#sometimes i am really tempted to move back home

[expatesque]

My parents are looking at flats in a building built in 1912 that the Wrigley's used to live in and it's basically my dream renovation project. There are two adjacent units that could be combined. There's a massive bay window. There are 6 fireplaces and twelve foot ceilings and crown mouldings to die for.

[madschiavelique]

miguel has this habit - when he is stressed, he starts rutting and humping his clothed dick against you (just friction, no cumming). and since he has to put up with everyone’s shit - that happens a lot throughout the day. it’s like his brain shuts off for a few minutes and he is doing it on autopilot - no thoughts head empty ✌🏻😸 just the warm feeling of his best girl under his touch being there for him, and it’s enough to calm miguel down for a while. you’re quite used to it, and you don’t mind his brainless activity since it’s rather helpful for him and for you - you don’t need to do too much expect to hold your ground - once he thrusted so suddenly and strong it knocked you down 😅 (he felt really guilty after that). silly silly man

one day he was under so much stress that his crotch was basically glued to you. you felt bad for him - to see him so frustrated. but you felt bad for yourself too - his constant humping made your panties dripping wet and you couldn’t actually do anything about it while being at work. so when you two returned home, you finally could punish him for making you horny for all day in a best way possible - fucking him dumb until he can’t coherently respond to you 💅

i am SALIVATING anon dayummm

summary : miguel humps you when he's stressed (not proofread)

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, dry humping, pnv sex - unprotected sex (be safe kids), fem!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 1,4k

tag list : @fandom-ash

It had become a ritual. As soon as the situation became too stressful, as soon as everything in his head became so hectic that his mind sizzled and his skin tingled, he would come to you to hump on you. It was automatic, he needed to get rid of all the stress and unpleasant sensations in one way. This helped him to decompress, to simply concentrate on his desires, on your body and its warmth to get away from work pressure.

You'd always find a way to get alone and he'd hump you, desperately, rubbing against you and letting the frictional sensations electrify and stabilise everything around him that was preventing him from keeping his mind straight.

He could hump your thigh, against your fingers as you encouraged him and kissed the side of his neck, and sometimes against your clothed cunt. It wasn't always easy, letting him do that for a few moments and then having to go back to work when he was calm again and you were left turned on.

And today, it was a particularly painful sensation as your desire grew. Miguel was taking you aside easily every hour, humping against your ass, almost fucking your hands, rubbing desperately against your cunt.

Your body was becoming more sensitive by the hour, and every time Miguel came to you with that apologetic look on his face, you knew you were going to be tempted and doubly aroused.

He'd come back to hump your covered pussy, and the longer the hours went on, the more painful your arousal became. Your clit was throbbing, your body all hot, and that cloud spreading and tightening in your lower belly kept intensifying as soon as you had those little private moments.

You knew that, if he continued for even a few minutes longer in those moments, you wouldn't be able to stand it any longer and might come.

You wanted so desperately to just take off your bottoms and panties while he stripped off his clothes so that you could feel him inside you, all warm and tight.

But he always left before either of you could taste the completion of your two shared pleasures. He would go away, and you would follow him to continue his work. You sat next to him and tried to rub your thighs to feel a little friction, something that would hopefully satisfy you even a little without being able to literally go do something about it yourself.

Miguel wouldn't let you move away from him, wanting to make sure that if the urge arose again you'd be by his side. Today he was afraid that if you weren't there just in case, he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he hated that: the lack of control.

So you suffered in silence, and he did the same. It was almost unbearable, like shaking a champagne bottle from time to time, the bubbles building up and ready to implode, but never being opened.

The power with which you led him into his quarters once the work was done was exceptional. You made sure the quarters were locked, and led him to your bed.

You kissed him with such appetite that he took a step backwards, soon coming back to feed on your lips. You pushed him down onto the mattress, straddling him as you humped him this time, almost aggressively.

The friction that your cunt and his cock were looking for had become necessary, sending little sparks of desire into both your bellies that would ignite a hungry fire.

You began to take off your costume, Miguel helping you with the task as his was depixelating. Your underwear was completely wet, proof of the excitement that had lasted you a whole day.

"Already so wet for me," he breathed between two pecks, humming as he came to kiss you harder.

Both your sexes were now finally naked, and a moan escaped from between your lips as you placed your cunt on him. His warmth against yours was a sensation you had been seeking all day.

You let yourself slide from the base of his dick to his tip, wanting to smear a little of your desire on his skin.

He let out grunts of desire, gripping your hips to make you move faster against him. You clit rubbed like that made you feel like your entire body was connected to one single place, and you finally understood the anticipation that Miguel could have on stressful days.

You understood all those sensations, those desires to have more without ever being able to satisfy yourself or let yourself have a climax for good, but now you were going to satisfy them.

"I'm going to take care of you now," you whispered as you held his dick underneath you, lining it to your entrance.

Without waiting for any response from him, you impaled yourself on him, both your mouths overflowing with moans.

At last you felt your walls closing in on him and not on empty space. You were so wet from all this previous unvoluntary teasing that you almost slid around him effortlessly, sinking down until your clit was in contact with the skin of his lower belly.

A drunken little smile graced your lips as you began to undulate your hips, the friction and sensations you'd so long sought finally present. Your pelvis was acting on its own, rolling back and forth like waves crashing on the sand as you watched Miguel's eyes close of pleasure.

He was guiding your thighs, grunts finally coming out loud and clear of his throat. He'd spent his whole day just grinding, and the setting prevented him from being even a little too vocal.

"Gosh you feel so good," he breathed in absolute adoration.

You kissed his lips and the crook of his neck, panting softly before nibbling and tracing his sensitive spots with your tongue. The poor guy deserved all this after the day he'd had.

And all the frustration he'd built up pushed him over the edge. Miguel didn't take long to come, the sudden sensation of your warm walls enveloping him at last driving him to climax.

His hips were jerking, single powerful thrust pushing into your cunt as he came while you were consciously clenching your walls to make him enjoy it even more.

You lowered yourself and kissed him, his cock still twitching deep inside you, and you continued to undulate your pelvis against his. You deserved to keep going, he'd made a wet humping mess of you in turn, and you earned your satisfaction.

"I'm not done with you," you breathed, carrying on riding him.

You arched your back as you moved forward, and rounded your pelvis as you moved back, his dick filling you in all the right places as he made you breath out soft moans.

He looked at you almost bestially, his eyes tinged a carmine colour.

You were a goddess, a true miracle before his eyes, your gaze planted in his as he watched you, running his tongue over his fangs.

He straightened up, coming to sit as you continued to undulate your pelvis. He put his hand on your hips to guide you against him, kissing your breasts lovingly, your chest, his hair completely dishevelled.

All day you'd had this storm brewing in your stomach, with the winds blowing stronger and thunder rumbling in the distance angry of this impossibility for pleasure.

He brought his hand down between your two bodies, gently touching your clit and starting to make circular movements around it while he kissed your shoulder.

"You're so good for me, nena." he sighed against your hot skin.

The moans that came from within you were full of desire, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your flesh making you see stars as you finally reached the point of orgasm.

The storm crashed into full force, your whole body vibrating as a powerful moan rocked your lips, Miguel grunting as your walls closed around him with intensity.

He watched you, cheek resting on your chest as you came down from all the sensations, his eyes riveted on your drunken expression of pleasure.

But you needed more, your hips starting to move again soon after, an almost pleading sigh escaping Miguel's lips as he nestled his head in your shoulder. It was going to be a long night, much to your delight.

[felixknow]

I am having an absolutely horrid week atm and I could use some fluff with my favorite boy. 😭 Could you write #10 with hannie? 🥺

10. "Is this what we do now? Make out but never talk about it?"

you know what, i'm ALSO having a horrid time rn and hannie is also MY favorite boy, so this is for US <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Han reaches for you the second he opens his bedroom door.

“I heard you come down the hall,” he says, taking your hand and pulling you into the room. He closes the door and flips the lock, and in his split second of hesitation you take the lead and pull him over to his bed. You make yourself at home, crawling to the headboard to sit against his soft pillows. He follows and sits beside you, knees slightly pulled up and leaned against your lap.

“How was work?” he asks, reaching up to brush a stray hair off your cheek.

“Good,” you say, leaning slightly into his touch. “Glad it’s over, though, and now I have a few days off.”

“Good,” he parrots, leaning toward you. “You should spend them with me.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, trying to bite back a smile as you lean in as well, tilting your head just slightly to the side.

“Mhm,” he hums, bumping his nose against yours on purpose. “It’ll be fun,” he whispers.

“Very tempting…” you respond just before his lips finally meet yours. They’re soft and sweet like usual thanks to his favorite chapstick. He kisses you softly at first, and very innocently as your hands find his waist and his cheek, and his hands drop to hold your hips.

Usually he gets tired of the chaste kissing first and silently begs for entrance into your mouth, but today you’re too giddy to wait, in too much of a good mood to waste such a good opportunity.

Your lips part and your tongue swipes his bottom lip softly. He kisses you open-mouthed, catching your lip and a flash of your tongue a couple of times before he finally stills and connects your lips once more, letting your tongues meet in the middle.

You always lose track of time making out with Han. There’s something intoxicating about the taste of his lips and the gentle way he touches a new part of your hips and waist and back every so often to remind you he’s there. He kisses you without the pressure or demand of something more, making you feel as if you could sink into his bed and call this your happy place forever.

But he pulls away too soon today and presses his forehead against yours. His breath bounces off your face, but you don’t mind.

“Hannie?”

“Is this what we do now?” he asks, eyes screwed tightly shut. “Make out but don't talk about it?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask sweetly. He pulls back a few inches and his eyes open rapidly. He takes in your voice, the excited glimmer in your eye, the soft smile on your mouth.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “I didn't think you were… Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sure. It's always nice to be on the same page.” You playfully walk two of your fingers across his knee and up his leg. He watches it move, stopping at his mid thigh.

“Are you looking for a relationship right now?” he asks.

“I'm not looking at other people for a relationship right now, but if this turns into one I'd be happy.”

Han’s face flushes pink.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you say in a playful ‘no duh’ kind of tone. “Didn't you know I like you? I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“I knew you liked me but I didn't know you would date me-- they're two completely different things sometimes,” he says, stumbling over his words awkwardly. 

“I don't think so. Not right now, anyway.” You pause, assessing the look on his face. He clearly doesn’t get it. You laugh softly and pat his thigh. “I like you! You know. Like, romantically.”

His face brightens.

“I like you too. Romantically. I wanna be with you.”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding. “Then let’s be together.”

“Really? It’s that easy?”

You giggle and pull him in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and putting one hand against the back of his head.

“What are you so worried about? I want to be with you, you want to be with me. Let’s do it.”

“But my job…” His arms curl around your waist slowly, almost like he expects you to pull away.

“Is incredible and I’m sure it’s so fun. My job is meh. Whatever. I don’t plan on announcing to my bosses or my customers that I have a boyfriend now. You don’t have to announce to anyone that you have a girlfriend,�� you say, running your fingers through his hair slowly. “Unless you want to tell your members. That would be fine.”

“You don’t care about what could happen if Stay find out?”

“Not really. You keep to yourself anyway. How are they gonna find out? We’re both homebodies anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. We’ll be careful.” He finally hugs you properly, holding you tightly and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m glad we talked about this,” he mumbles. 

“Me too.” You sigh happily and press a kiss behind his ear.

“I’ve been too scared to bring it up for, like, two weeks now.”

“You could have had a girlfriend two weeks earlier if you’d just asked,” you tease. He whines dramatically, wiggling both of you side to side to make you laugh at him.

“Y/Nah,” he whines, “you didn’t have to say that! Now I really regret not bringing it up sooner.”

“It’s not like we have an expiration date, Hannie. We’ve got the future ahead of us.”

He slowly stills and readjusts his head on your shoulder. He’s eerily quiet for a few moments before he sighs contentedly and kisses your shoulder.

“Does that make today our anniversary?” he asks.

“I believe so.”

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, Hannie.”

masterlist | Wanna see the other members? Ask <3 | Send me a number!

Do NOT repost my content on any website for any reason.

[toxicanonymity]

like literally refreshing the page all the time for more raider!joel.. I just love him I don't know why I can't explain it he's just so..

Gun Hug

3.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master

mood board by @milla-frenchy

SUMMARY: joel spanks you, kills guys while you c*ckwarm him, and he gives you a gift. WARNINGS: I8+, canon-typical violence, horniness, dark fluff, Joel's temper, spanking, dacryphilia, humping, threat of sexual violence (not by Joel), cockwarming while Joel kills people, unsafe P in V creampie, scars/injuries, superstrength, dark fluff.

A/N: Prev. story (not mandatory): Close

When you wake up and roll over, you’re surprised to find Joel still in bed. He’s staring at the ceiling. It was a long night. The two of you killed two trespassers, then you patched him up from whatever happened before that. He never explained. 

“Morning,” you whisper. You want to cuddle up to him, but you’re still skittish from the time you tried to kiss him. 

He glances over at you, but that’s all. A few seconds later he mumbles,  “Morning,” still staring at the ceiling. You watch his bare chest rise and fall.

“Who were those guys we killed,” you ask.  

He sighs. “From another group.”  He glances at you again then does a double take and faces you.  His stitches look sexy. He sees you checking them out and it reminds him. His hand comes to his brow. 

“Try not to touch it,” you whisper.

He reads your face and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah”

“After-” After you shot that guy Joel thought was dead. 

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, and you are.  He was more shaken up than you were the night before.  Only because he thought you were shot. 

He’s quiet for a few seconds then says, “I’d ask where you learned to shoot like that, but I reckon I was there.” 

You smile and hide your face. 

—---

You’re sitting in the kitchen window nook and Joel is in a chair facing you drinking his coffee, apparently still thinking about it. “One shot, dead between the eyes,” he marvels. “Moving target.” He looks at you skeptically. “You really never done that before?”

“I didn’t say that,” you quietly admit. 

“What?” Joel asks.  He sets down his coffee and puts his hand on his knee, manspreading. His other elbow is on the table.  His breath deepens. His face has a look of betrayal, like you’ve been keeping something from him. 

“Not like that,” you backtrack. “I mean, infected. . .  I had to try.  Everyone does."

He's quiet. 

You continue, "Got lucky sometimes. But you taught me how to do it right.”

He slowly nods as though digesting the information. He cocks an eyebrow and looks at you again. It occurs to you he might be seeing you in a different light and you wonder if it's an opportunity. You’re tempted to ask if you can come on a raid again. He hasn’t taken you on one since your failed escape. You keep quiet for now. 

