how deeply loved Liam Payne really was.

[rootedinrevisions]

Too Late: Part 2

SUMMARY: After leaving, you've put some distance between you and Tyler. And Tyler has to come to terms with you being gone. But he can't let you go, and comes up with a plan to try and when you back - or at least figure out what to say to you. That is until an unexpected accident throws a wrench in both of your plans. Tyler is determined to show you that he can be there for you when you need him to, but the emotions of being around him again start to rise inside you. Memories of what you once had - and what you lost - keep pulling at you. Especially when Tyler doesn't let the space between you stop him from quietly being there when you need him most.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and support on Part 1 of this! I was definitely not expecting this story to take off and get the reactions it did! Thank you for the comments, reblogs, and likes! This story ended up being way longer than I planned on it being and there will be a PART 3 coming soon (probably sometime next week after the holidays so I can finish up the last few holiday fics I'm working on)

WARNINGS: None, just a lot of heart-shattering angst. This one made me cry while writing it, so be prepared!

WORD COUNT: 6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

TYLER’S P.O.V.

Tyler stood on the front porch of his old farmhouse, staring out at the horizon as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the tree line. The weight of the conversation he was preparing for sat heavy in his chest. His truck keys dangled from his fingers, his grip tightening and loosening as doubt gnawed at the edges of his determination. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to you–only that he needed to say something. He couldn’t let things end the way they had, not without trying to make it right. He had so many things he still needed to say to you.

But the weight of your words, the hurt in your eyes the last time you’d spoken, kept playing on a loop in his head. Then the doubts crept in. What if he’d already blown it? What if showing up just made everything worse? 

But then he thought, what if it helped? What if it fixed everything? What if you gave him a chance?

With a final sigh, he pushed off the railing and headed for his truck. He figured you were probably at your mom’s house which wasn’t too far of a drive from his place. He pulled open the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel. 

He had just turned the engine over when his phone buzzed in the cup holder. He glanced down and saw your best friend’s name flashing across the screen. His stomach dropped. Why would she be calling? Was it to chew him out for breaking your heart? He wouldn’t blame her if it was. Tyler hesitated, his hand hovering over the phone. He almost let it go to voicemail, but then a pang of guilt hit him. He deserved whatever lecture your friend was about to give, so he swiped to answer.

“Look,” he said, bracing himself. “I know what you’re going to say, and-”

“Tyler.” Your friend interrupted, her voice sharp but trembling slightly. His brow furrowed at the crack in her tone. “Something’s happened.”

The world seemed to tilt under his feet, Tyler clutched the steering wheel as your friend’s words came out in a rush. “It’s her mom. There was a car accident. Her mom’s in surgery right now. She…she’s at the hospital by herself, and-”

“Wait,” Tyler cut in, his voice hardening as he processed her words. “Surgery? Is…is her mom gonna be okay?”

“They don’t know yet,” your friend admitted, her voice quieter now. “Tyler, I don’t know. It…it sounds bad. And she’s…she’s trying to be strong, but you know how she gets. She’s telling us all that she’s fine, but I don’t think she is.”

Tyler stayed silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His pulse pounded in his ears as the reality of the situation hit him. Your mom was in the hospital. You were alone. And here he was, debating whether or not he should show up.

“I think you should go.” Your friend said.

“I don’t think I’m the guy she wants to see right now,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your friend huffed, frustration creeping into her tone. “You’re exactly the guy she needs right now. Whether she realizes it or not.”

“She told me-”

“I know what she told you, Tyler.” Your friend snapped, cutting him off. “Trust me. I was there the night of her birthday when you weren’t. I know. But I also know she’s hurt and scared and stubborn as hell, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you. She won’t say it, but I will…get over yourself and get to the hospital. She shouldn’t be alone right now, and you know it.”

Tyler’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t respond right away, his mind spinning with doubts and what ifs. What if showing up made things worse? What if you pushed him away again?

“Tyler.” Your friend said softly, her tone shifting. “You love her, don’t you?”

The question hit him square in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. “Of course I do,” he murmured.

“Then prove it,” she said simply. “Be there for her.”

Your friend hung up after that, but her words lingered in his mind. Tyler sat frozen for a moment, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He could still hear your voice from the last time you’d spoken, the way it had cracked with anger and pain. The fear of making things worse clawed at him, but your friend’s voice echoed louder: Be there for her.

Tyler put the truck in drive and started making his way towards the hospital. Screw his doubts. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. And if there was even a chance you needed him, he wasn’t going to let you down again.

YOUR P.O.V.

The waiting room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional voice paging a doctor over the intercom. You sat in the corner, hunched over with your elbows on your knees, your hands clasped tightly together. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but you hardly noticed. Your foot tapped a restless rhythm against the tiled floor, the nervous energy pulsing through you too much to contain.

You’d sent everyone away. Your best friend had tried to stay, but you insisted you didn’t need her hovering. You also told her some lie that the nurses said only immediate family could stay. Your dad had called multiple times, offering to send a neighbor or someone to sit with you until he could get there. But you told him the same thing. You didn’t need anyone there with you. You’d be fine until he could get there.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by the steady thud of boots against the linoleum floor, echoing down the hallway. You barely glanced up, expecting to see another loved one ignoring your instructions to stay away. 

Without lifting your head, you muttered, “Go home. I’m fine.”

The boots stopped. You waited for a response, but none came. Irritation flared, and you straightened slightly in your chair. 

“I said, go home,” you repeated, sharper this time.

Still nothing. Finally, you glanced up, ready to tell whoever it was to leave in no uncertain terms. 

The words caught in your throat when you saw him. Tyler stood in the doorway, his hat tucked in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed with concern, but his eyes softened when they met yours.

You swallowed hard and dropped your gaze back to your hands, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room. “Your friend called me,” he said simply. “She told me what happened.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands tightening in your lap. 

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to be here. You can leave.”

Tyler didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unrelenting. Finally, you glanced up to see that he hadn’t moved an inch. His expression was unreadable, but there was a steadiness in his gaze that made your chest ache.

“Go home, Tyler,” you said again, this time with more force.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “When you can look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay without lying,” he said, his voice steady and calm, “I’ll leave. Until then, I’m staying right here.”

The breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly looked away, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. You couldn’t meet his gaze. Not when he saw right through the mask you’d been wearing all day.

Your eyes landed on the brown bag in his hand. The logo was instantly recognizable, and despite everything, a flicker of confusion crossed your face. 

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Tyler glanced down at the bag as if just remembering it. He crossed the room, closing the distance between you, and held it out.

“Figured you hadn’t eaten today,” he said simply. “It’s well past supper, and you need food. Stopped by your favorite place and got you your usual.”

You blinked at him, the unexpected gesture catching you off guard. For a moment, you just stared at the bag in his hand, unsure whether to take it.

When you didn’t move, Tyler set it down gently on the chair beside you and crouched down so he was at eye level. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “Just eat something, okay?”

The tears you’d been holding back all day finally broke free, and you quickly turned your head, pressing the heel of your hand against your eyes. Tyler didn’t say anything, didn’t try to touch you or pry. He just stayed there, steady and calm, his quiet presence more comforting than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore, so you reached for the bag, the smell of your favorite meal filling the room as you opened it. It was still warm, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

You managed to eat about half of the food Tyler had brought before your stomach protested. Setting the container back into the bag, you folded it shut with deliberate care, focusing on the crinkle of the paper as a distraction. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, steady and unrelenting. The silence stretched again, broken only by the distant murmur of hospital staff and the faint beeping of monitors from somewhere down the hall.

After a few moments, Tyler cleared his throat, the sound startling in the stillness. “Do you have any updates?” he asked, his voice low but careful, as if afraid of pushing too hard. “Have you heard how she’s doing?”

Your throat tightened, and you shook your head without looking up. You couldn’t speak—not without your voice breaking. You clenched your hands in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep the tears at bay.

Tyler’s eyes softened as he watched you, the effort you were putting into holding yourself together painfully clear. He saw the slight tremble in your hands, the way your shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. 

He couldn’t stand it anymore. Without a word, he stood from the chair across the room and moved to the one beside you. You didn’t look at him, but you noticed the shift, and felt the heat of his presence closer now.

You glanced sideways as Tyler settled into the chair, his broad frame filling the space beside you. He didn’t say anything, but he opened his arm, leaving it resting on the back of the chair as he leaned slightly toward you. It wasn’t an overt gesture—just enough to let you know it was there, an unspoken invitation.

You hesitated, your breath hitching as you looked at the open space he was offering. A part of you wanted to retreat, to keep the wall between you firmly in place. But the ache in your chest—the one you’d been fighting all day—finally won out.

Slowly, you leaned over, your weight shifting until your head rested against his chest. His arm closed gently around you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. He didn’t pull you in too tightly, giving you the space to move if you wanted, but the warmth and steadiness of him made you feel like the world might stop spinning just for a moment.

The steady beat of his heart was soothing against your ear, a rhythm that felt like home in a way you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about right now. You closed your eyes, your shoulders sagging as the tension slowly began to leave your body.

Tyler didn’t speak. He didn’t ask any more questions or try to fill the silence. He just sat there, holding you as the tears you’d been holding back slipped quietly down your cheeks. And for the first time that day, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely alone.

The quiet warmth of Tyler’s presence, combined with the emotional toll of the day, eventually caught up to you. Your breathing slowed as you sank deeper against his chest, the exhaustion overtaking your attempts to stay awake. Tyler glanced down at you and realized you’d fallen asleep, your face relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived.

He didn’t move. He stayed as still as he could, not wanting to disturb you. His arm remained firmly around you, holding you steady as your head rose and fell gently with the rhythm of his breathing. 

Tyler rested his head back against the wall, his free hand rubbing tiredly at his face. He stared at the sterile ceiling tiles above, his mind racing with a mix of relief and guilt. He was here, and you were letting him be here, but he couldn’t help thinking about all the times before when he hadn’t been.

Nearly two hours passed in silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of passing staff. Tyler shifted slightly, careful not to wake you. Just as he was debating whether to adjust his arm that was starting to go numb, the sound of the waiting room door opening caught his attention.

He turned his head, his gaze landing on the doctor who stepped into the room. The man was middle-aged, with a kind but tired face, his scrubs wrinkled from what must have been a long shift. Tyler straightened slightly, his movements gentle enough that you didn’t stir.

“Are you the family of (your mom’s name)?” The doctor asked, his voice soft but clear.

Tyler hesitated for a second, glancing down at you. “She is,” he said, his voice low so as not to startle you. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he shook your shoulder gently. “Hey, wake up,” he murmured.

You stirred, your brow furrowing as your eyes blinked open. For a moment, you seemed disoriented, but then you sat up quickly, your hand brushing your hair from your face as you glanced between Tyler and the doctor.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice still thick with exhaustion.

“The doctor’s here with an update about your mom,” Tyler said gently, giving you a reassuring look.

You swallowed hard and turned your attention to the doctor, your hands twisting nervously in your lap.

“Surgery went well,” the doctor said, his tone calm and steady. “She’s in recovery now. We’ll keep her here for a few days to monitor her, but she’s expected to make a full recovery.

A wave of relief hit you so hard it almost felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your lips parted as though to speak, but no words came out. Tyler’s hand moved to rest lightly on your shoulder, grounding you as the doctor continued.

“She’ll be groggy for a little while when she wakes up, but she’s stable.” The doctor reassured.

“Can I see her now?” you asked quickly, your voice trembling.

The doctor nodded but held up a hand. “Only one person can go in at a time. She needs to stay as calm as possible while she comes out of the anesthesia.”

You hesitated, glancing at Tyler for just a moment. His blue eyes softened, and he gave you a small, encouraging nod. “Go ahead,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Your heart clenched at the steadiness in his voice. Without another word, you stood, your legs shaky beneath you as you followed the doctor out of the waiting room. Before you passed through the door, you glanced back at Tyler. He was still sitting, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—concern, affection, and maybe something deeper.

He gave you a faint smile, his eyes never leaving you as you disappeared into the hallway.

A few hours later, the hum of the hospital had settled into a quiet rhythm as the nurses moved efficiently between rooms. You had been sitting at your mom’s bedside for as long as they allowed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. Relief had begun to seep into your bones, replacing the earlier tension, but exhaustion lingered, weighing heavily on you.

