#crackish au

[wylldebee]

Asoiaf AU where everything (almost) the same except all Valyrian women are tall. Like...all of them. Every single one of them are either six feet exactly or are Brienne Tarth sized. Nobody knows why. It's all blamed on Valyrian magic. Short king Aegon the Conqueror and his giant sister-wives. Visenya is the tallest. Rhaenys loved using his head as an elbow rest. Smol sons Aenys and Maegor with their tall mamas. Vhagar loves her tol Visenya <3 She was Confused and Very Concerned when Visenya (Aemond) not only had an eyepatch but had suddenly become Smol. King Jaehaerys and his six-foot-and-something wife good queen Alysanne and their five, six-foot-and-something daughters. You ever headcanon Vaegon to be the shortest of the brothers? Well now this guy is tiny when next to his sisters. Alyssa used to pick him up by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. Another reason he was happy to be at the Citadel. Viserys and Corlys love their tall wives and tall daughters <3 Laena were both menaces to society and Daemon and Harwin worshipped them. Jace and Lucerys followed their father(s) in the same way with Baela and Rhaena respectively. If she lived, Rhaenys daughter of Elia would've towered over her brothers Aegon and Jon, and would try to carry them everywhere as if they were her black cat Balerion. Daenerys had an early growth-spurt. Khal Drogo would've fallen in love with Dany even more like yes he has the most beautiful of tall wives he will conquer every kingdom for his tall and majestic khaleesi.

[ghost-bxrd]

Ngl I think that might be my fave part about this au

Hi that ground hog day Jason prompt has me in a head lock. The absolute angst and trauma the batfam will experience. Especially the first time before the loop resets with Dick, Bruce and Alfred who have already lived through Jason's first death. The bad memories this will stir up. You could go for extra angst, since Jason's death into he first loop probably wasn't intentional and go with the classic bomb in in warehouse for an extra guy punch. Just really drive all the bats to the brink of their remaining sanity.

Then you look at the fun Jason gets to have, with all the different ways he can kill the joker. Like, you could have some really jaring and comedic tone switches with the pov switches.

Just, I am so looking forward to anything you bless us with from this idea.

The first thing I just thought of was the song Headlock by Imogen Heap and I think it’s funny cuz it sorta fits the differing POV of this particular groundhog AU pretty well hehe

Alrighty! So, I most likely won’t be writing a fic for this, but I do have some plot points written down as some food for thought/inspiration ✨

!!! Considering the mechanics of this particular prompt please mind that these include mentions of suicide !!!

A stranger cryptically tells Jason they’re gonna do him a favor and create a time loop for him ((this could happen in some random supermarket while he’s getting spaghetti. So… the usual Gotham weirdness. Nothing to be concerned about quite yet))

Going with the first death being accidental and happening at a warehouse, we could add to it by having it be a malfunction of Jason’s helmet. Like the detonators being triggered by a stray kick or bullet ((or batarang))

For Jason it’s an instant reset of the day. The Batfam have to experience an hour post Jay’s death before everything starts anew.

Bruce usually spends that hour cradling Jason’s body the way he did after Ethiopia

The first time the day resets the Batfam just think they had a spectacularly bad dream and keep everything to themselves. Jason spends all of ten minutes in a daze, and then he starts making a list of all the things he wants to do to Joker

Jason tends to opt for quick ways to kill himself at the end of each day. Usually as soon as Joker is dead, because that’s when he loses interest. And because he doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. Unfortunately the Batfam assume that all they need to do to end the loops is to keep Jason away from Joker and any explosives.

The batfam start reading into every interaction they have/had with Jason and become increasingly frantic trying to convince Jason that life is great and worth living. Jason is confused. And annoyed. Mostly because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to steal away from them.

By the time the loop finally ends for good, Joker has resolved to stay tf away from any and all Robins forever. He’ll go work at friggin seven-eleven and become an upstanding citizen as long as the Red Hood just STAYS AWAY from him. He regrets many of his life decisions.