“Do you think there are more of those men?” you ask him. 

“Not sure, sweet pea.”  He looks concerned.  He’s not looking right at you.  

“Am I staying home today?” you ask. 

“No,” he says immediately. "not leavin’ you after that."

It makes your heart swell and you absentmindedly run your fingers over the letters on your chest. 

—---

“Lemme see that,” Joel mutters. You pull your shoulders back so he can see and feel your whole chest, lightly running his calloused fingertips over it.  You can’t see it very well from your standpoint. Only in the cracked, dirty mirror. 

He grazes the mostly healed scabbing  and you could swear you see a hint of guilt in his face. But then he says, “Not deep enough." He glances at your face. "Gotta be too close to read it.”

Scared he's going to 'fix it' with his switchblade, you cover your chest and whimper, “No!”

His face hardens.  “What'd you say?”

“I’m sorry, I just–it hurt–and if it gets infected this time–”

He bends forward and takes your jaw in his hand. “You say ‘no’ to me?”

"I meant-"

"Get up." He releases your jaw and grabs you by the elbow to bring you to your feet. He turns you around and bends you over the window bench.  Then he lifts up your dress and asks, "which side?"

You whimper, "left" because you sleep on your right.  He brings back his left hand and to your surprise you feel a wave of arousal in anticipation. You look over your shoulder and bite your lip. 

He hesitates for a split second and looks at your eyes then your mouth, then his hand lands on your asscheek with a sting and your yelp sounds like more of a squeak. He lets your dress down and you shrink back into the window bench, wincing as you sit down.  

He bends forward and looks at you with his hands on his knees.  Your eyes feel weak.  He tongues the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. 

“I'm sorry," you whine. "Whatever you need to do." Your eyes cloud with tears. You hug a knee, cover your chest with your hand and press your head back against the wall.  "It's ok, Joel. I'm sorry." 

His face softens but it's too late. A tear rolls down your cheek.

"God damnit," he mutters.  He reaches forward to brush the tear away with his thumb. "Wasn't gonna cut ya. Damn." He brushes away another tear off your cheek. He sucks it off his thumb then sits down on the other side of the window bench, facing you. He brings one knee up and leaves the other foot on the floor, mirroring your posture. 

"Then what are you gonna do," you sniffle. 

"figure somethin' else out." He sighs and opens his arms.  "C'mere."

----

He leans back against the wall of the nook. You settle in between his legs and can feel he's getting hard. 

He crosses his arms in front of you and inhales your hair as he lightly traces his name on your chest. "It was for your own good, sweet pea," he justifies to himself. "You were real brave."

Then he noses the skin and hair behind your ear. He leans forward, bending you forward with him, dipping his head.  He inhales against your neck then lightly caresses the other side of your neck with his fingers.  You used to be ticklish there, but you guess you're not now. "We'll figure somethin’ out," he whispers. 

He puts a hand on your abdomen and  pulls you in close, leaning back against the wall of the nook again.  His cock is harder now. He takes a deep breath and slips a hand into your neckline to palm your breast. You sigh and your head falls back against him. He buries his nose in your hair and rests his free hand on your bare knee, then slides it up your leg.

"You got nice legs, baby." His fingers drag up your inner thigh and when he reaches your panties, he lightly drags two fingers up and down the crotch, patiently up and down, with a hint of playfulness. You’re squirming under the light touch with his cock twitching against you.  He continues until he feels your arousal soak through, which doesn’t take long. Both of his wrists lift your dress as his hands slide up to your hips and he hooks his thumbs into your panties. You lift your ass and he pulls them off. 

He puts a hand on your lower belly again with your panties wrapped around his fingers.  You scoot back, pressing yourself into him.  

"Good girl." His cock swells harder. He wedges his other hand between your bodies and unbuttons his jeans–

There's a loud knock at the door. 

-----

"God fuckin damnit," Joel rasps. He uses his pelvis to push you up off him, the push of his hardness making you throb. When he stands, he doesn't button his jeans. His tank top has ridden up  and there's a trail of dark hair pointing down to the protrusion he doesn’t try to hide.   He answers the door and holds it open with your panties still balled in his hand. It's Carter, one of the men he trusts as your guard.  

"Not a good time, buddy," Joel says. 

Carter's eyes fall on the panties in Joel’s hand.  Joel doesn’t flinch.  Carter awkwardly bumbles his gaze around then says,  "well you said to let you know if Jackson came, and he finally did."

"Oh shit," Joel mutters, then his demeanor changes entirely.  He springs to life. 

"But I can do it for ya," Carter says. “Just take him out if ya want. I dunno when he’ll be back”

"No, no," Joel says. "Wanna do this myself." 

Joel leans back and elongates his torso to button his tight pants. "’Don't fuckin' tell anyone I'm comin'. I'm still up here. Shit, I'm nowhere. She's there, I'm not.  You keep'em away from the back, got it? Can you get me ten minutes?" 

"You got it, boss." 

“Gonna be a good day, Carter.”

Carter leaves and Joel says "Shoes on.  Now." 

You look at the bulge in his jeans, and your eyes must look hungry because he says,  "Not now, sweet pea. We gotta move." He puts on a body holster with a pistol over his tank top while you put on your shoes. 

You hold out your hand for your panties. Instead, Joel gets them ready and holds them for you to carefully step into with your sneakers already on. You and he pull them up together then he gives your ass a squeeze. 

—--------

On the way down the hill, Joel explains the plan. He's going to sneak in through the back with you. He'll be in the room with you. The one with the radiator where you were chained up before. The one where you briefly had company. Carter will mislead Jackson and the others into thinking Joel is gone. Carter will pretend to be pissed at Joel and willing to let them use you. Then if (when) they try, Joel will take them out. Simple as that. 

"Nothin's gonna happen, I'll be right there."

—--------

You and Joel make it into the room undetected. It feels like you’re waiting a long time. You have one wrist handcuffed but you’re not cuffed to anything. You’re laying on the cot and Joel’s sitting in front of you.   “What the hell are they doin’,” Joel mutters under his breath. 

Finally, you hear indistinct voices, then Carter telling the men, “Gimme a few minutes, lemme take her to the bathroom and lock her up again.”

Joel sucks in an angry breath at the implication of those words, even though this is the plan. Carter comes in and signals you to clink the handcuff to the radiator so they think you’re  being unchained.  Joel pats your head and whispers “It’s okay, sweetpea, go ahead.” Carter takes you to the bathroom, and on your way back, you feel eyes on you.  Terrible eyes, like the eyes of monsters under a bed. Your heart races and you feel like prey. You run straight to Joel.  He opens his arms for you and you get in his lap facing him.  

You hug him tight and bury your face in his neck, handcuff digging into his back.  Your breath is shallow and fast. Joel is facing the door and watching for Jackson with you wrapped around him. Carter comes back and says “They’re gonna eat first.” 

“God damnit,” Joel says under his breath and begins to recline back against the cot. He puts his elbows and forearms down so his head is up but his back is flat on the dirty mattress.  He's holding the pistol with his finger on the trigger.  You’re still  wrapped around him as he reclines back. 

“Can I be like this,” you whisper and look up at him, still straddling his lap, folded at your hip in some version of child’s pose with your head now on his chest and arms to his sides. 

“Mm-hmm,”  He nods with a straight face, his eyes still glued to the door. His stitches make him look even more serious.

There's a gunshot outside and a plink. "Shootin' cans," Joel shakes his head. 

-----

Joel adjusts his hips slightly and you feel his arousal swell under you.  He takes a deep breath through his nose and his free hand begins to play with your dress. Again it feels like you’re waiting forever. You adjust your arm so the handcuff isn’t digging into the same spot on your wrist. Joel’s hips shift under you again and he twitches under you, still unrelieved from when your breakfast was interrupted.

Your hips reflexively roll into his and a quiet growl escapes the back of his throat. You inhale sharply and he grunts with a lift of his hips. You look up at him and he nods to where your loins are throbbing needily against each other. He rises up a little.  His left hand squeezes your thigh.

You sit up and reach for the button of his pants, the handcuff dragging against his jeans. He nods. You look behind you, afraid of either of you being surprised. You start to say "I-" but you don't. You didn't mind the spanking this morning but you wanna be good for him.  Your core is rapidly moistening itself, but you assume he wants head. Joel keeps his eyes on the door as you unbutton him. You stall by running your hand up and down his hardness and he lets out a low sigh that makes you twitch.  A throbbing desire to have him inside you is beginning to drown out everything else.  

You slowly tug the zipper down and hesitantly look up at him. Then you look behind you again. 

His voice is deep and soft. “Eyes on me, baby.” Your head snaps back to face him.  He only glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the doorway. 

You finish unzipping him and slide your hand without the cuff into his pants.  You gasp when you hit the warm, smooth skin. He gently thrusts into your hand. You smear his precum around the tip, then begin to get off his lap to suck it. But he sits up enough to grab your arms and pull you back toward him. You scoot forward again, and he nudges your dress over his cock. Then his hips press his naked arousal against your mound and you feel its warmth through the soft, thin fabric of your panties.  A wave of desire rushes through your whole body.  

It’s crazy, this is crazy, and so is Joel, but you trust him. He'll keep you safe. He wraps his left hand around the base of his shaft. He has his pistol ready in one hand and his cock ready in the other. You lift yourself over his tip and pull the damp crotch of your underwear to the side, careful not to let the handcuffs hit his cock. You moan softly when the swollen head hits your dripping folds, and he sucks in a chest full of air.  You take his cock in your hand and use the head to nudge your folds open, wedging the tip into your entrance with the aid of gravity as you let yourself down. You look at Joel and he swallows, eye fixed on the door, finger on the trigger. 

You sink onto him and as your tight, dripping sleeve consumes his shaft, his girth pushes a moan out of you.  Joel sits upright and pulls you down, bottoming out with his mouth shut, lips in a straight line, determined not to make a sound.  He lets out a breath through his nose.  

“Tell me you didn’t get started without me,” Jackon’s voice echoes from the hall. 

"Ears," Joel whispers. For the echo.  You sit perfectly still, impaled on his stiff cock and bring your hands to your ears, handcuffs jingling, then dangling from your wrist.  Boots clap in the hall and a belt buckle clinks outside the doorway.  Jackson chuckles darkly.  Joel aims the gun toward the door with both hands, his biceps lightly squeezing your hands on your ears, further dampening all sounds.

Jackson walks in and says "whoa, oh–"

Joel’s biceps flex against the backs of your hands. A gunshot, a grunt, a cry, then another shot, and the thud of a body falling into a heap. 

"That's right," Joel mutters.  “Piece of shit.” 

Then he murmurs into your hair.  "You did good, baby." You bring your hands down to his sides.

Joel begins to rock his hips, moving you on his cock. 

More footsteps approach from the hall, then a man’s voice. "Jackson? I wasn't ready, man."

"Ears." Joel stops moving his hips. His eyes are wild.   He straightens up, resuming the same position as before with his biceps pressing against your hands on your ears as he points the gun.  You’re sitting there full of his cock. 

The other man rounds the corner. He registers who he’s looking at and gasps, "Joel."  You can only imagine the look on his face. "I wasn't–" his voice is shaky with guilt and fear. 

“Yeah,” Joel says darkly.  “Me either.”  His cock twitches inside you. His arms flex. Just one gunshot this time. Joel sighs then wraps his left arm around you, leans back, and holds the pistol against the mattress. He thrusts up into you with a wild look behind his eyes. 

"Thank you," you whisper. Now you have two less of those heinous men to worry about. Probably the worst two. 

Joel shakes his head and squints at you as his cock moves inside you. "'s'my job," he pants, his eyes still alive.  It’s a mystery where bloodlust ends and the lust begins. "Nothin' more important," he adds.

He thrusts up sharply and you gasp. He braces himself with his gun hand on the filthy mattress as he sheathes himself deep inside you, making you so full.  He moves a little further in short pulses with each flex of his hips.  The pit of your stomach begins to buzz.

Carter Knocks and says, "That's it, they're leavin'. Want me to. . ." Joel doesn't acknowledge him. Instead, Joel looks at your face, watching the pleasure weigh your eyelids down as he fucks you from the bottom.  You see the hint of a softer smile behind his maniacal eyes. Carter's footsteps recede. 

—

Joel nudges you up, helping to lift you off his cock, and you whimper, "no." You look back at the bodies out of morbid curiosity but he wrangles you onto the mattress face down with a forearm on your back and you can't see. You lift your ass and tilt your hips for him. 

"Good girl," Joel breathes and peels off your panties for the second time today. He lines himself up with your cunt again. Then he hovers over you with a hand on the back of your neck holding your damp panties against your skin.  

He plunges into you with a groan and you hum “mmm.”   

He retreats then bottoms out again. "Ohh, fuck." He pounds you fast and rough, grunting and breathing heavily. “Yeahh.”

You moan on the verge of bliss. He slams his hips into you harder and asks, “that feel good?”

"Yeah," you manage, the force of his thrusts punching the air out of you.

Joel grunts and growls as he rails you. He hovers over your back. Your orgasm gathers tighter and tighter with each sound he makes, each firm drag of his cock.  Then it bursts in your core and you groan into your arm. 

"It's ok, baby," his hips keep moving. He lowers his speed but maintains his power.

You moan as he fucks you through it. 

"Fuck," he pants, and thrusts harder, "god damn, you choke it good." You sigh as your body stops jerking but continues to be pounded. “Ohh, yeah.”  He slows a little more. “Ohhh, fuck.”

Joel glances across the room to the floor and begins to pull out.  He hasn’t come yet.  You beg "please, I want it." He pauses and tilts his head at you. “Please, inside” you plead. You look back over your shoulder at him and push your ass back, sheathing his cock entirely once again.  His hair is wild and his chest glistens.  The hint of a smirk plays on his face.  Joel nods then slowly pushes all the way into you again with a grunt.  He backs up and slams in. “Want it, don’t ya.”

“Yeah,” you whine. 

“Want it to trickle down those pretty legs.”

“Yeah.” 

He buries his length in you a few times fast, and you feel it coming.  He slows way down.  He plunges into you with a groan and begins to pulse as he bottoms out.  He repeats this, slow and hard as his balls empty.  You close your eyes and feel him fill you up like a hug from the inside. He vocally sighs as his cock pumps into you.  Like something intimate he can’t give you any other way. “Yeah,” he pants as he finishes.  His big hand squeezes your shoulder before he carefully pulls out. 

