#if you're from the only community i care about (you'll know who you are)

[abbyfmc]

Yandere President! Husband x First Lady! Wife Reader:

I have never seen a yandere as a political figure, be it a mayor, minister, senator, congressman or president of an entire country.

The Yandere President met you before he rose to power, and from there he became madly infatuated with you.

The yandere president came from a very powerful family like you, so your parents and his arranged a marriage despite the modernity of the time.

He received a very comprehensive, albeit and very strict education.

Your education wasn't very different from his; you even knew each other from a young age, as your parents purposely brought you together.

The Yandere President won't take "no" from you for an answer.

A president needs to have charisma and know how to communicate with people, and the Yandere president is no exception. He KNOWS that there are people who believe in him, and whether he is corrupt or not, he will use this chance of manipulation to his advantage to have you.

The Yandere President will always make sure you're comfortable wherever you go together, or whenever you want to stay home. You will have the best medical care and attention, as well as the best food, drink, clothing, treats, accessories and, above all, protection.

And by the way, you will have a great and powerful status that others would envy.

The Yandere President is one of those powerful, paranoid, manipulative, protective and, above all, controlling yanderes.

Whether you're alone or with him, you'll ALWAYS be watched by him wherever you go, even if it's from your bedroom to the living room. The Yandere President will have bodyguards on hand to carefully protect you, him, and his family; he also has servants such as private chefs, maids, chauffeurs, butlers, security guards, etc.

ALL of those servants will tell the yandere president everything you say or do.

The yandere president has a WHOLE team of security cameras and microphones watching you from every possible angle (even if you can't see them), so he ALWAYS knows where you are, who you're with, what you say and what you do. After that, there's no way you can lie to him.

He would even limit your outings to the patio, for fear of snipers, according to him.

Needless to say, you have become the main object of his crazy obsessive love. He would do anything to have you; including killing his love rivals; overprotecting you; isolating you; censoring or controlling all information about you in the media.

The Yandere President knows he has enemies everywhere, both politicians from other parties and other nations and civilians (including rebel groups) who are willing to kidnap you, torture you, extort you, rob you, rape you and even kill you for the simple reason of being related to him.

The yandere president would barely let you see your family.

The Yandere President would love any gift you give him, just because it came from you, his greatest love.

The Yandere President would proudly show you off to everyone, and wouldn't stop reminding the citizens that you are his.

Even though you participate in politics and charity events, the yandere president considers that you should only be his due to his jealousy.

And speaking of which, the yandere president will not stand for you leaving him or talking to another man other than himself, your father or maybe a brother.

Whether in public or private, he will hold your hand, hug you or kiss you, but not to keep up appearances, but to show you the love he feels for you.

Although the yandere president knows that he must protect you from the paparazzi and the media, since he knows that if they have no mercy on him (being the president), much less will they have mercy on you.

I almost forgot: the yandere president would NOT accept a divorce.

He can't bear the idea that you, his beloved, want to leave him.

He would question you intensively to find out the reason for the divorce. Did he not take care of you? Did someone threaten you? Did he not give you enough gifts? Did he not love you or give you enough affection? Did he not give you the attention you wanted? Did someone do something to you and he did not protect you enough?

The Yandere President would talk things over with you and tell you right away that he would NOT let you go anywhere.

The yandere president will even lock you up to make you reconsider.

The Yandere President is not only someone with a lot of money; he also has the best team of private detectives, investigators, spies, hackers, guards and even police officers; so he knows EVERYTHING about you and your family, so if he can't get you to give up on the divorce, he'll have your parents pressure you or threaten to make them disappear.

The Yandere President is capable of ordering the killing of any lover you have.

He is the yandere president; he has absolute control over every part of the country, be it houses, apartments, schools and universities, public administration sites, establishments, all streets and even airports and/or borders.

Now, he would never dare to hurt you directly.

The Yandere President would be capable of making your life difficult if you divorce him. He will do everything to get you back, even sending his men to kidnap you.