Bruce has a full blown meltdown when he realizes that Jason is actively killing himself. Dick isn’t far behind.

Alfred tries to end the loop by sedating Jason, but the loop resets anyway

The batfam are feverishly looking for the catalyst that keeps driving Jason over the edge. Meanwhile Jason is having the time of his life and healing some of his trauma.

The longer the loop continues the more Jason takes notice of how frequently the batfam tell him they love him, and his focus starts shifting from Joker to spending time with them. Telling them things he never would if he didn’t think they’d forget it anyway.

Heartfelt talks and, eventually, teary begging from a batfam member for Jason to please not die again because they can’t take any more. And Jason’s horrified realization of what he accidentally put the batfam through.

[jlhynde-insanitybrilliance]

* 16yrold Tom Riddle flirting with UDLTTOM Harry*

*Harry yoinking Tom’s Gaunt Ring 💍 & using the Resurrection stone to summon Tom’s mum*

Harry: Merope come get your son before I put him through a wall—

Tom (visibly confused): …the ring can do that?!

[lurafita]

Single father Magnus szenario: (warning: CRACKY)

When things start getting serious between Malec, Magnus decides to involve Alec more with the raising of his kids. So when Raphael gets suspended from school for fighting, Magnus lets Alec handle the talk.

Alec: "So, what happened?"

Magnus nods along, proud that Alec thought about getting Raph's side of the story before anything else.

Raphael: "Well, Cody, who is this big douche, thought it would be funny to throw a big spider that he found somewhere outside right in Natalie's face. And everyone knows that Natalie is afraid of spiders, and she has asthma, so something like this can easily lead to her hyperventilating and shi-... stuff. So after I got rid of the spider, I punched him in the shoulder, so that he would stop laughing."

Magnus decides to have a talk with Cody's parents later, but right now he looks to Alec, who looks at Raph with a serious face and nods his head slowly.

Alec: "It was right of you to stand up for the girl, Raph. You are right, stuff like that isn't funny. But punching the other boy in the shoulder was not the way you should have handled this."

Magnus is so proud how his lover just showed his son understanding and encouragement, while cautioning it with mild reproach.

Alec: "You should have gone for the eye socket or the nose. A punch aimed there will stun your opponent much better. Then when they are trying cover the area, you get in a kick to the knee, landing them on the floor. Could alternatively bury your fist in their gut, but that often leads to them puking, and as long as it's just kids, you shouldn't mess them up too much. Got it?"

Magnus is shocked speechless, while his son just nods wide eyed in Alec's direction.

Alec: "Okay. Go do your homework. If you get it all done today, we can use the rest of your suspension for some self-defence training."

Raph grins and leaves, and Alec turns to Magnus.

Alec: "You were right. That was easier than I thought."

Magnus: "...."

[sneakyswag]

I made up an idea which is like super cracky crackish?? But I need you guys’ thoughts.

Legends Reborn. Yes. Well all love that au so good @absolutely-normal-about-x. We know that the Mega Man franchise has all of its time paradoxes and stuff. I thought of: The Time Skimmer. You know how Volnutt and the others explore abandoned ruins? Yup. Volnutt finds a Time Skimmer, turns it on, IT WORKS?? And somehow, he’s in 21XX.

He’s panicking, of course. Who wouldn’t? How did he get there? How was he going to get back? Oh wait, he’s never seen so many people in one place before. And between all those people he sees: his dad. At first, Volnutt doesn’t recognize him. He looked so different back then. He was skinnier, probably either taller or shorter, his armor was way different and he didn’t have scars on his face (yet).

Volnutt is stunned. He doesn’t know what to do. So he makes up a fake name for himself and asks his dad for help. Mind you, he gets super confused and conflicted because his dad doesn’t know it’s him. He wants to tell him, but he’s afraid it’ll poison the time stream? How does he know this? Quint. Quint travels through time and finds an anomaly aka Volnutt. He’s supposed to take him back but isn’t exactly taking him on the best terms.

