#bo tate

[finalatomicbuster]

Steve Regis for Advocate Men (September 1992) Photography by Bo Tate

[proxylynn]

Which of the yan boys has the biggest boobs? XD

Lynn: Oh! Tough call. Jack is our OG chiseled chest.

Jack: Aww shucks.

Lynn: Douglas is also a very fine contender to the big-breasted boys.

Douglas: Sweet thing...*blushing*

Lynn: Then we have Tate, whose massive mounds are a godsend.

Tate: Heh heh, hell yeah!

Lynn: Then there's Bo, who's best boy of beefy bods.

Bo: Oh, I'm a very good boy.

Lynn: But none come close to the one, the only...Doe.

Jack/Douglas/Tate/Bo: What?!

Doe: *can make his chest any size and make his body any shape*

[coloradosnumber1dad]

I just want to tie a pretty pink bow on it

[hisbuni]

wips??

let’s not talk about how half of these have been in my drafts for months . . . i have a problem. mentally. ima let you know what status they at too so y’all can really vote.

haven’t started. almost done.

not even a quarter way. haven’t started.

quarter way. part one. only have to write the smut.

haven’t started. done, but it’s complicated.

i might have to add a couple more warnings as i write most of them but i tried my best to write general ones that i know will be in there.

─────────────────────────

masterlist﹕☆﹕if you steal my ideas or headers, i will fucking find you.

anyone wanna be tagged??

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jamie Tahsin at Vice:

As the polls began to dramatically shift in favor of Donald Trump on the evening of the election, Elon Musk, arguably Trump’s biggest supporter in recent months, tweeted: “The cavalry has arrived. Men are voting in record numbers. They now realize everything is at stake.” The top reply came from the notorious influencer and accused rapist and human trafficker, Andrew Tate. His summary of the election: “It’s men vs gays n chicks.” 

Tate’s political analysis had the tone of a 14-year-old playground bully, but Musk’s excitement at men turning out to vote spoke to something fundamentally true: that Donald Trump’s plan was working. When I first read the tweet, I began searching for evidence that men were indeed turning up in record numbers. On Musk’s platform, X, I was greeted with videos from Philadelphia and Miami of young men wearing red caps celebrating in the streets—pickup trucks tearing down street-lit highways with MAGA flags trailing from their cargo beds. After covering the Manosphere and the hyper-online ‘Bro’ Right for the past five years, I knew that in recent months they had mobilized like never before behind Trump, and that if they were motivated enough to actually go out and vote, Trump had a serious edge. 

Videos began to spread of frat boys across the US declaring their support for Donald Trump. When his victory was announced, one group filmed themselves performing Trump’s dance moves to “Y.M.C.A.” on the steps of their fraternity. 

Men aged 18-29—a group that has been politically unengaged in recent years—voted decisively for Trump. The Wall Street Journal reported a shift to the right of 28 points among this group. According to the Center for Information and Research on Civic Learning, 56 percent of young male voters opted for Trump in 2024—a marked increase from 41 percent in 2020. In Trump’s successful courtship of this cohort, his secret weapon appears to have been his 18-year-old son, Barron. 

[...]

But Barron’s role in Trump’s media strategy goes beyond just introducing Trump to figures like Adin Ross. Barron and his best friend, fellow 18-year-old Bo Loudon, were tasked by the campaign with helping Trump reach a young male audience. Loudon is a pro-Trump influencer, and son of the conservative media personality Gina Loudon, former co-chair of Women for Trump. Bo and Barron reportedly set up the Adin Ross stream, and Bo has claimed he helped set up Trump’s interview with Joe Rogan, too. 

On the day of the election, figures from across the vast and frequently depressing multiverse that is the online ‘Bro right’ gave their ringing endorsements of Donald Trump, and implored their fans to go and vote for him. Upon the announcement of his victory, John Shahidi of the Nelk Boys tweeted: “Idc what anyone says, podcasts helped us win this election.” When the Wall Street Journal reported that ‘Younger Men Voted Decisively for Donald Trump,’ Shahidi reposted it alongside the message, “Shout-out to our entire team!” A part of Trump’s message that particularly resonated with his young male audience, and the podcast hosts he made appearances with, was his seemingly favorable stance towards cryptocurrencies, and his puzzling claim that Bitcoin will be “made in the USA.” Earlier this year, in Austin, Texas, I interviewed an African-American man who told me he would vote Trump for the first time, almost entirely because of his stance towards crypto. 

