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#and it starts out sounding like your master and then it just sounds like you

calicoheartz · 2 days

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Hi! I love your fics and writing style ❤️.Could you maybe do something with Kate Martin x fem reader where Kate gets insecure that she isn’t enough for r and starts to distance herself but r notices and they work it all out. 🫶🏽

Unworthy Hearts ; Kate Martin ღ

꣑୧ — summary | basically the prompt !

wc ; 500

— warnings | just angst , with a happy ending !

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : omg yayay my first kate fic ! tysm for requesting this :D enjoy ! ◡̈

Kate sat at her desk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she pretended to focus on the paperwork in front of her. But her mind was elsewhere, consumed by a storm of doubts and insecurities that threatened to engulf her.

She stole a glance across the room at you, her heart sinking at the sight of their radiant smile. You were everything she had ever wanted—kind, funny, and breathtakingly beautiful. But lately, Kate couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't enough for you.

As the days passed, Kate found herself withdrawing, her laughter forced and her smiles fleeting. She couldn't bear to burden you with her insecurities, couldn't bear to admit that she was afraid of losing you.

Whether it was purposefully coming home late to practice, canceling plans you made in advance, or giving short and dry responses. It hurt you to see her like this, resulting in a product of her burdening anxiety.

You noticed the change in Kate, the way she seemed to shrink into herself, her laughter hollow and her eyes clouded with worry. And so, one evening, as they sat together on the couch, and decided to confront the issue head-on.

"Kate," you began softly, their voice gentle yet firm. "I've noticed that something's been bothering you lately. You seem... distant."

Kate's heart clenched at the concern in your voice, her throat tightening with unspoken words. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out, her insecurities weighing heavily on her heart.

Youreached out, their hand finding hers in the dim light of the room. "You can talk to me, you know," you whispered, your gaze searching Kate's face for any sign of reassurance.

Tears pricked at the corners of Kate's eyes as she finally found the courage to speak. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I've been feeling so insecure lately, like I'm not enough for you."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in Kate's words, their fingers tightening around hers in a silent promise of support. "Kate," you murmured, your voice filled with love and understanding. "You are more than enough for me. You're everything I've ever wanted."

A sob escaped Kate's lips as she buried her face in your shoulder, her tears flowing freely now. "Y/n, I'm so afraid of losing you," she confessed, her voice muffled against their skin.

You wrapped their arms around Kate, holding her close as you whispered words of reassurance and love. "You won't lose me, Kate. I'm not going anywhere," they vowed, your heart swelling with affection for the woman in their arms.

And in that moment, as they held each other close, Kate realized that her insecurities had no power in the face of her girlfriends unwavering love. She had found someone who accepted her flaws and all, someone who saw her for who she truly was. And as she pressed a tender kiss to your lips, she knew that she was finally home.

sorryyy this was super short !! not super used to writing for Kate but pls leave more reqs!! I’d definitely love to get into her more ❤️ as always tysm for reading !

#wlw #wlw imagine #wcbb #my hcs #wcbb x reader #headcannons #kate martin x reader #kate martin #uconn vs iowa #iowa women’s basketball #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wnba basketball #las vegas aces #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #iowa #caitmylove

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violettduchess · 1 day

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A/N: My first Ikevil fic! I loved Harry's route and figured why not ease into writing him by starting with a kiss 💋

Harrison x Reader

WC: 500

Note: I only tagged people who have previously asked to be tagged in everything. If you want to specifically be tagged in Ikemen Villains fics/headcanons, please let me know!

You might think that if you found a man reading by firelight, settled into an expensive leather Ottoman the color of burnished copper, he would be drinking whiskey. Or maybe wine. A rich Irish single malt or perhaps layered, velvety Merlot.

But not your Harry.

He’s drinking strawberry milk.

The sight of it has laughter bubbling out of you, a soft, almost musical sound and he looks up, his wintergreen eyes suddenly bright as he watches you set down your evening clutch and approach him. The missive he was reading slips from his long fingers, flutters down onto the thick burgundy carpet. There are other, far more important matters that require his attention now.

He reaches for you, strong hands gripping the line of your waist as you boldly straddle his lap, your voluminous maroon skirt spreading across him like a blossoming flower. His smile is slow and unhurried when you lean down, touching your forehead to his. You lock your fingers behind his neck, breathing in the familiar, tangy scent of mint.

“They kept you out far too late,” he murmurs, his voice enveloping you like the softest of cashmere.

“I’m here now,” you answer, falling into the pastel tenderness of his gaze, struck for the hundredth time by just how beautiful he is. You glance over at the glass of pale pink milk he’s set down on the end table. “How’s your nightcap?” You’re teasing him and he loves it.

Gently pulling you closer, his eyes flutter closed like a butterfly closing its brilliant wings. “C’mere and have a taste.”

His lips are sweet, like strawberries kissed by summer sunshine. His palms slide down to feel the curve of your hip through your skirt, his grip tightening, pulling you closer still. Your hands unlock and you wrap both arms fully around him, melting into the hard planes of his body. He kisses you slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, a hedonist indulging himself in the most heady of pleasures. He savors each kiss, languid and almost lazy in the movement of his lips, the slide of his tongue against yours.

“Harry…” His name, that cherished and precious word, is a whisper, a twinkle of starlight in the night. Twin tendrils of the softest affection and the brightest desire are twined around it. He drops his head, burying his face into the warm curve of your neck, pressing his lips against the place where your heart is drumming just for him. He doesn’t need to open his eyes because in your arms, there is nothing but truth. He feels it in the way your fingers push their way through his tawny hair. He hears it in the stuttering breath that escapes you. He tastes it on your lips and smells it on your skin.

He rises, effortlessly lifting you into his arms, holding you close against his chest as his long legs swallow the distance to your bedroom. You cling to him, press a kiss to his cheek as he carries you, not caring where you’re going.

After all, in his arms, you are always home.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

@ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics

@justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network

#ikemen series #ikemen villains #ikevil #harrison gray #ikevil harrison #kiss fic #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 days

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Hi wqa! I have a pair that clearly has romantic tension from the very start, but they have reasons to not act on it. There's a time skip that ties into the second part of the story, where the tension rises and they work out the reason they weren't able to get together. Given the reasons were internal (so not external stuff that actually kept them) I fear that the reader will question why this didn't happen before the time skip. As in, "it was too artificial to wait for the time skip."

Do you think this needs fixing? I can't tell if I'm worrying about nothing or if it's actually a problem.

Thank you for your time.

Couple Kept Apart by Internal Obstacle

If you're worried the reader would wonder why the internal obstacle couldn't be overcome before the time jump, it sounds like your internal obstacle is superficial and needs to be fleshed out a bit.

An internal obstacle has to be about more than just the issue itself. For example, let's say you have two characters, one with a fear of commitment (FoC) and one with a fear of getting hurt (FoGH). These make for great obstacles to the relationship, but without knowing why these fears exist or what needs to change in order for these characters to grow, they're superficial. There's no context for these fears or understanding for what needs to change, which is what makes the reader wonder why it's an obstacle before but not later.

So, in that first part of the story, you'll want to explore (through character thought, dialogue, flashbacks, etc.) the events in your characters' lives that led these fears to develop in the first place. You'll also want to illustrate how these fears interact... in the case of a fear of commitment and a fear of getting hurt, it's easy to see the problem. Because a solid commitment might be enough to help FoGH's fear of getting hurt, but if FoC is too afraid to commit, well... that doesn't bode well for them.

As you explore these internal conflicts and how they prevent a relationship between these two characters, you can also start laying the foundation for how that will change. Again, through character thought, dialogue, even action... you can have little things happen that show the characters they have it within them to change. It's possible for FoC to get over their fear of commitment, and it's possible for FoGH to get over their fear of getting hurt. You may also want to set up the pieces for how these changes are going to occur. Let's say FoC learns commitment through the military, and FoGH becomes more confident in their ability to survive being hurt after a couple of high-potential-but-failed relationships in college. If you set up that these characters part ways (before the time jump) because FoC is going into the military and FoGH is going off to college, once you do the time jump, you can pick back up at some point later in their lives after they've gotten over these fears.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

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clemblog · 2 days

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Caine’s Lesson - Part 10

•

Pomni was in the ranch kitchen, helping Ma Gator with the next meal for the day, as Gummigoo, Max and Chad messed around outside whilst sorting through the supplies they'd found.

“You know Poms, I am glad my son found you.” She spoke softly.

“O-Oh, really?”

“Indeed. I think you’ll be good for him. You remind me of my late husband, you know.”

“I-I do?”

“Mhm, he was a sweetheart, just like yourself. A little timid but dived right into the adventures once he found his feet. It’s why I fell for him in the first place, he was so caring but also so hard working.”

“That sounds nice-“

“Indeed. It’s why I have hopes for you and my son! You compliment him rather well!”

Pomni didn’t know what to say to this, Justine nodding along as she cut up fruits and vegetables. Her face was a little flustered but she wasn’t going to acknowledge that-

“You know Gummigoo, you’re real buddy buddy with Poms~” Mused Max.

“She’s cool, why I wouldn’t I be?” Hummed Gummigoo, softly with a smile.

Max and Chad just looked at each other at this.

You ever look at your friend and you know they have it bad for someone? But they don’t even realise it themselves? That’s what was happening right now.

…

They sure weren’t going to tell him-

This would be hilarious.

“Hey… uh Lou? Where are you?” Hummed Pomni, sheepishly, looking around the barn for Lou.

“I’m over here Poms!” Smiled Lou, waving her over. She was currently knitting some blankets, like she’d learnt so from Ma Croc!