Volnutt wants to stay. A part of him wants to stay in the past where it was all there. Yeah, it had its problems but so does the future! Volnutt wants to bring all his family to 21XX. Quint is not having it at all. Brother cannot STAND Volnutt at all and keeps trying to get him but since Volnutt somehow got close to X, it’s hard considering he’s under X’s protection. Quint manages to talk to Volnutt one on one through transmissions and such, but never for too long.

In the future, X and the others are freaking out. Though, the Time Skimmer’s effects are odd and a day in 21XX is only a couple of minutes in the future. I know, it makes like no sense. But I like to think that since Volnutt is messing with the time stream, things are starting to get weird. At one point, the guardians are starting to fade. Quint finds out and shows Volnutt during a heated exchange in front of X and others.

Volnutt decides to go back. Quint erases Volnutt’s and anyone else’s memory of the events. Except for one person. Beta. Beta talks to X about the events and X stares at him like he’s crazy. Beta is shocked and is convinced everything is a dream until he spots Quint teleporting away. Then he knew. He knew what had happened but not to the full extent. I’m still working on it. What do you guys think?

[looseleafteeaves]

Balance-Week 2 of Jedi June

This is part of the Desert Speaker Universe, which doesn't currently have a ton out. Remeber that most of my universes have multiple jedi who survive, and that Luke never has to rebuild the jedi alone. Just know that it is a minor scene in that world.

Ben Kenobi has been gone for almost 3 days when the figure begins to approach. The figure was wrapped in deep brown robes, and the hooded cloak shaded they're face.

Ome opened the door, and took a seat on the stoop, walking stick laid beside them.

The figure paused, shuffling around 30 steps away.

"I have heard of a... Ben Kenobi who lives here?" The voice is older than Ome would have expected, but still not as old as Marrat Kenobi.

Ome tilts their head, bird-like. "I live here."

The figure winces, before gently lowering the hood, the sunset of of Tatooine painting green skin with a golden tinge. "Then may I ask for shelter tonight so I may travel further into the Jundland Wastes to seek him out? I haven't any other options, traversing from Mos Eisley took the majority of these past two days."

Ome plants their walking staff, turned slightly so the sunny yellow and deep blue kyber crystals dangling from the wrapping are visible. "What is your name, Wanderer? I will grant you one night's shelter."

As Ome rises to thier feet, they watch the firgure with steady eyes.

The figure's interlocking circular tattoos rippled as he tried to control his expression of mixed hope and dread. "Jimyali Aneti. Thank you, Dweller of This Place, for granting me shelter."

Ome turns and gestures Jimyali ahead of them. "You may hand your cloak on one of the knobs by the door, and please put your shoes on the rack. We are hoping to minimize the amount of sand that makes it into the house."

Jimyali pauses as he reaches to remove the cloak, watching carefully as he turns, revealing a lightsaber hilt. Ome smiles, and welcomes him in.

As Jimyali begin to settle into the living area, Ome carefully braces a tea set on their hip as they step back into the living, three teacups set out. With his eyes watching her, Ome begins to measure out several servings of a Mirialan gold tea blend.

"While the water heats, and this tea steeps, we can talk. Marrat should be back by then."

Jimyali, with trembling lips and fingers, nods. "Would you- would you like me to see if I can heal more of whatever injury is causing you to struggle?"

Ome looks at him, a soft smile growing. "Let me be a fair host before you try to repay me, however, in the morning I would not say no to you taking a look."

Jimyali gives a fragile grin, and Ome wanders towards the door, opening it just as thier Marrat stepped onto the stoop.

"Hello, Marrat. We have a guest who has wondered a long time to see you."

Ben Kenobi freezes in the midst of his motions to pull of his boots.

"Marrat, the guest has asked for shelter, and I have granted it. He will not cause you harm."

Ben breathes out and finishes removing his sandy boots. Ome wanders back into the living room, and begins to serve the tea.

Jimyali jerks as Ben Kenobi walks in.