Then he puts your panties back on you, and takes the handcuffs off your wrist.  He sits on the edge of the cot and helps you off of it so you stand between his knees.  He fixes your dress and your hair. “You did good, sweet pea.” He looks from your eyes to your mouth, then abruptly stands up.  He puts his arms around you loosely, putting his body between yours and the ones on the floor as though protecting you from the scene. He nudges you toward the door and down the hall. 

Joel lets you rest on a cot in the unloading room while he sorts through some things and has someone take care of the bodies. He doesn’t ever leave the room, he just barks orders and keeps you in sight.

—

That night, Joel is heating up some spaghettios and you’re in the nook looking out the window.  He’s looking good, still wearing the body holster, muscles pumped up. He comes and sits down next to you. He spreads his knees and looks around the kitchen, then reaches for the pistol.  He takes it out of the holster, checks to make sure the safety is on, and hands it to himself so he’s holding it by the barrel.  Then he hands it to you.  “This is yours now.” 

“Really?” You try not to let your eyes well up in tears, but it really moves you. 

Joel nods twice, then something flashes across his face and he swallows. “You’re brave, sweet pea.” 

You put your arms around his neck and climb into his lap facing him with your wrists crossed behind him, gun in one hand. Joel meets your hug, wrapping his arms around you tight, pulling you into his chest. After a moment, he pulls his head back enough to plant the lightest kiss on your forehead.  

Then he clears his throat and nudges you off of him. “Don’t want it to burn.” He goes back to the spaghettios.  

------

------

RAIDER POLL

FAQ: pregnancy HC. raider has a vasectomy. so why was he gonna pull out? To use his cum for a deranged display of dominance

------

Thank you so much for reading. If you liked it, please consider commenting and/or reblogging. It doesn't matter how many followers you have if any, if still means a lot. I really appreciate your engagement!!

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and @gab-thelamb-onthemoon i hope you like it ily <3

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Duty PT6

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 5642

WARNINGS: none :)

SUMMARY: The Queen considers whether it is time to move on with her life, but the past is not so easily buried.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 4 ½ | PART 5 | PART 5½

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: All will be revealed in time 👀 Please reblog, comment or send an ask so I can hear what you think! Really hope you enjoy this one 🫶🏾🥰

The rain up North is nothing like the summer showers you experienced back home. This rain stings and bites at your skin as it falls, but it doesn't send you back inside under the shade.

Today is the first time in a few days that you have been outside, breathing in the fresh air. Your moon blood came particularly harsh this time around and left you bedridden for two days. It was a terrible ordeal, but it allowed you to see another side to your husband.

This morning, you awoke with no pains. Although your body is still tired and weak, here you stand, in the rain, embracing the Northern cold and eagerly awaiting nightfall because surprisingly, you have missed spending your evenings with Robb.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Amiria calling your name.

"My Lady, what are you doing out in the cold?" she sounds panicked as she wraps a blanket around your shoulders, "Seven hells! You'll make yourself ill!"

You chuckle as you welcome the blanket and follow her back under the shade, "It's alright, I wasn't out there for long."

Amiria runs the blanket over your damp hair. "It is a good thing I found you. Any longer and you might catch a fever," she presses the back of her hand to your cheek, "You have just been unwell, you should not tempt fate, my Lady."

"I apologise, I did not mean to worry you," you smile warmly and give her a short hug to reassure her, "Found me? Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, Lady Stark has requested your presence in her quarters."

You're taken aback by this. Lady Stark, though pleasant since the wedding, has never once asked to speak to you alone.

"Did she tell you why she wants to see me?"

Amiria looks up at you and chuckles when she sees the nervousness that has settled into you.

"Don't be afraid," she says in a tone that suggests your anxiety is amusing to her, "She did not seem to be in a terrible mood."

"That is good," you breathe a sigh of relief, but your eyes remain apprehensive.

Amiria smirks and takes you by the arm, pulling you towards your chambers, "Come. Let us get you dry for the Queen Mother."

***

As soon as you enter the parlour, Catelyn rises to greet you at the door, embracing you before you even have a chance to curtsey. When she releases you, her smile turns into a frown as she cups your face with her hands.

"You still look a bit unwell, darling," she says, looking between your eyes, a hint of pity in her voice, "Come and sit, let us have some tea. Perhaps it will help you feel better."

You follow her to where a small table is set with all your favourite treats and a teapot to share between the two of you. She takes a seat in an armchair on one side of the table and you sit opposite her on the other side of the table. Without a word she begins to pour the tea for the both of you.

"Does it normally trouble you so?" she asks as she hands you a cup.

You take a grateful sip, smiling when that familiar warmth begins spreading in your chest. "Sometimes the Mother offers mercy and my bloods pass painlessly," you say, "Other times I am confined to my bed chambers for some days."

"Poor girl," her forehead wrinkles when she frowns, "I'll speak to Maester Luwin about giving you something that might take away your pain."

"Thank you, my Lady."

There's a pause in the conversation as you sip the mint tea and enjoy the warmth of the fire burning. Your worries begin to fade away as you relax in Catelyn's company.

“I see you’ve been spending much more time with my son as of late,” she says, breaking the silence, “I hear you’re with him in his study into the late hours of the night.”

It's an abrupt turn from your initial conversation, but you suppose it is normal for her to ask about her son.

“We talk mostly. Sometimes I sew while he works.”

A thin smile forms on Catelyn’s lips as she hums in response, “And what is it that you talk about?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s a bit impolite to ask about private conversations, but you would never dare to point out such a thing to your good-mother.

“I tell him about my family, what it was like growing up in the South,” you say hesitantly, “He talks about you, his family…his father and sisters.”

You can’t help but pity her when you see how she deflates at the mention of her lost family. Her eye twitches as she looks away, trying to stop her mask from slipping.

“He tells me stories about all of them as children,” a tender smile forms on your lips as you think back to the conversations, “It makes me wish I had siblings of my own to fight and play with.”

Catelyn nods again, but her smile seems even more strained than before. Your brows furrow in concern as you reach out to touch her knee.

“Lady Stark?”

She presses one hand to her lips, taking a moment to collect herself. Not a single tear falls from her eyes, though they come close. After only a few seconds, she blows out a breath and sits up properly in her chair, composed once again.

“He rarely talks about them with me,” she whispers, eyes downcast.

“I think he finds it easier to talk about them with someone who doesn’t know them,” you reassure her, “I assume it feels more like recalling a fond memory to a stranger than it does reminiscing about loved ones he’s lost.”

She nods her head, though she seems unconvinced. You can’t imagine the pain and fear she must be feeling knowing that her son has made an enemy of the same family who have her daughters in their grasp. That he is in open rebellion against the King who took her husband's head.

"He must trust you quite a bit."

You consider it for a moment, "I hope so. I would like to think he does."

"How have you been finding all of this? Being here, married to Robb?"

It is not a simple question to answer. In truth, you did not expect this much time to pass with your heart still refusing to fully open to Robb, nor his to you. Your mother always told you that falling in love is quick and simple, and in the past you found that to be true. But for some reason, it is slow and difficult with Robb.

A month since your wedding and you still hold each other at arms' length, merely allowing glimpses into your souls on occasion.

Instead of telling her an outright lie, you choose to focus on the good. "Your family have been so accommodating, as has Robb," you plaster a smile on your lips, "It has taken some time to adjust, but everyone has been so kind."

Judging by the look on Catelyn's face, she knows that you are hiding something. She doesn't come across as the kind of woman who is fooled easily.

“This may be crude of me, but I must ask," she begins, leaning forward ever so slightly, "This is your second time on the bloods since the wedding?"

It only takes you a second to decipher what exactly she is asking. You nod quickly, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Have you and Robb–?"

"We have not."

"The marriage is unconsummated?"

You nod again, averting your gaze in embarrassment. Catelyn looks off to the side, deep in thought. Each passing second only serves to make your stomach turn and your palms sweat.

Eventually, she turns back to you, but there is no anger nor shame in her eyes, only determination.

"I truly do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but I must stress the importance of your consummation." She speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that is only slightly intimidating.

"Your marriage is not valid until the act is done. And I need not remind you of your duty to each other as husband and wife, and as rulers of the North."

Children.

"I understand."

"Then why, may I ask, are you waiting?"

This time, there is a hint of frustration in her tone. She looks at you with eyes so piercing that for a moment you forget that you are not a child being scolded by her Septa. Yet, it is somehow worse because the person asking the question is your good-mother.

"We only wish to know each other better before we–" you cut yourself off to find the right words, "There is still time–"

"There is no time," Catelyn's patience seems to have worn thin, "Robb will return to the frontline before long. And only the gods know if he will come back."

That thought sends a chill down your spine. Robb may not be some great love, but the mere idea of his demise makes your heart sink to your stomach.

"I have been in your shoes before, Y/N," she says, her tone softer, "I did not know Ned very well when I first met him. I certainly didn't love him either. That comes with time."

Her words are optimistic. Reassuring. And they get you thinking.

"We all have our roles to play. It is time you and Robb started doing your part."

***

"She wants us to consummate."

Amiria sits on a stool beside your bath, washing all the grease and dirt out of your hair while you soak in the warm water.

"But His Grace said that you do not have to if you don't wish to, no?" she asks.

You sigh deeply, "That is true. But I'm starting to believe that she may be right."

The longer you think about her words, the more they cut deep. You have been ignoring the reality of your situation, going through the motions and capitalising on Robb's busy schedule to avoid hard truths.

Robb is your husband now, and the North is your home. That will never change. This is not King’s Landing where you will have to endure for a time and be rescued. This is your life, forever. And deep down in your heart you know that if you are to start a new life, you must let go of the old one.

Without warning, tears begin to well in your eyes and blur your vision. This is not the life you imagined for yourself. To never experience love, you were prepared for – you always knew that your marriage would be arranged, and if love never happened with your husband, you would’ve been content given he was kind and gentle.

But this? To have loved and lost it? To know what it feels like and know that you will never have it again? It’s a pain you would not wish on anyone.

And Robb. He is kind, and he cares…somewhat. But he does not love you. And if he loves Elyse the way you have loved, then you know he will never love you. That is the hard truth.

You bury your head in your hands and let the tears flow. Amiria crouches down beside the bath and wraps her arms around you, letting you sob into her shoulder.

"I hate to see you in such pain, my Lady," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

The day you left King's Landing, your heart was shattered. A part of you has been holding on to him for so long because it is a reminder that what you shared was real. And how could you repay the love he gave by letting it go?

Selfishly, you want him to be happy, to have moved on. You pray that he has forgotten you. Maybe then you would not be riddled with guilt over letting him go. The truth is, you have responsibilities that you can shirk no longer. And you cannot be a good wife with him still in your heart.

With a deep, shaky breath, you pull away from Amiria and wipe your eyes, splashing your face with the bath water to calm yourself down.

Once your heart stops racing and your breathing relaxes, you turn to Amiria, "Could you fetch my robe, please?"

She hesitates momentarily before doing it. You climb out of the bath and slip on the robe, walking to your dresser with Amiria following close behind.

"Help me dress."

Your sudden switch from distress to being resolute is alarming to Amiria. She stares in bewilderment as you begin to get ready. "Where are you going?"

"I always visit Robb in the evenings," you say, "It is the perfect time to raise the topic of consummation."

Amiria places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention. She looks straight into your eyes and asks sincerely, "Are you sure that you are ready to take that step?"

You know that you are not ready, but you also know that it is time to stop living in the past. It is exhausting, and it hurts you more than it makes you happy. You want to believe that you can be happy here, if you only give it a chance.

"Yes. I'm sure."

***

It’s not a question that Robb has a face any woman would love to look at. You see the way women giggle and blush when he smiles as he walks past them. The way they always seem to crowd when he spars with Ser Rodrik. You understand, you like to look at him too. He’s really quite…beautiful, but it’s more than that.

His guard is never lower than when he is in this solar working, and you like to watch the way he does things when he is not concerned with appearances. These are the moments when you see the truest version of him. His brows knitting together when he reads something particularly unpleasant, the way he occasionally looks up at you and offers a sweet smile. He curses sometimes. It used to shock you, but you find it amusing now.

Your admiration grows the more you see him like this, constantly fighting through mental and physical fatigue to lead his people and be there for his family. When he talks to you about them, you wonder if he has even had time to properly grieve his father, or if that is yet another thing he has pushed aside for the sake of his responsibilities. It breaks your heart to think so.

Most mornings you wake up alone because he is up by the crack of dawn. And at night, you leave him here in this study, working into the late hours. You see the bags under his eyes and the way he pauses every so often to massage his shoulders and neck. He takes on…too much.

Sitting across from him tonight, all you can think about are Catelyn's words. How do you even begin to discuss such a sensitive topic? Especially when he is under so much pressure?

Your mother says it is time we consummated our marriage. Shall we start making love?

Ridiculous.

Robb stops his writing for a moment to crack his knuckles and stretch his back, and as he puts down his writing quill, he looks up and catches you staring. You quickly tear away your gaze, returning to your embroidery and ignoring the rising heat on your neck and chest.

Robb knows you well enough now that he can tell when there is something disturbing you.

"What is on your mind?" he asks, leaning forward to give you his full attention.

This is your opportunity to broach the subject, but for some reason, you are unable to form the words. So you tell him something else.

“Just that I...forgot to tell you something. I went into town the day before I fell ill.”

Robb sits up a little, visibly concerned, “Alone?”

“No, Amiria went with me. And a few guards.”

He relaxes then, leaning forward once again.

“We took some food and clothes to the homes sheltering the children orphaned in this war,” you say, “I wanted to be sure they’re being taken care of.”

He looks pleasantly surprised. “That is very kind of you. I had not thought to do that yet.”

You wave a hand and shake your head. “Of course not. You already have so much on your plate,” you gesture to his cluttered desk, “I have never ran a household much less an entire castle before, so I leave it to your mother. I’m just trying to do what little I can to support your efforts.”

You return to your embroidery, but Robb doesn't take his eyes off you. He knows there is still something eating at you and yet you refuse to say it. Suddenly he's full of regret. Perhaps, if he had not been so determined to dislike you at first, you would not still hide behind your wall.

Eventually, he looks away from you with a sigh, picking up a letter from his unopened pile and breaking the seal. You glance up at him, relieved that he has broken his scrutinising stare.

“What are you reading?” you ask, attempting to change the topic.

“A report from our scouts.”

You sit up properly, now curious, “How goes the search for Arya?”

Robb puts down the letter a little forcefully and run his hands through his hair in frustration. That about tells you all you need to know.

"Have you thought any more about what I suggested? About the Owls?”

This is a conversation that has already been had before. Multiple times. Robb turned down your father's offer, and he has rejected yours as well each time you've brought it up. At this point, he is tired of reiterating his position.