“Hi- Can I talk to you?” Said Pomni, softly. “I uh- need to see if I’m reading a situation correctly-“

“Oh! Right! What’s up? What’s the gossip?” She grinned, gently. Pomni sat down across from her, taking the yarn Lou was making to straighten it out for her ease. She then began to retell Lou the interaction she’d had with Ma.

“Well, how does it make you feel?”

“I’m not sure- If I think she’s insinuating what I think she is- I’m not- against it- But I don’t think I’m ready for it yet- But I will be eventually- J-Just not yet- Does that make sense?”

“Oh totally! It does, especially since all the stuff that’s happened since you arrived here, you know? And it’s weird to say but I think I know the feeling?”

“Y-You do?”

“Yeah, you know those knights I was talking about? Well- I don’t remember her face- But she was so sweet- And so genuine that I can’t help but think of her sometimes- Do you think one day she’ll come back?”

“Oh- I don’t know- Maybe..? We’ll just have to wait and see I suppose-“

•

The circus group had long since headed to bed since their little meet up! Opting to reconvene in the morning.

Everyone was sat back in a little circle, just chatting or doing their own thing.

Then Caine appeared.

“Hello everyone!” He exclaimed, popping into existence. “I am here to collect Gangle for her solo adventure!”

“W-Wait- What..?” Eeked Gangle.

“That is not happening-“ Frowned Zooble, putting an arm firmly on Gangle’s shoulder.

“Yeah, wet blanket here would never get out of a solo adventure if it’s anything like the one I went on.” Hummed Jax.

Gangle didn’t know whether to thank Jax and be annoyed with him at that-

“Yeah Caine! Nobody here wants to go on solo adventures! If we’re going on an adventure it’s one to get back Pomni!” Huffed Ragatha.

Caine’s upbeat attitude seemed to be fading at these claims.

“I-I see. Well. I… was going to keep most of you here.. in hopes someone would abstract and then you’d all need me again-! Pomni would come back- And I’d be your lovable ring master again! …But I see that’s not going to be the case.. Is it? So, I guess it’s time for a clean slate…”

“Wait- What?!” Eeked Ragatha.

A portal wrapped around the group and swallowed them whole.

It was time for a new adventure.

“A-Are you sure this is a good idea Caine?”

“…Never. But I can’t do much else. They’ll need me but I won’t come. They’ll abstract and I can start over.”

“…oh..”

•

Pomni was happily tucked in bed now after a long day. They were set for another day of adventures tomorrow with Gummigoo, Max and Chad. They would never have too many supplies! Especially since some members of the surviving candy kingdom were talking about repopulation, already excited at the premise of a new start with a new kingdom. It was why Lou had got so crafty, she wanted her current citizens and any new citizens that’d arrive in the future to be as comfortable as possible!

If they wanted to be efficient at work, they needed to be well rested, comfy, fed and happy! So, that was the current plan of action for everyone at ranch, which had slowly expanded into a little makeshift village from residents expanding out of the barn into their own bigger makeshift spaces.

It was finally becoming a sustainable and safe area to live and thrive.

•

Ragatha, Jax, Kinger, Zooble and Gangle fell into a familiar chocolate goop.

Oh dear.

Oh god.

This wasn’t good. Was it?

Something was happening.

A deep rumble struck from the void, felt by all humans and NPC’s alike in the form of many apparitions.

Some had nightmares.

Some had stomach aches.

Some felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

Others just slept on undisturbed.

Things were changing in this world.

And it felt like for the worst.

Caine’s AI had changed. And it was Pomni’s fault. Wasn’t it? Was it?

•

A little note from me to you.

CHAPTER TEN!!!

Woo, look at me go! So many words, so many things to write next.

Thank you to everyone who's read this far and has showed support!

I know their are a lot of people making their own

TADC stories and universes, but to know that a collective of people enjoy mine in my own little corner of the internet with silly little comments means so much to me.

So thank you so much for reading!! I'll see you in Chapter 11. <3

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ultram0th · 1 day

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Wolfe Glick's New Career

Part 1 │ Part 2

"Damn it!” Blue, working in his home office, heard Kevin groan from the front door.

He pushed himself away from his desk and walked downstairs, trying to figure out what was wrong. In the entryway of their home, he saw his shirtless, hairy boyfriend clad in nothing but a skimpy jockstrap that struggled to contain his massive bulge. He was frowning as he glanced at the porch, the door swinging wide open so that the whole neighborhood could see his buff frame.

“What is it?” Blue asked, placing a tender hand on Kevin’s hairy pec, trying to fight back a smile as the other man shuddered at the touch, his jockstrap-clad bulge twitching.

Kevin tried to focus on the issue at hand, even as he leaned further into Blue’s touch. “Someone stole our package,” he whined. “Again!”

At the sound of the ruckus downstairs, Nick made his way down and over to the other two. He was still naked from his interrupted stream, his hard cock bobbing out in front of him with every step he took. The only thing he wore was a cowboy hat— something that was a permanent fixture of his wardrobe. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his thick country boy accent as prominent as ever.

Blue crossed his arms in front of himself. “It seems that there’s been some porch pirates in the area,” he mused, trying to think up a solution.

Kevin snorted, “Maybe if we had a guard dog to scare the thieves away.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “Some big fella who would scare any of them robbers away. That’d do the trick.”

An idea started to form in Blue’s mind and he began to smirk to himself. “A big, strong guard dog?” he hummed. “That’s a pretty good idea…”

— — —

“…so make sure you like and subscribe for more Pokémon content,” Wolfe Glick said into his webcam, giving his usual sign off for his next video. He clicked on the red circle icon, stopping his recording.

He glanced at the time on his computer, and shot out of his seat once he realized that he was running late for his appointment. The World Champion Pokémon player was an avid streamer, and with Worlds coming up, he was starting to feel the pressure a little bit. It wasn’t anything too terrible, but Wolfe figured that the smartest thing to do would be to talk to a professional before any of his anxieties grew.

After doing some Internet searching, Wolfe had stumbled upon the homepage of a certain hypnotherapist named Blue, who claimed to specialize in work-related anxiety. After one phone call, he’d made an appointment with the hypnotherapist, hoping that he could use his expertise to help him dominate at Worlds and maintain his top position as the World’s Greatest Pokémon Master.

After leaving his place, Wolfe made it to the hypnotherapist’s home office just in time. He parked his car in back and made his way up to the front door.

He barely had time to knock before the front door swung open, revealing the doctor. “Welcome, Wolfe,” Blue grinned. “I’ve been expecting you. Please come in.”

The streamer followed Blue inside the home, noting how cozy it was. There was the faint smell of musk, as if there was an at-home gym on the premises. Plus, he could see a variety of consoles and gaming memorabilia.

“You game?” Wolfe asked, finding playing video games a safe way to form a connection with a new person.

Blue nodded as he led the other man into his office, gesturing towards the sofa for him to relax on. “From time to time,” he said. “My boyfriends play a lot more than I do. They actually stream for a living.”

Wolfe nodded to himself as he took the offered seat.

“But you didn’t come all the way here to discuss gaming with me, did you?” Blue asked, grabbing his notebook and pen. “Tell me, Wolfe, what’s on your mind?”

The streamer shrugged his broad shoulders, and the bottom of his polo lifted with the action, giving Blue a sneak peek of his happy trail. “I’ve just been feeling a little stress and anxiety over this competition that’s coming up,” he admitted. “It’s nothing too much, but I just wanted to talk to someone to make sure I stay grounded.”

Blue nodded, humming to himself in thought. “You know,” he finally said, “there are some hypnosis treatments that I can offer you to help keep your stress levels down.”

“Sure, let’s try it,” he said, leaning back into the sofa.

The hypnotherapist fought to hide his mischievous smirk as he grabbed his pocket watch out of his coat. “Now, just focus your attention on the watch and listen to the sound of my voice,” he said in a smooth tone.

Wolfe did as instructed, and he instantly felt relaxed as he watched the pocket watch swing left and right. The sounds of the Blue’s melodic words lulled him into a deep sleep, and eventually his eyes glazed over and his jaw was slack as he fell under Blue’s control.

A wide grin stretched out Blue’s face. “Now Wolfe, I want you to listen to every command I give you,” he said, his voice slow and deep. “Tell me if you understand.”

“I understand,” Wolfe repeated in a monotone, his eyes still fixated on the swinging pocket watch.

“Now, Wolfe, you may continue your streaming career, but you’re also going to take up another passion: Bodybuilding.”

“I will take up bodybuilding,” Wolfe repeated.

“You will look into bodybuilding and you will grow consumed with the thought of getting bigger. And you won’t listen to anyone who questions this new desire of yours.”

“I want to get bigger.”

Snap! Blue snapped his fingers, jolting Wolfe out of his daze.

Wolfe jerked back in his seat, rubbing at his temples in confusion. The last thing he’d been able to vividly recall was arriving at the doctor’s home. Yet, after that, everything was fuzzy. He struggled to recall anything during the hypnosis session, but a thick fog seemed to solidify in his brain, effectively blocking it out.

The streamer continued to massage his foggy head as he tried to piece together anything. However, he soon realized that the mild panic he’d felt earlier in the morning was gone. Whereas, he’d felt a little apprehension about the upcoming Pokémon tournaments, he didn’t feel worried in the slightest now as he sat in front of Blue.

The man perked up. “It worked!” he gasped in surprised. “Holy crap, it actually worked!”

Blue smiled to himself. “Of course it did,” he chuckled. “Now, let’s go ahead an schedule you a follow-up…”

After scheduling another session, Wolfe left the doctor’s office with his head held high. The cute streamer was in awe that the hypnotherapy actually worked, and he was planning on telling all of his friends about the miracle worker that Dr. Blue was. However, all of his elation fell down to the ground when he saw his reflection in the tinted windows of his car.