Eventually, a nurse came in, her smile kind but firm. “She’s stable now and will need her rest through the night. We’ll call if there are any changes, but it’s best if you go home and get some sleep too.”

You nodded, reluctant but understanding, and stood slowly, brushing your hand against your mom’s. You whispered a quiet goodbye and promised you’d be back first thing in the morning.

As you made your way back to the waiting room, you pulled your phone from your pocket. You’d been dropped off earlier and hadn’t even thought about how you’d get home. You scrolled through your contacts, landing on the name of a neighbor who’d always been quick to lend a hand. Just as you pressed the call button, Tyler’s voice interrupted you.

“I can drive you home,” he said softly, standing up from the chair where he’d been waiting.

You froze, lowering the phone from your ear. “Tyler, it’s late. You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, his voice calm but steady. “But I’d like to. If you’d let me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The idea of being alone in the car with him made your chest tighten. Not because you didn’t trust him—but because you weren’t sure you could handle the quiet, the possibility of him pressing you about everything that had happened between you.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Tyler raised his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just a ride home,” he assured you. “That’s it. No talking, no pushing. I know this isn’t the time for… everything else. I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”

His words settled over you, soft and sincere. You studied him for a moment, searching for any sign of an ulterior motive, but there was none. Just a quiet steadiness in the way he looked at you, the same steadiness that had kept you grounded all night.

Finally, you nodded, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Okay,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Tyler gave a small nod, grabbing his jacket from the chair and slipping it on. He didn’t say anything else, just gestured for you to follow him. 

The night air was crisp, the faint hum of insects filling the quiet as you and Tyler stepped into the dimly lit hospital parking lot. He stayed a step ahead, his boots scuffing softly against the pavement as he led the way to his truck. When you reached it, Tyler opened the passenger door, pausing to glance at you.

You climbed into the seat, the familiar scent of his truck—faintly leathery, with a trace of pine—wrapping around you like a memory. He waited until you were settled, buckling your seatbelt, before carefully shutting the door.

You watched him through the windshield as he walked around the front of the truck, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the rumble filling the silence.

As he eased out of the parking lot, Tyler glanced over at you. “Do you want me to take you to your mom’s house or home?”

The word hung in the air between you for a beat too long. Tyler’s jaw tightened slightly, and he quickly corrected himself, his voice quieter. “I mean… my place. Do you want me to take you to my place instead?”

You turned your head to look out the window, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across your face as the truck rolled forward. Your mom’s house would feel empty, too quiet for you to face tonight. Every room would carry the weight of her absence, the echoes of your worry. The thought of sitting there, alone with your thoughts, was unbearable.

“Can I… stay with you tonight?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

Tyler’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, he just nodded and turned the truck onto a familiar road, the one that led to his old farmhouse.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Of course.”

The drive was quiet after that, neither of you saying much. The occasional hum of the truck’s tires against the road filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more like an unspoken agreement to let the quiet speak for itself, to let the exhaustion and the events of the day settle.

As the farmhouse came into view, its porch light glowing faintly in the distance, you felt your shoulders relax ever so slightly. Tyler parked the truck in the gravel drive and killed the engine, the sudden stillness almost startling.

He glanced at you, his voice low. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Tyler unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside and flipping on the lights. The warm glow illuminated the familiar space, but as you stepped through the doorway, you hesitated. The house felt the same, smelled the same—like cedarwood and faint traces of whatever cologne Tyler always wore—but you didn’t.

You paused just inside, unsure if you had the right to walk through it as freely as you used to. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, and your arms wrapped around yourself almost instinctively, like a shield.

Tyler paused near the bottom of the stairs and glanced back at you, his brow furrowing slightly when he noticed your hesitation. He rubbed the back of his neck before offering a small smile.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, his voice soft. Then, after a beat, he added, “You know where everything is.”

You nodded faintly, still unsure, but before you could say anything, he gestured to the stairs. “I’m gonna run up and see if I can find you something comfortable to wear for tonight. Be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, Tyler jogged up the stairs, his boots thudding softly against the wooden steps. You stood there for a moment, listening as the sound of his footsteps faded, before finally stepping further into the house.

You found yourself drifting toward the kitchen, your fingers brushing lightly against the edges of the counters as you passed. The farmhouse kitchen had always been one of your favorite spots—it was warm, lived-in, and full of charm. But now, as you glanced around, you noticed how disheveled it was.

Dishes were piled high in the sink, crumbs scattered across the counters. A forgotten coffee mug sat near the edge of the table, and you spotted a pair of work gloves tossed haphazardly onto one of the chairs. It was clear Tyler hadn’t been keeping up with housework.

Your chest tightened slightly. He was probably just as exhausted as you were after the week you’d both had. Without really thinking, you filled the sink with warm water, adding soap until suds began to rise. You rolled up your sleeves and got to work, grabbing the first plate from the pile.

The rhythm of cleaning was soothing, your hands moving on autopilot as you scrubbed and rinsed. One dish turned into two, then three, until the pile began to shrink. You didn’t hear Tyler come back down the stairs until his voice broke through the quiet.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Startled, you glanced over your shoulder. He was leaning against the doorframe, holding a neatly folded T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.

“I know,” you said softly, turning back to the sink. “I just… wanted to help.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Tyler set the clothes down on the table and walked over, his boots clicking lightly against the tile. He reached past you and grabbed a clean dish towel, drying one of the plates you’d just washed.

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, the only sounds coming from the water and the soft clink of dishes. When the last plate was dried and put away, Tyler finally spoke again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he repeated, his voice lower this time.

You dried your hands on the towel and glanced at him. “I know,” you said again, meeting his gaze. “But I wanted to.”

Tyler held your gaze for a long moment before nodding. He motioned toward the clothes he’d brought down. “Those should be comfortable.

You nodded, taking the clothes from the table and brushing past him, your fingers grazing his for just a moment.

Tyler held your gaze for a long moment before nodding, but instead of leaving it at that, he started to speak, his words coming out in a ramble—something you knew he only did when he was nervous.

“I, uh, was looking to see if maybe you’d left something here. You know, clothes or—just… something. But it looks like you cleared everything out when you left—”

He cut himself off abruptly, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a stone dropped into still water. You saw the flicker of regret cross his face as if he wished he could take them back.

Your chest tightened the reality of the distance between the two of you crashing back in. You forced a nod, your throat too tight to speak, and clutched the clothes tighter to your chest.

Without another word, you turned and headed toward the bathroom down the hall, your steps quick and purposeful, driven by the sudden need to put space between you and him.

You changed into the clothes Tyler had given you, silently hating how comfortable they felt. The fabric was soft and worn in all the right ways, and the faint scent of him lingering on them—woodsy, clean, and unmistakably Tyler—settled you in a way you didn’t want to admit. It felt too easy, too familiar, and you tried to shake the thought as you ran a hand over your face and took a steadying breath.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the farmhouse was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old wood floors beneath your feet. You padded into the living room and spotted a throw pillow and blanket folded neatly on the back of the couch. Without giving it much thought, you reached for them and began to lay them out, preparing to make a bed for the night.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you pause, and you turned to find Tyler standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. His brows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

You glanced at the blanket in your hands and then back at him. “I’m making a place to sleep,” you said simply, motioning toward the couch.

He shook his head almost immediately, his expression firm. “No, you’re not.”

Your brow knit in confusion. “What do you mean, no? I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Tyler.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened briefly, but his voice was calm and steady when he spoke. “And I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“Tyler—”

He cut you off, his tone a little more resolute this time, though still gentle. “You’re sleeping upstairs. In the bed. End of discussion.”

You frowned at him, not sure whether to feel annoyed at his stubbornness or oddly comforted by it. “And where exactly are you planning to sleep, then?”

“The couch,” he said plainly, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

“Tyler, that’s ridiculous—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted again, his voice softening just slightly. “You’ve had a hell of a day, and you’re not about to spend the night crammed on this couch. You need to rest, and you’re sleeping in the bed.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the way he was looking at you—his gaze steady and full of quiet insistence—made the words catch in your throat. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you exhaled, realizing there was no point in fighting him on this.

“Fine,” you muttered, reluctantly grabbing the pillow and blanket and handing them to him. “But if you wake up sore in the morning, that’s on you.”

Tyler chuckled softly, taking them from your hands. “I’ll take my chances.”

As you turned to head upstairs, you could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t until you were settled beneath the covers, the familiar scent of the farmhouse wrapping around you, that you realized how much you’d missed the quiet comfort of this place—and, if you were being honest, him.

Downstairs, you heard the faint sound of the couch creaking as Tyler settled in, followed by the soft exhale of his breath. And for the first time in days, you felt the edges of exhaustion pulling you into sleep, knowing you weren’t alone.

The soft sounds from downstairs pulled you from your sleep, and for a moment, you lay there disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. The room was too quiet, too still, and it wasn’t until you spotted the framed photos on the wall—the ones you’d seen countless times before—that you remembered where you were. Tyler’s house. His bed.

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and the faint smell of coffee and something cooking reached you, accompanied by the faint clang of a pan. Pushing the covers off, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, padding toward the stairs.

The kitchen came into view as you reached the bottom step, and you stopped in the doorway, momentarily caught off guard. Tyler was standing at the stove, barefoot, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that clung to his back just enough to remind you how unfairly attractive he was. He looked so casual, so domestic, like he belonged here in this space that had always felt like home to you too. And that realization was almost too much to take, given the current mess of emotions between the two of you.

He must have heard your footsteps because he turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he saw you. “Morning,” he said, his voice warm and easy, like this was just another day in the life you used to share. “How’d you sleep?”

You hesitated for half a second before answering. “Fine,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “Thanks for…everything last night.”

He just nodded, as though it were a given. “Feel free to make yourself some coffee,” he said, motioning toward the Keurig sitting on the counter.

You blinked, your gaze landing on the sleek machine that had replaced the old, battered coffee pot he’d had for years. The sight of it caught you off guard, like it was proof that time had moved on in this house even when you hadn’t been here to see it.

“I didn’t remember how you like your coffee these days,” Tyler admitted, running a hand through his hair. “With all the stuff you used to add to it, I figured I’d mess it up. But there’s still some pods and syrups in the cupboard. And I, uh—” He cleared his throat and motioned toward the fridge. “I went to the store and picked up some creamer. It’s the kind you used to like. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have it, just in case.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the small gesture that felt far too thoughtful for what you thought you deserved right now. You opened the fridge to find the familiar bottle sitting there, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at it, trying to process the sudden wave of emotions.

“Eggs’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Tyler said, his voice pulling you back. He glanced over his shoulder at you as he stirred something in the pan. “Hope you’re hungry.”

You shut the fridge door and turned, your gaze settling on him again. He looked so at ease, so natural standing there, that it made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep your voice steady as you replied, “Yeah. I think I could eat.”

He nodded, turning his attention back to the stove, and you lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before making your way to the counter to fix your coffee. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d stepped back into a memory, even though you knew things weren’t the same anymore.

Not even close.

 You sat across from Tyler at the small wooden table, the one that had been in this kitchen for as long as you could remember. The plates between you held scrambled eggs and toast, simple but enough to ease the ache of an empty stomach. The air between you was thick with an awkwardness that neither of you seemed willing to address, and the only sounds filling the room were the soft scrape of forks against plates and the occasional clink of a glass being set back on the table.

You stared down at your plate, taking another small bite, trying to focus on the food and not the tension that was quietly suffocating the space. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. Setting your fork down, you cleared your throat softly, your voice tentative as you broke the silence.

“Thank you,” you said, your gaze lifting to meet his, though he didn’t look up right away. “For everything. For… being there for me.”

Tyler’s fork hovered over his plate for a moment before he set it down. He looked down at his plate, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “It was about time,” he murmured, his voice quiet but weighted. “About time I was there when you needed me to be.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, cutting through the delicate balance you’d been trying to maintain. You blinked, your throat tightening as you realized what he meant. He wasn’t just talking about yesterday or last night. He was thinking about all the times he hadn’t been there—your last birthday, the other moments and milestones you’d quietly endured alone. The guilt in his tone was unmistakable, and it settled heavily in your chest.