[...] The rise of influencers like Tate and Ross aren’t just a symptom of young men shifting to the right, but an active factor that has exacerbated it. The ideology gap is widening between young men and women, not just in America, but all over the world. In the UK there is a 25-point gap between the views of young men and women; in Germany, this rises to 30.  The factors that have led us here are wide-ranging, but in making a concerted effort to reach out to disaffected young men, Trump gained an edge in what is being described as one of the most consequential elections in US history. We saw a similar effect in the UK during the last election, as young men shared their support for Nigel Farage and his Reform Party.  Many of the complaints coming from young men may appear to be misguided. Yet if politicians on the Left do not find a way to reach out to this group, and engage with it where it dwells online, opportunist populists like Trump and Farage most certainly will. In this election, one of Trump’s strongest weapons appears to have been his gigantic, chronically online 18-year-old son, his best friend Bo, and the ‘Bros’ they swung for Trump.

What the hell is wrong with these misogynistic and privileged frat bro males who got Trump over the line?

[toxicanonymity]

Michael in Ambrose

2k words | Michael Myers x f!Reader | NSFW

It's International Fan Works Day Feb 15 with the theme of crossovers. This puts Michael Myers in a House of Wax AU where Bo Sinclair wears a one-piece mechanic suit and Michael needs a new one.

18+ Noncon, manhandling

If you already read this unabridged & unbetaed on AO3 I'm sorry it was so bad lol.

If you're wondering about the logic of Michael being there, originally the bf was John Tate from H20 and y'all were on a road trip and Michael followed but it was a hot mess.

-----------------

"Ya need a fan belt. . . Is that so?" Bo smiles broadly and looks down, bemused. His sleeves are rolled up and his bronze forearms flex as he crosses his arms.  "Where'd your boyfriend go?"  

"He went for help. He thought he saw someone in the wax museum, so he followed them in." 

Bo looks at you like that's the most interesting thing he's ever heard.  "And he left you all alone here,  huh?"  He turns his head and spits out his toothpick, then steps even closer, closing the gap between you.  He smells like sweat and oil and man.  He cradles your chin with a grimy hand.  Your lips are only a few inches from his. "How bad do you need it?"

The blood drains from your face, then shamefully pools somewhere lower.  You say nothing.  You  look over your shoulder like your boyfriend is going to come back any minute.  On the back of the pick-up truck, a sticker catches your eye, the silhouette of a pin-up with her knees spread. 

 "He ain't coming back, darlin," Bo says, grinning.  His pearly teeth are quite the contrast to his dirty face.  "I'll help you out though, I will," he says softly.  He brings his lips to your ear, pressing his cheek against yours.  "Just be a good girl for me."  That sends a tingling rush to your core and you're frozen. Your heart races. 

Bo pulls back to see your facial expression.  He laughs to himself then looks you up and down again, letting the silence linger. "Okay, I can get you a fan belt.  I was just fixin’ to close up, though,"  he says. He goes to the rolling door and starts to close it, but it gets stuck.  His uniform hugs his shapely ass as he bends down with it and tries with all his weight. The door won't close, though.   

A large, rough hand stops the door at the bottom.  Then, the hand begins to push it back up.   At first, you assume it's your boyfriend, until you see the huge work boots.  Bo struggles against the hand and you can only see little by little.  You can tell from the legs it's an imposing man.  Bo grunts as he pushes it down.  The door creeps up a little more and you can't help but notice whoever he is is packing.  He also seems to be another mechanic, but something is strange.  One side of his suit is tattered and covered in something. 

The door keeps lifting, revealing more of this huge man - his broad chest, a thick arm.  One side of his collar is popped and the other is glued down by a mess of wax.  Bo gives up and  watches the man in awe, hands on his hips, waiting to see what he wants.  The door finishes rolling up, and instead of a face, you see the mask of Michael Myers. He should be dead, but the sinister air about this man leaves no doubt in your mind that it's really him.    

Michael stands patiently with his hands to his sides and subtly wiggles the fingers of one hand.  Bo looks confused.   Maybe the folks out here in Ambrose hadn't even heard of Michael. Michael turns toward you.  

Bo says, "Hey man, who-" but Michael cuts him off with a huge hand around his throat, then forces him against a wall of tools.  Bo reaches out and grabs a huge wrench off the wall and his  forearm flexes desperately as he thumps Michael in the head with it.  Michael staggers back, disoriented.    