Wolfe deeply frowned when he examined his body.

He’d worn a simple polo and some shorts for his session, so his limbs were easily visible. However, the man grew self-conscious when he saw how stick thin and tiny his arms looked. He flexed one arm, feeling immense disappointment when his bicep barely created a lump. Looking down at himself, his chest seemed embarrassingly flat, showing absolutely zero traces of muscle whatsoever. And his legs were like toothpicks: thin and simple.

Never before had Wolfe ever felt self-conscious about his body. Being a streamer, he tended to not get as much exercise as he’d preferred to; however, all he seemed to be able to think about as he stared at his slender reflection was that he was so small and tiny.

Without a second thought, Wolfe got into his car and sped down the road to one of the local gyms in the area. He hurried inside and paid for a membership, immediately heading towards the weight pile…

— — —

There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Blue left his office to go answer it. He swung it open widely, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he saw his altered client.

“Good morning, Dr. Blue,” Wolfe smiled as he entered the house for his follow-up appointment.

It’d been about two months since his last visit, and although he’d known that the results would be drastic, Blue still wasn’t fully prepared for what he saw.

Whereas before, Wolfe had been rather slender and toned, this new hunk was packed with solid muscle. Still wearing the same sized clothes as before, Wolfe’s new muscles stretched every fabric to the limit. His arms had grown, making the tight sleeves of his polo bunch up near his rounding shoulders. The bottom of his shirt was lifted a little bit due to his growing pecs that were now so big that the streamer couldn’t button up the polo at the top. His legs had grown a bit too, forcing his usual strut to take on a little bit of a waddle.

“Wow, Wolfe, you’ve been working out, haven’t you?” Blue mused, quite literally drooling over the growing gamer.

Wolfe blushed a little bit. “Yeah, a little bit,” he said, flexing a sizable bicep, causing the fabric around his arms to rip a little bit. “I’m still nowhere near as big as I’d like to be though.”

Blue smirked a little as an idea formed in his head. “Well, I can help you out with that too,” he offered. “If you’d like, of course.”

Wolfe eagerly agreed and nearly threw himself down onto the couch, sitting up straight as he readied himself for another hypnotherapy session. His stress levels were already at an all time low, so if Blue could help him out with his workouts, then he’d feel one-hundred percent at peace. Over the past few months, Wolfe still streamed and prepared for Worlds; however, whenever he wasn’t playing Pokémon, the stud was in the gym. He worked out religiously all in attempt to bulk up. Although he was gaining some impressive muscles in such a short amount of time (and he’d already gained about twenty pounds of pure muscle), he was nowhere near feeling big enough. He still felt tiny, despite having outgrown all of his clothes that were now plastered against his growing frame.

“Just pay attention to the pocket watch,” Blue ordered, swinging it to and fro.

Again, it didn’t take long before Wolfe was lost in a trance, his jaw slacked as the growing muscle stud was put under.

“Wolfe,” Blue smiled, “you’re making some nice progress, but we can speed things up a bit. You’re now going to feel an urge to take steroids so that you can get as inhumanly big as possible.”

“I will take steroids,” Wolfe repeated, his voice robotic and slow.

“And once you’re all big and bulky like a bodybuilder, you’ll come move in here to be our good guard dog.”

“I will be a big guard dog…”

— — —

Over the next few months, Wolfe practically lived in the gym. He still focused on his streaming career, and even won Worlds. However, now that that was out of the way, the growing hunk was able to devote all of his time to working out and growing his muscles.

At his gym, he’d managed to make some connections to get a hold of some fast-acting steroids that were guaranteed to bring about drastic results. At first, Wolfe noticed the side effects more than anything. His body hair grew in thicker with all of the extra testosterone in his system, leading to his chest hair growing in at a faster rate and covering up all of his budding muscles. And his libido was in hyperdrive. The streamer was constantly horny, and after each workout session, he had to excuse himself to the locker room to take care of his throbbing member.

Whereas Wolfe had started out his hypnotherapy sessions weighing in a regular 180 pounds, the stud was now topping the scales at 320 pounds of pure, solid muscle. His arms had packed on so much size that he had trouble bending them past a ninety degree angle, and whenever they were relaxed, they rested atop his new flaring lats. His pecs had inflated to large proportions, looking cumbersome and heavy as they jutted off his torso. The hairy mounds were so large that they forced his nipples to point downward; and his large pecs and arms kept pushing against each other whenever he tried to told a game controller for his streams which led to a lot of his videos showing him struggling to get comfortable in his tiny chair with such a large bulky body. His legs were so large now that the streamer waddled everywhere he went, his massive thighs rolling over each other with each step. Thanks to his steroid usage, his stomach pushed out slightly, giving him the beginnings of what would eventually turn into a large, round roidgut.

Wolfe was huge! His large hairy muscles were professional bodybuilder size, and the stud still wanted to get bigger. He had trouble finding clothes that would fit over his enormous bulk, resulting in his wardrobe consisting of numerous tanks and loose shorts. Still, at their largest size, his shorts appeared shrink wrapped around his big quads, and his pecs constantly spilled out over the tops of his tanks.

It was dressed like this that Wolfe made his way back to Blue’s place for what was supposed to be their final session. Although Wolfe felt as if his anxiety was under control, he still felt compelled to venture back to the hypnotherapist’s office.

When he entered, he felt an odd surge of pride when he saw how wide Blue’s eyes got when looking at his muscles.

“Wow, Wolfey,” Blue genuinely mused. “You’re huge!”

Wolfe felt his face stretch out into a joyful smile at being called huge, and he couldn’t resist forming a double biceps pose on the spot. His mountainous biceps flexed with power, and since he’d come straight to the doctor’s after his workout, his hairy pits were all sweaty and musky, filling the small office with a locker room aroma.

Blue ran an admiring hand over one of Wolfe’s large muscletits, giving the round muscle a playful squeeze. “You must’ve been working out a lot,” he teased. “Such a big, strong guy you are!”

Wolfe couldn’t help but preen at the compliments he was getting. For some strange reason, they seemed to bring about a joyous sensation deep within him, and he felt himself growing more and more excited by the second. His hard cock started to tent out his workout shorts, and he moved to another pose. This time, forming a side chest pose to illustrate just how much work he’d put into building up his massive body.

“Is that him?” Wolfe heard a deep voice with a country accent ask.

Still posing, he looked over to the stairs to see two men descend. One was wearing cowboy hat while the other had grown out what looked like a porn stache. Both were hairy and left their impressive (yet way smaller than his) chests on full display.

Instead of being self-conscious at being caught showing off his muscles for another guy, Wolfe loved having more guys look at him. The streamer leaned forward to form a most muscular pose, loving every second that the three guys were gawking at his humongous muscles.

“Yep,” Blue said, clapping Wolfe on the back. “This is Wolfey, our new guard dog. With muscles as big as his, no one will dare to steal our packages anymore. Watch…”

The hypnotherapist pressed a button on his phone, making the doorbell ring.

Something inside of Wolfe clicked and the large bodybuilder streamer felt a fierce protectiveness grow inside of himself. Looking at Blue, Nick, and Kevin, Wolfe started to view the men in a different light. Suddenly, instead of strangers, the three of them were the most handsome men in the world to Wolfe, and he could feel an almost animalistic instinct form in the pit of his gut.

At the thought of someone being at the door, Wolfe dropped onto all fours with a loud thud. The large bodybuilder crawled over the door, his massive muscular arms slamming onto the floor intimidatingly as he moved. He felt himself bare his teeth, letting out a low, bellowing growl.

“Grrr…” Wolfey growled as he protected his new home like a guard dog. He puffed out his hairy, muscular chest with power. Had someone really been at the door, then no doubt, they would’ve been scared away by the sight of the growling bodybuilder.

Blue smirked and walked up to Wolfey. He fastened a leather collar with spikes adorning it around his neck. Attached to it was a metallic tag in the shape of a dog bone that read out: WOLFEY.

Wolfey flinched at the feeling and for a moment, something inside of his foggy brain screamed at him that something was wrong. It said that he shouldn’t be on the floor of the hypnotherapist’s office, and that he shouldn’t be this big. However, as he looked up into Blue’s eyes, he felt the panic quickly evaporate and he flexed his large muscles with pride.

“Who’s my good boy?” Blue teasingly asked, patting Wolfey on the head.

The bodybuilder streamer straightened his posture and flexed his large arms again. “Me,” he beamed widely. “I’m a good boy!”

Over the next few days, Wolfey blended into the new dynamic at Blue’s household seamlessly. In the morning, he would wake up and stream some Pokémon, showing off his massive muscles for his viewers and flexing whenever they tipped him. Then he’d start to work out in the home gym, grunting loudly as he lifted heavy weights like they were nothing. He also proved to be quite the guard dog too, fiercely protecting his new house and its inhabitants. There were no more porch pirate incidents, especially after Wolfey came bounding out the front door, barking and displaying his massive muscles to scare the would-be robber away.

The massive bodybuilder guard dog loved his new life with Blue, Kevin, and Nick. He was such a good boy.

#muscle #musclegrowth #bodybuilder #pecs #straight-to-gay #hypnosis #Wolfe Glick #Puppification #Good Boy #Nick Jonas #Kevin Jonas #the jonas brothers #Unaware

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globalrebrand · 5 hours

Text

The Musicology Professor at Night Raven College

F!Music Director Reader x NRC Staff x NRC Students

Imagine being the new Musicology Professor at Night Raven College. Maybe like Crewel you had a career but were looking for a change of pace, a break from the chaotic life of a touring mage musician.