“Tyler…” you started, your voice soft, but he quickly shook his head, stopping you before you could go any further.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said firmly, finally glancing up at you. His eyes were steady, but there was a flicker of something raw in them that made your breath hitch. “It is what it is.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, cutting off any argument you might have made. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what you could even say to that.

Tyler leaned back in his chair, his expression softening slightly as he tried to steer the conversation away from the growing tension. “Once you’re done eating,” he said, his voice lighter now, though it still carried a trace of that earlier guilt, “I can take you over to your mom’s to get your car.”

You nodded, grateful for the change in subject, even if it felt like a half-hearted attempt to escape the unspoken weight between you. “Yeah, okay,” you murmured, reaching for your glass and taking a sip of water.

The silence returned, but this time it felt less oppressive. You both focused on finishing your meals, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a fragile truce. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.

[ofpd]

1st century roman siege of jerusalem dashboard simulator

🐮 barkamtza

why does this shit always happen to me

#oh my goddd the ONE time it seems like people actually wanna hang out with me. #turns out they meant to invite kamtza instead #everyone hates me and i was SO fucking nice i offered to pay for the party #god i'm so pathetic. kms kms kms #they're gonna pay for this i swear #delete later

0 notes

📜 zekharya-ben-avkolas

Ok so obv it's not ok to sacrifice a blemished calf but the blemish is just on the eyelid? So maybe it's ok? But also and i don't want people to start going around thinking that it's ok to sacrifice blemished animals. But the thing is that if i don't bar Kamtza will tell the Romans we insulted them and that will be bad probably. And like no one likes bar Kamtza anyway will people really miss him..... but ugh neither of these seem like good things to do i don't feel like it's my place to make a decision about this :/

32 notes

🏛 vespasian reblogged

🏺neronero

off to war wish me luck! 🇲🇪🏹

🏺neronero

nvm guys. ✡️✡️

🏛 vespasian

my turn lol

53 notes

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport reblogged

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport

Hey everyone! These are difficult times, and some friends and I have put together some mutual aid resources for our community to have access to wheat, barley, wine, salt, oil, and wood! More info below the cut. Take care of yourselves! 🫶

Read more

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport

fuck

7,235 notes

⚔️ biryonei-yerushalayim

anonymous asked:

Hey, I'm trying to ask this in good faith, and I hope you can take it that way. how can you possibly defend burning our grain stores. I understand that you want to radicalize more people but you're taking things too far. Jerusalem's blood is on your hands.

anon, what you need to understand is that the blame for the carnage in jerusalem lies primarily in the hands of the roman invaders and secondarily in the hands of the rabbis for refusing to resist. would you have told the hashmonaim not to resist their oppressors by any means necessary? just because this is getting inconvenient for you doesn't mean we shouldn't be doing it. it's frankly offensive that you'd imply that we, the defenders of jerusalem, should incur any blame for her current state.

#biryonim.answer #grain storage discourse

231 notes

🛡 goel-yisrael

did anyone else see the "zealot blocklist" going around lmaooo

#how do these liberals expect anyone to take them seriously #do they not have anything better to do.

7 notes

📚 stammaim reblogged

stopbeingpoor-deactivated3830102

ughh why is my servant so incompetent! i deserve the best flour why doesn't he get it...

stopbeingpoor

ykw i'll go get some myself. i'm desperate at this point i gotta do something

stopbeingpoor

EWWWW update: i stepped in something NASTY. this is why i don't fucking go out oh my god im gonna die

stopbeingpoor

gonna throw my gold & silver away for the good of the peasants or whatever it's not like it's any use to me when im literally dying -_-

📚 stammaim

lmao look at this it's exactly what yehezkel was talking about! ur gold won't save you!

#yehezkel #marta b. baitos

162 notes

🕎 yalla-hapoel

🌿 amicus-iudaeorum asked:

Hey, love your posts! They're very informative about the Jewish perspective on this war. I'm just wondering whether you condemn the actions of the zealots? I don't really feel comfortable following someone who supports that.

are you fr.

#if youre seriously concerned about this idt this is the blog for you i fear

28 notes

🛡 goel-yisrael reblogged

📖 ben-zakkai

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ lol

🛡 goel-yisrael

? what does this mean

🗡 abbasikkara

dw about it bestie

🛡 goel-yisrael

ok 💗 yay 💗

6 notes

👩🏽‍🌾 discoursedumpblog

I've compiled a list of some of the most rabid zealots on this website. Remember, don't engage, just block and move on.

Read more

152 notes

🏛 vespasian reblogged

🏛 vespasian

some jew got an audience with me & called me king (im literally not lol thats so disrespectful to the actual king + if i was king then he shouldve met w me much earlier??), i think i should kill him

🏛 vespasian

AND my shoe is being so annoying. horrible day 👎

📖 ben-zakkai

omg just came across this old post

🏛 vespasian

OMG sorry i don't mean it anymore 🙏

14 notes

🫒 a-simple-yid

yirmiyahu tzadak...

#not to pretentiously quote tanakh but literally like. #hashiveinu hashem eilekha venashuva hadeish yameinu kekedem.

3 notes

[starlightsreigns]

hold up | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie's hanging on by a thread. how much longer can she hang on when one question coils deep in her? is roman... cheating on her? word count ⇢ 1.4k tags ⇢ minors, do not interact. implied cheating | two ; denial “What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you”

i don’t wanna lose my pride, but imma fuck me up a bitch.

“Melody, you’re going to drive yourself insane,” My friend Alyssa sighs. “Don’t you trust him?” 

That’s a great question. However, I’m past the point of giving a damn.  I’m literally driving myself to insanity with all of this and I’m not sure how to bring it up. How do you confront the love of your life about something like this without him immediately going on the defense?

“I don’t trust him, that’s the problem, and I don’t know how to get back to that point anymore.” 

Alyssa is my moral compass, she tries to keep me levelheaded when I feel myself slipping. She’s my best friend, but she’s a big fan of Roman and I’s relationship — Alyssa refuses to believe that he’s this person, that he can be a cheater when he’s been so caring. She sees the best in him. 

“Mellie, what has he done to make you feel this way?”

My eyes meet hers, “Don’t make me feel crazy, Aly, I’m already losin’ it here.”

“I’m not sayin’ that, I promise, I’m just tryna understand how you go to this point.” Alyssa sits up. “Just help me understand and I promise we can fuck his shit up tonight.” She offers a smile. 

While she’s the more levelheaded one of us, the thing I love the most about her is her willingness to support any and every decision I make — even if it’s the craziest shit she’s ever heard.

That’ll be helpful later. 

Somethin’ don’t feel right because it ain’t right.. Comin’ up after midnight

The house is the coldest it’s ever been in a long time. I’m pretty sure the only source of heat is coming from the anger seeping out of my pores when I hear his keys in the lock as I sit on the couch. A book sits in my lap untouched as he comes in through the door. 

“Hey, Mellie,” Roman throws my way lazily. He comes over to kiss my cheek and I can’t help but smell the perfume that radiates off his body. Chanel. At least the bitch has taste. “You up late.” 

My brain wants to cuss him out, but thankfully restraint still exists when I finally reply. “I’d say the same for you, baby, where you been at?”  

Roman glances in my direction while heading to the kitchen, “I went to the PC then had dinner with the twins.” 

“Oh, the twins are in town?” My eyes train on his back. 

There’s no way they can be in town. During a call with Trinity earlier in the day, she told me that her husband and his brother were doing house shows during the week, so, it’s impossible for them to be at dinner. Yet, he seems to think I’m the biggest idiot on planet earth. 

“Yeah, we went to that steakhouse on 85th.” Roman shuts the fridge and turns to look at me. “Then we got drinks at Tini’s and watched the game.” 

Of course, he has an answer for everything. A tinge of rage strikes me in my chest while watching how calm he is. 

“What game did you watch?” 

That stops him for a moment. 

But I continue, “I watched a couple on split screen.” 

Roman runs his hand over his beard then takes a long swig of beer. 

“Cowboys versus the Texans was good.” I bait with a small smile. 

“Yeah, that’s the one, we ain’t seen the results though.” 

Well, of course, he didn’t, maybe because those two teams didn’t have a game tonight. 

To not lose my cool, I let the conversation go. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eyes as I pretend to read my book. There’s nothing else I can say. I’ve caught him in more lies than I can count — and there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me he knows. 

Can’t you see there’s no other man above you?

Most people would judge me and I don’t blame them. Even with my suspicion, I can’t deny the love and affection I have. So, here I am under him. I can’t help it. 

“Look at me, baby,” Roman’s rough voice sharpens my attention. “you look so beautiful.” He runs his hand down my cheek. 

His eyes on me, for the first in a while, feels like how it used to be. It makes me forget all the pain that I’ve felt for so long. This is what I want back. 

My hand grips his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed, maneuvering so I’m on top. 

The gems on my acrylic nails catch some of the light from the moon. My hands are pressed against his chest, holding me steady, keeping the rhythm of our skin slapping together. I throw my head back with a moan, feeling the way he raises his hips to reach deeper into me. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” I breathe out, leaning down to kiss his neck. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” 

It was the truest thing I’ve ever said. It is the truest thing I’ll ever say. 

How did it come down to this?  scrolling through your call list

His phone is empty. She’s not on here, but I know she exists. How can I keep living in the paranoia where I know the ghost exists but there’s no proof of it? I toss his phone back onto his side of the bed with a huff just as he walks out of the bathroom. 

“what’s wrong?” He takes a look at my exasperated expression.

“You know how much I love you, right?” My voice is harsher than I wanted, but it catches his attention. “And we made our vows to be loyal to one another, i’m keeping my end.” 

Roman knits his eyebrows together, “I love you, too, Mellie.” He sits at the edge of the bed. “I’ll always be here.” 

The reassurance I was hoping to feel never comes. Instead, I’m slowly feeling rage. But, I don’t respond but nod. I can’t look jealous or crazy, that’ll only drive him away or make him sneakier. If anything, I need him to slip up. That’s the only way I can make sense of this — Lord, give me a sign. 

What’s worse? Lookin’ jealous or crazy?... I’d rather be crazy. 

Sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, my eyes fixated on the TV screen that flickered in the darkness. Roman was sound asleep beside me and my nerves had finally calmed enough for me to wonder if I was going insane. 

I’ve found no tangible proof. Maybe, just maybe, I’m convincing myself of something that isn’t true –possibly self-sabotaging and self-destructing. If I don’t stop now, all my hair will fall out from the stress. Three months of thinking these thoughts are slowly killing me. Not that he’s noticed, but I’ve lost 25 pounds in my mission to find out the nonexistent truth. 

My eyes are slowly closing when his screen catches my attention. It’s three in the morning, who could possibly be texting him? I’ve just come to an agreement with myself and now I’m plunged back into the uncertainty. I should just turn over and fall asleep, but I just need to look at the message and I’ll be over it. 

J: are you really not coming over tonight, baby? i miss you. mellie sees you more than enough. just come over and be back before she wakes up.

My eyes scan the message over and over again. I’m not sure what else I’m looking for, but I’m hoping that at some point the message would read something different — something that doesn’t confirm all my suspicions. I cover my mouth when the tears start to fall, not wanting to wake him up and find me in this position. My chest feels heavy and my feet are a ton of bricks when I make it out of bed. 

Out in the hallway, I slide down the wall with my hands still firmly covering my mouth to swallow the sobs. This isn’t what I wanted nor was it what I needed. My brain feels scrambled with incoherent thoughts. What do I do now? Should I leave? Should I take a baseball bat to his head? Yet, the only thing I’m sure of right now is that I might throw up.

It’s difficult for me to get back up to my feet. My body shakes uncontrollably in the darkness and my breathing is shallow until I’m taking deep breaths. I turn to glance into the room, feeling my skin heat up. This feeling isn’t sadness, it isn’t hurt, or disappointment. I’m past denial – what I’m feeling is scorn and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

“But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?”

please excuse the errors, classes are kicking my ass. hope you’ve enjoyed it 🫶🏽 very excited to post “don’t hurt yourself” x

[holylulusworld]

Girls just want to have fun

Summary: Girls just want to have fun

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: partying, drinking, dancing, ladies’ night

A/N: For my story everyone is alive.

Inspired by Cindy Lauper's song "Girls just want to have fun"

It’s a damn good night. You feel good, and maybe you’re a little tipsy.

