jervis-tetch-my-beloved

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

I AM NOW EMPLOYEDDDDDDD!!!!

I have a j*b interview today 💔 wish me luck 😔😔😔😔

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

I have a j*b interview today 💔 wish me luck 😔😔😔😔

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

I’ve never watched AEW in my life but I’m watching it for the first time

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

Now that zionist occupation announced they are going to occupy all of Gaza, their genocidal intent is clear. This was always about ethnic cleansing. That's why they systematically destroyed Gaza and murdered so many civilians. If you still support Israel, you are openly in favor of genocide.

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

*returning to whence I came* wheeeeeeee :)

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

Im actually obsessed with your fics...if possible could you please do a joe x reader where reader is really stressed so he gives her a massage but then it escalates and things get sexy and turn into a different stress reliever thank you so much

Stress Relief

TW: massage turned smutty, fingering, f!receiving oral; multiple orgasms

———

You don’t even realize you’re clenching your jaw until Joe’s fingers brush against the hinge of it, gentle and careful like he always is when you're wound too tight.

"You’re grinding your teeth again," he murmurs. His voice is soft — not scolding, just knowing. His thumb slides just beneath your ear, soothing. "Stress?"

You nod, barely looking up from your laptop. "Deadline. I’m behind."

"I can see that," he says. You feel his eyes on you before you meet them — that quiet, analytical gaze that always lingers just a little too long. He’s not blinking. "You’ve barely moved in hours."

You mean to respond, but your shoulders roll forward in another wave of tension, and you can’t find the words. You hear him walk away, and for a moment you assume he’s giving you space.

Instead, he returns with something folded over his arm.

"Take off your top," Joe says simply.

Your head jerks up. "What?"

"Just your top. I brought your robe. I’m not being a perv." His eyes flicker, amused, warm. "Not yet."

You narrow your eyes, lips twitching. "Not yet?"

He shrugs. "I’m trying to be helpful. Tension like that doesn’t just go away on its own." He sets the robe on the bed. "I’m serious. Let me help. You can go back to work after."

And somehow, you let him.

He has you lay down on your stomach with a pillow under your chest, arms relaxed beneath it. Your laptop is shut — at Joe’s insistence — and your robe is loose around your hips. He straddles your thighs, fully clothed, hands already slick with oil that smells faintly like eucalyptus.

"You’re so tight here," he mutters, digging his thumbs into the base of your neck. His voice lowers. "You've been keeping this all in, haven't you?"

"Mm-hm."

"That’s not good for you." His fingers slide down your back, pressing firmly into the knots there. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

His touch is good — really good. Just the right amount of pressure. He’s surprisingly skilled. You feel your body start to melt into the bed as he works in slow, practiced strokes, alternating between kneading and gliding.

"You always take care of everyone else," he murmurs. "You never let anyone take care of you."

You exhale, sleepy now. Vulnerable. “I don’t mean to.”

"I know," he says. His hands spread across your lower back, sliding under the robe. "But that’s what I’m here for."

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Because the next second, his thumbs move lower — along the curves of your hips, dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear — and you suck in a quiet breath.

He pauses.

"You want me to stop?"

You shake your head.

That’s all he needs.

Joe trails soft kisses down your spine before pulling your underwear down your thighs, slow and reverent, exposing you to the cool air — and to him.

"God," he whispers, voice caught somewhere between awe and hunger. "You’re perfect like this."

His hands find your ass, squeezing, spreading, before one trails between your thighs — testing, stroking, teasing.

"So wet already," he breathes, lips grazing your shoulder. "Just from a little massage?"

You hum softly, pushing back into his hand, desperate for more friction.

Joe chuckles. "Such a good girl."

Two fingers slip into you easily, curling just right — like he already knows every part of your body. His other hand presses between your shoulder blades, holding you in place.

"You don’t have to think anymore," he murmurs. "I’ll take care of everything. Just relax."

You try to obey — but the sensation is overwhelming, his fingers slow and purposeful, building you up then backing off just before it’s too much. Over and over. He watches your body twitch under him with a kind of focused obsession, like he’s cataloging every response.

"Let go for me," he whispers, voice firm now. “You don’t need to hold it all together. Not here.”

And when you do — when the wave finally crests and your body shudders around his fingers — he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop.

You gasp, legs trembling. "Joe—"

"I know," he says, lowering himself between your thighs now. "You’re still tense."

You try to speak, to protest, but the words die in your throat the second his mouth touches you.

He’s methodical. Possessive. Tongue stroking you slowly, deliberately, holding your hips down like he needs to keep you still. Like if he lets go, you might float away.

“I could stay here forever.” he groans into you.

Your fingers clutch the sheets as he buries himself deeper, licking, sucking, teasing your clit with just enough pressure to keep you on the edge again. And again. Until your thighs shake and your mind fogs over completely.

When you come this time, it’s helpless. Uncontrolled. You sob his name into the pillow.

He kisses your inner thigh gently, finally pulling away, lips slick.

"You okay?" he whispers.

You nod, boneless. "M-more than okay."

He smiles and strokes your hair, doting. Sweet. But his eyes are still dark.