"Master Kenobi! You- You are- I finally found-" He begins to silently cry. "I am not the last of us. My padawan will not bear the burden of reviving us."

Ben Kenobi's own eyes spill over with tears. "Master Healer Aneti... I was so sure I was one of the last. So many lights have been swallowed by the Dark. I was sure that there would be none left."

Jimyali reaches out and drags Ben towards him, embracing him with shaking arms and a joyful force. "I am so glad to have found you. Veadu- I must call for him. He is in Mos Eisley, hiding. He can-"

Ben Kenobi continues to weep, and Jimyali makes the call.

---

Master Healer Jimyali and Padawan Healer Veadu remain in the small dwelling place for almost 3 weeks. Healer Jimyali is able to heal and improve the function of Omi's leg, and even is able to reduce the scar tissue where their slave chip blew. Omi is quite happy that he was able to do that much.

Veadu and Omi have long conversations, sharing what thier padawanships have been like.

"Padawans, please come join us."

Siting in the lotus postion in the small underground room, are Jimyali and Ben.

"We are in a time of great darkness..." begins Ben- no, begins Obi-wan.

"But as always, we stand as bastions of light." Continues Jimyali.

"We must balance ourselves against this new age of horror and fear."

"Against the workings that destroyed our people."

"The rage and fear and helplessness that remains inside us is not wrong."

"But it is not useful either."

"So now, we invite you to partake in our celebration of light. We are few, we are hidden, and we are light."

"Open your hearts and let the Force take the infection from our souls, lancing our wounds, and allowing our community to heal."

"Together, we find our new balance."

"Together, we make our new balance."

"Let us meditate on the years ahead."

And if Ben and Omi both dream of a day in the future when the caves of Tatooine are filled with the ringing of the light side of the force, they keep silent.

And if Jimyali and Veadu dream of the days when they are able to openly heal and help people once more, they keep silent.

After all, that day is not today. And the future is always in motion. Nothing you see is guaranteed. But the hope those images inspire... That is something they had need of.

The Force Provides.

Balance will come.

[selkie-hi]

TWST x Honkai AU thoughts

Okay I’m thinking for silly twst honkai au im thinking Like before in the previous era set in twisted wonderland there was magic and all basically like TWST we know but then Honkai came and heavily targeted magic users for unknown reasons and than when the current era came after the pe ended there were barely any magic users nor were there a lot of fae or beastmen left so the only magic users to still be there would be the pe magic user people going into cryogenic sleep and waking up in the CE. Making in my au malleus, and silver only magic users left since malleus has the role of Kevin kaslana and silver (or Lilia) having the role of fu Hua. Oh and and this is super crack but Leona as su becuz they both sleep (well su isn’t always asleep but you get the gist of it) meaning Leona dies eventually after CE vil goes into the second key and meets him in there

[kanerallels]

Ok, for the celebration: 16, 23 and 65

Thanks for the asks!!

16: Hamilton/Community Theater Au. In this (modern) au, Mace Windu owns a theather in his town, and directs most of the plays that are put on there. The one that inspired this au was Hamilton, hence the name of the AU. Kanan is in a lot of the plays, and Hera gets recruited to play Eliza in Hamilton (and Kanan falls head over heels in love, as you do)

23: Locksmith/Fencing Au. I came up with this one to try and figure out a creative interpretation of fix it in last year's Kanera Week-- basically Kanan is a handy man and helps Hera break back into her house, and also flirts with her like there's no tomorrow. It's called the Fencing Au because Ezra is in the fencing club in his school, which Kanan also has a little experience with. I've written one fic about it (and I'm planning a sequel!) that I'll link here

65: Meet The Robinsons/Time Travel Au. I've had ideas for an au of this sort pretty much every time I watch Meet The Robinsons, but I finally solidified it recently. If you've watched Meet The Robinsons, you know what to expect with the ficlet I'm gonna post beneath the cut. If not... watch that movie. It's so good. And you'll like the ficlet nonetheless!

Jacen had found himself in a lot of absurd shenanigans in his time, but this? This was something else entirely. 