So Crowley hires you to replace the old notoriously grumpy old man who served as music and choral director at NRC for nearly 40 years. The boys choir at RSA has been winning a lot of accolades and he wants to rival them so he hires the best of the best. However, he didn't anticipate quite the splash you made with your arrival. NRC has a minority cohort of women who teach, but they're probably only around 20% of the staff, and regretfully only a few hold positions as department chairs.

So when you arrive, a somewhat subdued but still deeply alluring master musical prodigy, the students and staff are deeply affected. The other women instructors are overjoyed to have one more to add to their ranks, even if you happen to now be the youngest teacher on staff in your late 20s.

As the orchestra instructor you teach students how to play instruments physically and conduct them magically and while your work as a choir director a bit more standard there is a little bit of magic you teach students to employ for performances. With your orchestra and choir groups at the advanced and intermediate levels you compete across sage isle and internationally. In a short time you've managed to raise the reputation of NRC's magical music program, making it THE place for up and coming musical mages.

Crowley is so pleased that you've taken so well to the school. The reality is the the older choir teacher wasn't ready to retire but when he heard that RSA had made you an offer to be the choral director he doubled the salary for you to come to NRC, and strongly "encouraged" the old musicology professor to retire. The wave of good press and monetary grants that accompanied your arrival has been such a boon for the school. And oh, he supposes it's nice the students like you as well. He will admit that incidents of fighting and bad behavior have gone down since you've started. Most of the boys fear nothing more than your disappointment and act accordingly, at least when you're around. His only pet peeve with you is that you keep pushing for choral collaboration between NRC and RSA in the form of extravagant costly concerts in the city, but then you remind him of everything you've done for the school and he never denies your funding requests.

Does the stage really need luxury florals to make the music sound better? Ah ok ok you're the professional!

Crewel is undeniably sweet on you. He always ensures that your students procure the nicest flowers to be delivered to you after performances and personally gifts you something as well. Last time is was a luxury scarf, and while you don't know what the next gift will be you can't imagine a nicer gift. In the mornings, Crewel likes to come into the music room and enjoy coffee while you idly play piano before the students come in. It's become a morning ritual for you both. He always compliments your fashion and if you ever need a dog sitter he's the first in line to volunteer, your pups can just come hang out with his. He hasn't made any formal overtures, but you're hoping that it’s just a matter of time.

Watch it whelps, you better make sure you're on your best behavior for the Professor.

You and Mozus have a weekly tea date that initally started out as a mentorship of sorts when you first arrived and then transitioned into casually hangout between friends where school is usually the last topic of conversation. You both appreciate fine arts, literature and of course classical music. As a certified girl dad™️ he he assumes a bit of a paternal role. You’re a bit younger than his daughters both of whom have married started families, and Trein can’t help but probe about your love life, why you discontinued your profession as a touring musician etc, and you share with him openly and willingly. He always helps you out with disrespectful students or any other problems you might face at NRC. Namely keeping a certain lusty gym teacher out of your vicinity. You both have season tickets at the opera on the Land of Dawning’s main island which you attend monthly.

Ahh Professor, you're just in time. Have a seat, the tea's just finished brewing. I don't know about you but my week has been hell.

Vargas has had to be reprimanded multiple times about hitting on you and other female staff members. At this point he's been advised not go near you unless absolutely necessary. You see him at staff meetings where he usually shoots you a wink that makes your skin crawl.

Of course Professor, I'd be happy to tell you more about myself over dinner. What do you mean you didn't ask?

It was completely by accident that you learned Sam was a talented jazz pianist, but a welcome one. It now turned into you both sharing music with each other, him expanding your already considerable music knowledge with some more niche jazz from his homeland and you sharing some lesser known classical favorites.

Wait until you hear this professor! I think you’re really going to like it. I also happen to have the first edition record is you're interested, at a discount for my favorite faculty!

Heartslabyul

Riddle plays the piano quite well, he’s the lead pianist in your concert orchestra class. You appreciate how he treats orchestra with the same diligence as all of his other course work. He’s a breath of fresh air who is always respectful. At the end of his first year he gave you an absolutely extravagant luxury hamper from Queendom of Roses filled with wine, chocolate and all types of sweet treats and a very sweet card. While you weren’t the only one of Riddle’s teachers to receive a hamper but yours was by far the most luxurious.

“For you Professor, I hope that this gift adequately conveys my appreciation for you- your teaching that is!”

You had his brother in your choir class a few years ago, so when you saw Ace Trappola on your roster for beginning choir, you prayed he wouldn't also be a major pain in the ass. His brother constantly joked around, disrupting class then handed you his cell number at graduation. Ace is slightly more behaved, but similarly far too casual with you and not subtle with his flirtatious behavior. It's obvious he doesn't take your class very seriously, but you don't mind very much.

“Hey teach my brother wants to know if you’re still single. Just kidding!”

You obviously can’t admit it, but Deuce is one of your favorites. He's so sweet and well meaning and he's made so much progress! He struggles with reading in music beginning choir, but always asks you for help. You really admire his dedication. No need to tell him that anyone who does their best gets a passing grade. It’s so cute to see him try! When the other students disrespect you by saying something crass he’s one of the first to jump to your defense.

Thank you for being patient with me Professor! I promise I won’t let you down!

A rare case, Cater is enrolled in both advanced levels of your course. He’s far too shameless, but you can’t deny his talent. Sometimes you wished you had a spray bottle for when he gets to close, but he's an excellent member of both concert orchestra and concert choir and has been since his first years at NRC. Initially he placed into intermediate band but has been in your advanced class for two years now. He plays upright bass. He's also the one who begged you to supervise Pop Music Club.

Do I get a reward for being your favorite cellist? If so I can think of a few ways you can- Ack! Since when do you carry a spray bottle?!

Trey plays clarinet in intermediate orchestra, he's a rather unremarkable musician but kind and diligent. Also ever since he learned your dessert preferences at least once a month you find a half a dozen of your favorite treat on your desk.

For you professor I know these are your favorite.

Savanaclaw

You don't understand why other teachers complain about Leona, he's never given you a problem a day in his life. He listens to all of your requests. He’s become quite good and is an important bass vocalist in concert choir. You thought he'd refuse to participate in concert choir but when you asked he immediately agreed. Apparently your class is the only one where he has perfect attendance and he usually stays awake the whole period.

Present, Professor. *yawn*

Jack is one of the freshman in your home room and plays the horn in your beginning band class and he's pretty promising. You love how is tail wags every time you walk into the room, it's so flattering to know your student thinks so highly of you. He's donated a small collection of cacti to the music room and your home room class room since it gets such beautiful sunshine throughout the day.

It’s a succulent I grew. It’s small so maybe it can sit on your piano? Not that I want you to be reminded of me when you look at it or anything.

Ruggie used to not really care about your class until he learned that you could win scholarships and if the choir does well the school will pay for trips abroad to competition venues. He's not the strongest vocalist but he knows how to read music well.

Where’s the concert choir final this year? Oh Queendom of Roses? Perfect! I’ve never been.

Octavinelle

Azul loves to sing and is a bit of a suck up. He’s a great tenor and for that reason alone he thinks he deserves to have a solo at each concert. The only person he'll defer to is Vil, but for everyone else he’ll do whatever it takes to beat out his peers for top spots. Always sends you flowers and discount coupons for dine at Monstro Lounge. His gestures have yet to win you over.

Such a shame that second year soloist got sick before the concert, have you thought about who to replace him with? I'm sure I could learn the part last minute.

You don’t have much interaction Jade. He’s a perfectly behaved student but doesn’t put too much stock into choir. However he knows you like to cook and often brings you fresh forage he finds in the mountains. However you wonder if he’s been instructed to do so by Azul rather than of his own volition.

Azul said you like to cook, maybe you can do something with these truffles I found?

Floyd loves his saxophone, but can be so temperamental. Some days he’s excellent but he’s easily bored. So you always go out of your way to make sure you select pieces that keep him interested. He's also one of the students who can be a bit too forward with you. And his nickname for you is "siren" is a bit much.

Hey Professor, are you wearing a bra today?

Scarabia

Kalim plays a variety of percussive instruments in your concert orchestra class. Normally you don't give too much attention to the percussive section but Kalim is always begging you to pick songs with significant percussion sections so he can show off his skills. And he is impressive. He's also a favorite, and no it's not because his family donates huge sums to the music department. Kalim is kind and silly, you get to see a lot of him through pop music club. He doesn't take music too seriously but still demonstrates immense talent. Plus he never hesitates to let you know that you're his favorite teacher and that yours is his favorite class.

Professor! Just hear me out, what if instead of cello solo we did a drums solo in the concerto?

The dark horse of concert choir. Jamil has a heavenly voice. You're on hands and knees begging Jamil to do a solo for the upcoming choir concert and he's giving you such a hard time. He has such a warm baritone and rivals some of the best singers in your class. Jamil loves staying on your good side but you understand that he has a lot on his plate and doing a choir solo is relatively low on his priority list. However, he helps out where he can, running small errands for you and keeping the rowdier students in line.

Here Professor, I've put away the new music booklets for you. No need to thank me.

Pomefiore

Vil relishes in the fact that he's your favorite (or at least thinks he is), he's been in advanced choir since his second year. You try to make sure everyone gets a solo when appropriate, but Vil is an adept tenor and as much as you try to be fair, for competitions having Vil do a solo is the surest bet to take home top prize. Beyond that he often compliments you on your fashion, beauty and overall elegant demeanor. Vil invites you to do yoga with him on the weekends at a studio in town which you occasionally take him up on. Don't tell Malleus. Vil is probably one of your only students who you're willing to spend time with outside of the classroom.

Let's do the 7am class, I can meet you at studio after my morning run.