Still dangerous.

Because Joe? He’s already planning the next time.

And the next.

And the next.

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

recommending comics is like “if you ignore the racism and the sexism and the inconsistencies it’s actually still pretty bad but every once in awhile there’s a moment that hits you so hard that it makes you stare at the wall”

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

LA knight is so sexy i need to see him kill Seth

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

“maybe we can be.. whatever” do you wanna be friends or do you wanna fuck get Charlotte why are you being so lesbian

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

LA KNIGHT???

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

What kinks do you think has joe?

Here are my thoughts!

———

1. Possessiveness / Ownership

Joe’s number one kink is knowing — and feeling — that you belong to him. It’s not just “you’re mine,” it’s “you were always mine, you just didn’t know it yet.” Expect:

- Intense eye contact while inside you, murmuring "mine"

- Jealousy-fueled sex after he sees someone else make you laugh

- Getting off on you wearing something he picked

2. Voyeurism (both ways)

Canon. Confirmed. He lives to watch you, especially when you don’t know. But he also wants you to perform for him.

- Watching you undress from the shadows

- Making you touch yourself while he sits in a chair, fully clothed, breathing hard

- Recording you with shaky hands because you look too good and he needs to relive it

3. Praise & Obsession

Joe romanticizes everything, especially you. You’re not just pretty — you’re divine, sacred. He’ll worship your body with words like it’s a sermon.

- "You’re perfect. You’re everything."

- Making you repeat it: "Who do you belong to?" / "You. Only you."

- Kissing you between every thrust, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear

4. Soft Dom / Rough Sex Blend

He loves control, but he’s gentle about it… until he isn’t.

- Holding your wrists while whispering how sweet you are

- Rough, possessive thrusts after an emotional moment

- Taking his time until he can’t, and fucking you through the mattress

5. Degradation (only when you're into it)

He’ll call you filthy things if you want it — but his eyes will still look at you like you're made of glass.

- "Look at you, so fucking needy."

- Getting off on how messy you are for him

- But immediately back to kissing your face after, cleaning you up with shaking hands

6. Power Dynamics & Emotional Manipulation

It’s… dark. But Joe is turned on by emotional intensity. Fear, love, guilt — it all feeds into his desire.

- Comforting you after he pushes you emotionally

- Getting hard when you say, "I hate how much I love you"

- Saying, “You don’t need anyone else. Just me.” during sex

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

Can you do something where reader and joe get into a bad fight (maybe something about another guy or joe wanting to go through their phone or something) and reader gets glimpse of how scary and possessive he can be

Don’t Lie To Me

Possessive!Joe accusing you of cheating!

———

It started small.

A comment. A look. A name you hadn’t mentioned in a while.

“Who’s Miles?”

You looked up from your phone. “Huh?”

Joe stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on you like he was studying you. Like he was trying to peel your skin back to get to what you were hiding underneath.

“You smiled when he texted,” he said. Flat. Unblinking. “So. Who is he?”

You blinked. “He’s just a guy from my psych class. We were talking about the group project, that’s all.”

Joe didn’t respond. Just walked forward—slow, deliberate—and sat down across from you.

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown. “Because it didn’t matter?”

“It mattered enough for you to smile at your phone,” he said. “And it matters now.”

You laugh, nervous. “Joe, are you seriously mad about a text?”

“I’m not mad.” But his voice sharpened. “I’m… curious. Curious why you’d hide a guy from me when you know how I feel about honesty.”

Your stomach twisted. You put your phone down. “I’m not hiding anything. You’re overthinking—”

“Let me see your messages with him.”

That lands like a slap.

You stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“Unlock your phone,” he says. Calm. Almost gentle. “Just to prove I’m wrong. Humor me.”

You shake your head slowly, your pulse starting to crawl up your throat. “No. Joe. That’s— that’s private. You don’t get to demand that.”

Something flickers across his face. Something dark.

“So you’re hiding something.”

“No,” you say, firmer. “But I’m allowed boundaries.”

He exhales hard through his nose, like he’s trying to stay level. “Do you think I don’t know what it feels like? Watching someone you love get stolen from you because you didn’t look hard enough? Because you trusted too much?”

You freeze.

This isn’t about Miles.

This is about Beck. And Candace.

About every ghost Joe hasn’t buried.

“Joe,” you say quietly, “I’m not her.”

“No,” he agrees. “You’re not. You’re mine.”

He stands.

And for a second—just a second—he’s looming.

Larger than life. Tense. Possessive. Dangerous.

Your heartbeat thunders.

“You don’t get to call me paranoid,” he says, voice low and cold. “Not when I’ve seen how easy it is to lose everything. Not when all it takes is one lie.”

His words crack the air like thunder.

You take a shaky breath. “You’re scaring me.”

And that stops him.

He blinks. Recoils slightly.

“...I’m scaring you?”

You nod, silent.

And it’s like watching the wind get knocked out of him. The intensity crumbles, leaving something raw and regretful in its place.

“I didn’t mean to...” His voice breaks. “I just— I love you so much. I get sick thinking about anyone else getting near you.”

You swallow hard.

He steps forward, slowly now. A tremble in his fingers as he reaches for you.