“I have already told you that I have no intention of using them,” his tone is clipped when he speaks, and he attempts to busy himself with other work to end the conversation.

His efforts are futile because you refuse to let it go, “They would be inside the Red Keep within hours of receiving your letter–“

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“–and they would have Sansa on the road back to Winterfell within days.”

“I am not going to use spies.”

“Sansa is not–,” you pause mid-sentence to gather yourself, “Sansa is not safe with Joffrey.”

Robb sighs deeply and rubs his tired eyes with his hands, "Do you think I am unaware of that?”

“I just don’t understand why you won’t use them,” you press, “Do you doubt their capabilities?”

“No, I am sure they are very capa–“

“Because they managed to smuggle me out of King’s Landing without issue,” you cut him off, “Daenerys Targaryen is alive in Essos today because of them.”

“Enough!”

You flinch at the sound of his raised voice. Instantly your heart starts racing, the hairs on your body standing on end. For a second, only a mere second, you are back in King's Landing, and you are terrified.

“I am fighting this war with honour,” he continues, his voice now back to normal, “This is the last time I will have this discussion, do you understand me?”

He stares you down for a few seconds until he thinks you have dropped it. You wait until he relaxes some before speaking.

“Your enemy would pay a starving child two coppers and a loaf of stale bread to poison your supper,” you say in the calmest tone you can muster, “Spying ought not be where you draw the line.”

You rise to your feet and walk to the door, ignoring Robb’s burning gaze. As you place your hand on the handle, you turn to him once more.

“I don’t suppose you will be retiring for the night?”

He begins shuffling some papers on his desk, “No, I still have much to do before the morn.”

You don’t believe him, but you nod anyways. “Very well, then. I shall bid you goodnight.”

Once you step outside and close the door, you lean against the wall of the corridor, sucking in the cold air and placing a hand over your chest to slow your heart. Hot tears burn behind your eyes – not of sadness, but of anger.

It took one word – one little word – and you were back there at the lowest point you've ever been. It's a reminder that all the pain and hurt inflicted by that monster is still inside you. And it hurts that Robb was the one to bring it to the surface.

***

When Robb eventually retires for the night, he half-expects you to be waiting for him, ready to continue the conversation from earlier, so he's surprised to find you curled up under the blankets on your side of the bed.

A few of the candles in the room are still lit – he knows you left them burning for his benefit. He uses the dim lighting to make his way around the room, removing his jerkin shirt as he does so. It gets hot in the room because even with the natural heating from the hot springs, you still insist on having a fire built every night before you sleep. Robb doesn't object to this because he knows you can't sleep in the freezing cold – but it does mean he now sleeps in as little clothes as possible.

He hears you stir when he walks to your side of the room and blows out the candles there, but he ignores it and returns to his side before climbing into the bed. As always, he turns his back to you, stares into the darkness and listens to your breathing.

Steady.

"I know you're awake," he says after a moment.

He's not sure you know that you snore when you sleep. It's not bothersome at all, the sound resembles the light purring of a kitten. On nights where sleep eludes him, the sound helps to calm his mind and lull him into a slumber.

That is how he knows that you are only pretending to sleep.

You don't stir, and after a while he assumes that you are choosing to ignore him. The moment he closes his eyes, he hears your voice call out to him.

"Robb?"

He hums in response, not wanting to seem too eager to reconcile.

"Don't ever raise your voice to me in that manner again."

Your tone is flat and unemotional, but the words are extremely sobering for Robb. He's rendered speechless, and no other words are spoken by either of you that night.

***

The bridge connecting the Great Keep to the Armoury offers the best view of the courtyard in Winterfell. That is where you go to forget your troubles, distracting yourself with the activities happening below you. But even watching the bustling of people fails you this afternoon. All you can think about is the night before.

Deep down you know that you provoked Robb into having that row, simply to avoid having a difficult conversation. You did not realise that was what you were doing until you had some time to yourself. And yet, you cannot seem to stop yourself from thinking about Robb's reaction.

He has never presented himself as a man who is quick to anger.

Neither did Joffrey. Not at first.

You shake those thoughts out of your head almost as soon as you have them. Robb is not like Joffrey, of that you are certain. He is...attentive, in the ways that matter.

Not a single stew or soup has been served to you since you told him about your unusual diet. He found out you enjoy lemon cakes, and before long there was a lemon tree growing in the glass garden. And not once has he complained about the fire you keep burning in your chambers before you sleep even though you know he despises the heat.

Joffrey was never that way, even before he revealed his true colours.

Perhaps this is all you will ever have, you don't have to love him to bear his children. A kind husband is more than most have. Shouldn't that be enough?

It is at this moment that Robb arrives at the top of the bridge, emerging from the armoury with Lord Umber in tow. He sees you standing there, right in the middle of the bridge, looking out onto the courtyard. There's a distant look in your eyes as you stare down, and Robb knows exactly what is weighing on your heart.

You don't notice him or Lord Umber until they are only a few steps away from you, at which point you quickly stand up straight.

"Your Grace," you curtsey to Robb as you always do around other people.

Lord Umber bows his head to you, "Your Grace."

"My Lady, this is Lord Umber. You might remember meeting him at our wedding feast?"

His face is unfamiliar, "My apologies, Lord Umber, I met quite a few people that night."

"No need to apologise, Your Grace," he laughs heartily, "The ale flowed freely that night, I'm not sure I remember our meeting either."

All three of you share a laugh at that, but before the conversation can continue any further, Robb turns to Lord Umber.

"Lord Umber, might you wait for me by my solar? I would like to speak to my wife in private."

"Of course, Your Grace." he bows his head to you both and walks past you towards the Great Keep.

Robb turns to you once you're alone, but he does not speak. He notices that the smile you put on for Lord Umber has faded, and the sadness in your eyes has returned. Your words from the night before play over in his mind, as they have been all morning. He knows that your upset at this present moment is because of him and only him, and for that, he's ashamed.

After a moment, he turns to face the courtyard, arms resting against the railing. You watch him, curious about his troubled expression, before joining him. Your forearm brushes against his as you stand next to him, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry for raising my voice at you," he says, eyes downcast, "I did not mean to frighten you, and I will never do it again."

You didn't expect an apology, not for this. Many men have done worse to their wives without a second thought, but as you glance at Robb out of the corner of your eye, it is clear that he is remorseful. It warms your heart.

"Thank you," you whisper, "And I am sorry too."

"What for?"

"Picking a fight," you look up at him, "I should not have taken your decision so personally."

Robb nods briefly, accepting your apology – one he is surprised to receive because he knows that you still believe he is making the wrong choice.

"I'm trying to be like my father," he explains with a heavy sigh, "I want to fight this war in the most honourable way I can. And if I resort to spying and trickery to win, how would I be any different to my enemies? To Joffrey?"

At those words, you turn your head sharply to look at him. Your eyes soften when they meet his.

"You are a good man, Robb. Nothing like Joffrey."

The hint of a smile plays on his lips.

"I know you don't believe this, but I truly do value your advice," he says, "Even if I don't always agree, I would still like to know your opinion on those choices. Don't ever hesitate to tell me what you think."

You stand side by side, overlooking the courtyard. Down by the guest house, a little boy and girl are wrestling in the mud. Within seconds, a woman who you assume is their mother appears by their side and begins scolding them over their spoiled garments. She pulls them away from the scene by their ears, the two children giggling as she does so.

You and Robb both laugh as this unfolds, revelling in the innocence and mischief of childhood.

"They remind me of Arya and Bran," he says, a mournful look in his eyes.

The same urge to console him when he first opened up to you about his father overwhelms you once again. But instead of drawing back, this time, you place your hand over his, and he welcomes it without hesitation.

You lean against his shoulder and give his hand a comforting squeeze as he absent-mindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. A simple touch but it’s enough to make you wish things were different.

"Do you think we will ever be happy?" you suddenly ask, "The way my mother and father are? The way yours were?"

Robb doesn't know how to respond to that. Mostly because in the midst of this seemingly endless war, he has been unable to envision life beyond it. But judging by your question, you may have started to, so it may be time for him to start as well.

He looks down at you with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know," he answers honestly, "But I hope so."

That makes you smile. You hold his gaze for a moment, only tearing your eyes away when the deep blue of his begin to grow too intense for your comfort.

You chuckle nervously and nod your head towards the Great Keep as you stand up straight, "Lord Umber must be waiting for you."

Robb blinks as if the fact had slipped his mind. "Of course," he says quickly with a bow and you regret that he chose to be so formal.

You watch him as he walks away, but he stops after a few paces and turns back to face you.

"I'm going into town later, I thought you might accompany me if you'd like," his tone is cheery, "I have some business to attend to, but you can visit the market while we're there?"

It is a kind offer, but you simply want to be alone with your thoughts for now.

"I'm afraid I'm not feeling up to it today," you say apologetically, "But I thank you for the invitation."

Robb is disappointed with your answer to say the least, but he does not let it show. Instead, he nods in understanding with a wistful smile and heads back inside, leaving you alone on the bridge.

You turn your attention back to the courtyard, resting your arms on the railing and letting out a deep sigh. That is when you notice the very familiar silhouette of a man.

His back is to you while he talks to another man just outside the armoury. Even though he's far away and you cannot see his face, he looks too familiar.

There is absolutely no chance.

You lean so far forward that only a few inches more and you'd fall over the railing. The man throws his head back and laughs. Instantly a pit forms in your stomach.

You know that laugh.

Your body begins to move faster than you can think. Within seconds you've hitched up your skirts and ran back into the Great Keep. Your heart is beating out of your chest with every step down the stairs. There are no thoughts in your head. All you hear is that laugh and the thumping of your heart.

In the courtyard there's people bustling about everywhere. You want to scream at them to stop moving so that you can see. To stop talking so that you can think. Your shoes and the bottom of your dress are caked in mud as you run from one end of the courtyard to the other, frantically searching for him.

The armoury. He was standing in front of the armory.

You take off running in that direction, stepping in puddles and all kinds of dirt and muck on the way. Once inside, you stop to catch your breath, panting heavily as you look around, hoping to catch sight of him. All you see are large, oily men carrying pounds of steel, shields, armour and all sorts.

You begin to wonder if you only imagined seeing him. Your mind playing some kind of sick trick on you. It wouldn't be surprising considering everything that has happened recently.

Just as you are about to let it go, a hand grabs your shoulder and turns you around.

The black hair. Those blue eyes.

You forget how to breathe for a moment. Completely frozen in shock. It's like the whole building goes silent and all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You're sure he calls your name, but you find yourself incapable of doing anything but stare at him in confusion and awe.

This is not real. This is not real.

You cannot allow yourself to believe that this is happening because the devastation if it's not real is not one you will recover from easily. With a shaky hand, you reach out to touch his face. Before you can even cup his cheek, he takes your hand and leans into it.

A stuttered breath escapes your lips as tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

"Gendry."

*

Special thanks to these lovely people (and extra shoutout to everyone who called it 😉) Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💞 (@’s in bold I can’t seem to tag :/):

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[hellenhighwater]

I had a look through your posts but I couldn't find anything... I was just wondering if you could share some advice on training cats, particularly in the realm of "not eating plants" and "not scratching things that aren't theirs" ? I'm getting a kitten next week and, while excited, I am also nervous as I've had some pretty destructive cats in the past...

Thank you in advance!

I can really only speak to what worked for me. I'm sure there will be more updates when the Interlopers come home--they currently are still at the shelter for a liiiiitle more observation.

When I brought Mal and Vice home, I babyproofed my bedroom. Nothing they could break, nothing they could damage--no surfaces they weren't allowed on, nothing they could hurt by clawing. And for the first few weeks, that is the ONLY room they were in. I don't know if stockholm syndrome is an option for cats, but they both have it now; we bonded. As they got settled and we built trust, I started bringing them out into other areas of the house, always under observation. When I (or a housemate) wasn't there to keep an eye on them, they just were put back in safe home base bedroom. The goal is to establish a positive relationship far enough that a no! won't send them hiding from you.

This is Vice in the living room for the first time.

The thing with cats is that they'll break a rule if they think you're not there to enforce it. So you have to be there, always, for long enough that the good behavior becomes a habit before they're left on their own. So as they moved into other areas of the house, the no! was always enforced when they started to do a naughty, and they learned to not even try because they'd get caught immediately. Eventually they had more and more run of the house, and were finally just left on their own. This means consistency and patience from you, and from everyone in your household. And that doesn't stop--you get in the base of this when they first come home, but you have to continue to consistently enforce forever. That's the deal. Their brains are itty bitty and full of mischief, and sometimes they're going to push boundaries because they can.

There's also some steps you should take to just cat-proof in general. Smooth river rocks in the top of any diggable pot; toxic plants relocated or removed, and furniture that might be particularly scratchable protected with throw blankets over the arms...you get the idea. Part of it is training, and part of it is creating an environment where they're not being tempted.

[kyruskumiho27]

Warnings: •heavy angst •fluff at the end🥰

Summary: you and Kento are going through the trials of pregnancy. (Or: you have a fight but you work it out)

*you= pink/ Kento= orange*

He had been ignoring you all evening in favor of reading his book.

You were sitting opposite of him across the couch, pouting as once again the man choose to pay no mind to your words.

“So overall, I think I have everything for the registry. Venue is rented out and everything…. I just need a little help with the-“

He slams his book closed, glaring at you over his reading glasses.

“And what in the hell do you want me to do with that information?” You startle at his sudden movement, looking at him with those eyes. “Huh?” He scoffs, taking his glasses off.

“Why are you telling me this?” The irritation was obvious in his voice, and the way his brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Just thought you should know.”

He squints, trying to find if you’re purposely messing with him or actually oblivious. In the end he finds it’s both. Can’t a man read in peace?

“I have other things to do right now. I don’t have time to listen to you ramble on and on about shopping list.” You go quiet, fidgeting with your hands. Why is it always a problem when you mention anything having to do with the baby? It’s the least he could do, since he is the father and all. “Sorry..”

He scoffs again, rolling his eyes as he goes back to reading his book.

After a to long silence, you get up and go to your shared room. You had some papers that needed to be graded, but how hard could that be? They were first graders.

You rub your belly as you do so, your eyes feeling heavy and your feet swollen. After finishing your your work you open your lap top and take a look at some houses. You wanted your child to have a home to grow up into, not some run down apartment on the bad side of town.

Just then your fiancé walks in, groaning as he settles in bed beside you. He stares at the laptop, the page your opened to, and then you.

“What are you doing?” You bite your lip nervously.

“Looking for houses.” He’s tempted to roll his eyes. Taking the laptop and settling it on his lap. “I know that. Why are you looking for houses?”