Epel is another student in your homeroom class and one of the other students you've been harassing about jumping to the next level in choir. Unfortunately his music reading skills aren't up to par, but he's a fast learner. His voice is nothing short of angelic, but surprisingly he has a tough streak. If any students start talking disrespectfully, Epel is right there with the threats of bodily harm. You shut them down right away but you admire his sense protectiveness towards you.

Don't worry Professor, I'll make sure they leave you alone. You can count on me!

Rook is a competent flute player, but sometimes his questions about your personal life are a little invasive. Calls you a beautiful a little too often. You have to remind him constantly that you're his teacher and such comments are in appropriate. You just wished he used such keen skills for music making rather than surveillance.

Professor! I can tell yoga with Roi du Poison is going well, your legs are looking even more toned than usual.

Ignihyde

Idia claimed severe anxiety excuse to get out of choir and band activities, but you encouraged him to join orchestra regardless. Cut to him being an absolutely fabulous violinist?! Idia plays first violin and while he's super shy, you've managed to keep him engaged in your course by agreeing to teach the scores to some of his favorite videos games for the Winter and Spring recitals.

You've gotta hear the new OST for the new world release in my favorite game. It's totally based.

Ortho a shining star in beginning choir. Another sweet baby who tries their best. You encouraged him to let go of pitch correction and just sing as organically as possible and it turns out he has a super lovely voice! His high pitched tenor adds a really nuanced sound to the beginning choir section, you just hope he continues his hard work as he advances in his coursework.

Good morning Professor! I've been practicing the song all week, I can't wait to show you.

Diasomnia

Malleus placed into advanced band. Is talented in a variety of string instruments. He tells you that he's impressed with your musical skill despite being so young? Just how old is he. Regardless, his skill means that you always have a superb violin soloist for even the most difficult of pieces. RSA can suck it. And while you're sure he means nothing by it, he is always inviting you to join him on walks to look at gargoyles around campus and in town during your lunch break. When you tell him that as his teacher that wouldn't really be appropriate he gets all pouty.

I promise we'll just take a quick stroll around campus to view the gragoyles, two hours at most. As a new professor you should familiarize yourself with the campus architecture.

Oh, Sebek he wanted to learn a string instrument to follow in Malleus' footsteps but didn't appreciate how difficult that would be, so you put him on harp. Honestly, you wish he'd signed up for choir, you can tell just from his speaking voice that he has a lot of belting potential and wouldn't do too bad in music theater but he doesn't really value cultivating his musical talents other than to curry favor with Malleus. Oh well.

My liege will be impressed if I can master the harp as soon as possible!

Silver, bless him. Only student you've had who's fallen asleep playing the flute but sometimes his improvisations make for interesting arrangements. Maybe holding that note a little longer would add some much needed nuance to the piece or a decrescendo on that bar would heighten the drama. You've learned to take this little incidents in stride. Silver is always very apologetic and offers to do extra work around the classroom to make up for it like dusting the instruments and putting away the music stands. You would never let a student under take such tiresome tasks, but he insists so you end up tidying the classroom together.

Don't worry Professor, I'm happy to help. It's the least I can do after falling asleep in class...again.

Gods bless him. Lilia holds down the bass section in concert choir like no other. His voice just has this ancient quality that makes him perfect for baroque choral pieces. You don't know how he manages it. As the supervisor for pop music club you see Lilia quite a bit, but he's quite self sufficient and rarely needs you for anything. He also feels a bit too mature to just be a 3rd year student.

Looking lovely as always Professor.

Ramshackle

Yuu is extremely talented, you see them often for private lessons. While they may not be able to manipulate the instruments with magic you see no reason why you can't help them cultivate their skills. Freshman aren't allowed in the most advanced sections of orchestra or choir, but Yuu could easily play second violin already. However having you in your class means that you also have Grim. The cat is an utter menace so you stuck him on cymbals, but he seems happy enough with them.

Advanced Choir - Cater, Vil, Azul, Jamil, Lilia, Leona

Advanced Orchestra - Malleus, Cater, Kalim, Riddle, Rook, Idia

Intermedia Choir- Jade, Ruggie

Intermediate Orchestra - Floyd, Yuu

Beginning Choir - Epel, Ace, Deuce, Ortho

Beginning Orchestra - Jack, Sebek, Grim

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 days

Text

Who vibes for Vibranium?

AN: Have a little short and sweet, sort of cracky Stucky sexual shenanigans story. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @metalbvcky but all errors are my fault.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List

Summary: Steve likes to be indulged. It's a good thing Bucky likes to indulge him. Even if he's a thieving little big brat sometimes.

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

WC: <1k

CW: AU: Not Canon Compliant, teasing, suggestive dialogue, Super-Soldier sexy shenanigans, discussion of impact play, discussion of bondage, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Soft Top Bucky Barnes, Bratty Bottom Steve Rogers, Fade to Black.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo I4 - Vibranium

“Come on, Buck. It’ll be fun.” Bucky pulled a face at Steve’s wheedling tone. He wasn’t convinced.

“Fun? Just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

Steve sidled up to him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, looking into his eyes and doing his best Little Shit ™ pout. “Don’t you miss being able to hold me down. Like really stop me from moving.” Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck and Bucky let out a huff.

“I miss it,” Steve continued, letting his teeth scrape over Bucky’s throat. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to think of the Presidents of the United States. “I miss feeling all helpless under you.” Steve’s fingers slipped up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and started to draw light patterns over his skin, making him shiver. “One vibranium arm can only do so much and I can’t work out a way for you to use my shield to help.”

“Steve,” Bucky cautioned. “This isn’t really a conversation about informed consent if you’re trying to get my dick to make the decision and not my brain. It’s cheating.”

Steve raised his head with a grin. “Is it working though?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing he’d already lost the fight. “You’re such a punk, you know that?”

“But I’m your punk, and you love me.”

“Unfortunately so,” Bucky agreed. “Now, if you wanna do this, first you gotta hand ‘em over.”

Steve let go of him and practically skipped across their apartment. How a 6”2’ supersoldier could move like that Bucky didn’t know, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t stimulating to watch. It was also kinda cute, the way that Steve was getting giddy at the thought of doing something ‘kinky’.

As two queer guys who’d grown up in the 30’s, neither were strangers to things that were nowadays termed as kinky, but no matter how long they’d been together, and how many different things they’d done, Steve was always enthusiastic, as though it was his first time, every time.

When Steve returned from his little sojourn into his study, he was practically vibrating - ha! - with energy and he passed over his new toy with a grin.

“Do I even wanna know where you got these from?” Bucky asked. Of course this was the question that made Steve look a little embarrassed. His neck flushed pink and his left hand came up to brush over the hair at the back of his head.

“I - uh - may have found them in the cache of recovered HYDRA hardware that Fury keeps in the upstate warehouse.”

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky let out, teasingly. “Are you telling me that you - the great and righteous Captain America - stole these Vibranium handcuffs?”

Steve startled “No! Not stole. Just - umm - borrowed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve had the good grace to look slightly cowed. “I mean - we might give them back?”

“If they help me beat your ass without struggling to keep you still they are definitely not going back,” Bucky retorted, failing to get the right tone of authority into his voice.

“You promise?” Steve asked slyly and Bucky shook his head in mild disbelief at his bratty boyfriend.

“The fucking audacity,” he said to no-one in particular, and then “Get in that bedroom, Rogers and strip. You’re getting ten for your cheek, and if you aren’t ready when I get in there, then it’s an extra ten.”

“Oh no,” cried Steve with faux despair. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Nothing, if these work.” Bucky took a step closer, drawing himself up to his full height, despite that being two inches less than Steve’s. It had the desired effect though - science might have taken Steve out of his little body, but it hadn’t taken the memory of being in that little body out of Steve. Steve shrank down, now reacting to Bucky’s domineering aura. “You’ll do nothing except cry those sweet tears as I turn your ass red because you won’t be able to get away from me. You won’t be able to stop me. Now - do I have to tell you again? Get in there and strip.”

Steve turned, scurrying into the bedroom as fast as he could with his cock doing its best impression of a flagpole between his legs.

Smiling to himself, Bucky looked at the cuffs, inspecting them and working out how they opened and closed. The last thing he wanted was for them to get stuck, even if the thought of Stark being mentally scarred for life having to come and help remove them was amusing as hell.

“Time to see if these work,” he muttered to himself, before calling out “Ready or not, here I come.”

Over an hour later

“Yup,” Bucky said with a smile as he stretched out. “Those definitely work.”

Steve groaned and buried his head into Bucky’s side, while lying on his stomach. “My ass is on fire,” he complained.

Bucky sniggered. “Quit your whining, you big baby. You only have yourself to blame. And you’ll be all healed up in an hour. Two, tops.”

As Steve huffed against him and threw an arm across his stomach, Bucky picked up the cuffs from where he’d deposited them after removing them from Steve’s wrists. He turned them over in his hands, pondering.

“I wonder,” he said, “if we got a metal footboard whether these would magnetise strongly enough to it that I could use them to keep your legs apart…”

Steve let out a moan that wasn’t entirely one of despair. “Buck, let me recover before you start trying to turn me on again.”

With a smile still on his lips, Bucky leant over and places a kiss to the top of Steve’s sweaty head.

“Love you, punk.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

#stucky #stucky fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #stucky bingo

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varpusvaras · 13 hours

Text

"It seems that for once, we've managed to get ourselves into a happy ending of sorts", Obi-Wan said. "This situation could've gotten seriously out of hand."

Anakin sighed deeply.

"You don't need to tell me that", he said. He both looked and sounded tired, but he was still smiling as he watched Ahsoka across the plaza. Obi-Wan looked over to her as well. She looked just as tired as Anakin, but she was also smiling as she spoke with Rex. That was a good sign. Obi-Wan still wanted to make sure that she was going to talk about all that had happened with someone. He should tell Anakin to make sure she would.