After months of being cramped in sleazy motel rooms with the Winchesters and fighting battle after battle, you finally got the chance to have a night out. It’s ladies’ night with karaoke and free drinks at the bar in town.

“Yes! Show them what you got!” you cheer your friends on, raising your glass. Jo, Charlie, and Bela are on the stag singing we will rock you. You’re not much of a singer, but you like to watch your friends having fun.

“They had too much wine,” Donna laughs because Charlie wants to try out stage diving. “There are like three people. They cannot catch her fall.”

“Nah, she’s like a cat and lands on her paws!” You exclaim loudly. “Believe me, she got this. A girl who fuck’s Dick Roman and Leviathans over can rock a stage dive too.”

“She will get hurt,” Jody worriedly watches Charlie stagger on the stage. “I can’t even look.”

“Wait! I got an idea,” you get your phone out to call Sam and Dean. “Guys, we have an emergency. You need to come to the bar. We need your help.”

You end the call before Dean can ask what happened, or if he needs to bring the big guns. While you order another drink and tell Charlie to wait for her stage dive a little longer, Sam and Dean run toward the garage at the bunker.

“What the…?” Dean watches Jo, Charlie, and Bela sing another song. Charlie waves at Dean while Bela blows a kiss at Sam. “Sammy, what has gotten into them? Do you think it’s a wrath? A ghost maybe?”

“Uh-Dean. I don’t think this is the supernatural kind of emergency,” Sam smirks at Bela who undresses him with her eyes. “I think they are having fun, is all.”

“What? Fun!” Alerted Dean storms toward you to snatch the drink you just ordered out of your hands. “Y/N, I hope you’ve got a damn good explanation why you called me. This doesn't look like an emergency.”

“It is!” you grab his arm to guide Dean toward the stage. “You see.” You point at Charlie on the stage. She giggles and walks toward the edge. “Charlie wants to try her first stage dive. We need strong men to catch her.”

“Stage dive – what?” Dean blinks a few times. “You’ve got to be shitting me! No more drinks for you.”

“Aw, but Deano,” you pat his chest with both hands. “Girls just want to have fun sometimes.” You lean closer to nuzzle his chin with your nose. “Please for me. Catch Charlie.”

Dean purses his lips. “This is far too dangerous! She could get hurt!”

“You sound like a dad,” you grin. “Deano, come on. Live a little.”

“What’s going on?” Sam finally joins your little conversation. “Where is the emergency, Y/N?”

“Charlie wants to stage dive. Y/N came up with the brilliant idea that we can catch Charlie,” Dean huffs. “She called us for a stage dive, Sammy.”

“Hmmm…” Sam looks at the stage, at the ground, and then at his hands. “If we team up, we can do it, Dean.”

Dean turns his head like in slow motion, to gape at his brother. “Did you hit your head, Sammy? What if she misses us and ends up on the ground? Charlie could get seriously hurt.”

“Deano, please,” you fist his Henley, tugging hard. In a hurry, he didn’t put on a plaid or a jacket. “I’ll make you pie tomorrow.”

“You’re going to be hangover tomorrow,” he points out. “If she gets hurt, you’ll take the blame.”

Dean walks toward the stage to talk to Charlie. He’s still not convinced this will work, but he’ll do it for Charlie and you.

“We can help,” Sam says. He walks toward the stage, followed by Castiel, Jack, and Gabriel who popped up Out of nowhere.

“Don’t tell me she called you too…” Dean sighs deeply. “Fine, let’s do this…”

And then, you all joined Dean to give Charlie the chance to have her first stage dive.

Sometimes girls just want to have fun.

Tags in reblog.

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 9

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Boston Municipal Courthouse

Janice’s POV

“Mama, I’m ok,” Roman said as I sat there in disbelief as they took Tia out of the courtroom. “Son something ain’t right…..Why did they sentence her today? Why she got a short sentence, weren’t we all watching the same video because she needs to be up under the jail.”

“The Judge said it was because of the plea deal, her clean record and just wanting this over for everyone,” he said looking at Kara who seemed to be struggling with the verdict and I don’t blame her.

“Son something in the milk ain’t clean…..Regardless of the verdict he should have rescheduled a date for sentencing. That would have given him time to give a more suitable sentence for crime because that wasn’t it,” I said as Roman hugged me.

“Ma, can we just leave, I’m ready to get outta Boston,” he said as I sighed giving him a hug seeing Jey heading over.

“Aye, you ok auntie?” he asked as Roman moved and I gave him a hug. “Yes, baby I am, just can’t believe what happened in here today.”

“Neither can but we’re all bout to go leave and get some rest. We’re flying out tomorrow but planning to hit up the 16 East Bar and Grill in Pensacola on Sunday before we head back out on the road,” Jey said smiling at me.

“You’re inviting us?” Roman asked in shock as Jey sighed. “I’m still mad as hell at you, but I can’t help but be thankful you were there with Kara. You risked your life to save her and Trin…That what family do.”

“I love them both…I always will, it ain’t nothing to thank me for.”

“Well, the option is open, we’ll probably get there about 7. Trin reserved the patio, so we ain’t gotta worry about people,” Jey said as I smiled.

Hey, I will take those baby steps in the healing process. I know we will come back together in some shape or form.

“Well, we will meet ya’ll there Sunday,” Roman said as I tried to contain my excitement, praying this was a positive step in the right direction for us.

----

Kara’s House

Kara’s POV

I’m glad we did come back to the house alone and just chilled out. I don’t know how I would have reacted hanging out with my mom, I needed time to decompress. 

“Girl, I love this back yard,” Trin gushed as I smiled wrapping myself up in my blanket.

“Thanks, when I saw the firepit I fell in love,” I said as she nodded roasting her marshmallows.

“I may have to talk Jimmy into getting us one. You know marshmallows are my weakness.” “That’s why I keep them stocked up ma’am,” I said as she smiled brightly at me.

“I know you had a lot of work to make up, did you finish?” Trin asked as I smiled. “I’m finally caught up, it wasn’t easy, but I have two A’s and two high B’s” I said truly proud of how I overcame and turned everything around.

“Yes! You know when you graduate I’mma act a fool…You know this right?” she said making me laugh as I looked at Jey flipping the meat on the grill as Jimmy was telling him some animated story. I loved their relationship so much.

“Have you told Jey?” Trin asked as I smiled at her. “Told him what?”

“Uh, that you love him, duh,” she said as I blushed. “I’ll have you know I told him the night I woke up from surgery.”

“That’s great…So are ya’ll together or what is we doing?”

“I’m scared Trin,” I said honestly as she nodded in understanding. “Do you want to be with Jey?” she asked as I nodded. “Yea, I really do.”

“Then be with him Kara, what’s the problem?.…That man loves and adores you,” she said gently pushing my shoulder.

 “I can see the blogs now having a fucking field day. Imagine their us at family gatherings. Chile, did you hear Kara is here with Joshua like she wasn’t married to Roman.”  I mocked as Trin shrugged her shoulders.

“Girl, fuck them bloggers and keyboard trolls, they don't know you and it ain't they fuckin' business. Plus, you knew Jey before Roman anyway."

"Ok, but like I said, what about the family gatherings. You know they always have parties and cookouts," I said as Trin smiled.

"Fuck their opinions too, but I don’t think it will be a problem, everyone loves you, especially mom and pops. They hate what Roman did and I think you’re overthinking it.”

“So much is going on, I just don’t want to hurt him Trin,” I whispered as she reached over and put her hand on my knee.

“It’s your time to be happy Kara and damn what people think. Life is too short, and you got a second chance at life.”

“I know I got a second chance, but I’m scared of screwing this up,” I said finally voicing my fears.

“Live your life Kara, tomorrow ain’t promised to none of us. You don’t owe anybody anything, ain’t no debts around here,” Trin said as I gave her a hug.

“I know and I love you, girly.  Ugh, I’m so tired of crying,” I sniffed failing to stop my tears.

“I love you too, sis, it’s time for the happy tears now because you deserve it.”

“You really think so?” I asked barely above a whisper as she rubbed my back. “I know so, everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself in this life about to happen and I can’t wait to see witness it.”

“Ya’ll aright over there?” Jimmy asked as Jey turned to look back at us.

“Yea, just two sisters having our daily talk,” I said as Trin laughed.

“Ya’ll know how we get, let us have our moment,” she said as Jimmy shook his head. “Man, what we gon’ do with them two?” Jimmy asked as Jey chuckled handing him a pan so he could take some of the steaks off the grill.

“Love ‘em and let them do their thang,” he chuckled. “Yea, what he said!” Trin yelled as I laughed.

Trin was right it’s my time to put myself first and live my life. Anything or anybody that disrupts my peace from this point forward gotta go, because it’s a new beginning for me, for us all.

-----

Pensacola, FL

A Few Days Later

Janice’s POV

We been home a couple days, and it was my day to pick up Logan. I can’t place it, but I knew something wasn’t right. “Lord, uncover whatever it is because we’ve all been through enough,” I said aloud feeling nauseous pulling into Rebecca and Bill’s driveway.

Knocking on the door and getting no answer, I called and once again no answer. I saw Rebecca’s car and had talked to her ten minutes ago. I was getting irritated now.

“How the hell you gon’ tell me to come over to get Logan and not pick up the phone or answer the door.” I mutter looking under the rug for their spare key.

Opening the door, I looked around and there was no sign of Rebecca in the foyer or living room. I could hear Logan babbling on the baby monitor in the living room, so I knew she was ok.

 “Rebecca!” I called out, no answer. “This how these damn horror movie start, I hope this fool is ok,” I mutter heading towards the kitchen.

“I can’t thank you enough Terry,” I heard Rebecca say as I stopped in my tracks.

Who the hell is Terry?

“Rebecca, this is the last time I’m taking your call. I did this favor for you and Tia, but I don’t want to be tied to the drama. I got too much to lose,” I heard the familiar voice say as she laid the phone on the table.

“Thank you for helping her, she really is anxious to make it right with her sister when she gets out,” Rebecca said grabbing Logan’s formula putting it in her baby bag.

The damn judge….She was the reason for that shit show the other day.

“That’s good and all but I put in a no contact order in the paperwork for a reason. I truly feel she meant what she did and her actions alone warranted life in prison, but I helped you for old time sakes,” he said sounding seemingly disappointed with himself.

“I---We appreciate this so much, she’s going to stay out of trouble when she gets out and we won’t bother you again.”

I was physically ill, this was sick.

“I don’t know what hold your daughter has over you…But if this goes bad, it’s on your head. It would be in her best interest to just leave Kara be,” he said as she shook her head.

“I will handle Kara; she will come around and see Tia was just going through a lot and didn’t mean to hurt her. I just know by the time it’s time for Tia to get out, they will have reconnected, and Kara will be calling you to cancel that no contact order.”

This woman has lost it, like needs to sit on someone’s couch…ASAP. Hearing enough, I quietly retraced my steps finally finding my way back in the entrance of the house pretending I had just arrived.

“Rebecca, I’m here to get Logan!” I said a little louder as I heard her scrambling round the kitchen.

“She’s upstairs, I’ll get her,” she yelled as I shook my head.

I can’t believe she sold out her own daughter to protect the other one that tried to kill her. She and Tia are really one in the same she just masks her dirt.

It seemed like it took forever, but finally she brought Logan downstairs.

“Oh, baby girl I missed you,” I whispered as she placed a dozing Logan in my arms. “I put her formula in the bag, and she’s already had a bottle. She should be asleep before you get back home,” Rebecca said as I smiled at my little light.

That’s what she was to us, no matter how she was conceived, our little light.

“You can pick her up at Roman’s on Thursday. I’ll leave you to your nana break and see you tomorrow at dinner,” I said grabbing Logan’s diaper bag quickly wanting to get the hell outta dodge.

“Ok, we’ll see you then and enjoy her,” she said giving Logan a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, we will,” I said making my way out of the house, thankful she didn’t follow me out. After strapping logan in her car seat I rushed to get back in the car to call Trin but got no answer, then I remembered she had a signing to do today.

“Hey sweetie, I forgot you had a signing, and I know ya’ll gotta help out Josh tonight. I’ll just see you tomorrow at dinner. You and Jonathon be safe, love ya’ll.”