You can’t really believe your having this conversation with your soon to be husband. Again.

“Kento, you know why. I’m not staying in this apartment forever. We’re getting married and having a baby.”

He rolls his eyes again. “This house is just fine for the baby.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“I am not having my child grow up in this tiny ass apartment. It’s not close to any schools, and the neighborhood we’re living in is just not-”

“The kids not going to school as soon as he’s out of the womb.”

You glare at the man. Hes so stupid sometimes you could scream. Obviously not. But it’s good to prepare.

“I give birth in a few months, we need this house to be ready. We can get situated and things.” Your fiancé did not like that answer, sighing at you dramatically.

“You already got me dealing with you and the damn baby, now you want to move?” If looks could kill both of you would be dead. The fucking audacity?? You turn to him to tell him off, but he olds his hand up. How dare he?

“We don’t need a house right now. We can handle that when the time comes.”

You stay silent, snatching your laptop back. After placing it on the nightstand you roll over and cover yourself with the blanket.

You’ve done none of your usual nighttime routine, but these days you’re so tired, and dealing with your husband and work on top of that just adds to the stress. You two are always butting heads, never agreeing on one thing. Just when you think both of you have finally settled down, he keeps talking.

“You’re always nagging at me. Always have some shit to say.”

“You don’t have to get worked up over little things and yet you do, complaining and complaining and complaining all god damn day.”

You sit up angrily, glaring and prepared to fight.

“I’m carrying your six pound baby in my stomach while getting hell from everything and everyone. You have a problem, your mom has a problem. Every damn person you know has a mother fucking problem!” He rolls his eyes, which only gets you angrier.

“And I’m so sorry my hormones inconvenienced your day. I’m so sorry that I’m such a pain in the ass all the time. But I can’t help it at the time and I’m trying my hardest to not let them influence my decision.”

Kento takes a deep breath, mumbling something to himself.

You get out of bed, intending to stomp away in disbelief. You don’t make it past the bed room door though before your clutching your stomach.

You close your eyes and try to take even breathes.

The action immediately alerts your fiancé, coming to rush at your side to see if you’re ok.

You try to push him off, your stubborn ass convinced you can do this all on your own. Only for you to clutch him close when another wave of pain rolls over you.

“Sit down.” He orders. But his voice is more soft, easing you back onto the bed.

You comply reluctantly.

“Lay back.” Again you listen, glaring daggers at the man.

He takes your legs and gently starts to massage your feet, touch so soft you two wouldn’t have known you were in the middle of an argument. Both of you are quite.

You can’t look him in the eyes, tears starting to well up.

“We just want what’s best for you.” He whisper, kissing your shin. You laugh, tone devoid of humor.

“It doesn’t feel like it. Everything I do I’m doing wrong. I can’t mother right, I can’t wife right. I can’t do anything right-”

“Your doing just-”

“Not according to your family.”

He sighs and lets go of your leg in irritation. “They don’t fucking hate you ok? They’re doing what they think is best, and what they think is best is-”

“Calling me fat? Insulting my family? Telling me your to good to call yourself my husband? What help that is.” He doesn’t say anything about that. He knows you’re right. Instead he continues to massage up and down your leg, your feet, and lower body part to help ease the pain.

“Better?” He ask, looking up at you through his lashes. You scowl.

“A little.”

He nods, still holding your legs. “Good.”

He studies you. Your tired eyes, your sunken in features. You haven’t eaten like you’re supposed to and he hates that. He hates that his family has such a negative affect on you. And he hates that he just stands there.

“Look at me.” He mutters. Your eyes trail to his, what pretty eyes. His pretty girl going through all this stress. His face softens.

“I know you like to prepare ahead of time. And I know you want to get things done as soon as possible. But you need to take things slow. I need you to take things slow.” He watches as the anger leaves your features.

He takes a chance and crawls above you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You instantly melt, shoulders relaxing and sighing. He lays besides you, cupping your swollen belly and planting a kiss there as well.

“I care and love you my love, and I wants what’s best for you. So right now we need to focus on what matters.”

Your hands run though his hair, and he lays his head gently on top your belly.

“And what matters?” Your voice is so soothing, he could fall asleep just like this. It’s been so long since he’s felt your touch, to busy with work to come home and spend proper time with you. He sighs. “You. Right now it’s you.” He lifts his his head just in time to see you smiling.

And what a smile you have. He’s falling for you all over again.

“And after we make sure you’re ok, we can focus on us. And the wedding, and that baby shower you want. We can focus on all that after.”

“And I’ll make sure to speak with my mother about her behavior…”

You both sit in silence, buts it’s comfortable this time. You bask in each other, and you both are fucking happy. He coos at your stomach, which makes you giggle, he’ll be such a good husband, and an even better father. He dotes on you, and you do the same.

After a while you begin to get sleepy. “My love.” He murmurs, poking your cheek. He wants to talk to you more. You grunt.

“You don’t talk about yourself all that much.” You don’t understand why that’s important or relavent. Or why he felt the need to poke your cheek. “ ‘S never come up…” he hums, rubbing your belly some more.

“You should tell me about yourself.” You open your eyes to take a look at him, who in turn is looking at you so lovingly.

“Wanna hear all about you.”

You lay your head back against the pillows, thinking long and hard. “Ok well…. Um… m-my favorite color is pink and green.”

He smiles at that. It’s not what he meant, but it’s a start. He pulls up next to you. “Yeah? Why pink?” You think again, pulling your lips in thought. “It’s just a pretty color. Nice to look at.” Fucking cutie. He hums, placing a kiss on your neck.

“And green?” You shrug. “Reminds me of the trees and grass, like lookin’ at it to.”

“What’s yours?” He stays quiet for a bit, kissing your color bone. “Red.”

Your brows shoot up. “Red?” He nods. “It’s bold and intense. It’s like it’s supposed to be intimidating but it isn’t.” You nod.

“Makes me think of passion and courage.”

You giggle. “Passion?” His eyes narrow playfully. He brings his face close to your ear. “Passion.” You shiver.

He kisses every ounce of skin he can get to, having you in a giggling blushing mess. “You like that?” He muses, kissing you more. You nod.

“Good girl.” Kiss. “Got so many kisses in store for you.” Kiss. “So many suprises.” Kiss.

You laugh, actually laugh, and it makes his heart swell up. He hopes his baby has the same laugh as his mother.

“Love ya pretty.” He murmurs, kissing you on the lips. “Love you to.”

[peterparkeeperer]

affectionate drunk (peter parker x gn!reader)

It’s 1 am on a Saturday night, and bringing home a drunk peter wasn’t in your plans.

Well it hadnt been, until he told you Friday night that Mj and Ned wanted to celebrate his birthday in advance (his birthday wasn’t for another week, but they needed a sound excuse to get wasted), calling it ‘pre-birthday party’ was such a lame label you’d told him as such (“you know you can just get drunk like normal people, right?”).

So, after you’d picked him up and he’d sang loudly to the radio he forced you to turn up despite it being the dead of night, you got him inside the front door.

“I love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too, baby. I hope you know that too.”

“And I really love,” he drags out the words as he tries leaning in. He only manages to trip over his own feet to whisper into your ear, “when you fuck me, you know that?”

You chuckle, and your hand resting on his waist pets it slowly.

“I do know that, you tell me everytime,”

He groans exasperated, and leans in fully to bring his arms around your neck. It’s almost like a hug, if you weren’t basically holding his weight up.

“God, because it’s so true. Can we do it now?”

Your eyebrows fly up, amused. “You’re drunk, sweetheart. You know I won’t.”

He whines and tucks his face into your neck. You feel his warm nose rub the length of your throat.

“But I really want to. I want you, see?”

His hand grabs at yours to pull it down, and the back of your limp hand feels the hardness in his pants. Your gut burns, but despite this you refuse.

“I’ll reward you tomorrow, that sound good?”

He doesn’t say anything, but nods with vigor and accepts your answer, of course, as he wouldn’t push despite being drunk.

“Now let’s get you to bed, tipsy.”

He steps (stumbles) towards your bedroom, and you resist a giggle when he walks halfway into the doorway. Finally, your reach the duvets, you drop right in the middle of it. He shimmies his way under the covers, you smile.

“Snug as a bug in a rug, huh?”

He talks halfway smushed into the pillow, “Hold me,”

Your heart, like it always does with him, throbs with the intensity of love. Feeling no reason to deny this very tempting offer you crawl right beside him and cuddle him into a restful sleep.

It’s a few hours when you wake up, your eyes open to your ceiling and shuffling at your side.

You automatically turn your head to look at the clock at your bedside table and you see it’s 10 in the morning. Your turn to look at Peter, and finds him laying at his side looking at your already.

“Hey,” his voice is raspy, a voice you won’t admit to you being very weak to it. There’s a sort of intimacy of sleeping and waking up to someone right by your side.

“Hello there, feeling better?”

He nods, and rubs his face unconsciously into the side of your arm. “Much.”

You nod, “why’re you awake?”

At this question he doesn’t answer at first, and now he tucks his head lower as if to hide. He stays there and his answer is muffled when he responds.

“You said I’d get a reward,”

“At 10 in the morning?”

He peeks up to glare at you.

“And also, technically I said that at 1 am, so your reward wouldn’t be until tomorrow.”

His eyes turn a bit desperate, as if he’s craving it so badly even jokes and banter pains him at the thought of losing it. This realisation has your body warming.

“Please,” it’s one word, but his breath catches and it sounds almost broken. He doesn’t know how much you want him, sometimes you wonder if this craving you feel for him is a newtons cradle between the two of you, a steady slam of desire and love going back and forth.

You smile, like you do so easily at him, and give in.

“Want to turn around?”

He does so without word, duvets and blankets twisting and turning. You grin.

Your hand drags down to his chest first, feeling his nipples outside of the fabric. He sucks in a breath. Immediately his legs start moving. He does it subconsciously, a squirmer to the core, it’s incredibly endearing.

You slip your hand under the shirt and feel his abs, they’re warm, like every other part of him. But then you drag your nails over his nipples before pinching them. Peter moans this time, and it has your hips grinding against his ass just once to satiate the heat that blooms at your crotch. He arches back to meet your grind, but in a strong act of self control you put your hand on his hip only once to still him.

Your hand goes to his shorts, and he lifts himself awkwardly at his side to get them and his underwear off. His cock bobs to nearly slap at his lower stomach.

You feel almost in a hurry once your hand grabs his warm dick, and you realise that you’re feeling a little out of control out of desperation. You want him so badly you ache. He gasps, and humps into your hand, “please, please!” His voice breaks, and you lay your lips by his ear.

“You want to cum?” He gets goosebumps as soon as you speak.

“Yes.”

“Do it, then.”

He immediately starts grinding into your fist. You don’t help, and instead smirk behind him. It only takes a little while of huffing and puffing, but soon Peter seems to realise that it’s not enough.

“I need help, please,” he stutters, and his voice sounds a little wet.

“Really? You do? What do you want me to do?”

He whines, and grinds slowly into your fist again, a few trickles of precum slides down.

“Jerk me off.”

“Like this?” Your slowly drag your first down the length of his hand and back up again, he gasps with the relief it brings him. More precum appears.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Alright then.”

And with that, you start jerking him off fast and hard. He chokes in surprise, before his moans start coming uncontrollably. You’re mean with your pace, and you don’t let down even when your arm starts hurting.

Soon you know he’s about to cum, his voice starts pitching higher and higher.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m-,”

“Is my baby gonna cum? Yeah?”

He nods fast and clumsily, and right as he’s on the edge, you stop. And Peter, who’s been through sadism and games with you before, sobs.

“Shhh baby. You knew that would happen, didn’t you? I’m so mean, aren’t I?”

It’s patronising, mean. And you feel him throb in your hand. You resist grinding against him for relief. You kiss the length of his sweaty neck and his tear stained cheek lovingly.

Feeling he’s had enough, you start again. Your pace isn’t as fast as before, but rather affectionate.

“Alright, I’ll let you come now. You’re always being so good, so polite for me. You’re a good boy, Peter, you know that?”

He cries and jumps into your hand. “I-I love you, s-so much.”

Your heart shoots into your throat and you smile widely. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

and with that, he comes.

[fantasynsuch]

"Sweet Thing" - Adam Stanheight x Fem! Reader NSFW

TW: post trap. I refuse to write anything pre-trap, as it implies he isn't alive grrrr. Maybe voyeurism??

As I stretch my full body out, I groan in relief. I've been sitting at this god-forsaken desk since 10 am, and it's 1 now. My boss decided it would be appropriate to drop a week-long project on me two days ago: it's due tomorrow. He's a dickhead, and I await the day he gets fired. Until then, I still have to complete this damn project: and it's taken away my attention from Adam.

He knows that my job sometimes takes away attention from him, and God bless him, he really does understand why. He doesn't complain when all I can give him in terms of attention is a quick kiss on the forehead and a "love you". He usually grabs my hand as I walk away and falls right back to sleep, as he tends to get home incredibly late due to his weird working hours - cheating men don't have a set schedule, he usually jokes.

Like always, this morning, I kissed him quickly and made my way to the office: since we moved, we've had enough room to have our own separate work spaces, which has been incredibly useful.

As I think about him, I notice a cough from behind me, and I turn around out of shock. He doesn't usually wake up this early. His shirt is off and his snail trail is... very tempting.

"Hey, babe! You're up early." I huff out a laugh. He grins at me from the door way and responds to me: "Well, I just couldn't fall back asleep. I have a pretty girlfriend in here who needs someone to keep her company through this shitty work- what kind of man would I be if I didn't keep you entertained with my beautiful face?" He chortles.

I giggle and motion him to sit down in the armchair at the corner of the room as I turn around in my swivel chair. I hear him shuffle his way over to the chair. He plops down and sighs dramatically.

I ignore his attempts to distract me with hesitation, but this project was incredibly important. I can't let him distract me.

"Oh, I-I just am soo bored without you. I just don't know what to do without your hands wrapped around my back while I sleep in, whatever will I do?" He pouts and crosses his arms like a diva who didn't get something she wanted.

I roll my eyes and state simply, "You will NOT sway me from the path of righteousness this time, demon!" I turn my head away from the papers and hiss at him playfully. I grip my pencil tightly and begin writing notes down so I don't forget them. He's distracted me from work projects before, but I will not allow it this time!

He exhales and then groans. I peek at him and roll my eyes. He notices my eyes and grins.

"Oh, you're ignoring me? You're childish!" He pokes his tongue out at me and looks thoughtful for a moment. He smirks evily, but I don't think much of it. He can't think of anything that interesting.