He would, in just a moment. First, he had other things to say.

"I am very proud of you", he said. "Both of you, for not letting your emotions take over you in a difficult situation like this. Ahsoka decided to trust you, even when everything seemed to be going wrong. I'm glad your teachings have made her subdue her impulses."

He had been unsure about pairing Anakin and Ahsoka together. They were very similar in great many ways, and he had been worried that they would just end up amplifying the traits they needed to learn to control. Things had seemed to be heading to that exact scenario, but thankfully, it instead seemed like Obi-Wan had worried too much.

Anakin twisted his smile into a half grin.

"Thank you, Master", he said. "I'm proud of her as well."

Obi-Wan smiled back at him. Before he could say anything else, though, he noticed someone approaching them.

"Senator Organa." Obi-Wan turned towards the man. "Good evening."

Bail Organa smiled at him. It was a polite smile, but still genuine enough, Obi-Wan thought.

"Good evening to you too, Master Kenobi", he greeted him in turn. "No more responsibilities for the night?"

"Not too many, at the moment, though I assure you, they never truly end", Obi-Wan said. "I'm sure you can understand. Though, it seems that you have a free night for once as well? The Temple is not in the direction of either the Senate or your apartments."

Organa tilted his head slightly to the side. He was still smiling, though Obi-Wan thought that he could see a small change in it. It was tighter, now. Still polite, but clearly a lot less genuine than just a moment ago.

Curious. Obi-Wan reached out, ever so slightly, and he was met with a wall as tall as the man himself, and behind that wall, he sensed a storm.

That was concerning. Obi-Wan had learned to trust and even like Bail Organa over the years, despite him standing securily on the field of politics. Even if they didn't always see eye-to-eye in their approaches to different situations, Obi-Wan knew for certain that Bail Organa of Alderaan was a good man. His readiness to help people directly where the help was needed had truly confirmed that to Obi-Wan.

Feeling such a turmoil coming from him now was enough to raise the alarms in Obi-Wan's mind. Was there something they had missed? Was he here to deliver bad news to them, extending a small courtesy by coming and telling them himself, instead of letting them be summoned in front of the entire Senate again?

"Oh, I'm here on a more personal matter", Organa said. Then he turned away from Obi-Wan to look at Anakin instead.

All the politeness that had been left on his expression disappeared immediately, leaving behind just an empty gesture. No, not quite, Obi-Wan realised. It was a mask.

Obi-Wan was even more worried now of what he was about to say.

"Evening, General Skywalker", Organa said. "I heard that all the charges they were considering on giving Padawan Tano were dropped. Congratulations."

Anakin seemed to realise that something was going on as well. He stood more guarded now, his own smile long gone.

"Thank you", he said still. He was testing where the situation was heading.

The smile on Organa's face sharpened. The mask was starting to crack.

Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about all of this.

"The situation must've been difficult to you", Organa continued. "I can only imagine how it feels like, to have the power of the Force on your side, but then be stopped by a single panel of security glass. Though, as I have seen the feats the Force can do, it wouldn't have been able to stop you, wouldn't it?"

Anakin frowned.

"I don't understand what-" He started, but stopped when Organa suddenly stepped closer. Anakin was tall, but Organa was even taller, and had broadness to him that Anakin's body had not yet begun to fill.

The smile was gone, now. The mask had dropped.

"It was fortunate that there were others present, wasn't it?" He asked Anakin, his voice low. If it had been anyone else, Obi-Wan would've seen him as a danger. "I'm just wondering, what would've happened, if it had been just you and Commander Fox there, with the piece of glass between you two? Tell me. Would you have stopped yourself?"

Anakin's face was a mixture of multitude of things. Anger. Confusion. His presence in the Force was swirling with all of them as well.

Bail Organa had only one feeling on him at that moment. Tightly controlled, cold fury.

Obi-Wan had to step in.

"What is going on?" He asked, both of them, really.

Anakin opened his mouth, but Organa was quicker to answer.

"General Skywalker demanded to be let in to where Padawan Tano was kept after her arrest", he explained. "Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard had to inform him that due to the nature of the suspected crime, the case was transferred over from the Jedi, by the orders of Admiral Tarkin. Who, if I may add, holds excecutive power over the Guard, instead of the Jedi. General Skywalker decided that this didn't matter. According to multiple witnesses, he turned rather aggressive towards Commander Fox."

Anakin bristled.

"I didn't even touch him!" He argued, his voice rising.

Organa wasn't phased at all by this.

"You had to be escorted out by armed Guards", he said, his voice still just as level. "Now, I think it's better you listen carefully, because I am not going to be telling this to you again in the future."

He leaned down, his mouth right at the level of Anakin's ear now.

"If I ever hear that you have even raised your voice at Commander Fox, or any of the Coruscant Guard, I can assure you, you will find that there will be consequences", he said. "Am I being clear? Stay away from him."

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. Anakin was still scowling, but there was something else making its way onto his face as well. Dread.

"Are we clear?" Organa asked. "I'm sure there are a lot of people who see this all as a much graver mistake than you do. I'm also sure they would be interested in the other unconventional matters you have engaged in."

Anakin opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he snapped it shut just as quick.

"Are we clear?" Organa asked, once more.

"Yes", Anakin spat out. "We are clear."

"Good. I'm glad that we could arrive to an agreement", Organa said, sounding just like all the politicians Obi-Wan had heard in his life sounding like when they had just done business. He straightened his back, and stepped away from Anakin, and turned to look at Obi-Wan once again. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Master Kenobi."

"What was all of tha about, Senator?" Obi-Wan asked. "I'm afraid I don't understand why you are taking it upon yourself to interrogate Anakin on the behalf the Guard?"

Not that he was at all pleased with what he had just heard, nor did he have to wonder what other matters Organa was talking about. There just seemed to be a rather large hole in the story, that Obi-Wan was not able to fill out. Neither could Anakin, it seemed, as the confusion Obi-Wan had felt on him at the start of the conversation still lingered, strong as ever.

Organa leveled Obi-Wan a look.

"We all have people who we love, and who we wish to protect from all harm", he said. "Any harm. On that, I think General Skywalker and I can both readily agree upon. It is most disheartening, when the harm comes from the one place that is supposed to be safe, on top of everything else."

He glanced at Anakin.

"I think we can all also agree on that the Chancellor does not need to hear about this", he said. "I imagine General Skywalker already wishes to go tell all about this to his good friend, in order to have all of his actions rationalised, no matter how hurtful they are."

He nodded his head.

"Have a good rest of your evening", Organa said, and then turned around and walked away, with his head held high and without turning to look back once.

Obi-Wan watched him go for a while, before he turned towards Anakin. Anakin, who was now all but ready to boil under the surface. There was one more feeling Obi-Wan could feel on him now, though. Fear.

Obi-Wan sighed, and reached his hand.

"Anakin-" Anakin sneered, and stepped away.

"I'm going to talk to Ahsoka and Rex", he said, and marched away across the plaza before Obi-Wan could say anything more.

Obi-Wan sighed again.

It seemed like there was so much more they needed to talk about than he had realised.

#idk I think someone should put anakin to his place #also padme you better not excuse anakin bc girl you're about to become collateral #should make you think about things as well #this was all an excuse to write angry protective bail lmao #I thought of bail looking anakin in the eyes and saying 'bitch' and that was it #sw #tcw #Star Writing #my writing #ficlets #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Bail Organa #Commander Fox (mentioned)#bail/breha/fox

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gloryinthunder · 6 months

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I used to really love the first romance scene with Astarion (and I still do) but it hits so much harder after you know why he's doing it. That he's purposefully seducing you for protection and blood, that he's forcing himself to sleep with you, and this is a mask he's wearing.

It's a sexy scene and really feeds into the vampy (pun intended) jump-your-bones version of him you get at the start of the game. The whole thing starts out with him being so confident and suave, saying that he's wanted you ever since he set eyes on you and how you want to be known and tasted. It's like everyone's perfect vampire romance novel.

He's laying out the bait that's worked thousands of times over and luring you in. And you can just get right to the kissing if you want.

But, you can also stop and ask him, "And what do you want?"

And for just a moment the mask drops. This is not the same cocky seductive face we've had up until now. This is vulnerability showing. When has anyone asked him what he wants? When has anyone cared? Does he even know the answer to that question?

So he pivots. The mask snaps back into place immediately. He turns back into the master seducer and feeds you a line about shared ecstasy to get you back on track.

And then comes what is, to me, the pivotal moment. He asks you "That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"

Looking at his body language he seems unsure at first, maybe questioning his previous tactics. Then he slightly cowers back, lowering himself as he asks the question. The total opposite of his confidence from earlier where he's standing with his arms out wide.

He's not sure what you want anymore. You're not playing by the rules he knows. Why haven't you taken the bait yet? Why haven't you thrown yourself at him?

And when you finally Nod in agreement, confirming you're here for sex?

This. This is the face he gives you. He just looks so damn sad. To me, it hearkens back to "Of course it'll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?"

Whatever momentary blip made him question why you're there with him, he's just been reassured about both of your roles in this situation.

He sounds so quietly resigned when he answers: "I thought so."

And then the scene transitions into the actual act. I do like to think Astarion enjoyed himself as I'm sure the PC did, but it's hard for me to watch this scene now that I know his story and history without being uncomfortable.

Just that line "lose yourself in me" is so difficult to hear. Because on paper it's so sensual. Who wouldn't want a lover to feel that way about them? But knowing the context of what Astarion expects and believes in this moment is just... oof.

And to me, this is what makes this scene brilliant. The writing, voice acting, and the mocap/animation are all just SO GOOD. It's so delicately done and Astarion the character is so good at playing a role that you can completely gloss over the deeper stuff. But once the mask is eventually stripped away you can't help but see what was there the whole time.