I guess I’m on my own with this one, but I know one thing, Kara will know about the shady shit her mama did and I’mma make Rebecca tells her if it’s the last thing I do.

-----

Pensacola, FL

Jey’s House

Kayla’s POV

Getting out of the shower I felt refreshed as I dried off. Looking at myself in the mirror I felt different.. Today was amazing, we had our balcony picnic date. It was simple, beautiful, and was everything.  Pizza, wine, and some of my favorite snacks had been on the menu.

The ocean serving as our backdrop and music as the waves crashed upon the shore due to a storm heading our way. We even went on a walk on the beach and watched the sunset before we got rained out. Hence the shower I just took.

I still hadn’t told Jey how I felt but today just solidified it even more. I was deeply in love with this man.

“You ok in there Kara?” Jey asked knocking on the door as I smiled.

“Yea, I’m good I’ll be out in a second,” I said dressing my wound. Thank God it’s finally healing and not hurting as much.  Slipping on one of Jey’s shirts, I cut off the lights as I headed back into the bedroom, frowning when I didn’t see him.

“Jey-”

“I’m out here on the balcony, wait I’mma come get you,” he said as I smiled at the thought of going back out there.

“What have you done now?” I asked as he smiled clad only in a pair of shorts. “This is part two of your balcony picnic date, Ma,” he whispered offering me his hand as I anxiously took it.

“Aww it’s so pretty….Wait where did all this come from?” I gasped as he led me back out on the balcony. “Told you I wasn’t done yet, do you like it?”

“I love it but how did you do it? We been out here all day and I know I ain’t seen no bed out here earlier.” I said as he laughed.

“A couple of lil birdies did it when we went for a walk on the beach. This is your new study area for when you come to visit.” he said as I blushed looking at the bed on the balcony surrounded by pillows and the beautiful string lights above it.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” I said as he smiled, laying down beckoning me to him with his finger.

“Come on down here, Ma, I owe you a movie.” Not needing to be told twice, I climbed in bed and got comfortable in his arms.

“You know, I’ve always loved staying here.  I could fall asleep out here just listening to the ocean, and now you done put a bed out here. You know it’s a wrap right, I may never leave,” I sighed, welcoming his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on the hollow of my neck. as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders pulling him closer.

“Maybe that was my plan, kidnap you, and never let you leave,” he said as I relaxed wanting to feel more of him as his hands caressed my bare thighs.

“You can’t kidnap the willing,” I moaned, his fingers feeling so good but I winced slightly as Jey looked at me with worry.

“Are you ok?” He asked as I nodded not wanting him to stop. “Kara, let me can get up, I’on  wanna hurt you,” he said trying to sit up as I grabbed his Cuban link holding him in place.

“I’m fine, don’t you dare move,” I said as he smiled, rolling over on his back wrapping me up in his arms.

“Ok, this is a good compromise too,” I moaned getting comfortable as the pain in my chest subsided. “I know it is, stubborn ass,” Jey chuckled, reaching up to turn off the lights and starting the movie projector.

“What are we watching?” I asked, as he gently pulled one of my legs across his lap before covering us up with a blanket.

“You’ll see,” he whispered stealing a kiss as I squealed hearing the opening credits to Dirty Dancing as he laughed.

“The stuff I do for you, woman.”

“I love this movie!”

“I know, I remembered how excited you was at the hospital that night it came on. Then you got mad and almost made me switch the channel.”

“Hey, I was ready for the love scene, and they cut it… Just plain blasphemous, but I took one for the team because one simply doesn’t change the channel when Patrick Swayze is blessing your TV screen.” I said as he raised his eyebrow at me.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he joked as we settled in to watch the movie under the stars.

See Jey knew my love languages and I loved that. He knew what mattered, it wasn’t diamonds and pearls, or even money. It was spending quality time, it was physical touch, and creating memories with the ones you love. Jey’s love languages were a mixture of my mine. He loved to please and do for those he loved.

 He made sure every day to tell and show you how much you mean to him, and he only wanted the same in return and rightfully so.

“I’m glad you had fun and loved everything,” he said pulling me closer.

“I really did, and I hope you know I don’t just be hugged up with just anybody now,” I said as he looked down at me with a smile, catching on to what I was saying.

“Well, I don’t just do balcony picnics dates for just anybody either.” His lips close to mine as my heart pounded loudly against my chest.

“I have to warn you, I only do things like this with my man,” I whispered, as our lips finally meeting in a short, deep passionate kiss.

“And I only do things like this with my lady.” he moaned as our lips found each other once again as our kisses becoming more passionate by the second.

“For us,” Jey moaned against my lips as I whimpered against him.

“For us.”

“You sure?” He rasped pulling back slightly, watching me closely through low hooded eyes.

“I’m sure…I’ve never been sure of anything in my life,” I said as Jey caressed my face.

 “Forever my lady,” he whispered as his lips descended upon mine as I felt like I was flying. We were finally here at last and it felt so good. Breaking our kiss to catch our breaths.

“Ma, we can wait…I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Jey moaned, his beautiful brown eyes growing darker as I moved his hand slowly down to the hem of my shirt.

“You won’t, I trust you,” I gasped as his resolve crumbling taking me in a searing kiss, only releasing me from his grasp to remove my shirt.

“Your so beautiful, he whispered in awe as I blushed under his powerful serenading gaze.

Like a moth to a flame, I craved his touch and trembled with anticipation as he towered over me. The pain in my chest a distant memory, laying on my back as Jey took his time exploring my body.

His powerful hands grasping mine, bringing them to his chest as I felt his heart racing.

“I want you to feel what you do to me,” he said licking his lips as I groaned, biting my lower lip as he thrusted my hips against his dick that was straining against his shorts begging for release.

His hands controlling every sensual buck of my hips against his dick as it continued to grow longer and harder.

“Mmm, I feel it,” I gasped, his lips capturing mine in an earth-shattering kiss as my hands anxiously helped him remove his shorts.

“Not yet aulelei,” he moaned grabbing my hands gently pining them to the bed. His kisses moved to my neck, my heart racing as he caressed my breasts, being careful of my bandage.

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes, please,” I pleaded entangling my fingers in his hair as he gently suckled at my breasts taking his time with each one giving them equal attention holding my gaze as I fought back a moan.

“Mm, you sensitive huh,” he whispered with a smirk as I blushed. His lips lovingly kissing and nibbling down my body, teasingly as I fought to get ahold of myself but I was gone…

“Jey, don’t stop,” I gasped, my body trembling in anticipation of what was next to come.

 His eyes darkening as kissed the top of my mound gazing up at me with low eyes licking his lips as he descended lower. “I don’t plan too,” he whispered as I purred in appreciation.

Jey’s POV

Damn, I’m drunk…Drunk in love her intoxicating sent as I kissed the plush beautiful lips between her thighs, as Kara’s legs began to quiver.

“P- Please, Jey,” Kara as I groaned as I felt my dick get even harder.

"Fuck, all this for me aulelei? Tell me?” I moaned as her eyes met mine.

“Yes! Mmm, you know it is,” Kara gasped as I flattened my tongue and gently licked her slit, unable to stop the moan that rasped from my lips as the first drop of her sweet nectar coated my tongue.

“Mmm, I knew you’d taste like honey…. You done fucked around and created a monster, Ma,” I moaned, snatching her hips to my mouth as I swirled my tongue against her clit, commencing to drown in her.

“Jey, shit!” Kara gasped down at me in shock as I smirked.  The beautiful catch in her throat as I pleased her had me on demon time. I needed more…Much more and only she could give me what I wanted.

 “I- Mmm-” Kara moaned, trying to push my head away as I Ignored her plea intertwining our hands together, moving my tongue faster against her wet hot center.

“Stop runnin’, cause’ you deserve dis nut…..You understand me?”

Kara nodded, unable to speak. “Tell me you understand aulelei ?”

“I-I understand,” Kara whimpered as I moaned “Ain’t no stoppin’ Kara….Ain’t no stoppin’ till you nut in my mouth like a good girl,” I breathed against her pussy before going back to the task at hand.

“Fuck!..Oouu Josh, shit!” She moaned, her trembling legs over my shoulder as she sat up slightly panting in disbelief.

“Yea, you wit a real one now, moan my name baby. Damn, you makin’ my dick even harder just thinkin’ bout you nuttin’ in my mouth,” I confessed, knowing my words were encouraging her to get what she wanted…What we both needed.

“Mmm, I need it so bad,” Kara moaned moving her hips against my tongue. “Mmhm, so do I baby…. Dat’s it, you doin’ so good”

“Joshjoshjosh Mmhm!”

“Mmhm, get what’s yours. Fuck, you look so sexy chasin’ yo’ nut,” I moaned as she bit her lower lip, gripping the back of my head riding my face.

 “Babe! Kara exclaimed as she exploded in my mouth. Her beautiful face and the swivel of her hips as she rode out her orgasm were a thing of beauty.

I couldn’t get enough of her as I greedily drank her essence with a hearty moan as she writhed on the bed trying to catch her breath.  

Yea, I did dat…Fuck, I wanna keep her this way forever.

Crawling up her body, her flush face welcomed me as she grasped my Cuban link kissing me with urgency as I groaned nipping at her bottom lip.

“Mmm, you taste yourself?….You taste good, don’t you?” I groaned as Kara whimpered against my lips. Her trembling hand, reaching down between us grabbing my dick placing the tip at her entrance as I moaned trying to control myself.

“Mmm, tell me what you need,” I moaned, Kara pulling me closing whispering three words that made ignited an even deeper fire within me. “You inside me,” she gasped breathlessly as I  gave in, her tight warmth surrounding me, welcoming me home.

“Shit, Kara,” I groaned trying to take my time knowing she was still hurt, but she was making it hard. I wanted to sink inside her and get lost.  

“It’s ok,” she moaned, pulling me closer. A collective gasp of undeniable pleasure from us both filled the air as I filled her to the hilt.  

Kara’s POV

The sweat gathered at his brow as he’s trying to maintain his composure slowly beginning to thrust inside me as I craved more. “Mmm, faster.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jey moaned as I nodded not particularly caring, he felt so good, and I wanted him closer but I knew him.

“Your not,” I gasped as he gripped my hips gently once again surging forward as we both groaned at the sensation.

“I’mma take my time….Make love to you,” Jey whispered burying his head in the hollow of my neck, tilting his weight on his elbows, thrusting at a new angle that rendered me whimpering mess as he showered my neck with kisses.

“Damn, found my first spot,” he groaned as I began meeting his thrusts, feeling the pressure building with each caress, every lick and thrust we got lost in each other.

Something was different, this wasn’t sex like it was all those months ago on Roman’s bus.  This was different, we were making love and it felt so good.

With each swivel of his hips, he went deeper and deeper, our lips meeting in a familiar dance as our tongues sensually stroked each other.

The smell of rain and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore made the moment even more special.

Each second, body to body, skin to skin we climbed higher and higher together as Jey carefully rolled onto his back, shifting me onto my side, trying to take some pressure off of my chest but never stopping his gently thrusts.

A strangled moan escaped my lips at the new position as Jey wrapped one arm around my chest, the other placing one of my leg over his as I trembled in his arms.

“It’s just us…. Stop being shy, ma,” he rasped against my ear thrusting at a steadier pace.

“Mmm, you feel so good. I need it so bad, Josh!” I cried as he growled nipping at my neck as tears sprang to my eyes from the immense pleasure.

“I know baby, me too, I need you to cum for me…You gon’ give me what I want, ain’t you?”

“Yes! I’m close, don’t stop,” my desperate cries silenced as he grasped my throat bringing my mouth to his in a scorching kiss, as I writhed in need against him.  His other hand to toying with my clit.

“You gon’ cum for me, like a good girl?” Jey asked already knowing the answer, his thrusts and breathing more uneven as I pulsed around him.

“Mmm,Yes.”

“Louder, Ma.”

“Yes! I’mma cum like a good girl, I promise,” I cried unashamed. He was dickin’ my ass down and it felt so damn good.

“Yea…Let it go, Ma. Damn, you so feel good,” he murmured against my lips.

“Josh! Fuck!” I cried coming undone in his arms. “Mmm, fuck yea look at you cummin’ just for me,” Jey praised pulling out, rubbing his dick against my clit.  “Mmm, put it back in,” I begged truly drunk on him at this point, and I wanted all he had to give.