He would not accept a divorce even if his election campaigns fail, just think that if he fails, you'll do it together.

The yandere president would be able to become a yandere dictator for you.

He would invite you on the most dazzling trips around the country or around the world.

-The end.

So, what do you think?

[awriterandabird]

not mentally ill enough to be fun for internet users to poke at, too mentally ill to be brushed off as "quirky", but just mentally ill enough to catch myself in yet another unending spiral of shame and agony!

wooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(dont press read more unless you read those tags. im warning you.)

for the love of GOD please help? stop?

earlier someone asked how they could help i told them to give me space i don't want to explode i feel like i need the opposite of space but also if anyone comes close to me i want to golf them into the sun don't talk to me. don't perceive me please talk to me. don't leave me

i wish i could channel this into something productive (not that i think anyone would want to see that. there's better artists and better art. whats one more little fag on the internet making stories about depression and derealization and autism and burnout. i don't have anything new to add.)

today i went outside and i had trouble staying in my own head

for a while i was a father struggling to keep doing his job because 'reality' around me kept feeling weird and wrong and i remember punching a hole in the wall and i heard birdsong but the birdsong was real and i was back on earth (in my body) and the vignette around my vision was tangible. a fly landed on my arm and it made me yell. i was real suddenly- the veil was gone. i walked around and i looked at some things. i saw a weed growing in the cracks of the asphalt and i saw grass growing through a circle of rocks. at the fairy tree i found a perfectly round rock and wondered what was inside. i was back in the crystal shop- the one across the water- where the ferry took us i remember the perfect little geodes they sold i was back home i remember readying that hammer only to completely fuck up the swing and ended up pulverizing most of it. but i looked and the pieces were right there at the fairy tree. i thought about art and how i would portray things if i and i was that father again and i was struggling to explain i couldn't speak at all really even in the arms of my wife i fought myself and another voice (myself) and i told myself im not real and i told myself why do i feel like im stealing something from someone else and why do i feel like my life is over but it never started and i was in the backyard looking for my cat when the gate slammed. it slammed in the wind. im real again. the sun is still out. the neighbors just came back home- i saw their car pull in. im ashamed to keep wasting time outside, so i walk back in my house

i might have gotten the order of events wrong

does it matter

does writing it down even matter

im giving the void (at first i typed "voice") a recollection of something that doest matter

recorded here for all of time, wasting space on a server, rotting, festering.

who is this for is this for myself?

wouldnt it be easier if i just told the people in my real life what was going on,

no you know what shut the fuck up.

go get a job dumbass.

..yeah i feel like a right waste of space.

"look. walk-ins accepted. you can apply here too when you apply at [x] tomorrow" "tomorrow?" "what else do you have going on in your life?" we walked down the rest of the aisle in silence. i didn't have a reply.

"whats the difference between a psychologist and a psychiatrist?" "one can prescribe you drugs i think" "oh" we drove for 10 minutes in silence. i thought about my next question so carefully. i must have gone through dozens of iterations in that 5 minutes. i was the only one talking. during those 8 minutes i don't remember what the radio played. "which one of those two... tells you about if you have things in your head?" "what do you mean things in your head?" "like-" "like schizophrenia?" "yeah" "a psychiatrist i think. no? a psychologist. i forget" "yeah that's okay you don't know the answer, i probably should have researched myself, its kind of a lot of me to have expected you to have all the answers." "okay"

tomorrow i wake up. i have two options

>disappoint everyone (default option, no action required) >shut up, man up, get out of my room, become presentable, act Normal, interview at two different places, land a job, support the house, be a perfect functioning person

do i have an option

can i at least be a better person than writing a pathetic little vent longer than the colors of the sky. that no one cares about. that i wont care about in. fucking. whenever i can regulate my emotions again

wait will that even happen (someone made me go to type "(never)")

dear god. dear fucking lord. ive only been typing for. not long. it can't have been that long- less than half an hour- rollover just ended- but why the fuck did that person message me 6 times while im on DnD

aaaaaaaaaUGH i WANT TO GO. TO. BED.

WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP TRYING TO TALK TO ME

BUT THEY NEVER WANT TO TALK TO ME

7 messages

why cant we talk about nice things? i have nice things too- when i see them. in that other place. posting back and forth admiring each others stories and characters. i have that too. please. please can you talk to me

but then i swear like clockwork someone reaches out and i think no. not YOU. i want. THEM. (they don't exist) (they are a nebulous construct) what do i want. what do i fucking want. what do i care about? who do i care about?

im sorry. im so sorry. im sorry and i'll promise to respond to you. im sorry i know how it feels to be ignored i don't want to do that to you. im sorry i don't understand these things you send me. i don't understand

earlier tonight i failed once again to follow a simple request

(i keep looking up at those 7 unread messages)

i failed to follow it and i felt so. broken? useless? stupid? worthless? how can you expect someone _like me_ to get a job. to be _functional_

i dont even know if what i want to do is what i want to do anymore

all that time i spent in school. im sorry i wasted your time. im sorry im not going to amount to anything more than that. than this.

"they said they lost you in the system" "lost?? i. i submitted 3 times. under 'jay', under '[dead]', under '[last1]', under '[last1-last2]', i tried. i tried." -- "maybe they just don't want to hire me" "that's not it" "[z] got back to me that one time. do you remember?" "oh only a little-" "they said they're not hiring for night positions. even if on the website, the spot is still open. maybe if i just. replied back again and told them i'd do day anyways" "well, would you rather work at [x], or [y], or [z]?" "[y] i guess... not because i want to work in fast food but the benefits-"

the one blessing of tonight is that at least i haven't been super dysphoric. im too busy trying to claw back into my own body to be worried about whether or not it fits. i just need to be IN one

its been so hard to think of it as anything other than "the body", rather than "me". its. supposed to be "me" i think

whatever that means

my head is swimming again. i need to end this post

7 unread messages

i know i'll hit post, and i'll never see this passage again good riddance. maybe with all the bile ejected now i can actually be

something. i still dont know.

[inkskinned]

there's this video you've probably seen already where a woman is shaking in front of a microphone and delicately tries to ask - how can i make my husband listen to me, i've tried everything, i don't want to seem ungrateful and the other man laughs - the problem is that you married a man, we're only listening 25% of the time and we only understand 5% of that! and the audience laughs and the woman laughs and you just sat there, phone in your hand, letting the sound of it echo

and the thing is that people make think-pieces about it (isn't this one of them) and satire versions and "flipping the script" which is good and fun but at the end of the day, there's some truth in that man's response about men-not-listening. and you have tried to language that feeling for years, this sense that you can only take up 33% of a conversation before others view it as being "dominating".

it's not that they aren't listening, it's that the action they're taking is purposefully silencing. it's different. you accidentally-don't-listen a lot; just because the world is loud and you're distracted. you don't mean anything by it. and the truth is that the man who spoke is relying on that to be true of you; the way it's true of everyone. but there is a different undertone to his kind of not-listening. what he means is they don't respect you and you shouldn't expect them to. there is a difference between oh shit i forgot to take the trash out and why didn't you remind me to do it, just like there is a difference between i didn't realize you wanted to go out this weekend and why do you expect me to plan things why can't you just tell me where we're going.

and the thing is that it isn't just him, and it's actually not just because of your gender - your skin, your class status, your weight, their ableism - it happens often. so often it feels like a tightness around your throat and a weight in your stomach. you're not even "really" allowed to be upset about it, because to them it's a joke. and they laugh. and you know exactly the amount of work that goes into every conversation. how you have to work to condense down your thoughts into intelligent, crisp soundbites; worried someone will try to swoop in and cut you off. and there's this sense from everyone else - oh stop being so sensitive, are you really upset just because they weren't listening and you don't know how to say the way that feels when it happens constantly.