"You won't distract me this time, gremlin." I state simply.

He rolls his eyes and looks around the room in thought. I ignore him for a little while, and I hear small brushing and movements, but I don't pay mind to it. From the corner of my eye, I see his head thrown back, and when I look back at him, my eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see his head resting back on the armchair and his hand palming his crotch through his sleep pants.

"W-what are you doing?" I hiss through gritted teeth and look at his directly. He raises his head and when he sees me looking at him, he smiles in mock victory. He continues palming himself through his pants and groans lightly.

"Tha' got your attention, sweet thing?" He asks me rhetorically, but we both know the answer. Of fucking course it got my attention.

"W-well, you're stroking your cock while I'm working, so yes! It got my attention." I throw out of my mouth before I can bite my tongue.

He half smiles, as he knows he's won.

"Well, you have work to do. Don't let me distract you, sweet thing." God, that fucking nickname gets me every time. He knows it, and he's usually it to his advantage.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his pretty eyes, and his lean, pale form, and his happy trail dusting his stomach. Fuck his thick, mouthwatering cock. Fuck him and his kissable, plush lips. God. The space between my thighs feels more and more uncomfortable as the dampness increases. I try to string some words together, but he startles me by grabbing his sleep pants and pulling them down fully. There, his fully erect cock springs from his bottoms and bounces up and down before settling at attention. He's dripping from his tip. When did he have the time to get this hard?!

"I can't well go back to work now. " I argue, but he stops me quickly and states: " You definitely can, sweet thing. Ignore me." He demands, and at the sound of the nickname, my cunt pulses, and I groan. His eyes crinkle up with his smile when he listens to my reaction.

I turn back to my desk, but I stare blankly at the forms. How could I do anything productive with him stroking his cock right next to me? I peek from my peripheral and see him gripping his cock and stroking slowly. I hear him groan louder this time, as I can make out him pulling out his balls from his bottoms to sit ontop, and it takes everything within me to not tear him to shreds right there.

I grip my pen tightly, as I resist the urge to react. He reachs up to his chest and grips one of his tiny nipples, and he whimpers. He fucking whimpers. His hands carress his cock and move up and down faster.

I can't take it anymore. I turn and face him to watch as he throws his head back from the increased pressure from his hand. His eyes are closed tightly as his breath becomes more and ragged, indicating how close he truly is. I just have to do something.

I silently get up and stride over to the chair. I thank God we have carpets, as they're far quieter than the wood. His cock bobs up and down tauntingly as his balls draw tightly. His strong jawline is all I see as I get on my knees before him, but as I kneel, I feel just how wet my cunt is between my legs. I'll take care of him first, and then I'll see about myself.

As he loses himself in his own body from the mixture of pleasure from pinching his nipple and fondling his cock, I grab his wrist hard and pull it away. He looks down in shock: both from the sudden and distinct lack of pleasure, and how silent I was getting over here.

"Oh, hey sweet thing. When'd you get down there," He smiles drunkenly at me as he realizes what I'm doing.

"Shut up and cum in my mouth, please." I ask, no, beg him.

"I think I can make that happen, " He winks at me, and at this confirmation, I grab his cock with my hand and swiftly position my mouth over the tip. I lick the glob of pre-cum that had made it's way to his slit, and he stifled a sob. Once I licked it up, I lower my head down his dick and begin to bob my head fast. His head throws back again as he wails out. I hear "Please, please, please," and "Yes, yes, yes". His moans sound like an orchestra.

I continue to pleasure him, and I go to gently grab one of his balls. I begin to massage the sac, and at that, he reachs down and grips my hair. His hand rests firmly, but not painfully, on my scalp. That's one thing about him I loved. He was always careful to not hurt me. His hips begin thrusting up, but he manages to control his hips and do phantom thrusts as to not choke me. I can tell he's close. He's so close.

I look up through my lashes, and I see his head is no longer resting on the back of the chair, but looking directly down at me. When I look up at him, we make eye contact and that seems all it took to send him over the edge. His hips thrust into my mouth aimlessly as his grip on my hair tightens. His head throws back and he wails out a "Love you so fuckin' much, swee-" But he gets interrupted, as my head bobs all the way down into his wirey pubic hair, and I swallow. He shouts as his cum shoots deep into my throat. I pull up slightly as his streams of cum become progressively less forceful. I pull away when his breathe evens out, but one last string of cum shoots out and hits me on my cheek.

"W-woah." He whispers simply.

"Don't distract me, and this won't happen." I wink at him, and I go to stand up, but he quickly grabs my arms to pull me into his lap. He winces when my wet cunt brushes up against his oversensitive cock. He powers through and leans up to my ear.

"Oh, you didn't think we were done here, did you? Your dickhead boss can wait an extra day. You won't get off my lap until you've cum at least 3 times, sweet thing," He whispers evily in my ear. I shudder and flush at the nickname, but he smiles.

"God, I love you so fucking much." He declares, as he leans in to kiss me.

I wasn't able to say it back, but he definitely knows. I make sure he does.

@theteabush for you!!! <3 pls reblog if you like!!

[appocalipse]

Hiiii I don’t know if you’re taking requests, but if I could request this with eddie or Steve with reader who’s having a really down depression day? (Very much a self indulgent request) Just some good old comfort and fluff would be greatly appreciated ❤️

hiiii! i think this turned out to be a much more self-indulgent request on my part in the end lol i'm not sure if that's what you wanted, but i hope you like it anyway. thank you so much for this request anon! i hope you're well ♥ eddie x reader! tw: depression, anxiety

--

You knew it was a bad idea long before you got here. There are days in which the voice in your head it’s easier to ignore; today it's loud enough to make it impossible to even hear what your friends are saying. You make sure to laugh every time they laugh, though, nod your head when someone looks at you. Look alive, that is.

Not that it makes any difference, reminds the voice in your head. None of them are paying attention to you, of course.

You're sitting between Nancy and Robin. Every now and then they look at each other over your head and share a giggle. They’re telling a story, something funny that happened at a party everyone went to — well, everyone but you, of course, but you know they aren’t deliberately trying to exclude you. 

How could they possibly tell a story that includes you? that voice asks. Should they talk about how you've mastered the art of sitting in a corner and looking miserable? 

You pick up snippets of conversation here and there, try to nod your head at the right moments. Robin is excitedly saying something, drawing laughter from everyone around the table — she's a good storyteller, she's fun, a good addition to the group. Unlike you. You got lucky.

It feels like an invisible hand is squeezing your heart tightly. You look down at your hands resting on the table and start fiddling with your fingers nervously, barely noticing you’re doing it; pulling, pinching. 

Inside your head, the voice is relentless. 

Why did you come? 

You know they only called you out of pity. 

The only thing you do here is take up space.

You shouldn't have come. Shouldn't have come. Shouldn't have come. The words hang around your neck like a rope. 

Everyone seems to be involved in the conversation — everyone is smiling, and even Jonathan laughs when Nancy starts talking about a dance move she once saw him do. 

It's the perfect moment — you get up, mumbling a quick ‘I'll be right back’ (although probably no one cares to hear) and head for the apartment door.

Outside, you sit on the stairs. Darkness surrounds you, silence stretches out. You try to breathe. It's almost 1 am — nobody's going to see you here, probably.

You'd like to cry, but crying will mess up your makeup, and then your friends will notice and feel the need to ask why, because they're kind, and then you'll have to find a way to explain....and how are you supposed to explain the ongoing storm within you, sometimes silent but never really gone? How are you supposed to explain the storm if they only know the passing rain?

It's not their fault they're normal, that they're healthy. And they shouldn’t have to carry a burden that isn't theirs.

Maybe if I'd had a little to drink, you think feebly, I'd be more fun company.

Being scandalous is not the same thing as being fun, the voice replies immediately. 

You put your face in your hands, elbows resting on your knees. The voice is not wrong, you think.

Leaving seems very tempting, crying in the privacy of your room seems tempting, although it is only a temporary relief. Eddie gave you a ride here, but you can walk home. It's not that far and nothing bad has happened in Hawkins for quite some time…

And who cares if it does?

You glance towards the apartment door. The only problem is, you don't want to go back there to say goodbye to them — it's going to be uncomfortable and you're only going to get in the way once again. Eddie will offer to drive you home, Steve might too, and then you'll have interrupted all of them again. It's so quiet on the stairs that you can hear muffled laughter from inside.

You cross your arms over your knees and rest your forehead on your arm, sighing.

Then the door to Robin's apartment opens once more. 

You’re startled until you see it's Eddie. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing on the floor?” he asks, standing at the top of the stairs. "That lovely dress of yours will get dirty."

An almost unexplainable feeling rises in your chest just by looking at him. It's a mixture of embarrassment, pain, and happiness; embarrassment, because you must look a little pathetic right now, pain because liking him as much as you do can only end in disaster, and happiness because he likes you enough to come out here looking for you.

Or perhaps the others asked him to do it, the voice in your mind suggests. They must feel sorry for you.

Shut up, you think.

“Lovely?” you ask. Try to sound normal, undo the lump in your throat, smile like a normal girl would smile right now.

Eddie sits a step above you, knee bent near your shoulder. He puts a hand over his heart and smiles one of his easy smiles. “My absolute favorite.”

“Oh, really?”

“Until you wear something else.”

You giggle. He's always kind to you. Always has been. Eddie knew you were at war with yourself from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, and he's been striving to be a white flag ever since.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?"

“Needed some air, so…” he begins. Then he lowers his head, biting his lower lip.  Seems like he has hundreds of thoughts struggling to get out of his mind — and maybe he does. Eventually, he adds, “...actually, no, that's not true. I was worried about you."

You look at each other for one second too long not to be awkward. Then you look away and say, "Me? I'm fine, really. I’m okay."

But your voice sounds high-pitched, higher than usual, more frantic. As if you’re trying to get rid of the words. 

Eddie is not stupid.

"I'm just a little tired. I was thinking about going home," you continue, before he can ask anything that you don’t want to answer right now.

"Going home?"

"Yeah."

He breathes in slowly, "Want me to drive you?"

“No! No, you should be in there, enjoying yourself with your friends.”

“Our friends.”

It's a slip.

"Our friends," you repeat as convincingly as you can, not believing any word at all. The void pulls you in, pulls you down, and the voice in your head screams in your ear until you say, "I'm sorry, Eddie.”

“For what?”

“You're losing out on all the fun in there.”

He's too nice and you're a burden he shouldn't have to carry…

He bumps his knee into your shoulder playfully. "Nah. It's not as fun without you-" You make a sound between a sigh and a laugh and he loses the train of thought. There's a hint of pain behind that sound, of disbelief, and Eddie can feel it. "What is it?" he asks cautiously, looking at you.

Your smile is wide, but it's not happy, far from genuine. If he pays attention, he can tell one from the other these days.

"It's nice of you to say that," you whisper, now looking down at your feet. It’s like the words slipped out, like you didn’t even notice you were saying them.

Eddie worries you’re slipping away.

"No," he says, tilting his head down to see your face better, "it's just the truth."

The lump in your throat grows, expands. You feel dangerously close to crying. And then you giggle instead; a humorless, lifeless sound.

“Eddie, c'mon,” you say nonchalantly, nudging his knee with your shoulder. “It's okay, I know I'm no fun.”

Eddie hates, hates that look on your face, like you’re really waiting for him to agree with you — that blank expression, the practiced smile, the way you seem used to the pain; you even seem to expect it.

His eyebrows rise up, all faux offense, a wolfish grin taking up his features. And just like that, Eddie is back to his usual dramatics. “Excuse me,” he says, “are you calling me a liar, miss?”

Next thing you know, he's leaning forward from the step above you, one leg on either side of you, and the tips of his fingers are at your sides, moving up your ribs, tickling and tickling and tickling. 

You start to laugh — a real laugh, entirely different from the previous one, much to Eddie's delight — trying to fend off his merciless attacks but failing in every attempt.

"Eddie!" you gasp between giggles. “Eddie- stop!”

Eddie is very good at tickling. He's methodical, fast, and way too determined, and he's only satisfied when you’re laughing so hard you fall limp against his stomach, still giggling as you slide down, your back against his thigh, a half-lying position but not quite.

“What? he encourages, a devilish grin on his face. “Do you surrender?”

“Yeah, yes- Stop!”

“Repeat after me: 'i'm super cool and fun to be around'.”

“I'm super- HAHAHA- OK, okay! I'm super cool!”

He slows down but doesn't stop. “And?”

“-and fun to be around! I'm fun!”

Now he stops — but the satisfied, huge smile stays on his face as you rest your weight against him, panting. You can do little more than that in your current state. Your belly hurts — but it's a good kind of pain, a welcome pain. Laughing until it hurts is the kind of pain worth feeling. 

Eddie looks at you from above, kind of upside down. It's an odd angle and he's still handsome — too handsome, too close. Your heart jumps and his smile turns sweet.

“That's better,” Eddie says, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead with his fingertips. Except for your chest — that’s moving up and down frantically as you try to catch your breath — you're still, the shy smile frozen on your face. "You are awesome,” he adds.

“Stop,” you murmur, turning to press your face against Eddie's side, squeezing his shirt in your fist. 

He feels the heat of your skin through the fabric. He can tell you’re still smiling and smiles too.

“And you're fun and smart and you really care about people. And you're never cruel—”

“Eddie.”

“-except to yourself.”

You don't look at him. "I was just being realistic."

Eddie seems to think for a moment. You crawl into a better position, still sitting on the bottom step as he settles on the top one, your back against his leg.

“No, you weren’t,” he says gently. "Robin asked me if you were coming today at least seven times, you know that?"

Your smile grows a little more confident. “Eddie-”

“And before I left to get you, Steve and Robin were arguing about who would pair up with you to play charades later. So Nancy ended the argument by saying that she would do it herself.”

Now you laughed. "But I'm terrible at charades."

“I know,” he says softly, eyes even softer. "It has nothing to do with the game."

You don't answer, and neither does the voice in your head — momentarily silent. Instead, you let your head rest against Eddie again, just below his sternum, hiding your face. Eddie smiles. He'd love to see the expression on your face right now, but he's pretty sure he can guess what it looks like.

“Do you still want me to take you home?” he asks cautiously, putting his arm around your shoulders.

“I-No.”

Eddie rubs soothing circles on your skin. “I'll take you if you want,” he reassures. “Or…we could go back inside and play charades with those idiots. BUT! Only if you promise to be my pair.”

He feels your laugh more than he hears it. You put your arms around his waist — a little awkward hug, but good enough.

You stay like that for a couple of seconds. Then, you say, “Sure, let's go inside.”