He really should have known better than to go through a Force portal just because one of his friends dared him to, and he really should have known better than to linger as long as he did once he found out he was in the past. But he’d been curious, especially once he realized who he was watching.

But now? Now he was going to be in so much trouble if he got caught.

“Follow me,” he told his companion as they slipped into the large garage of the house he’d lived in since he was nine and the war ended. 

“Why are we going into your garage?” the young man asked, and Jacen risked a glance at him. And by him, he meant the six foot two figure of twenty year old Kanan Jarrus, studying him with narrowed blue-green eyes that Jacen had seen a hundred times before in the mirror.

Turns out the holofilms weren’t exaggerating. When you time traveled, things always got complicated. Jacen hadn’t even begun to explain who he was to Kanan, let alone the future he’d brought him to.

“We’re hiding you from my family until I can get you back to your time,” Jacen explained. “If we’re lucky, no one will be down here. My mom’s out of town, and she’s the one who comes down here the most.”

They were not lucky. Five minutes after they’d arrived— right in the middle of them going through all the books Jacen had on Force portals, which were very few— the door leading into the house swung open.

“There you are, Jacen,” came the cheerful voice of Ezra Bridger, and Jacen froze.

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Kanan whispered.

“You have no idea,” Jacen whispered back. Slowly, he turned to face his master, who was strolling into the garage. He hadn’t noticed the younger version of his master— yet.

“Zeb and Sabine are about finished with dinner,” Ezra told him. “And your mom called earlier. I told her you were out with friends and would call her back later— why are you looking at me like that?”

Biting his lip, Jacen said, “I need to tell you something, and I need you not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak…” his voice trailed off as Ezra’s eyes locked on Kanan, who offered a sheepish grin.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Kanan.”

Ezra let out what could only be described as a shriek of horror and scrambled backwards. Kanan blinked, looking surprised as Jacen started digging through the drawers of the nearby tool bench. Ezra’s screaming was going to attract attention, and for that, they needed to disguise the younger version of his dad.

“That was… unexpected,” Kanan was saying as Jacen grabbed him by the arm, spun him around, and shoved a large pair of sunglasses over his eyes. Next came a baseball cap, hiding his ponytail. Better than nothing, Jacen thought.

Kanan just stood there for a moment, then said, “As was that. Dare I ask?”

“We can’t let anyone else find out you’re from the past— Ezra, calm down,” Jacen told his master, who was still gaping.

“I have so many questions,” Ezra said, his eyes wide. “How? Why? Where? What? Who? When— I guess that’s all of them.”

Rolling his eyes, Jacen said, “Now’s not the time to panic. Now is the time to figure out how to get him back to his time, and make sure Mom and Dad and everyone else don’t find out about it. Deal?”

“I’m gonna require explanations later,” Ezra said slowly. “But deal. We just have to keep him away from the others.”

“Right, which means you’re gonna have to stay down here—” Jacen turned to Kanan again. Or rather, where Kanan had been. The younger version of his dad was gone.

“Oh, we’re so screwed,” Ezra muttered.

[helluva-hazbins]

@brokendreamscreation

Dem Apple-spice cookies bruh

strong contender for my new favorite tee k.o. shirt

[almostempty]

Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of  Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 |  Other fics | Rating: 18+ 

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit  

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3 

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and  Part 2 a read for a refresh <3 

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know 

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual. 

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice. 

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him. 

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist. 

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text? 

No. No, no, no. 

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right? 

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway. 

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you. 

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it. 

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great. 

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face. 

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down. 

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug. 

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.” 

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her. 

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up. 

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking. 

“What did he say?” 

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately. 

“Who?” 

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety. 

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.  

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks. 

“Oh, you meant Joel?” 

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought. 

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh. 

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it. 

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason. 

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?” 

“You’ve got that look on your face.” 

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?” 

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it. 

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust. 

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out. 

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.” 

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up. 

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—” 

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.” 