there's that video of the science summit where a woman in the audience finally says let her speak please! and the whole crowd bursts into applause and the man leading the summit holds up his hands and bows his head and says oops, sorry! like what he did was awkward and embarrassing, a little social gaffe that happens easily. later in your meetings, you're asked to take notes, and you don't say anything, you just hear let her speak please! ringing in your head and know that you'll never be brave enough for that kind of thing. and besides. think of all the people who agree this was a one-off, he just got excited and all of the people who say one man is not indicative of all of society

at the dinner table you're talking about someone you don't like and how he's not good to his girlfriend and how she always has to remind him to put the effort in and before him, she was glowing with curiosity and passion but now she just seems... tired, unhappy. that he likes the way she burns out; she stays home and takes care of him and their 2 kids. and your father sniffs and says that men take a while to learn those kinds of things. and you just stare at him and think about your childhood and are like - no wonder i turned out like this

and you want to say - there's no fucking secret school or mystic form of communication. i was not sent to Rearing a Child University. i did not graduate from Getting Chores Done College. i ask questions and i listen and i pay attention, because that's basic fucking human decency. it stems from respect, and how i respect others and their agency. i clean the house because someone should clean. not because it comes "naturally".

hell, you had to google "how to boil an egg" the other day, just because you usually make them scrambled. you can never remember which of the 2 bathroom cleaners make chlorine gas, only that two of them definitely do. you've accidentally bleached your clothes. it took you like 3 years of self-teaching before you figured out how to actually cook things correctly - for that whole time, you burnt or undercooked everything. but you did teach yourself; just like you taught yourself how to listen with empathy. just like how you taught yourself to think before you speak. to be kind first, to be better at communicating. it seemed like a good thing, an adult thing.

the joke the man in the video makes is that women say i'm fine! when they are not fine. and you think about the 150 conversations that happened around that; about how she probably has had so many arguments with her husband. how she said i'm upset you don't take me anywhere and he got mad at her because of course i do, you made me go to that stupid restaurant like last week and she probably said that's not what i'm saying and he said now i'm supposed to be psychic or something and she said no of course not and he said how am i supposed to know what to do when you don't even like everything and she said i do like things and he said well how am i supposed to win? and her pastor probably told her to be more grateful because they do things at all, even if she has to plan them and her mom probably told her that's just how men are honey and she probably cried over her journal, trying to figure out why the fuck she "has everything" and is still so bitterly, horribly unhappy

and how, in your life, for so many reasons, you looked down the barrel of another argument; of explaining yourself and being vulnerable and begging for help again. how many times you just said i'm fine because it was better than doing that again; it was better than wringing yourself out when it's literally easier to just pretend. because he wasn't going to listen. your father wasn't going to be better and your boyfriend wasn't going to be better and your boss wasn't going to be more respectful.

and you sit in front of a video of a woman shaking, looking horrible and guilt-wrought that she's even asking this question. and you know; deep in your heart - that's you. in a different life, you are her. you've stood in her spot. and you had to listen while someone else cackled - why would we bother to notice when you talk?

[verstappensrealwife]

Perks of The Job - Max Verstappen x Assistant!Reader

Fluff

approx. 1300 words

warnings: kissing! a slightly different writing approach! Not proof read- when is it ever?!

max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

"First task...!" Max begins, but you quickly pick up the phone, assuming your role as his assistant. "Hello, Max Verstappen’s Assistant speaking—oh, what did you say your name was again?" you inquire, trying to catch the caller's name as Max urgently tries to signal you with frantic gestures.

"Charlotte Pendlebury," comes the response from the other end of the line.

Max's reaction intensifies, his gestures becoming more urgent as he tries to silently communicate something to you.

"I... Um, no, he’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?" you respond, attempting to keep the conversation professional despite Max's silent panic.

Finally, as you finish jotting down the message on a nearby post-it note, Max settles into the chair opposite you with a relieved sigh.

“So… You ghosted her after you... um, had relations with her,” you remark, trying to make light of the situation.

"Okay, new clause in your contract: don't judge me," Max quips with a playful grin. "Just make sure she doesn’t find me."