Jey’s POV

“Uh huh, I know baby, dat pussy quivering. You need some more of dis dick don’t you?” I groaned turned on as fuck as Kara reached down, moving my hand, grasping my dick rubbing against her clit before sliding the tip back inside her.

“Take what you want, I’m yours.”

 “I want more,” Kara purred guiding my dick back inside her as we both gasped as we became one again….

“Fuck, yea…Put dat dick back in for daddy and get you another nut I moaned as we moved against each other in sync.

 “I- I want you to cum now.” Kara whimpered against me as I felt a her tight pussy swallowing my dick like a champ. Fuck, I wasn’t gon’ last too much longer.

 “Hold on, we both gon’ get this next nut together,” I groaned on a mission thrusting harder. “Josh- Wh-”

“Just breathe, ma…Let it take over, I promise its gon’ feel so good,” I whispered nibbling on her ear as I felt her relax. “Baby….Baby…Mm, Josh,” Kara gasped.

“Yea..I’m right here Kara, I got you.”

“What are you doing to me?” Kara groaned trying to hide her face but I refused to let her. Grabbing her chin, making her look at me.

“I’ll tell you what I’m doin’…..I’m makin’ love to the woman I love,” I declared, continuing to get lost inside her.

“I love you,” Kara moaned as our lips met in a sloppy kiss as she took my hand and placed it on her clit, and guiding my hand in a figure eight motion as she began steadily throwing her ass back on my dick to match my deep hard thrust.

“Shit! I love you more. …Now be my good girl, and cum for me…Fuck you doin’ so good, ma,” I moaned.

“Jey! Mmm, fuck!” Kara screamed as I felt her pulsing around my dick.

“Uh huh, I know it baby, I feel it.”

“Cum with me.”

 “Can I cum inside you?” I groaned thrusting harder praying she would say yes. “Yes, I want you too Josh,” she whimpered as her head fell back against my shoulder in shock as she fell over the cliff of extasy, taking me with her as I groaned in triumph holding her trembling body against mine as I came and stilled inside her.

The sounds of the rain hitting the roof, along with our heavy breathing filled the night air. Neither one of us said anything for a few minutes, too stunned to speak.

 “Damn, that was insane,” I whispered, finally somewhat regaining my composure as Kara rolled onto her back still trying to catch her breath.

“Best balcony picnic date ever,” Kara said with a relaxed smile as I gently kissed her lips.

“No regrets,” I whispered as Kara caressed my beard. “No regrets.”

------

Roman's House

Janice's POV

"Mama, I can't believe he posted this," Roman said as I leaned over his shoulder to look at his phone.

"Aww that was nice Joshua did that for Kara," I said as Roman rolled his eyes.

Mama-"

"What it's very sweet."

"What about the blanket hanging off the bed mama? He's being messy, in so many words sayin' he slept with Kara," Roman said as I frowned at him.

"Roman they could have been cuddling watching movies for all we know, but in the end, it isn't your business what Kara does."

"I know, but can people give me time to deal with what I lost? I lost my wife and now she's with my cousin." Roman said slightly raising his voice.

"Roman, Kara isn't going to put her life on hold to make you feel better. I had something to tell you, but I see you aren't in the right frame of mind to hear it right now." I said choosing to not pass on the new information I found out at Rebecca's today. He'll find out tomorrow like everyone else.

"No I'm not in a good head space, but I will be when I get some air," Roman said as I got up and stood by the kitchen door.

"No you ain't because you're going to end up at Josh's and I'm not letting you do that to Kara or yourself," I said putting my foot down.

"I just need some air, mama, please move," Roman pleaded as I refused to move.

"The last time you went out to get some air you ended up in Boston and could have got yourself killed, so no I ain't moving."I cried. Roman was at his breaking point, but he needed to get all this shit out. He was holding too much in.

"What do you want from me?!" Roman yelled as I pulled him into my arms giving him a much needed hug as his arms tightened around me.

"I want you to let it go, baby...Let that guilt go and free yourself, it's almost been a year." I said trying to get through to him.

"I lost her and I can't fix it," Roman said his voice breaking as rubbed his back. "Some things aren't meant to be fixed Roman...We just own up to our mistakes and take it one day at a time," I said as he pulled away wiping his tears.

"I know I gotta let her go, mama. My mind tells me that every day but my heart ain't caught up yet," Roman said sitting back down and looking at his phone.

"It will...Just give yourself time," I said as we heard Logan cry over the baby monitor.

"I got her, you went the last time," Roman said going to check on Logan leaving his phone on the table.

Picking it up I looked at Josh's post and smiled.

"Gon' head Joshua," I muttered truly happy that Kara was moving on and being loved how she deserved to be.

The thought of tomorrow suddenly crept back into my mind. I hated to disrupt the dinner tomorrow but I couldn't let this betrayal stay hidden.

Kara needed to know there was more than one enemy she needed protection from. I just never in my wildest dreams thought it would be her own mother.

Tomorrow Rebecca is coming clean or i'mma do it myself.

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl @melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo @arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae

@anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld jeyusosgirl  theninthwonder mya2real  justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant  reignsboy19

wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy @ superpietom 

harmshake  truefant4sy  yana3sworld amandairene88

unapologeticqueen94 empressdede xbriexx tshepisho

 thatgirlest98 zdotspinalot mainthingdoja jimingotthajams

rose-bliss mrswolffs-blog maeb99 jstarr86

sayyestoheav3nn digidestned  heathetherlamont30 trashbin-nie

rebelrel0987 kriissy4gov brokenglassslippers headoftheetable

severenswife sayyestoheav3nn pittieprincess22 mindairy

jaded-human mainthingdoja mrswolffs-blog shamaness11

justarheaslut

[snoopcco]

. ✉️ ་ ˖ ʿ ִֶָon melancholy hill. 花朵

想象 life as cupid couldn’t be more underwhelming and boring, because, even if you are a matchmaker, (or THE matchmaker) you can’t bring anyone to love you. but then jake is ready to love you for eternity.. 想象 reader thinks she’s a tad bit ugly. however, jake changes that. ( jake is obsessed with reader lolz! )

You were always the odd one out.

You never went out, you never hung out with your friends, you never goofed around at night. you never had time for anything!

People thought you just hated socializing, or maybe you didn’t like other people in general, they assumed you just liked being alone…

or you were just some loner who couldn’t gain a single friend so she copes by not hanging out with anyone.

And that was way off. In fact, you loved living. But were you someone who had time to live? No. You weren’t.

Because you were the one and only Roman God of love, lonely hearts expert, Cherub, you were CUPID. you put people together and made them fall in love, you were the reason people believe and didn’t believe in love.

maybe their relationship didn’t work out, but maybe it did. but your being on earth was why people could be with someone else, love someone destined to them.

But that’s what made you feel pathetic, you put two people together for them to have a soulmate for life, but whose arms could you creep into so you can cry and weep in their warm embrace? no one. because it was apart of the contract,

‘No use of corruption over your love bow. If you break this rule, you are erased from the face of EARTH, or, someone else can take the blame and receive the punishment instead.’ Fuck. It’s that serious? that was your exact thought, you have to live a life without a someone? a partner?

School was worse. Boys didn’t like you, girls thought you were a loser. Life when you didn’t have that love bow was a different type of sadness.

So you found yourself in the janitors room. Curled into a ball with your knees to your face, a flood of tears when down on her cheeks like there was no tomorrow. She felt so alone, so helpless. Hiccups and sniffles filled the room; she didn’t give a single care in the world if she was late.

She thought to herself, she was just ugly. It wasn’t because of the contract, instead, it was because no one was actually attracted to her. It made her violently sob like a baby, she just wanted someone’s arm around her soul, someone who can hold her until she felt safe.

“Hello? Excuse me pretty miss.. are you okay?”

You opened your salty eyes and met eyes with a guy whose australian accent was so strong and raspy, almost as attractive as how the guy was already. However, you realized, pretty miss?

“oh I’m fine.. I’m sorry, I’m gonna be late to class.” she tried getting up from her position, but it seemed like the guy didn’t want her to go. “it’s dismissal, you don’t need to hide your beautiful face,”

“You know me but, it’s Jake. Sim Jaehyun. I noticed you were crying, I wanted to see if you were okay. Are you okay? If no one asked you yet.” She felt embarrassed, “Thank you, Jake. But I need to go, I’m sorry, please don’t waste your time on me—”

“I didn’t want to tell you but, I’m not wasting time on you. It feels like I’m wasting time if I’m just gonna stand there so oblivious, I’m sorry. but you’re gorgeous, I love the way you look..

…I was your classmate since grade 6 but you just never noticed me because whenever I talked to you, you thought I was a mere joke.”

“I’m not gorgeous, Jake, and I always avoided you because I thought it was always the popular girls playing tricks on me.”

“God! You take my breath away! If you’re not gorgeous, Hell; you’re perfect!” Jake cried out, trying to bring her to realization. “You’re so sweet and kind, I don’t know why no one wants to approach you! That’s why I fell inlove with you!”

Jake, held her face so gently and she felt his warm hands on her own bones. “I might not be cupid, but I think someone as pretty as you.. would be a perfect match with someone who adores you so much. And that’s me.”

“but Jake. I’m cupid. And if I date you, I’ll be gone forever. Unless; you will be gone forever.”

“So what? If I feel your arms around me once I would be alright with not existing anymore, I just want to be yours.”

Yeah, jake wasn’t cupid. But she was, and when jake knew what were the consequences, he was seriously ready to take the blame. He would be ready to be erased off the face of earth if that meant he could be interlinked with her.

@ jwnstars !! cupid is here :^

OK. I hope that touched you guys like it did to me, this was so sentimental and precious to me. (Sorry. I just love this) the last part was my fav part writing because OMLLL ??? Jake would literally give up his life for his gf / s/o so that they could live theirs, so fricking cute !!! :’)))

He would give up his everything to be with them forever. Fuck. I might cry. ( @all4aoki witnessed me making this :3 )

[seat-safety-switch]

I love my fireworks, say all my neighbours as they cram a flimsy plastic tube full of low-yield explosives. Surely everyone in my community will also appreciate them. If not, they are some kind of Grumpy Gus and are not invited to the block party cookout. Friends, I can tell you this right now: I am not going to that barbecue.

As you might have imagined, the residents of my area of the world like to shoot off a bunch of Roman candles when they feel like it. Sure, fireworks are fun and all, but I feel like if you're burning three or four hundred dollars worth of illegal noise-and-light generators every couple of weeks, you might as well just take up smoking again.

At first, it was a lot of fun. Very festive. It helped the community spirit, even if all the dogs were constantly terrified and kept trying to chew through a fence to escape. Ol' Ray down the block lost a finger trying to grab onto what he called a "Winky Sprinkler," though, and then everything changed.

Once there was a scent of blood in the air, it became a competition. Ray needed to "make it worth" his sacrifice, so he started amping up his production. Bigger shows. Coordinated by electronics. More frequently. This drew the ire of another rich asshole (Bob Winsome, who used to own the Ford dealership) with poor impulse disorder, and soon the two of them were getting up to a night-time artillery show that the police were not equipped to stop, mostly because they were at the doughnut store or trying to knock over a casino for some quick cash in the retirement fund at the time.

Nearly every night became a terror of pop-pop-pop. although I am very good at ignoring troublesome noises, those noises are usually generated by my own car while I'm driving them. Not constantly happening while I'm trying to focus on my usual problems: things like "why is this bolt stripped," and "where did this pile of wires I just cut through go to?"

As the Constitution says, though: "fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." After one particularly rough night of having exploding munitions going off directly over my head while I was trying to find the origin of some faint valve clatter, I decided to respond in kind. A friend of mine, who will be called Millie Teri for reasons that are about to become clear, loaned me a couple pieces from her private collection. I had myself a patriotic parade that night. Courtesy, of course, of some army bases didn't really pay too close attention to what they listed on eBay. That's what they call "taxpayer value," even if I did have to technically buy the low-shrapnel M107 flash shells twice.