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask. 

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod. 

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo. 

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late. 

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him. 

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world. 

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers. 

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat. 

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn. 

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you. 

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench. 

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp. 

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.” 

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work. 

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie. 

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man. 

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong. 

Except for, well, everything. 

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day? 

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem. 

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening. 

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again? 

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later. 

Joel: More 

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise. 

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line. 

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more 

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative. 

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day. 

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.” 

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason. 

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store— 

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply. 

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly. 

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that. 

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.” 

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone. 

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.” 

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door. 

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.  

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone. 

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you. 

“Jesus,” he grumbles. 

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh. 

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies. 

“Yep.” 

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name. 

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.” 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” 

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once. 

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work. 

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.” 

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?” 

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.” 

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. 

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now. 

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently. 

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations. 

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you. 

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head. 

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together. 

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you. 

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out. 

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want. 

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine. 

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt. 

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic? 

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.” 

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening. 

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain. 

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted. 

“How did you know?” 

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.” 

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?” 

“Don’t.” 

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket. 

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering. 

You: You been thinking about me? 

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed. 

Joel: Maybe 

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already? 

Joel: Have you? 

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous? 

You: A little  

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment. 

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby 

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond. 

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away 

That has you shaking your head. 

You: Patience is a virtue 

He’s quick to respond again. 

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man 

That makes you genuinely laugh. 

You: Good 

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting. 

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous. 

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery. 

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath. 

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good. 

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly. 

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam. 

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him. 

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon. 

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan. 

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore. 

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?” 

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms! 

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you. 

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable. 

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace. 

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers! 

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research. 

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback. 

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it. 

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.” 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night. 

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips. 

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that. 

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts. 

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should. 

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”  

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself. 

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists. 

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“They have food, too.” you counter. 

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head. 

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it. 

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.” 

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it. 

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions. 

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening. 

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up. 

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?” 

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.” 

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.” 

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first. 

“Relax,” you purr. 

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax. 

“Do you have cash?” you ask. 

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused. 

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows. 

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’. 

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter. 

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same. 

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts. 

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize. 

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there 

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue 

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts. 

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick. 

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold. 

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles. 

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach. 

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush. 

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?” 

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul. 

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous. 

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp? 

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear. 

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties. 

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.” 

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off. 

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up. 

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue. 

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date. 

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right? 

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking. 

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand. 

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.” 

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.” 

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.” 

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild. 

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him. 

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you. 

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.” 

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control. 

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back. 

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow. 

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly. 

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?” 

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.” 

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.” 

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams. 

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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[hanafubukki]

A funny and crackish (?) soulmate au that came to mind is

Soulmate AU with Lilia Vanrouge but it’s the one where you share the pain of your soulmate…but in this case it’s everyday aches and pains (I mean we can go deeper with wounds and injuries but I’m trying to be comedic 😂)

You arrive to this world of twst and you find out soulmates are real.

And damn, do you find out the hard way, your body aches.

It ranges from day to day but it’s there and you weren’t like that before, after thorough check ups from Professor Crewel, he concluded it’s your soulmate.

Goodie.

So, here you are, half sprawled across your table with the first years trying to help.

You: Once I find them, they are going to pay for the hell I’m going through.

Ace: It can’t be that ba-okay, yeesh! Don’t give me that look!

You: My body aches. What the hell is my soulmate doing? 1000 Push-ups? And who hurts this bad? Almost every day? Are they ancient or something? Argh.

Also You: My aching back uwaahh, their posture probably sucks too.

The first years try to comfort you as best they could.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Crackish AU where Cloud and his mother are not of this world. They are the same race as Jenova, who was an escaped criminal that Cloud’s mom was tasked to find and eliminate completely. Cloud, who his mother was pregnant with when she crash landed and who the mother has been using alien tech to hide their true forms with ever since, has no clue as to his alien origins and thinks he is a normal human being.