Bo lunges for you and to your surprise says,  "come on, Darlin" as his large, dirty hand grabs yours.  He covers your body and tries to get you to the office door.  

Michael grabs Bo by the fabric of his suit and throws him against the truck. They struggle, but Michael puts Bo in a sleeper hold until his body goes limp. He's unconscious.  

Michael seems to have forgotten about you.  You stand there frozen, afraid to make any sudden moves.

Michael pins Bo against the truck with his hips and starts undressing him, exposing Bo's tan, muscular biceps.  Michael has the jumpsuit half off him when he lets the dead weight slump to the ground.  He takes off Bo's shoes and removes the jumpsuit completely.  As the jumpsuit slides over Bo's boxers it briefly hitches on what appears to be a massive erection.  Michael had to have felt it against him when he pinned him to the truck.     

Bo is left with only a navy undershirt and engorged boxer briefs.  With his arms and legs bare, you're struck by how strong he is. If Michael was able to overpower Bo with relative ease, he could surely snap you in half like a twig. 

Michael hangs Bo's jumpsuit over the bed of the truck, then unlaces his own boots and steps out of them.  When Michael stands back up, he unzips his own jumpsuit.  You're captivated.  His big arms emerge and you can see his pecs under a navy undershirt similar to Bo's. They both look slutty with their muscles stretching their too-small shirts. 

When Michael lowers the zipper below belt-level your eyes are drawn back to his crotch.  You feel a pang of anticipation in your throat.  He pulls down the jumpsuit and, oh my.  His underwear is tight enough to leave no doubt that he's very aroused. Something flutters in your core. He lets the jumpsuit fall to the floor.  

Michael lazily takes Bo's uniform off the truck and starts putting it on.  He has to push down on the hardness of his briefs with one hand to be able to zip up.  God, that makes you so wet. He's left with an obnoxious bulge.  The arms are a little tight on him, too.  Your unwelcomed arousal intensifies.  Finally, both his hands come to the collar and pop it up so it frames the mask.  He looks so imposing and striking that you audibly gasp.  

Michael abruptly looks in your direction.  You think about running, but you don't move.  He  walks toward you slowly.  You can't take your eyes off his bulge.  He seems to notice, because when he stops within arm's reach of you, he looks down at himself before he looks back up and grabs you by the throat and jaw.  

Michael lifts you several inches off the ground.  You try to scream, but you're choking.  He pivots toward the back of the pick-up truck.  Your limbs flail as he holds you with one hand and uses the other to unlatch the tailgate in one swift motion and put it flat.  He slams you face down onto the bed of the truck. You get up on your knees enough to start  crawling away, toward the cab of the truck, but you don't get far before he jerks you back down toward him.  His hands wrap around your hips and pull you to the edge.

Your shirt rides up and cool metal chills your abdomen as Michael slides your thighs off the tailgate and your feet kick for the ground.  He unbuttons your jean shorts then sends them to the floor.  You try to move, but a massive hand on your back slams you back down as his other hand gropes you and the pressure of his middle finger wedges your thong into your ass. He pries your legs open from behind. 

Your drenched thong barely covers anything.  Michael easily pushes it aside.  You feel his digits slide against your folds and you're humiliated by how wet you are.  A thick finger plunges inside you and you grunt.  He fucks you with two fingers for a few seconds then withdraws his hand and begins to unzip himself.  At the sound of his zipper, your cunt thirstily replaces whatever moisture he took with him.  You silently curse yourself, then accept you're going to need it. 

You're face down on the bed of this truck, ready for the taking, and you can feel Michael Myers looking at your exposed ass like a piece of meat.   You glance back and see his jumpsuit fall down and hang around his ass.  Then, within seconds you feel his shaft pressing hot and hard against your crack. I mean, rock-hard.  His jumpsuit presses against the back of your legs.   He spreads your  thighs with his knee and lays a massive hand on the small of your back, holding you steady on the flatbed of the truck.  You tilt your hips to give him better access to your cunt, telling yourself it's that or your ass. 

A few seconds later, you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance.  It's big.  You feel it against your inner thighs, too.  He huffs as he pushes the head inside and you wince as it stretches you. .  The stretch initially hurts, but you're so wet that it starts to feels good.  You can't deny part of you wants to be filled even more. He puts both hands on your hips for leverage,  then shoves more of himself inside.   He pauses for only a second then jerks you back on his shaft and sheaths himself entirely in your poor little cunt.  He retreats a little, then thrusts again, hitting that spot deep in your core.  Your shirt rides up more and your belly button ring scrapes against the metal of the flat-bed.  