But when you make a move to get up, Eddie pulls you right back and says, “Let’s stay like this a little bit longer, though, huh?”

And there’s no sign of the voice in your head for the rest of the night.

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N One-Shot Series PRT 28

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999 @x-prettyboy-x @rorylover71 @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

Jack kept to himself the first few days. He would see Y/n's car pull in and try not to stare at her through the window like a creep. He didn't want to overwhelm her in the first week so he waited. He kept thinking about what he might say, how he might apologize and have her actually know how sorry he was for how things happened. He starts taking evening walks like Dr. Carty had suggested and it really helped clear his head.

It wasn't until Saturday that they crossed paths. Jack actually stopped dead in his tracks seeing her having as cigarette on the bench on the side of her house that her mother can't see.

"It's okay, you can say hello. I won't bite you." Y/n spoke first.

"Hi...I promise I wasn't like following you or-" Y/n laughed at Jack's fumbling.

"I know Jack. I just got here. I just needed a break before going inside." She explained. He nodded unsure if she wanted to be alone or not.

"How are you feeling being home?" She asks, inviting him to take a seat next to her.

"I feel better, more myself physically and mentally." Jack rubbed his palms on his jeans.

"That's good." She took another drag and stayed silent.

"I owe you a lot of things. The most important thing being an apology. I am so incredibly sorry for being selfish enough to come off my meds and taking out my episode on you. I'm sorry for the shitty things I said, I didn't mean them. I know how important your mom is to you and I know how much you love taking care of people. That's what makes you such an amazing person." Jack swallowed the lump in his throat as Y/n kept her eyes on him.

"I...I'm also sorry for getting physical with you. I didn't remember doing it to Shanda and I don't remember doing it to you either but that doesn't make it any less awful. It was wrong, disrespectful and I'm just...so insanely sorry Y/n." Jack finally met her gaze.

"You also probably saved my life. I was in a really bad way that night and I'm lucky you were there to stitch me up. I know that couldn't have been easy on you so I'm also sorry for putting you through that for no reason. It was a mistake and I don't intend on repeating it ever again. I'm not saying I won't ever have another episode but I will make sure I will always take my meds to avoid putting you or anyone else through that." Jack felt like he was ten pounds lighter after saying all that.

"Do...do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me? Maybe give me a second chance?" Jack asked trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

"You want to tell me what triggered the downfall? I mean the night we had together seemed really nice and I thought things were going well. Then all the sudden-"

"Oh no our night was perfect. It honestly had nothing to do with that. I just...I got a call from my ex-fiance. She said she was moving and wanted me to come back to California and collect my stuff. I just...I couldn't fathom the idea of going back there or seeing her again...everything all sort of came crashing down at once and I just...lost it." Jack explained. Y/n held the cigarette out to him and he took it, taking a drag and ironically felt like he could breathe easier.

"When I think about the place I was last year, it reminds me of how fucked up I was. How damaged I am and how it hurt the people I loved the most. It makes me think I don't deserve happiness...especially the happiness you bring me." Jack handed her cigarette back to her.

"How do you feel about it now? Do you still think you don't deserve happiness?" Y/n asked curiously.

"Sometimes I think I let myself sabotage my own happiness just so I can't ever really hold onto it but I would like to think I've atoned enough for my mistakes to allow myself that feeling." Jack watched as she finished the cigarette and let out a sigh.

"I forgive you Jack. Neither of us are perfect but I try every day to make sure I can do whatever it takes to not allow my shit to touch other people. I try really hard to make sure that I take care of myself, take my medicine and talk to my therapist when I'm having issues so that they can't bleed over to the people I care about, you being one of those people." She gives him a sad smile. Jack reaches out and takes Y/n hand giving it a squeeze.

"Why are you so good to me? I want to believe I deserve it but-"

"Jack, I like spending time with you. I like to talk to you and joke with you. I like to get off with you or banter over weed and breakfast. I want you to believe me when I say you deserve happiness just as much as I do." Y/n squeezed his hand back.

"I like spending time with you too. You were all I could think about when I was away. I just, I want to keep my head on straight for you, for myself too but I want to be well so whatever we have going on between us, we get a real fair shot." Jack smiled as she scooted closer to him.

"We will. I will agree to the second chance but I want you to be honest with me when shit starts to feel like you can't handle it again. I want you to tell me when you're drowning so I can at least have a chance to try and help you." Y/n pushed the hair away from his face and he nodded.

"I like the sound of that." He sighed leaning his head forward, resting his forehead into hers.

"I missed you." Y/n said touching his face delicately. Jack felt a wave of relief wash over his chest as he took in her scent.

"I missed you too." Jack wanted to kiss her but she kissed his forehead first. He felt like he was going to be so much more vigilant with his second chance with Y/n. He wasn't going to let his past dictate his future. He wanted happiness. He deserves it.

[chalterdh22]

Day 18: Wanda and Loki in Magic

Lee: Loki

Ler: Wanda/Scarlet Witch

Summary:  Wanda just wants a nice, quiet evening to herself, but Loki doesn’t seem to want that to happen.  In fact, he is making her life miserable.  Knowing all her powers and being told not to use them, how else can you take down a god?

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, so if that’s not your thing, don’t read.  This is also a means to torture someone.

Wanda had made so many great friends since “joining” the Avengers.  Although, she didn’t really consider herself one. She in fact loved her Vis and made some great friends.  One person she couldn’t stand though, was Loki……  He knew how to push her buttons, say comments that made her blood pressure sky rocket and on several occasions, almost got her in trouble with the group by using her powers on him to shut him up!  Fortunately, their meetings were few and far between.

On one particular day, Vision and she went to headquarters and Vis had to go with Stark to take care of something.  For once, there was no one else there, which actually made her comfortable.  She relaxed, picked up a random book, poured a glass of wine, and was just able to hang out and be “normal” for once.  Or so she thought.

In the midst of the wonderful silence she was enjoying, someone jumped out of nowhere and scared her half to death.  It was Loki, of course!  Ugh, she was thinking.  Go away. 

“Where is everyone at?  Did they go on some secret mission and leave you behind to watch the cat?” he asked, smirking, with his arms folded.  She was half tempted to completely ignore him, but she knew that wouldn’t last long.

“No,” she said calmly.  “Vis had some business to attend to with Tony.”

“So, they did leave you behind.  Hmm.”  She rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

“Oh, come on, you know you can’t ignore me forever, my love.  That reminds me, when will be going out on a date?  Now seem like a perfect time!”

“No thank you,” she growled.  “I’d rather be engulfed by fire.”

“Oooo.  Tempting, but no.  Not what I had in mind.” He leaned over on the couch and whispered in her ear.  She swung the book at him and missed of course, because he was a god and his reflexes where unbelievable.  How could she possibly ever get even with him from tormenting her?  She slumped back in the couch, seemingly defeated.

He sat down fully next to her, like right next to her, shoulder to shoulder.  She scooted away until she was at the other side of the couch where she couldn’t go any further.  He put an arm around her should and said, “This is nice.”  He was fully smiling at her, and she couldn’t move, or use her magic in the compound.  At least this is what she was told. 

Well, at least she wasn’t supposed to use her magic.  Again, she rolled her eyes, started to squirm, and said firmly, get off, and jabbed him the side of the ribs.  Not only did he jump back a good foot from her, but he also yelped and seemed a little off when she made contact with his side.  She slowly looked up at him and faced him head on.

“What was that?  I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no, I uh, it just startled me is all.”  She was glaring at him.  And then, it just popped in her head.  Vis poked her quite often and it……… wait, did she just tickle him? 

“Loki,” she said with a serious look, “are you ticklish?”  She knew good and well though she couldn’t just reach out and grab him, because he would straight disappear.  So, before he could even say anything, she shot some red sparks from her hands, immobilizing him.

“What are you doing, Wanda?  You let me go this instant!”

“Really?  I’m surprised I haven’t done this sooner.  You are such a pain sometimes!  But now, I know your little secret.”  She leaned into his neck, so her breath was warm on him.  “You’re ticklish!”

“I am not!  How horrible of an accusation you have made, while I outta…….” And she silenced him immediately.

“That’s enough talking for you.  Let’s see, Vis and Tony won’t be home for at least a half hour.  And you want to spend time with me, I remember.  So, hmmm, how can we fill out time?  Definitely not with you talking!”  At this point, he was shaking his head, making all kinds of noise through his invisible gag and squirming to get his way out.

“Boy, it sure is good to be a witch sometimes.  Let’s see if I remember how to do this.  It’s been a while, so it might take me a few times to get it right!”  His eyes went wide when more red sparks came flying from her hands at his sides.  He let out a huge moan, almost like it hurt, but then she saw his shoulders shaking up and down and his eyes were squinting shut.  So, she struck him again, and again, and again, until he seemed like he couldn’t breathe properly.  She let the magic gag fall off now.

“How are you doing, oh god of mischief?”  He was breathing heavy, smiling from ear to ear, not that he wanted to.  He couldn’t help it.  He had really only been tickled like twice since he was so crafty and could disappear at will.  He never met a powerful witch like Wanda though.

“Ii-it’s inn your bbest interest to let me go go, nowww.”  He stuttered, barely getting the words out.

“Such tough words coming from someone who is completely under my control.  Now let’s see, where else can we test out I wonder? she said putting a finger to her mouth..

“I’m warning you, don’t.”

“Ooooh.  Scary.”  And just like that she shot more sparks, wrapping around his thighs and knees, squeezing over and over.  He was trying so hard not to laugh, so it came out more like yells and hard breaths.  He was also literally almost jumping out of the seat.  “Aww, aren’t you cute!”

“Stttoooooppp iittiittt ppuuuuhlleease!!!!”

“You said please, Loki!  Very good!”  So, she stopped, and he was laboring at this point, with his head hanging down.  She snuck up right in his face and made him jump, like she would reach out and touch him.

“Now, will you be a good boy and stop pestering me?  Or will this become a usual occurrence for us?”

Still breathing hard, he managed to whisper, “I’ll leave you alone, Wanda.  I swear.”

“Yeah, well I know how solid your word is Loki, but that will have to do for now.”  She sat back and removed her magical restraints.  Just then, Tony and Vision came walking in.

“Ah, look, it’s the two misfits getting along I see.”  Tony said walking in.

“Yeah, we were actually just having a nice conversation, weren’t we Loki?” she nudged him in the shoulder, and he glared at her.

“Yes, yes.  But unfortunately, I have to depart now.  Duty calls.”  He turned back to Wanda.  “I will see you later.  Thanks for the talk!”  And poof, he disappeared.

“What was that about, love?” Vis walked up to her and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Oh, nothing.  I think Loki just needed to relax a bit and I helped him with that.”

[embersofhope-if]

46 with Creon, please? 👀

46: “ Can I kiss you right now? ”

Wordcount: 1.09k

I did write this for a relatively possessive Mc but other than that there aren't any trigger warnings

Escaping to the balcony does almost nothing to relieve the mounting headache that I can already tell is going to leave me sick for the rest of the night. It’s too much. The music, the shouting, the expensive perfumes that mix with the smell of the food; it’s all so nauseating.  

I want to leave. I just want to go back to my room and curl up under the covers and forget where I am. I’d pretend I’m back home; warm and safe in my own bed with Hope lying next to me. I’d pretend that I have no worries, and tomorrow would be full of nothing but school and stopping by the bakery to grab some bread. I’d pretend that people back home like me more than anyone here does. It’s not true, but if I’m going to play pretend, I might as well make the daydream as nice as it can get.  

I’m half tempted to just stay out here till the night is over. There are only two people in this entire city that would notice I’m gone, and I haven’t seen either of them since the night began. Uncle Keyon is probably off playing nice with some important person that I’ll never get the chance to meet, and Creon is off becoming the new politician that everyone is desperate to have a conversation with. I got a quick hello with them early in the night, but I haven’t had the chance to track them down again.  

They’re constantly moving; making sure that everyone is chasing them instead of them being the one forced to chase. It seems so exhausting, but they somehow manage to make it look easy. I should be proud of them; they’re making their dreams come true, but every time I watch them smile and laugh, I feel like I’m going to choke on my jealousy.  

Maybe that’s why I hate these parties so much. Every minute I’m forced to socialize with these people, I am constantly reminded that Creon Levesque will always belong to the Capitol and not me.  

I hate it. I hate everything here. The only thing about the Capitol that I don’t hate is Creon and they will forever be just out of my reach. There is no world where we could ever really be with each other despite what they try to tell me, and I’m forced to be okay with that.  

The fact that I can so easily be worked up over this might be what I hate the most. How am I supposed to prove to these people that I’m worth their time if I’m on the brink of tears whenever I think about Creon and me too long. Honestly, it’s incredibly embarrassing.  

I have to pull myself together.  

I take several breaths and lean onto the balcony trying to think about anything that isn’t the Capitol.  

Ash. Hope. Calliope. Home. Creon. 

Surprisingly it works. I’m able to take a deep breath without feeling like I’m drowning. The air is crisper than it is back home but it's close enough for me to pretend. I keep my eyes shut and lean farther onto the balcony as I continue to breathe; completely missing the fact that somebody has joined me. 

“It’s honestly impressive just how easily you manage to vanish.” 

 I open my eyes abruptly, startled by the familiar voice that breaks through my thoughts. Creon stands beside me, their gaze fixated on the city lights. A weak smile tugs at my lips. “I wasn’t trying to vanish; I just needed a moment.” 

Creon chuckles softly. “Well, I’m glad I found you. It’s overwhelming in there, isn’t it?” 

I nod in agreement, grateful for their understanding. “Yeah, it’s a bit much.” 

They lean on the railing beside me, their presence comforting. “You know, sometimes I feel the same way. All of this, it can get suffocating.” 

I meet their eyes, surprised by their admission. “Really?” 

Creon gives me a genuine smile. “Yeah, really. I mean I enjoy it but sometimes I get tired of everyone watching me; waiting for me to mess up.” 

Their vulnerability surprises me. Creon, of all people being tired of attention really isn’t something I expected. They’ve always seemed to thrive in the spotlight. Like they were made to be looked at and listened to, but that’s what they want everyone to see isn’t it? It’s so easy to believe it even when I know that’s not who Creon truly is. 

Their gaze shifts from the city lights to meet my eyes, and a fleeting emotion passes between us. “It’s all fake everybody knows it, yet we still do it anyways. I still do it anyways.” 

“Why do you do all of this if you know its fake?” I ask, only realizing how rude it sounded after I said it out loud. 