I had expected to draw a truce after demonstrating my superior firepower, much like how French tourists can shut down any discussion of cheese. After bombarding both rich pricks' homes, however, it soon became apparent that the dickheads blamed each other for the massive destruction wrought on their properties, and refused to believe that a belligerent third party could have done such a thing to them just for "several months of sleepless nights courtesy of constant 120dB outside noise."

After the mutually-assured destruction finished, though, I never saw or heard another fireworks display from Ol' Ray or Bob Winsome. If they ever find an identifiable chunk of either of their bodies, we'll probably have a pretty cool tribute at the funeral using up whatever unexploded fireworks they have still left in the scorched remnants of their family homes.

[sleepyspudbrainrot]

Indulge Me

Roman Reigns x Lale (OC) | 18+, NSFW, smut, fluff | 1908 words

This is absolutely part of Carry You Home, but not Pt. 3 if that makes sense? It's a scene that will absolutely happen in the fic, but down the road... but I was in the mood to write it tonight so here we are?

You can blame one of my friends for picking the prompt for me ~ Enjoy this attempt at smut! I'm a bit rusty...

“How is it you always know what I need, huh?”

A hand wrapped around Lale’s throat, eyes fluttering as Joe took steps towards her.  Each step brought them closer to one another, and then far once more, until she was met by the wall at her back.  A soft gasp escapes her, his grasp around her throat tightening.  His face lowers to meet hers, lips brushing gently across hers.  Once, twice, and by the third time, his lips are pressed to hers in an attempt to claim them. ”Joe…” A soft murmur, her head meeting the door behind her as she struggles to focus.  ”The door… neighbors…” A large hand encompasses hers, guiding it over to the lock behind her and allowing her to lock it before pressing closer once more.  ”They’ll have to wait…”  The only neighbors she could think of would be the twins.  And somehow, she knew, they’d know exactly what was going on tonight.  They’d seen the way she’d looked after Joe after the nights events.  The way she’d bit her lip as he’d brushed closer to her in the gorilla.  But for it all to lead to this?

His lips left hers, brushing along her jawline, down to her neck.  Teeth grazing at the sensitive skin just underneath her jawline.  Another soft gasp escapes her, hands tightening in the loose fabric of the shirt he’d thrown on in the locker room.  It still smelled like sweat and the ring, scents that were wrapped up in the scent of him. He buried his face in her neck and collarbone, leaning against her, his body a welcome pressure even as she found herself pinned to the wall.  “Fuck Lale…”  They’d done so little and he seemed to be struggling to control himself.  Even now, she could feel the way his length pressed into her hip bone, with a little adjusting… 

She shifted as much as she could given the presence of his body, allowing his hips to meet hers.  Two pieces of a puzzle, a piece of him that was made for her, at least she could hope that.  She groaned softly and reached up to tangle her hands in his hair.  Her nails met scalp and a soft his escaped him as his teeth sunk into the spot between her neck and collarbone.  “Joe…” His name fell from her lips in reverence, her grip in his hair tightening as his lips trailed lower.  To the collar of her shirt, his hand sliding up from the bottom.  Rough callouses against smooth skin, the fabric of her shirt lifting as he explored further and further upward.  

“This night is supposed to be about you ya know…”

Her hand comes to rest on his wrist, stopping his journey upwards.  He pulls away from her collarbone, an eyebrow raised. “And if I wanted to indulge myself in you ma?”  Indulge himself in her… One hand remained on his wrist, the other reaching up to cup his cheekbone.  A tender gesture that was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between them.  

“Let me indulge you instead?”

She’d stepped away from the wall now.  Using Joe’s momentary confusion to push him towards the center of the room.  It was easy to sink to her knees in front of him.  Her hands trailing down his chest and down the length that she could feel straining against his pants.  “May I?” Joe merely nodded, swallowing visibly as she tucked her fingers into his waistband.  Inch by inch until the gym shorts were pooled around his ankles.  His cock was standing at attention, even longer than she’d anticipated.  Her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, watching his face shift through her eyelashes.  His eyes closed, his lips pursed, his hands at his sides. 

“Lale…”

She paused in her stroking, tilting her head. “Yes Joe?” Her words came out in a low sultry murmur. 

“You look so damn beautiful on your knees for me mama..”

The reverence returned to her ten fold, sending her heart stuttering and even more heat pooling at her core.  She couldn’t speak, she had to focus on the cock in front of her.  No matter how beautiful he thought of her, she knew that this was her time, her chance to take care of his needs.  She leaned forward with a soft smile, her tongue darting out to lap at the precum that had beaded at the tip.  A hiss escaped the man above her, his hands reaching out to cup her head.  “Easy now…”  A teasing laugh before she took the tip into her mouth.  Her tongue swirled around, a teasing gesture that was paired with a few more languid strokes along his shaft.  She had to ease into this, to make sure that she wasn’t going to take on too much.  She wasn’t sure if she could take all of him, but she was going to try.

Inch by inch she drew more of him into her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as her tongue wrapped around more and more of his shaft.  A low groan vibrated through Joe, his hands tangling in Lale’s hair that hung wildly around her face. She hummed softly, letting the vibrations carry as she began to bob her head up and down.  Slowly at first, pairing it with similarly paced strokes.  His hips twitched and it was very clear that Joe was holding himself back … for her.

That only served to encourage her to go faster.  Her cheeks hollowed out, her lips a vice grip around him as her head bobbed up and down.  Closer and closer to the edge, she wanted him to lose control.  To allow himself to lose himself in her, and to indulge her in the care she was willing to give. And give in he did. His hands clasped her head, hips bucking up to meet her on each stroke.  He hit the back of her throat over and over again.  Her eyes began to water, her groans adding more vibrations that only served to encourage his wildness further.

“Lale.. I’m close…”

She met his gaze through her eyelashes. 

“Are you sure?”

If she’d been in a place to do so, she would’ve nodded.  He seemed to understand the yes, his movement quickening now.  Each thrust more erratic than the last, his fingers tangled in her hair, until her face was pressed to his skin, his cock throbbing as he found release.  She could feel the thick liquid pumping into her throat, the warmth in her core only encouraged by the pleasure she’d been able to bring the man above her.  Once he’d finished, he pulled her head away from himself, a hand curling around her chin.  He drew her up to his level, his thumb wiping away at the drool that had coated her chin.  

“How on earth do you look even more beautiful now?”  

Joe’s thumb rubbed circles against her cheek.  “Now let me indulge myself… please?”

Lale fell back against the bed, Joe standing over her with a look on his face that she could only describe as feral.  He’d discarded of his shorts, leaving his cock out and still erect despite her draining him only moments before.  It was his turn to get on his knees for her, kneeling at the foot of the bed.  His hands grabbed at her hips, drawing her closer to the edge and pushing her legs apart.  “We’ve really got to do something about these…”  Her panties exposed, her skirt doing little to hide the wet spot that had been slowly growing since they’d gotten back to the hotel. His finger trailed downward, hooking around the edge of the fabric and pushing it to the side.  

“So wet for me ma…” His nose brushed against her lips, before his tongue flicked at her clit.  The sensation was sudden, pulling a moan from deep within her.  Her back arching, legs twitching with the urge to close around Joe’s head.  “Easy now ma…”  Another languid drag of his tongue, this time focusing less on just her clit, and more on consuming her.  Darting inside of her, then out, swirling patterns that had her moaning over and over again.  His fingers slid inside her at some point, one at a time til he’d gotten three inside of her, his tongue drawing her closer and closer to the edge with each deft stroke.  

“Joe god… fuck that feels…”

She cried out as he sucked on her clit, the change in sensation almost sending her tumbling into an orgasm.  But then he pulled away, grinning up at her, her slick coating the strands of his beard.  “You think I was going to let you go that easily? I want to feel you come apart around me mama.”  He stood now, padding away from the edge of the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase.  He rolled it over his cock as he returned to the bed.  It was easy for him to lean over and pull her close, her legs against his chest as his cock teased at her entrance.

“You ready?”

Lale could only nod, her teeth worrying her lower lip as he pushed into her entrance.  Even with the preparation, the size was enough to sting as he stretched her out.  Inch by inch, easing into the discomfort, she couldn’t help but watch him as he did so.  Her discomfort quickly shifted to pleasure, to admiration and reverence, as she observed the way he looked at her.  It was as if she was something precious, something that he wanted to take care of, whether it be physically or…

No she couldn’t think of that now.

Especially as Joe was now sheathed within her.  His hips pressed to hers.  Without warning he snapped back, the thrusts starting slow, but increasing in intensity with each one.  Each thrust brought her back to that edge she’d nearly hit with his tongue earlier.  She groaned, eyes rolling back into her head as he leaned over her, one hand holding himself up on the bed, the other moving to thread his fingers with hers.  

“Come for me?”

A question that she was all too eager to answer.  She tightened around him with a cry, her back arching and her legs shaking with each continued thrust.  At some point, the pulsing from within her became to much for him as well, and for the second time that night he came apart as well.  His chest rose and fell as he slid out of her, the condom tossed in the vague direction of the trash can across the room, before he joined her on the bed. 

“We should probably get you cleaned up…” Joe murmured softly, brushing her hair away from her face.  Lale laughed softly, reaching out to cup his cheek with one hand.  “Only if you come clean me up?” Her laughter carried through her words, the teasing clear as she remained curled on her side.  “That’s if I can move… I’m comfortable.”  A yawn escapes her, leaving Joe to laugh with a shake of his head.  “It can wait… for now, come here.”  He pulled her close, moving to lay on his back and allow her to settle against his chest.  He pulled a blanket over the pair, stroking Lale’s hair until she fell asleep.  Once she was settled and asleep, it wasn’t long before he too had fallen asleep.

[queenjunothegreat]

The Tumblr link thing won't work so have an ugly ass hyperlink, I GUESS

Alrighty! It's time to ring in the new year, and I think it's only appropriate that my first post of the year is HoJ! :D @demigod-shenanigans and I were talking about what scenes I should do from MoA and we talked about Charleston and Jason not really remembering (or really even knowing) what happened there with Reyna but he DOES know that his best friend kinda got weird and distant, so he's got all this anxiety about Piper going to talk to that very same entity. Instead, I wrote this. Sorry, bestie <3

Now, may I present LEO Takes a Tumble: A Mark of Athena Scene

As Leo fell once again, he realized that he hadn't been scared when he was falling before. He hadn't been scared because he knew Jason was there and he knew with every fiber of his being that Jason would catch him. Jason wouldn't let him fall. But now they were both falling, and Leo wasn't really sure whose job it was to catch Jason. *** Leo free falls to his certain death. This is only really about half as dramatic as it should be.

As Leo fell through the air following Frank ‘Butterfingers’ Zhang’s spectacular performance (seriously, how did a giant eagle manage to drop him? Leo was suspicious of a deliberate attempt on his life) his only thought was a deep, heart-aching regret at the thought of the salsa he'd made the night before. It had been good right after he'd finished it, obviously, but after a night of letting it rest? Of letting all those flavors marry and meld? There wasn't much that could beat that. But now he'd never get to have it because Frank had gone and dropped him right above a demigod free-for-all throwdown. Somehow, the crew of the Argo II was managing to hold their own against the platoon of soldiers who'd attacked them, which was honestly a little embarrassing for the Romans, come to think of it. 

Before he could think too much about that, he was tackled in midair and brought in close to a remarkably familiar chest. He looked up to see Jason, all of his features sharpened with concentration, and he couldn't help but bite his lower lip in a grin and waggle his eyebrows. “Well, if it isn't the one and only Superman himself. Come here often?”

“Focusing right now,” Jason chided, ignoring the pink on his cheeks. “Be quiet.”

“You know me, Mr. Serious here. I'm practically stoic.”

Jason scoffed. “Yeah right.”

Unfortunately, even that brief moment of distraction was enough to sign the warrant on their certain doom. There was an explosion in the air right in front of them (Leo blamed Hedge) and Jason didn't have time to react. He didn't drop Leo, but he did lose control of the winds and the two of them were suddenly tumbling through the air like abandoned dolls. 

As Leo fell once again, he realized that he hadn't been scared when he was falling before. He hadn't been scared because he knew Jason was there and he knew with every fiber of his being that Jason would catch him. Jason wouldn't let him fall. But now they were both falling, and Leo wasn't really sure whose job it was to catch Jason. 