He reaches down and grips your thighs.   He holds you face-down like a wheelbarrow at the end of the truck, using your thighs to pull you back deeper, harder.  You slide against the cold metal, your belly button clinking.  Each thrust seems deeper than the last until he can't possibly fit any more of himself.   He fucks you slowly, and you feel a knot forming in your core.  You find yourself actively meeting his thrusts.  He speeds up and you feel hotter, weaker, more desperate, ready to unravel.  You're on the edge of climax when his hands tighten around your thighs and you're jolted back into him, harder than ever. 

The tension in your core explodes all at once.  As you see stars, you clench tight around him, your whole body tensing every few seconds.  Then, as you're still riding guilty waves of pleasure, you feel him pulse violently into you, and you're pumped full of his hot cum.  Michael breathes heavily in his mask.  You lie there weak and deflated, catching your breath.  

He shoves you almost all the way back onto the bed of the truck for safe keeping while he zips up. Your feet still dangle off and you're still face down.   You hear a series of loud thuds as the truck dips under his weight.  Michael stands still, feet straddling you. You finally flip over on your back and watch him loom over you.  He crouches down between you and the cab of the truck.   You lift your chest and head up and he grabs you  under the armpits and drags you, leaving a snail trail of cum, until you’re up against the cab.  He gently positions your legs so you’re in the same pose as the pin-up silhouette on the sticker.  

-

Michael leaves the garage wearing Bo’s uniform. Your face is hot and your eyes well up, but you stay posed like that for some reason. After a few minutes, you hear rustling from the ground and finally leave the artful pose to get on your knees and peer over the side of the truck

Bo is alive.  He squints up at you and brings his hand to the back of his head.  "What happened, Darlin'?" You feel the strangest urge to take care of him.  

-

[royalty-unknown]

ABOUT ME - DNI - REQUEST

Hi welcome to my Royal Palace

My name is Royalty!

Feel free to call me by any of these pet names: Like, Love, Okay

Angel, Puppy, Little One, Cub, Sweetheart, Darling, Honey, Bunny, Bambi!

My Pronouns are: She/Her/Hers

I am Bisexual

My big age is 18 but I regress to about 0-4 Majority of the time it’s 0-1!

—---

This is a 120% SFW Agere blog!!!

NO NSFW!!!!!! (U will be blocked .)

—-----

DNI:

ANTI-LGBTQAI+

HOMOPHOBES

TRANSPHOBES

TERFS

MAPS

ANTI-AGERE

THINSP0

GORE

OR A MEANIE!

—-----

Please do NOT Sexualize my age regression, mine is COMPLETELY NON-Sexual!

All SFW Everything! No NSFW allowed and all NSFW Acc will be blocked. I am working on creating a Big space blog on Tumblr so the two can stay separate. My Wattpad User is: Royalty_unknown and is NSFW and SFW writings but mainly NSFW.

—---

Feel free to request anyone who I write for but I cannot guarantee anything! Because writing is a safe space for me but I only do it in my free time!

You can request mood boards too!

This is a fairly large writing scale for the people who I write for!

—--

All of these people are in orders from my personal most favorite to just favorite person of that category if that makes sense

Slashers:

Stu Macher & Billy Loomis - Scream 1996

Bo, Vincent, & Lester Sinclair - House Of Wax

Brahms Heelshire - The boy

Corey Cunningham & Michael Myers - Halloween Ends

The Grabber - The Black Phone

Norman Bates - Bates Motel

Jason Voorhees - Friday The 13th

Chucky and Tiffany Valentine - Childs Play

Bubba Sawyer - Texas Chainsaw Massacar

Freddy Kruger - Nightmare On Elm Street

Kurt Krunkle - Spree

Detroit Become Human:

Connor

Marcus

Kara

Hank

Simon

Black Panther: Wakanda forever

Riri Williams

Shuri Udaku

Avengers:

Loki

Thor

Bucky Barnes

Stee Rogers

Z Nation:

10k

Warren

George

Doc

Addy

AHS:

James Patrch March

Tate Langdon

Kai Anderson

Do request:

Hurt/Comfort

Poly Dynamics

Fluff

I will about darker topics like ED’s, S*icidal, Intrusive Thoughts, Anxiety, OCD, etc. But only in ways that result in comfort, reassurance, coping, and support. I understand that mental health is a hassle at times so I understand it may be nice to read about someone caring for you through ickiness/times.