“Because it’s what I was made to do. It's who I am,” They respond contemplatively. They’re still staring at me and I feel like I can almost see the gears turning in their head. They want to say something else I can tell, but after a moment they shake their head apparently deciding that it wasn’t important.  

We both just stand there staring at each other. Their gaze so intense I think they might be trying to memorize every feature on my face, then they take another step closer, their hand grazing mine on the railing. “Can I ask you something?” 

I hold their gaze, my heart racing at the anticipation in the air. “Of course.” 

A soft smile graces Creon’s lips, their voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “Can I kiss you right now?” 

My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. This is a distraction I can tell. Whatever they decided not to say is still racking their brain and half of me wants to stop and force them to tell me. But the other half of me is trapped in their eyes making it impossible to resist. With a mixture of nerves and excitement, I give a hesitant but eager nod. 

As Creon’s lips meet mine, the world around us fades into the background. It's as if all the doubts and worries melt away in that single, electrifying moment. The touch of their lips against mine feels like the culmination of all those unspoken words. For one heavenly moment Creon Levesque is here and they are completely and totally mine. 

[doubleappled]

About the blogger meme

Thank you to @bioloyg for the tag and the fic callout! Team Pete forever and for always!

Star Sign: Libra, but it never resonates the way my enneagram 2 does

Favorite Holidays: Groundhog Day. I love those little dudes (although I wish we could leave them in peace so maybe let’s just celebrate their existence and not force our way into their homes)

Last Meal: Enchiladas for dinner

Last Music Listened To: Waxahatche’s Great Thunder

Last Movie Watched: hmmmm in the theater? I think Bottoms, which I adored

Last TV Show Watched: Shameless. I’m in the beginning of season 9 and it is messing me up in 5000 different ways. The acting is great (sometimes) and the writing is awful (mostly) and the storylines are ridiculous (always) and it’s at least 5 or 6 seasons too long. But every once in a while it really makes you think, and it’s completely gotten under my skin. And I will finish it if it’s the last thing I ever do. And it might be, because wow.

Last Book/Fic Finished: I just finished Justin Torres’ Blackouts and I LOVED it. And the most recent chapter of @glitterslag’s It's Been You and Me Since Before I Was Me — is a witchy creepy Appalachian Gothic MASTERPIECE that I adore. Oh and Blissymbolics’ Colorless Richie Jerimovich, also a masterpiece even though it is sydrichie and that is giving me a teeny tiny identity crisis okay moving on

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: I am thisclose to giving up on Lessons In Chemistry. I do not get this book at all.

Currently Reading: nobody ever got my soul right like she could by seh28

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: Quite a bit about what happens to children of people wirh narcissistic personality disorder (hi Donna, yes I am armchair psychologizing and pathologizing a fictional character) for the fic I’m currently writing. I’m not a really intense researcher, but I’ve read all about elevator mechanics and ancient marriage rites and British parking tickets and EMP’s 2019 spring menu and how to cook uni and where pastina comes from, all for fics. I love that aspect of writing.

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: It’s embarrassing, but it’s probably the first time that one of my favorite fic authors commented on one of my own fics, ca. 2018. I was on the subway, and I dropped my phone on the disgusting wet floor when I saw the incredibly lovely comment they’d posted.

FaNvorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: I really only have two old fandoms, but I do miss HP quite a bit. It’s such a robust space, with really nice people, and so many different fests and prompts and challenges. I still read a bit when my favorite authors post, and would like to write for it again someday. (Also, if you’re the anon who’s messaged me multiple times to tell me that my new fics aren’t as good or creative as my HP, and that I “used to be a good writer” — please stop. That’s not the way to convince me to go back, and it makes me feel bad)

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: Truly I’ve never experienced a hyperfixation like I have with The Bear. I wish fanfic had existed in its current state when I was younger, or that I’d been cool enough to figure out the concept and write it on my own. I would have been VERY ACTIVE in a Dead Poets Society fandom if it had existed when I was obsessed with that movie, a decade after it came out, when I watched it practically every day for a year 🤪

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: I just have 15 different Bear WIPs, none of which have any plot, wooo!

Anyway this was all very fun to think about. Tagging @amieraisposting @kdbleu @justabovewater20 @yannaryartside @glitterslag — only if this is your jam — and anyone else who wants to join in.

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @demandthedoodles and @greypetrel! I've mostly been fiddling with the fic I started posting on AO3, but here is some of another piece I've been working on as well. It's partially inspired by this poem:

I just love the contrast between all those long, hesitating lines and the abruptness of "Stand further off then! Go."

So, in relation to that, here is the precursor to the biggest fight Maria and Fenris ever have (this is...roughly three weeks after the Act 2 romance scene):

“You have a kind heart,” Hawke’s father had told her often when she was young.  It had usually been followed by a crucial word: but.   You have a kind heart—but the rabbit is beyond saving, but a kind heart will not help you when a demon comes to call, but you should let the boy fight if he wants to fight. Sometimes, the words were slightly different. Sometimes, Malcolm said instead, “Mijita, for the Maker’s sake, if you bring me to one more felled bridge I am leaving you to walk home alone,” or “Maria, you should not have shocked him back to life. I told you, did I not, what it means to be a mage? We are leaving; pack your bags.” But what he always, always meant to say was: you have a kind heart, but—

Malcolm was the first, but he wasn’t the last.  “I don’t know why you bother, Hawke,” Varric said often, feet propped on his table, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.” “I’ve no idea what you see in him,” Anders had said just a few weeks, glaring after Sebastian as he walked away. “He is beyond helping.”  “I will never understand why you let that man speak to you so,” Aveline had said more than once, scowling over something Anders had said.  Or— “you do know that the elf is like an angsty porcupine, right?”  Sometimes, she felt like snapping in return: there is no point. I don’t know why I bother, either. But—there was no point in snapping, either, was there? They didn’t really want to know why.  But Merrill—Merrill wanted to know why. Sometimes, Merrill didn’t even add the “but.” Sometimes, she just told Hawke that she was kind, no qualifiers. That was why Maria liked to spend time with her: Merrill didn’t waste time on prevarications like that. You were who you were, for good or ill, and she seemed to see little point in chiding one to change.  Merrill was her friend; Hawke might even have been tempted to call Merrill her dearest friend, if she’d ever felt inclined to bestow such a distinction. It hurt her to see Merrill hurt, to hear the tears in her voice as they trudged back up through the bowels of the mountain.  “Pol,” she said somewhere behind Hawke, “what was he thinking? He acted like I was a monster.”  “His death isn’t your fault,” Hawke wanted to say, but Fenris spoke first.  “You are a monster.”  Hawke stopped dead, turning on her heel to look at them. Fenris was not looking at her; he was looking at Merrill, disgust plain on his face. Isabela stared at him, moving to set a hand on Merrill’s shoulder. “You aren’t helping,” the pirate told him.  Tears had long since begun to fall down Merrill’s cheeks, darkening the collar of her dress, and when Isabela drew her closer more of them fell from her chin to the green fabric below.  “Good,” Fenris snapped. He opened his mouth to say more, but glanced at Hawke and shut it again.  You are a monster.  Hawke could not say if she was angrier for Merrill or herself. No—she couldn’t say what she was feeling at all, really. Fenris looked at her, his mouth pressed into a narrow line, but at last he turned away.  “Come on,” Hawke told Merrill, reaching for the elbow Isabela wasn’t holding. “Let’s get us out of these caves, alright? Nothing is ever helped by the addition of giant spiders.” Merrill nodded, her hands steady despite her tears, and allowed herself to be led from the caves.  You are a monster. 

Tagging: @star--nymph @ndostairlyrium @heniareth @daggerbean @alta-et-astra @palipunk @dungeons-and-dragon-age @idolsgf

[adoracora-elizabeth]

But Papa! Why? Chapter 3

"I will not be home this weekend." Robert said while putting his fork down.

Rosamund had invited him and their parents for dinner. And they just finished the main course.

"So, we come to London for you to be away?" Violet said with an annoyed tone.

"I cannot help that Rosamund suddenly plans a family dinner. I already have plans this weekend, and I will not be home. You can use my apartment, while I am away."

"Where are you going son?" Patrick asked, while also putting down his knife and fork.

Just having some downtime out of the city centre."

"You wanted to move to the city, we never forced you too." Violet said.

"I know Mama, and I like it. But sometimes I just want a little break, like a holiday."

"Are you seeing a girl?" Marmaduke joked.

Robert wished he were. It was already a couple of weeks ago that he met Cora and he forgot to ask her number. He had not been in his house in Richmond since then and had not the change to bump into her. "No, I am not seeing a girl. If you must know I am seeing John."

The evening never seemed to end, but finally Robert walked back to his apartment. He had not told his parents that he started to play the piano. It turned out that he was quite good at it, but he was ashamed to tell them. He was also scared for his mother's reaction. She never reacted well on things that did not go according to her plan. And being a musician was not something on her list of doing well. His father would probably not mind, but he was not taking the risk that his mother would find out.

He had searched for a small house just outside of the city centre and he ended up in Richmond. He found a house with a small garden. His piano fitted perfectly in the living room, and he did not need more. It was weird that a small home like that gave him such a comfort feeling. The bedroom was small, his double bed barely fitted and the other bedroom, was not even big enough for a double bed. The bathroom had needed an upgrade, and he hired a contractor to place a modern one. Yes, it was small, but he had a nice shower and that was all he needed. For him it was the best place to create music. He had started playing music from composer's like Einaudi, but he now was also composing his own. It was a challenge, but he really liked that, he needed something more than telling people how to run their estate's. He knew that one day he was expected to run Downton, but for now that day was still far away. His father was in his mid-sixties, so if everything went according to plan, he would have at least ten more years outside of Downton. If he worked hard enough, he would have made name in the music industry. John was the only one who knew about his aspiration’s, and he gave him an alibi quite regularly.

With his bag on his shoulder, he walked towards the subway. He was looking forward to a weekend with just himself and his music. He was secretly hoping to see Cora, she lived in the same area. The fact that he had bumped into her in the supermarket was for him prove enough she lived in Richmond. It was tempting to just walk around, hoping to bump into her. But that would be foolish. He needed to work on his piece. In less than two months he had an appointment with a producer, who was willing to look into his work. But by that time, he needed to have some of his own work ready. He did not want to the kind of piano player that only copied work from others. He wanted to produce his own records, how wonderful it would be to walk past shops and see his own name on the sleeves of records. He knew it was a silly dream, but he hold on to that dream, especially because it made him happy.

After a short ride he walked into the street where his second home away from home was. He noticed that he was constantly scanning his surroundings, hoping to see her. And at the same time, it would be better if she did not see him with his bag. She should not know he had a second house here. What if she found out he played the piano, she would laugh and run from him, surely. He reached his house, without seeing anybody he knew. He needed to start having doubles of everything, so he only needed a small backpack when he moved between houses.

He dumbed his bag upstairs; he would look at it later. He needed to get a song out of his head. He had been thinking of Cora constantly the last couple of days and she inspired him. He opened the piano lid and brushed with his fingers over the keys. He felt so much love for his instrument, the bond they had was special. The fact he felt this for his piano, made him even more ashamed to tell people about it. It did not feel as if it was normal to have those feelings. He heard about musicians, who talked lovingly about their instruments, but they all had been big artist.

He sat down and his fingers started running over the key's. Warm tones filled the room, he had opened the window, since it was a nice summer day. The endless heat had finally left, and only nice warmth was left. The tunes felt like a river running down, through green hills. Sometimes it was a slow stream, but then it transformed into a small waterfall. The water tinkling down, finding its way to lower ground. Where it gathered into a small pond. Where small forest animals came to lessen their thirst. Small birds chirping around. He went fully into the music, he lost himself and the notes followed each other quickly. Once he got to the end of the song, he realised that he forgot to turn on his recorder and he did not write down a single note. Could he recall what he had played? He could only hope.

He thought about Cora's face, her soft expressions. Her melodic voice, her blue eyes that sparkled when she looked at him and laughed about a joke. Her long fingers, holding up her glass. That glass that went to her perfectly formed red lips. Lips that were very kissable he thought. He had only seen her twice, and he could recall every detail of her face. It did help to bring the music back that he had just produced. And while playing, he now wrote down what he had played. With help of his recorder, he had written down a new piece a couple of hours later.

That was no surprise at all! He had not eaten since he had left home. He could have food delivered, but he decided to walk to the supermarket. Who knows who he had run into! It would be a coincidence if Cora were in the supermarket again, but he could always hope. Could he not?

+++

Feeling a little bit disappointed Robert walked home. He stocked enough food to fill his fridge, he decided to stay a little bit longer than this weekend. His felt inspired to the bone and he needed to get it all out before it was lost.

"Carson, can you make sure my appointments for Monday and Tuesday are all rescheduled."

....

"No, I am not sick. I cannot come into the office, but no I am not sick. Please just reschedule those appointments. I will be back on Wednesday and will make up for the lost two days."

....

"I do not need permission from Lady Grantham for this. Please do not bother her with unnecessary information. Her schedule is busy enough."

Robert walked home, while he called Carson. He realised that it was officially his free day on Saturday, but he did not want to have to call in on Monday morning. And the day Carson had started working for him, he had said that he could call day and night. Robert realised, that he was acting like a spoiled prince. He felt guilty instantly. But it was too late now. Carson was arranging his free days for him at this moment.

In the distance somebody was running towards him. Dressed in black leggings and a pink top. Her white shoes were hitting the pavement in a nice rhythm. Her hair was tied up, but some curls had escaped and danced around her face. When she came closer, he saw that it was Cora. Suddenly he did not know what to do, and he had to fight the urge to hide behind a tree. It was already too late to even try to hide because Cora had spotted him. A smile played around her mouth.

"Are you stalking me?" She asked, while she slowed down.

Robert felt his face turn red, even though he had thought about searching for her. At this moment he was genuinely just on the streets because he needed to bring his groceries back home.

"I am not trying to." He stuttered.

Cora was running on her spot, but now stopped. "I was only joking. You have every right to walk on these streets as I have. I am only surprised to see you here again. John did live in Twickenham. Did he not?"

"He indeed does, I was just getting some groceries." Robert could slap himself, why did he say that. Now Cora must wonder why he was getting groceries in an area that he did not even live.

"We all need those. Well, it was nice seeing you again." She smiled again and started walking again. She quickly picked up the same rhythm as before. Robert stared at her; it was fascinating how her body moved. Her small waist perfectly formed bottom. Her hair that was dancing again. She was mesmerising.

When she turned a corner, he was woken up out his trance and realised, that he once again had let her go without asking her number. Although, that would have been weird, because he had just said, that he was not stalking her. He sighed. Why were things so complicated.