And as we've established, being seen is a whole aspect of Astarion's romance arc.

I originally romanced Astarion for the same reasons I'm sure most did: he's a hot, sexy vampire elf (i.e. everything that's on the surface). But, I keep coming back to him over and over again for the person I know is waiting for me underneath the mask.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion spoilers #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 #baulders gate 3 spoilers #bg3

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gutsby · 4 months

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Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK #THIS IS DISGUSTING #I AM DISGUSTING #DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH #brain rot ❤️#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

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kafus · 9 months

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how i caught entei in leafgreen in the most ridiculous way possible

SO last week i started a pokemon leafgreen file on my childhood cart i've had since my 5th birthday, and one my goals ended up being getting every owned dex entry possible in JUST the one copy of leafgreen without connecting to any other game… and i did. except i forgot one. ENTEI!!

like probably a lot of you reading this i COMPLETELY forgot that one of the johto roaming beasts is in every copy of FRLG. i never even caught any of them as a kid. which roamer you get is based on your starter (squirtle = raikou, bulbasaur = entei, charmander = suicune) and i happened to pick bulbasaur so my roamer was entei. it does actually ROAM in kanto, aka whenever you change locations, the pokemon moves to a new route. obviously this is a pain in the ass, but it gets even more painful because roamers can flee from the battle and they will the instant you encounter them. you get the chance to throw one ball or use one move and that's it… so like in most pokemon games, you would use a trapping move like mean look to keep the roamer in the battle and turn it into a normal legendary encounter, right? HAHA WRONG

raikou and entei are affected by the ROAMER ROAR BUG in FRLG, which means if they use roar to escape the battle (yes, even in mean look, it doesn't stop roar from working) they just disappear from the game. permanently. forever. you can never capture it. suicune is not affected by this because it doesn't have roar, but my roamer was entei, so uh. the odds were stacked against me. did i want to repetitively encounter the roamer over and over, never trapping it, just throwing one ball each time? or did i want to set up a mean look pokemon only to have to soft reset every time entei used roar? neither option sounded fun and i was going to just give up and master ball it despite REALLY wanting it in a luxury ball like all the other kanto legendaries i had already caught… UNTIL!

i am a moderator of the ribbon master discord (a different pokemon challenge) and i was just sorta liveposting my thought process about this annoying roamer when gen 3 rng manipulation extraordinaire ddeeffgg crashes into the chat and suggests this fucking bonkers idea. and his bonkers idea is galaxy brain LET ME EXPLAIN

ariados is available in leafgreen's post game by catching spinarak in pattern bush, and of course electrode is a fairly common kanto pokemon. ariados gets access to spider web, which is basically just mean look with a different name (and i completely forgot it existed), it traps the opponent in the battle. but IMPORTANTLY, it ALSO gets access to BATON PASS… which, in gen 3, passes the trapping effect! usually if you were to use spider web and swap out ariados, the opponent would no longer be trapped, but baton pass solves that! and then electrode has the ability soundproof which prevents roar from working, and it even gets thunder wave (paralysis) and sonicboom (consistent 20 damage with no chance of accidental crits) to assist in easier capture of entei! nice!! awesome!! but getting this setup in order is the most ridiculous shit i've ever done in leafgreen

PROBLEM #1: ariados gets baton pass through egg move. in gen 3, egg moves are only passed down by the father and not the mother, so i had to grab a male ledyba, grind it to a high enough level to learn baton pass, then grab a female spinarak and breed them together. unfortunately this means my ariados would be level 1 and i'd have to train it up quite a bit, which leads into my next problem…

PROBLEM #2: ariados is SLOWWW. its base speed is a measly 40 compared to entei's whopping 100! ariados needs to outspeed entei to use spider web first turn so entei can't just run away! i would have to get ariados to a very high level to outspeed entei, grinding all the way from level 1. the one plus side is that the roamers in FRLG are bugged to always have a 0 IV in defense, special attack, special defense, and speed, which means unless entei has a +speed nature, its speed would always be a predictable and relatively low 105 at level 50, which is what it's encountered at. so i had to get an ariados with a speed of 106 or higher.

to get around both these problems as efficiently as possible, while breeding spinarak, i bred quite a few to get one with a +speed nature, and ended up with a jolly spinarak. everstone doesn't work in FRLG unfortunately, so the nature was completely random each time. soon my DAUGHTER WAS BORN after like 2-3 hours of breeding because FRLG eggs are SLOOOW and i was being stubborn about the nature, which i was getting unlucky on LOL

then i maxed out her speed EVs real quick by fighting picnicker susie on route 13 over and over, who gives 12 speed EVs per battle, 24 with the macho brace, which i was using. this was just to make sure i would reach 106+ speed as fast as possible. then i grinded her levels by repetitively fighting the two trainers right outside the weird chansey dance guy's house in sevault canyon on seven island, right above tanoby ruins. using the vs seeker on them is the best grinding spot in the game since they give 20k experience per fighting both of them and there's a healing spot Right There. i was using exp share and leading with my level 100 jolteon named Egg who i adore with all my heart. ariados, now named koolaid, ended up crossing the speed threshold at level 62! yes this took a while lmao

as for electrode, i wanted one at as high of a level as possible so i hopefully wouldn't have to grind levels. i lucked out as electrode is found at a whopping level 64 in cerulean cave's bottom floor. a 5% encounter rate but as i had already caught numerous 5%s for the pokedex, i didn't really care. however it DOES have explosion and i'd rather not have the electrode explode on me before i could catch it which would then send me on a wild goose chase for ANOTHER 5% electrode… so i grabbed the random level 24 poliwhirl with the damp ability, which prevents explosion from working, out of my PC, and gave it a smoke ball from the celadon game corner so i could lead with her and easily run from each encounter that Wasn't Electrode.

now you may be wondering how i was going to handle capturing electrode once i was actually in the battle because SURELY it would just use thunderbolt or something and instantly murder my poliwhirl. however funnily enough electrode only has two attacking moves at level 64, swift and explosion. explosion obviously doesn't work, and swift is a physical attack in gen 3 due to all normal type moves being physical, this was before the physical/special split in gen 4. electrode's physical attack stat is a garbage 50 and swift only has a base power of 60 so i honestly wasn't concerned. and best of all, poliwhirl gets the move hypnosis, so i could easily put electrode to sleep and start chucking ultra balls… and the smoke ball ended up being useless because i somehow ran into electrode first try what the fuck LOL

anyways i named them gatorade to match with koolaid. truly the dream entei capturing team. i didn't even feel the need to grind any levels on gatorade, level 64 was more than enough, so i just slapped the two moves i wanted on them - thunder wave through the one-use tutor in silph co, and sonicboom through the move reminder on two island, costing me two tinymushrooms which i thankfully already had and did not have to go out of my way to grind.

however the hours worth of prep ISN'T DONE YET! because uhh…

PROBLEM #3: ariados has to be above entei's level to outspeed it (yes, even if it had a 31 IV in speed AND a speed boosting nature AND maximum speed EVs, it still wouldn't be enough at level 50), which means the repel trick can't be used to encounter it. tracking down the roamer is practically impossible without using repels to cancel out all other wild pokemon, and in gen 3, unlike later gens, you can't put a fainted pokemon in the front of the party for the repel trick instead. and if i DON'T lead with ariados, entei will run away when i try to swap into it. SO i decided i would have to run into entei once first through the repel trick method, which marks it as "seen" in the pokedex, and then i would track its location through the pokedex to encounter it while leading with ariados.

to accomplish this, i simply ran in and out of the building on route 16, going in and out of the grass in the process, which would constantly be randomizing entei's location until it happened to randomize onto route 16. i caught a staryu with illuminate as an ability to raise the chance of entei appearing, which does work while staryu is fainted (wouldn't want to go in and out of the grass while entei was on route 16 without encountering it!) and otherwise led with my level 50 magmar that was on my elite four team named Torch for the repel trick.

i bought a whopping 100 max repels for this task but i ended up getting entei within just a few lol. torch was holding the smoke ball just to be able to run away safely without any shenanigans!

and now entei was in the pokedex and able to be tracked that way!

however, there was still ONE more problem...

PROBLEM #4: luxury balls are a pain in the ASS to get in this game! they can't be bought from any shop. the only way to repeatedly get luxury balls in FRLG is to show a pokemon to selphy, a rich girl who lives in resort gorgeous on five island.

i will mostly skim over this because it's boring, but TLDR i had to continuously talk to her, fly back to the pokemon center, get the pokemon she wanted to see out of the PC because the step limit is 250 before she gets sick of waiting which is like nothing (i already had a living dex of every mon obtainable in leafgreen otherwise so this wasn't hard), surf to her, then spam A through dialogue with her butler in which i had a 70% chance of receiving a luxury ball. i did this over 40 times until i had 30 luxury balls, and sold off all the nuggets and other items she gave me. good lord this took a while

and now with ALL of that setup i was FINALLY ready to capture entei in a luxury ball. this took me literally all day and i was really excited. to consistently encounter entei, i saved in cerulean city and tracked it in the pokedex from there, opening it over and over after changing to any of the four routes connected to the city, and moving to an adjacent route from entei's location when it was close in the hopes of walking onto the same route it moved to when i did. i was following a map made by hangarofroam, he has a video tutorial on how to shiny hunt the FRLG roamers and encounter them as quickly as possible, and i highly recommend looking it up if you want to capture these roamers yourself, but tldr this is the map i was using:

and once i encountered entei i was finally able to use the strategy i had prepped so long to do... and it worked without a hitch!! entei can't try to use roar first turn because it wastes a turn trying to flee, which is prevented by ariados outspeeding and using spider web... then if it tries to use roar the next turn, i've already switched into electrode to block it with soundproof. so from there it's just a matter of whittling down entei's HP to the red with swift/sonicboom and paralyzing it with thunder wave, then tossing luxury balls until success!