Don’t request:

Trans prompts (Sorry I just don’t know how to write in the correct way for that particular subject.Sorry.!)

NSFW

Male reader (As a female I just don’t know how to write for male! So Sorry!)

REAL LIFE SERIAL KILLERS

[em-dashes]

as part of an experiment today, i decided to try cutting out rian's POV chapters from the beginning of the story. the pacing ended up feeling very odd, so the experiment might have turned out to be a bust. but hey, i tried, at least

[lcnelyday]

today's vibes: anya vincent. | 24. she/her. composer & songwriter. daisy edgar jones. ash dayna. | 30. they/them. video store cashier. emma d'arcy. bo linklater. | 39. he/him. cowboy at golden. luke grimes. judas palma. | 47. he/him. cowboy at golden. pedro pascal. julie petrichor. | 33. she/her. playwright. emmy raver lampman. oliver evans. | 28. he/him. lab technician. joseph quinn. saf mulroney. | 27. she/her. book bus owner. victoria pedretti. tate o'brien. | 29. she/her. teacher. elizabeth lail. (single mom verse) tessa deschênes. | 21. she/her. student. minnie mills. wolff weiss. | 41. he/him. assassin. zach gilford. like this post & comment which muse if you'd like a starter. click the links to be directed to their mini bio. longer form bios available by request. REMINDER: i only write with the beta editor. please read my rules, which are pinned on my blog.

[quarryhag]

musing tags pt. 1

[finalatomicbuster]

Steve Regis photographed by Bo Tate (1992)

[biglisbonnews]

Internet pimp Andrew Tate detained for another 30 days in Romania Andrew Tate, the misogynist influencer and accused sex trafficker, will spend another 30 days in a Romanian jail after authorities there extended his stay. The continued investigation into the Briton's activities there wasn't hard to justify, by all accounts: his relentless and overt boasting about what he does, including his belief he could pay his way out of trouble, was used against him in court. — Read the rest https://boingboing.net/2023/02/22/internet-pimp-andrew-tate-detained-for-another-30-days-in-romania.html

[rapturously]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓��: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[proxylynn]

Every birthday I could find for every visual novel character I play on this blog (and the other game characters too)

[Okay, so this is every character's B-Day that pops up here. If I couldn't find it, it's hidden really deep. To make this clear, I'll post them in by series. If there's any I missed, please, tell me about it so I can add them.]

YourBoyfriend/YourGirlfriend:

Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack:

Sunny Day Jack - June 15th, 1958 (Gemini) Ian Duff - March 3rd, 1997 (Pisces) Nicholas “Nick” Herrera - January 18th, 1997 (Capricorn) Shaun Durand-Cofer - October 7th, 1997 (Libra) Barry - ???? ("That’s it. He’s just your manager!")

The Groom of Gallagher Mansion:

Elias Declan Gallagher - April 19th (Aries-Taurus (cusp)) Taylor Anthony Potts - August 24th (Virgo)

DachBo:

Bo - ???? Simoun - ????

Br<3ken Colors:

Ace - ???? Angel - ???? Catherine - ???? Delivery Guy/DG - October 31, Scorpio, Chinese zodiac: Rabbit Diana - ???? Gunther - ???? Janne - ???? Jester - ???? Leevi - ???? (Cancer) Mike - ???? Milla - ???? Mimic/Mic - ???? Pearl - ???? Rasmus - August 13, Leo, Chinese zodiac: Ox Richie - ???? Salvador/Sal - ???? Shadowman - ???? Skye - ???? Stalker (Damon) - January 6, Capricorn, chinese zodiac: Rooster Venni - ????

MalcontentGame:

Malachy Doe/Mal - January 1st "Antichrist" - ???? [There are two more characters but they left the project when things went south, so I won't be including them despite having the info]

JohnDoe:

John Doe - November 35th

FrostBite:

Tate Frost - April 28th Vic - ????

House Hunted:

Maison: ???? (planted in the 60s) Heim: ???? Mayor's Assistant (Ivy) - ????

14 Days With You:

[REDACTED]/Ren - February 14th (Aquarius) Moth - January 2 (Capricorn) Violet Gacia - June 10 (Gemini) Elanor Creston - July 5 (Cancer) Conan O'Rourke - August 27 (Virgo) Jae-Hyun Kim: September 28 (Libra) Leon Davis - November 30 (Sagittarius) Teodore Alvarado - July 29 (Leo) Olivia Dhawan - ????