“Jason! Hey, man! Can you hear me?” Jason just continued to stare at nothing with that same dazed expression on his face, so Leo squirmed one of his hands out from where it was crushed between their chests and gently smacked Jason’s cheek until blue met brown. “Wake up, Jason!”

Jason blinked hard a few times to focus his vision, and when he did his eyes widened in terror at the sight of what Leo assumed was the rapidly approaching ground beneath them. “Hang on! This is gonna get rough!” he ordered over the sharp whistling in Leo’s ears. Then he tucked Leo’s head under his chin and squeezed him tight right as a powerful gust of wind slammed into them from the side. 

Leo clung tight to Jason, hands fisted in the front of his shirt, as the two of them tumbled through the air like one of Leo's failed projects. They were headed straight for a nearby hill, which Leo assumed was Jason’s plan, and Leo braced himself for a very hard landing, followed by getting squashed into a pancake by 230 pounds of solid Roman demigod muscle. Only, that didn't happen. The landing was hard, even harder than Leo had originally assumed it would be, but at the last second, Jason jerked in midair, making sure he hit the ground first. They rolled a few times, which did definitely squeeze the air out of Leo’s lungs but left him otherwise unharmed, until they settled with Jason sprawled out flat on his back and Leo on top of him.

Leo blinked hard a few times to get the stars out of his eyes before his attention turned to Jason. He was lying there, completely still with his eyes closed, and Leo was horribly reminded of the sight of him in the infirmary bed after New Rome. Panic welled in the back of his throat and he started smacking his cheek again, a little harder than he had in the air. “Jace? Jace, you there? C’mon, man, please? Houston to Superman: Come in, Superman!”

“Superman to Houston: Stop hitting me, please,” Jason groaned, weakly batting Leo's hand away from his face.

Leo didn't care. He grabbed both of Jason’s cheeks up in his hands and gave him an absolutely blinding smile. “Jace!”

Jason just smiled back at him for a moment before his eyes went wide and he sat straight up, forcing Leo to sit up with him. His hands started patting Leo down before he desperately raked his fingers through Leo’s hair and cupped his hands around his jaw. “Leo! Oh my gods! Are you okay?”

“I'm Gucci, bro,” Leo grinned through his forced fish face. Jason just wrapped him up in a hug so tight, Leo couldn't help but wonder if they were going to start their free fall again. He frowned when Jason started trembling. “Jace? Are you okay?”

“You were falling,” Jason muttered quietly from where his face was hidden in Leo’s shoulder. “I don't like watching you fall.”

Leo felt his heart twinge in sympathy, and he patted the back of Jason’s head. “Hey, man, don't sweat it. I never do. I've got my own personal Superman to Lois Lane me when I need him, remember? He'd never let me fall too bad.”

Jason huffed out a quiet chuckle before he emerged. He carefully pushed Leo off of his lap and got to his feet so he could scowl down at the demigods fighting below. “Dammit. This is not how I planned for this to go.”

Leo’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah? How did you plan it? Were you looking for a hot date down in Charleston? Gonna hold somebody's hand while you walk them through the fort and gush about Civil War battle formations?”

Jason flushed maroon and he scowled at Leo, which just made him grin. “Shut up.”

“It's okay, buddy,” Leo comforted, patting him on the arm. “Next time we find a historical site, you can hold my hand and tell me stuff I won't listen to, if you can't find a real date.”

Somehow, Jason got even redder. “Shut up.”

Leo mimed zipping his lips, and Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on,  Houston. We need to get back to the ship.” He held out his arm like he was offering Leo a side hug. “You ready?”

“For you, Superman? Always,” Leo grinned as he took up his position. Jason's arm wrapped around him, and they shot off into the sky.

[xbeezchaos]

BPD Howl Pendragon!

I knoooooowwww. I’ve literally been dead for months and apologies for this being something unrelated to the BPD Scara series I’ve been getting at but I’m currently fixated on Howl so I’ll be using him as my projector. I also highly believe this man has BPD and nobody can convince me otherwise

Btw. I don’t condone romanization of mental issues. I’m simply ✨projecting healthily✨

Jealousy flare ups and depressive episodes; what that looks like for Howl

He’s unsure why, but he has been struggling with jealousy in a much higher factor than what he’s typically used to. It may be due to your presence

Ever since you two have gained the new title of dating and made it public, he’s felt a sense of possessiveness over you in a way that felt consuming

He needed you in bed to sleep soundly at night, and if you weren’t there he’d have not a wink of sleep while he held one of your clothing items close, taking in your scent and crying to himself about why you weren’t here

He gets suspicious and jealous when you spend lots of time away from him and with other friends. He trusts you but he’s scared someone will take you away.

You try telling him these things you plan out, but sometimes he won’t listen after he’s become too worked up over the idea of you being away for so long

He spends hours in bed without water or food. No motivation to get up until he gets a message from you encouraging him

Sometimes you have to baby the tall man, wash his hair and brush it for him.

Getting him to eat is the worst, he blames his medication cause the side effects impact his appetite frequently but the benefits are “too good” to give it up for just that

When he does eat, he’s got a sweet tooth like no man’s business, you’d think he’d gone mad with the amount of sugary treats he’d consume. But at least he was eating now so you didn’t complain too much

If he’s not sleeping all day, he’s awake for days on end, unable to sleep and refuses to take his sleep aid pills because “they don’t work.”

He’s secretly really petty towards those around the two of you but tries his best to keep most of it to himself. Even if you know. He won’t tell you.

The sleep aid pills knock him flat on his ass and he hates it. Waking up to your giggles of how he fell asleep in your arms like a snoring baby would make his face flush in embarrassment

He dislikes a lot of people talking to him when he’s upset. He’ll start snapping and going silent. P

Sometimes despite how hard it is to get out of bed, when he does, he’ll try to do small things like clean, eat, and make you little gifts

He made you a phone charm and matching rings to wear, he’d spent all night on it, since he was in bed all day.

It’s hard when he’s having an episode due to his jealousy, if you or someone else doesn’t get to him in time he’ll start calling upon the shadows and it takes quite a while to get him to even process that anyone else besides him is within the vicinity, let alone fully calm down.

He gets very clingy when he’s depressed, he’ll carry around items of yours and calls them “support items”

He looks like a tall child with a blanket as he walks around the house doing his daily business. It’s the best you’ve seen him do in the last few weeks so you try to keep him with his support items often

“Coffee is not a meal, have you eaten anything today?”

“A cheese stick..” you hit him over the head with a rolled up newspaper after that and dragged him to go make food.

He’d done this for over a week now and despite the small efforts, a drink wasn’t enough for him to get through the day.

Extra sassy in his conversations with calcifer

Takes the longest showers ever and he’s always steaming like a boiled potato when he gets out

Becomes a tablet child to compete simple tasks

Irritable as hell when he’s around people he’s not fully comfortable with, like your friends he’s only met twice

He’d eventually try going off on his own and have a good time that way, then eventually end up having an anxiety attack when he starts getting into his own head again

It’s not that he’s not social, but when he feels ignored he gets quite irritable and especially quiet. Which is odd for him because he loves chatting with new people

[touyubesposts]

My Sander Sides Enlightment

You know what’s always kinda bothered me? Those mean takes on the other sides. Like ‘Janus is manipulating Patton and isn’t actually trying to be friends with him,’ ‘Patton has too much moral superiority,’ ‘Roman never learns,’ So on and so forth. There is something bad to say about all the sides. No hate to anyone who's made one, you are valid and probably right in your own way. I think the only reason they bother me so much is because you can easily say the opposite. The most common phrase being ‘Nobody listens to ____’

“Nobody listens to Patton! He was trying to show the others that Virgil was good all along and only when Virgil was gone did they listen.”

“Nobody listens to Logan! He gets ignored constantly and he’s getting mad because of it.”

“Nobody listens to Roman! Every time he comes up with a solution, he gets shut down only to get blamed for not coming up with a solution.”

“Nobody listens to Virgil! He only gets listened to when he forces Thomas to hear him, and he doesn’t like doing that.”

“Nobody listens to Janus! Even when he has good ideas and arguments, they get pushed to the side because he is a dark side.”

“Nobody listens to Remus! That was the entire point of an episode. And all he wants is to be listened to, it doesn’t matter who.”

And all of these are valid points. But at some point, you have to wonder who’s not listening the most. Which is how I think the criticism posts of the characters came to be in the first place. But I don’t think any of them are to blame. Even when this new side gets revealed, it won’t be his fault either. The fault isn’t on Roman, or Logan, or Janus, or any of them.

It's on Thomas.

And of course I don’t mean ‘Writer Thomas,’ I mean ‘Character Thomas.’ Throughout the series, Thomas has always held himself high. You can’t be perfect, but you can try to be. And every time a situation comes up, he doubts himself, wondering if he’s even any good at all.

And in comes the sides, telling him that he can’t be bad and here's why. In fact, Thomas won’t let himself be bad at anything. Can’t be a bad worker, can’t be a bad actor or singer, and certainly can’t be a bad friend. Even in situations where he wouldn’t even be those things, he can’t even let himself risk it.

And so, the sides follow suit.

Logan becomes the perfect person for knowledge and learning, never letting himself be anything less than right all the time.

Roman strives to be perfect physically and materialistically, coming up with creative ideas that help Thomas move up in the world or, at the very least, make himself feel better.

Patton is the perfectly moral person. Make sure everyone is alright, help whenever and wherever you can, and always keep a smile on. Wouldn’t want anyone worrying for you, right? That wouldn’t be good.

Virgil is the perfect alarm system. Even false alarms are taken with the utmost seriousness. Just as long as no one else knows your anxious.

Janus is a deceiver. And Thomas lies often. So he needs to be the best at putting on a face and making sure nothing goes off without a hitch. Wouldn’t want people catching him in a lie. He needs to be the perfect liar.

And then there's Remus. The only one who tries not to be perfect. But that idea terrifies the others so much, Remus is left to pick up all of the imperfection slack. Maybe that's why Remus was offended when he was called ‘Scary.’

Trying to be so many perfect things all at once, you’re going to but heads with all of the different aspects of yourself. You're going to not listen. You're going to ignore. And in some cases, your perfectionism is going to make you look like the bad guy. And as someone with perfectionism, I relate a little too hard.

Thank you for reading.

[magicalbuttertarts]

Smut Prompt List 2

Main Masterlist

Pick a number from one category

The wrestler of your choice.

If you wish for the wrestlers real name to be used or just their wrestling name.

If the reader is m, f, or a member of the lgbtq+. Or if it is another wrestler

Please be 18+

Send to my ASKs.

Once picked, it will be crossed out until I write it & then it will have a link to the story, with the requested ship next to it.

These won't be very long. A few hundred words.

Guidelines are here for my requests, including for this prompt list.

Please let me know if you wish to be added to the tag list for this.

Prompt list is from here

Just a reminder, these are all smut

“This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

“No panties?”

“Look what you do to me”

“If you want to cum you have to beg”

“I want to fuck you against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it” - Roman Reigns x f/Reader

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

“I love it when you kiss my neck”

“I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now”

“Don’t give me that look”

“Try to stay quiet okay.”

“How the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickies?!”

“I want you inside me”

“Think you can handle that much”

“How do you feel about two at once?”

“Wanna join?”

“We’re in public, you know”

“I really don’t care, you look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now”

“Stop teasing me so much”

“You better watch your fucking mouth” - Grayson Waller x f/Reader

“I love the way you look when I’m inside you” - Nick Wayne x f/Reader

“I guess I’ll just get off all by myself then”

“You look so good on your knees like that”

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh”

“I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice”

“If we get caught I’m blaming you”

“Come here, you can sit on my lap till I’m finished” - Triple H x f/Reader

“I’m not jealous, it’s just your mine”

“Touch me and you lose”

“Stop dancing like that or I’m going to cum right here”

“Stop doing that”

“I cant stop picturing you sucking my dick like that ice lolly”

“It’s just us, everyone else has gone to bed”

“Think anyone will notice if I start fingering you right now?” - Damian Priest x f/Reader

“Why don’t we film it?”

“You look so good, can’t wait to absolutely ruin you”

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!”

“Want me to serenade you while you strip?”

“We passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago” - Colten Gunn x f/Reader

“It’s not my fault you keep turning me on”

“You look so good with my hands wrapped around your neck”