and i GOT IT after 3 encounter attempts and 73 luxury balls thrown. and FINALLY i have all 171 national dex entries possible in a single copy of leafgreen with no connection to other games, and all the legendaries are in fancy ass luxury balls. i am winning.

this was ridiculous. please be proud of my accomplishments. i've had this file for less than 2 weeks and i already have over 70 hours of gameplay in it after doing all this AAAAA

also barely related but look at Egg my jolteon he had like no purpose in this story but i took a pic of him in front of entei before going on to capture entei because i love him so much pleas

thanks for coming to my fucking ted talk i am SOOO normal about pokemonsdfjkfds (joke)

#pokemon #pokemon frlg #frlg #pokemon leafgreen #pokemon leaf green #long post #kiki plays games #kiki.txt #kiki was here #lg playthrough #entei

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strawberrymatchawhore · 1 month

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baby

summary- babying your "tough" hubby rafe.. maybe some freakydeakyness at the end

note- this is the complete opposite of the rafe ive been writing about LMAOOO.. this man is SO BAD help me

it was 2am and you were in your bedroom scrolling on your phone, a random netflix show playing in the background. you've been waiting for your husband to get home for hours, being the wife to the chief of police did have its negatives. this was one of them.

you heard footsteps walking up the stairs and immediately turned off your phone, throwing the covers over yourself you pretend to be asleep. the door opens and you feel the weight of the bed shift.

"hey baby. sorry for getting home so late" rafe says giving your forehead a kiss, you jokingly ignore him.

"c'mon now i know youre awake.. get up and hold me." he begged tiredly, you couldnt help but giggle at how desperate he sounded.

"fine." you mumbled into the sheets but stayed in your position, he hugs you putting all of his weight on your body.

"okay okayy, i got it. now get off me you fatty." you whined, pushing his large frame off of you. you leaned against the bed frame and opened your arms, the both of you adjusting to a more comfortable position. which was the both of you propped up against a pillow.

"im so tired." he yawns into your chest, you played with his hair as the both of you stayed in silence.

"i know you are, you need a day off. youve been working too hard." validating him, his hand plays with the ribbon of your pajama shorts.

"see? youre still in your uniform, youre gonna make the bed dirty." you patted his back and drew circles on it.

"what, you want me take it off? if you wanted to see me naked you couldve asked sweetheart." he looked up at you and smirked. you glared at him, lightly slapping his arm.

"not what i meant.." you blushed.

"youre so cute you know that rafey, honestly when i look at you i just want to eat you." you confessed and massaged his temples, his face nuzzles into your chest even further. clearly he was blushing as well.

"i dont know how i got so lucky, im so glad i have a such a beautiful boy in my life. everything about you is just perfect." you cooed admiring his sculpted face, the way his plump lips curled into a smile.

"stopppp" he whined. you couldnt help but pull out your phone and take a picture. because if you didnt, who wouldve believe that your 6'2 husband loved to be babied like this? not like you were going to show anyone, its just for your eyes only. you wanted to cherish this moment forever.

"did you just take a picture?"

"let me see it." he shot up and reached for your phone. you put your phone under your pillow and laid on it, making sure he wasnt able to grab it. the two of you started play fighting.

"nooo please, you look so cute. let me keep it!!" you laughed, he started to tickle you. and you slowly started to fall off the bed. your legs wrapped around his waist and dragged him down, if you were gonna fall he was going to come down with you.

the laughing coming from you both died down and you looked up at him, what a funny position. you both were on the floor and he was in between your legs hovering over you.

rafe leaned downed and passionately kissed your lips, his hand starts to play with your shorts. you eventually pull away and slap his hand.

"nuh uh. go shower first. you stink." you got up to your feet then helped your boyfriend get up as well. you looked up at rafe with your head tilted, what was this man plotting?

"not unless you join me.. you cant say no" he quickly said and grabbed you by the waist. hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you to the master bathroom.

"ahhh! rafe stop!!" you busted out laughing, kicking your feet as he practically dragged you to the shower. he put you down and turned on the warm water, it poured over you both. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"great now my clothes are all wet." you pouted crossing your arms over your now soaked tank top.

"more reason to take it off... lift your arms f'me"

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x y/n #obx fanfiction #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx #rafe smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks blurb #husband!rafe

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weirdmageddon · 8 months

Text

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

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screeching-bunny · 6 months

Note

Saw that requests were open, and maybe can you do this one? ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

Request- A master manipulator yandere husband that’s been with his wifey (us) since childhood. That’s right, we childhood sweethearts <3 He lovingly molded us into a dependent stepford wifey, cause what’d we do without him? He’s always been there to protect, provide, and care for us since we were young, why stop now into adulthood?

Love to have this as HC format with some dash of dialogue if possible to show some of his personality!

Also I loved your latest CEO yandere, what’s his name? He’s a favorite of mine now. Love the ones that spoil you rotten and can’t live without you!

Yandere! Husband Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You��

A/N: Yandere! Ceo currently doesn’t have a name rn but don’t worry he will soon!!! Thank you so much enjoying him!!!

🌟 Yandere! Husband has been friends with you since you were children. From the moment you got out of the car and started to get your things out of the moving van, he was absolutely hooked. He practically rushed his little legs over and started to enthusiastically introduce himself to you and your family. He was honestly so thrilled to learn that you were the same age as him and going to be attending the same elementary school as him. When you first started attending school Yandere! Husband made sure to hold your hand no matter where you went. Whenever anyone asked he would say that he was only doing this to make you more comfortable (he’s doing this for his own enjoyment). This is a habit that stays even in your adult life. No matter where the two of you are, he is always holding your hand lovingly.

🌟 Yandere! Husband in elementary school used to get so upset whenever someone would try to approach you to play with them. Whenever someone did this he would always try to do petty little things to them such as trip them, tattle tale on every little thing they did, and sometimes get even a little physical. At the time he wasn’t exactly sure why he was feeling these awful emotions but what he was one hundred percent sure on was that he didn’t want anyone to take your attention off of him.

Random elementary student: “You can’t keep doing this! You’re acting like they’re yours! They can play with whoever they want, so stop acting like you own them!”

Yandere! Husband: “...” Coming to the realization that he loves hearing that. The idea of you being solely his causes his heart to beat even faster. “Mine, I like the sound of that.”

🌟 Yandere! Husband made sure to protect you from any bullies that ever tried to harm you. He wanted to be seen as a savior in your eyes and would brutally beat up anyone who tried to harm you. If he wasn’t physically strong enough to beat them then he would do everything in his power to frame them for something and get them expelled from school. He definitely has some sort of savior complex when it comes to you. Yandere! Husband made it a mission to be your first kiss when the two of you were going to graduate elementary and go into middle school. He wanted to be your first in everything and felt this was the first step into making you his. Your first kiss had been with him in his bedroom while you were over to play videogames.

Yandere! Husband: “Come on, this is the first step we gotta take in order to grow. Our first kiss has to be with someone special and you're the specialist person I know!”

Just like that, the two of you were leaning in and that was how Yandere! Husband successfully stole your first kiss.

🌟 Yandere! Husband was still stuck to your side even during puberty. It was during this time that he started getting attention from a lot of people due to his looks. He made sure to always ignore or reject them due to only having eyes for you. Yandere! Husband makes sure that your classes are all with him. Believe it or not but Yandere! Husband is extremely smart and a model student. He will make sure to point out how you are lacking academically therefore you need someone to tutor you (even if you don’t) to both teachers and the principal in order to be in the same classes as you. Yandere! Husband will make small and very subtle passive aggressive remarks about how you aren't that academically intelligent and that you need him by your side. At some point you start to believe this and believe that you need him to tutor you everyday in order to survive school.

Yandere! Husband: “It’s okay if you’re not good at anything. As long as you have me by your side, I’ll take care of you no matter what. Even if we’re old and wrinkly.”

🌟 Yandere! Husband has successfully isolated you from making friends by the time you two are in high school. You basically have no friends but him. This was mainly due to the fact that he would always try to outdo the person you were trying to befriend in order to make them seem boring. Having romantic feelings for anyone other than him was off limits. If you ever did have a crush on someone then Yandere! Husband would absolutely destroy them. He would make sure to spread the nastiest rumor about them and cause them so much shame that they would have to move away from your town in order to avoid further embarrassment. It’s probably around highschool that Yandere! Husband officially asks you out to be his lover. He makes sure to go all out while asking you out in order to make you feel special.

🌟 Yandere! Husband is proposing to you the moment the two of you graduate highschool. Don’t worry about funds, he’s a Nepo baby and will inherit his dad’s company. He definitely wants you to be his housespouse when he’s ready to go to college and work a job. He wants you to depend on him and hates the idea of you being independent without him. In order to make sure this never happens, he manipulates you into thinking that you can’t do anything without him and around. So why don't you sit still and look pretty for him when he gets home.

🌟 Yandere! Husband picks out everything when it’s time to get married. He’s a complete groomzilla and wants everything to be absolutely perfect. When he sees you in your wedding attire for the first time he definitely tears up a bit. You’re just so beautiful. Domestic life with Yandere! Husband is peaceful and calming. Yandere! Husband imagines you all the time while he is at work. When he drives home from work he likes to imagine how you would be waiting for him. Would you be waiting at the door for him or would you be asleep sprawled on the couch. He makes sure to always come home as fast as he can in order to wrap his arms around you. The sight coming home to you and a home cooked meal absolutely melts his heart. This is perfection to him and he’ll make sure to do everything in his power to protect it.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere husband

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