“I’m sorry. I just—sometimes it feels like you could disappear. Like she did. Like everyone else did. And I couldn’t take that. I couldn’t survive that again.”

You let him touch your hand.

But something in you has shifted.

Because now you’ve seen it.

The version of him that lurks beneath the soft words and morning coffees and storybook kisses. The version that doesn’t just love—he obsesses.

He would rather hold you in a cage than lose you.

And now you’re not sure if you’re being loved… or watched.

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

Can you do reader trying to break up with joe because he just feels so suffocating and he just pulls out all the manipulation tactics to make you stay but then lowkey knocks you out because he's going to put in the cage thank you so much

Not Leaving

———

You’ve been rehearsing the conversation for days. Saying it in the mirror. Writing it in your notes app and deleting it five minutes later. You knew Joe wouldn’t take it well. But you didn’t expect this.

The bookstore is empty when you come in after closing. He looks up from behind the register like he’s been waiting all day.

Like he knew.

“Hey, love.” His smile flickers. He can already tell something’s off. Joe always knows.

You grip your phone a little too tight. You have a bag slung over your shoulder—he notices. His eyes scan it. Mental note: not your usual purse.

“Can we talk?” you ask, voice shaking just enough to betray you.

He blinks. Slowly. Then smiles like he’s indulging a child.

“We always can.”

You take a breath.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hang in the air like smoke. You swear you see the color drain from his face, just for a second. But it’s gone before you can be sure. Joe’s good like that. Slipping back into something smooth, safe, and sugarcoated.

“You’re tired,” he says, softly. “You’ve had a rough week, haven’t you? That awful shift on Monday, and your mom—”

“Joe.” You cut him off. Firmly. “No. I mean it. I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m with you. Like I have to answer for everything I do. Everyone I see. I know you say it’s because you love me, but—it’s too much.”

Silence.

Then:

“Too much,” he repeats. Quiet. Measured. “You think I’m too much.”

“Joe—please don’t make this a thing—”

He steps around the counter. No sudden moves. He’s still calm. That’s what scares you most. He’s too calm.

“You know I don’t like games,” he murmurs, inching closer. “I don’t like when people pretend they don’t want me just to see how far I’ll go.”

Your throat tightens. “I’m not playing a game.”

“But you are.” His voice darkens just enough to make your skin crawl. “You say you want space. But you’re standing here, in my store. With a bag packed. Probably ready to go back to your friend’s place.”

He taps his temple. “You think I haven’t noticed? You think I don’t pay attention?”

You take a step back.

“Joe, I’m asking you to respect me. To let me go.”

He laughs. Quiet and hollow.

“Respect you?” He whispers. “I worship you. I’d bleed for you. I’d die for you.”

His voice drops lower.

“But let you go?”

He finally drops the mask.

“That’s not an option.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You reach for the door.

He’s faster.

He blocks it with one hand, other braced against the glass beside your head. Too close. You can’t move without touching him.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

His voice is barely audible now.

“All I ever wanted was to keep you safe. To love you the way you deserve to be loved. You know no one else will do that. Not like me.”

You shake your head. “You don’t know what love is, Joe.”

His jaw clenches. He leans in.

“I know it hurts when I think of you with someone else.” His breath brushes your cheek. “I know it kills me to imagine them touching you. Laughing with you. Ruining you.”

His hand comes up, thumb grazing your jaw.

“But I forgive you. For trying to leave. You’re scared. And scared people make bad choices.”

You flinch.

“Don’t touch me.”

Something inside him cracks. His face shifts, muscles twitching just enough to make your stomach drop. His hand pauses—then retreats.

He stares at you.

And for the first time, really stares.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay.”

You blink. “What?”

“You want to go?” He steps back. Gives you space. “Fine.”

You don’t trust it. Not for a second.

“Joe…”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks calmly behind you, flips the closed sign, and locks the door with an audible click.

You freeze.

“You can’t be serious.”

He turns back to you, expression unreadable.

“No,” he says quietly. “You can’t be serious. You thought this was going to end on your terms?”

You reach for your phone.

Gone.

When?

He sees the panic on your face and smiles—just slightly.

“I’ll give it back when we’ve had some time to talk. Real talk. Away from distractions. From friends who whisper in your ear. From lies.”

You shake your head, backing toward the stairs.

“Don’t.”

He sighs, almost sadly.

“You were everything. I gave you every part of me.” His voice sharpens. “And now you think you can walk out because it’s hard?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

You already know.

This won’t end with a door slamming and tears and goodbye texts. This ends in shadows and locked doors and muffled screams.

He steps forward.

“Shhh,” he says. “You’ll feel better soon. I know you will. You just need a little time to remember who you are.”

His hands brush your arms. You twist away.

“Joe, please—”

He tuts.

“No more begging. You’re staying. You belong with me. And I take care of what’s mine.”

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

I think they for sure pulling the trigger on Rhiyo tag team. The numerous times they worked together in the ring tonight were definitely them planting seeds.

-🌹

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I’m need Rhiyo in a tag team immediately

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

Lyra’s crash out tomorrow is going to result in several fatalities