-

Months pass, and on one alcohol-fueled evening, you find yourself drunkenly texting your ex—or at least, who you thought was your ex…

When your boss unexpectedly shows up, in your inebriated state, you can barely distinguish between him and your ex. Following him clumsily through the bar and outside to his car, you boldly suggest a rather inappropriate proposition to do while he drove, only to be met with a surprised yet amused refusal.

As you stumble into Max's apartment, your mind still foggy from the alcohol, you're taken aback by the cleanliness of the space. "You moved?" you blurt out, surprised by the tidiness of the bachelor pad.

Max turns to you, a bemused expression on his face. "Y/N, look at me and tell me my name," he says, his tone gentle but firm.

Your thoughts muddled, you start to respond automatically. "Ma– Oh! Max- Mr. Verstappen- I- Am so sorry," you stutter, finally realizing your mistake.

Max chuckles softly, his amusement evident as he guides you further into the apartment.

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, you mumble your thanks as you sink into the cushions. Max disappears briefly, returning with a glass of water and a concerned look.

"Here, drink this. You'll feel better in no time," he says, handing you the glass.

Taking a few sips, you feel a bit more coherent, though still mortified by your earlier behavior. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me," you apologize, feeling the weight of your actions.

Max waves off your apology with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. We've all had our moments. Just focus on feeling better now," he reassures you, his kindness washing away some of your embarrassment.

Grateful for his understanding, you nod, silently vowing to be more careful with your alcohol intake in the future. With Max's support, you start to relax, the tension of the evening slowly dissipating as you settle into a comfortable silence together.

Feeling surprisingly refreshed considering the events of the previous night, you cautiously explore Max's apartment, your mild headache a small reminder of your intoxicated antics. As you rummage through his cupboards, searching for something to alleviate your thirst, Max's voice startles you from behind.

"You're awake!" he exclaims, catching you in the act of snooping through his belongings. His tone is light, lacking any hint of reproach.

Caught red-handed, you quickly straighten up, turning to face him with a sheepish grin. "Uh, yeah, just... looking for a mug," you mumble, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep into your cheeks. Max chuckles at your flustered state, gesturing towards the cupboard. "The mugs are on the right," he offers, his amusement evident.

You nod gratefully, relieved to have a legitimate reason for your nosiness. Retrieving a mug, you fill it with water from the tap, taking a long sip as you try to compose yourself.

"Thanks," you murmur, feeling a bit more at ease in Max's presence.

He smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No problem. Help yourself to anything you need," he says, gesturing around the apartment.

Feeling a sense of gratitude for his hospitality, you nod appreciatively. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Max's easygoing demeanor puts you at ease, allowing you to relax into the unexpected morning after.

As the morning progresses, you and Max find yourselves drawn into each other's company, the tension from the previous night giving way to a newfound sense of closeness. You chat effortlessly, sharing stories and laughter as the hours slip by unnoticed.

At some point, you realize how comfortable you feel in Max's presence, the awkwardness of your earlier interactions fading into the background. His easy smile and genuine interest in your conversation put you at ease, igniting a spark of attraction that you hadn't anticipated.

As you sit together on the couch, the air between you charged with a palpable energy, you feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. With each passing moment, the distance between you seems to shrink, until you're practically pressed against each other, the heat of his body warming your skin.

Caught in the moment, you find yourself drawn to him, your heart racing with anticipation. And then, as if guided by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that has been brewing between you since the moment you met.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation, the world around you fading into insignificance. In that fleeting moment, there's only you and Max, bound together by a shared desire that transcends words.

When you finally pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you meet his gaze, finding a mixture of surprise and longing mirrored in his eyes.

"I'm sorry!" you blurt out, feeling a surge of panic and embarrassment flood through you. "That was stupid—unprofessional—I—I should go," you stammer, scrambling to your feet and making a hasty move to leave.

But before you can make your escape, Max is quick to catch you by the wrist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Did you not like it?" he asks, his voice soft but laced with uncertainty.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, torn between the desire to stay and the fear of crossing a professional boundary. "It's definitely not that!" you insist, your words rushing out in a frantic tumble. "The kiss was—I mean—great but—"

"Then why can't I do it again, and again, and for the foreseeable?" Max interrupts, his tone earnest and determined.