Angry Boy Pedro and His Friend:

Pedro - ???? (He does not like to remember his birthday or his childhood in general but they plan to tell his birthday in the game)

My Dear Hatchet Man:

Alan Orion - January 14 Stuart Cassidy/Stu - February 6 Erika Vivián Ramos - May 5 James - August 7 Jules - June 22 Claude - November 11 Carver - ???? (doesn't remember his birthday, so he made his birthday December 15) Stitches - April 4th

Lurking for Love:

Jacob Alden: October 26 Austin Lepley - ????

Apples to Ashes:

Douglas Owens - September 20th Xamira Othman - ????

Your Dearest Boyfriend:

Victor A. Anderson - ???? Lizzy - ???? TK - ????

See Thru: Need a Friend?:

[unkown]/Friend - May 10th Z - ???? Carter - ???? Diane - ????

GLASS MIND:

Liu - ???? Dr. Fischer - ???? Nurse Sara Evans - ????

A Double Sided Mirror:

Charlie - April 8th Charles - ???? (possibly Mother's Day) Cameron - ???? Lein - ???? Jeremy - ???? Stella - ???? Jacob - ???? Lucy - ????

[lovelycrimsonredsnow]

RANKING VISUAL NOVEL YANDERES [revamped vers~!] now that i actually played the games lol-

•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚ *•¨•.¸¸☆¸¸.•¨*• ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ｡･:*˚:✧•¨•.¸¸ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*•

jack ☁︎ [swwsdj] : 6/10, honestly he isn't that bad ...i dont want him to choke me though i see you laney

doe ♡ [john doe] : 9/10, i wanna step on him and crush his skull like a twig and also bury my face in his tits <3

Seth ‹𝟹 [dies irae] : 7/10, he's a bastard [hes so bbg i love him NVJGBJGHSKHJK]

Ren ✬ [fdwy] : 4/10, pervert incel femboi

Alan *ੈ✩‧₊˚ [mdhm] : 8/10, i wanna kiss his scars and tell him he's my princess :3

Sol ❣ [tkitb] : 8/10, COME AND FUCK ME EMO BOY- not really but i do wanna smooch him 😘

casper ✣ [adwd] [i know he isn't really yandere buuuut 👀] : 100/10, POOKIE 😍

Mychael ꕥ [mushroom oasis] : 10/10, AHHHHHSKIFJHZRGHSBIUYS LEMME CUDDLE YOU

jacob ❀ [lurking for love] : 4/10, average height...average personality...average cock-

Damon ☘ [broken colors] : 9/10, HE'S SO BBG CODED AHHHHHHH

peter ۵ [your boyfriend] : 2/10, get yo rat lookin' ahh out of my sight 😒

tate・[frostbite] : -300/10, andrew tate-

koolie ❤ [tentador leeches] : 3/10, ... i feel bad for him a little bit but also FuCk YoU

Bo ✮⋆˙ [datcha bo]: 1/10, UHM....wtf was that one 'feed me' screen...😨

ellias 𝄞 [tgogm] [again...isnt really a yandere but i like him] : 8/10, LEMME MARRY HIM BITCH-

Monika ᯤ [ddlc] : 8/10, self aware ai >>> irl ppl

Yuri ღ [ddlc] : 5/10, WTF YOU MEAN 'it's soaked with fluids...' 😰😰😰😰

404 ✪ [monster x mediator] : 7/10, 💊👈😀 TAKE IT IT'S FOR YOUR BIPOLAR BITCH-

[madamemaximoff06]

Me: “I’m not a slut”

fictional Villians/Serial Killers exists:

Me: “Okay maybe I am a little bit”

Characters in Order:

Billy Loomis (Scream 1)

Stu Macher (Scream 1)

Mickey Alteri (Scream 2)

Charlie Walker (Scream 4)

Bo Sinclair (House of Wax)

Jason (J.D) Dean (Heathers)

Habit (EverymanHYBRID)

Patrick Andersen (MLAndersen0)

Jack Torrance (The Shinning Mini-Series)

Kappa (Black Mirror)

Tate Langdon (American Horror Story)

Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow (Batman: The Dark Knight Trilogy)

Light Yagmai (Death Note)

Erik Destler/The Phantom of the Opera (Phantom of the Opera)

Mark Jefferson (Life is Strange)

Simon Kelleher (One of Us is Lying)

Joe Goldberg (You)

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

Valtor (Winx Club)

Josh Washington (Until Dawn)