Somehow, his true form is revealed. Reactions.

Everyone: *horrified screaming and variations of "kill it with fire"

Sephiroth: <3 ! :)

[theashen-fox]

The change didn’t go unnoticed by Ash. Each time he sent one of his characters against hers, no matter how “OP” they were, she wiped the stage with them. After the 25th curb-stomping match, he turned to her and said, “Just out of curiosity, how many twelve-year-olds have screamed slurs at you during online matches?” He wasn't upset by his defeats; he hadn’t played many games recently.

“Yeah, sure.” Ash sat down next to Aergia, picking up a controller. He usually didn’t, but he figured there would be no harm in it. She didn’t seem like the competitive sort.

[lurafita]

Be with childhood sweetheart > Arrest childhood sweetheart

Crack mundane AU

Childhood sweethearts Malec are torn apart by the injustice of their parents moving to different sides of the country.

When they meet again about 20 years later, it's as cop and villain.

Instead of all the drama and angst usually asscoiated with such a set up, the cop just switches sides immediately to be back with the love of his life. (Also, the coffee at the station was shit anyway)

.

[universal-joke]

When you and your friend just want to make a crackish Titian's West au with forgotten/unused characters fondly nicknamed The Cotton-Eye Joe's, but then you stumble upon forgotten lore:

Don't worry absolutely nothing bad has ever happened to either of them. Look they're having drinks! :D

I am in denial.

[wolf-feathers12]

An idea

Angron as sanguinius's bodyguard/protector!au

( I have very limited knowledge of the books/am still slowing making my way though the warhammer lore and most of my understanding comes from fandom interactions and this is very crackish indulgent idea that probs doesn't make too much sense if you apply some logic to it but hush ಥ_ಥ)

Angron but they find a way to get rid of his nails but he's still very angry ect >:O

Him and sanguinius interact and sang suggests therapy ala blood angel style. Cue a montage of him slowing being shown how to paint, draw and appreciate the fine arts ect. Plus he starts to really bond with sang. (Aparently depending on who u ask sanguinius might have started out as a slave?? So even more sorta bonding over trama type thing? Also i love sanguinius whump/hurt/comfort so yeah boi)

Angron starts spending more and more time with the angel and consequently finds himself near sanguinius when he wakes up screaming and sang comforts him. Maybe sanguinius expirenceing his own nightmares becaue of his visions and angron becoming less and less awkward when he pets his hair and tells him its ok that it was just a dream.

Regardless they both become really close (maybe even ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) close if that's what Ur into hehehe). sanguinius is one of the first people to show him any sort of kindness or understanding appart from his brothers and sisters. He still hates the emperor but he'll endure it if it means he gets to be with his brother.

Cue the horus heresy.

Everything is more or less the sameish with angron hesitating a little to join horus but his hatred for the emperor wins.

(I know that sanguinius and angron fight but er maybe they don't in this au?? Idk just skip to the fight on the vengeful spirit)

Sanguinius is completely exhausted and can barely keep himself upright when he confronts horus but confront him he does .

This is it. This is where he dies.

But just before horus deals the killing blow angron bursts into the room.

Seeing the person who has helped him become something more then a monster, more then his nails, who showed him how to correctly load paint onto a brush, how to read music, who's been there for him in the middle of the night, whose held him when the cries of his fellow slaves grew too loud being literally tortured to death, body broken (flashback to one of his gladiator friends being beaten to death maybe?) Angron realises where his true loyalties lie.

Horus is confused.

"You would protect him even though he is loyal to the same man who let your people die? You serve him even now by keeping the angel alive."

"The only emperor I serve is at my feet now."

"You would defend and obey a broken shell of a man?"

With determination in his eyes, clutching his weapon he looks horus straight in the eyes.

"To my last breath."

Shout out to @heuldoch7b for their post

https://www.tumblr.com/heuldoch7b/762780929429323776/would-your-no-nails-au-angron-look-any-different?source=share

That inspired this au :O