You're taken aback by his boldness, the intensity of his gaze leaving you momentarily speechless. But deep down, you know that you can't deny the pull you feel towards him, the undeniable chemistry that crackles between you.

Slowly, hesitantly, you allow yourself to lean in, closing the distance between you until your lips meet once more in a tender, passionate kiss. In that moment, all doubts and reservations melt away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a whirlwind of emotion and desire.

And as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you realize that sometimes, the most unexpected connections are also the most powerful—and that perhaps, this kiss is just the beginning of something extraordinary between you and Max.

El fin.

ITS SHORT I KNOW SUE ME IT WAS LAST MINUTE AND ITS 00:12

[warthogreporter]

A third look at the human fucker community on monster tumblr

🦇EVIL-Empoaroar👑 Follow

I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents.

🦇EVIL-Empoaroar👑 Follow

Update: I seduced the hero's parents. Does anyone have advice for bonding with a human stepson?

(65,678 Notes)

💇HumanTamer-BloodRaven Follow

Here are some ways you can keep your human from escaping without outright locking them up. I'm including stuff most of you won't be able to use just for thoroughness and to give ideas, feel free to add to this post with your own contributions.

-Erect a magical barrier your human needs your permission to cross, be sure to ask local wizards and the like for help if you're not used to setting this sort of thing up.

-Use love potions and other methods to speed up the process of removing their desire to escape you or resist your advances.

-Let them try to escape a few times, but set it up so that they fail and are immediately caught. You only need it to work enough times for learned helplessness to set in, so it doesn't need to be sustainable, psychology will do the rest.

-Put the exit somewhere they can't reach without help. Like up high if you can fly, or deep underwater if you're aquatic.

-Get guards. If you're worried about them getting at your humans, pick ones who won't be interested. Like if you only have men, recruit some lesbians for guard duty or vice versa. Bisexuals, call upon the asexuals.

👑Mr.Demon-King Follow

Also in some areas, like my domain, check for publicly available resources. I've been doing a lot to make humans more accessible for monsters, like free human tamer consultations.

(947,237 Notes)

👺Ascetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow

At the monastery telling the monks about my magic that enthralls monks while I'm in the process of using it on them (the monks). The monks are enthralled.

🧛Vampy-Vevito Follow

Aren't you the guy who thought humans could breathe underwater?

👺Ascetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow

FUCK YOU!

(53,435 Notes)

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

Some of you will literally look up mpreg spells before acknowledging the existence of human women

🍆InkEbus Follow

It'd be sexist to only bring in a human woman for baby making when you really only care about the men, women should be with monsters who truly appreciate them

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

My way of appreciating human women is getting them pregnant 🤰🤰

🐉Dragevening Follow

I wish they could lay eggs instead.

👴Nah-Gilfa Follow

Anything is possible with enough praying and mantras, do it long enough and the gods have to give you what you want

⚡️Indra-official✅ Follow

I swear if one of you fuckers calls on me via prayer or mantra for some weird sex thing I'm begging Shiva to end the world.

🪞Tezcatlipoca-official✅ Follow

You didn't seem so mad when Kunti needed you to get her pregnant.

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

What happened to this post?

(405,345 Notes)

🏇No-bell-steve Follow

It's so disappointing when I meet a human into monsters but not centaurs. I know people have their preferences, but it's frustrating how some people will be eager to have octopus like monsters from the abyss wrap their tentacles around them, but fucking a centaur is too much like bestiality.

🔔Goylegar Follow

Don't worry OP, there are plenty of monsterfuckers out there, you'll find your human partner one day. Your frustration is valid too though. It took me centuries to meet my human partner, I hope you don't need to wait as long.

🏇No-bell-steve Follow

Thank you.

(200 Notes)

Read the first two entries here (part 1) and here (part2). May end the series here or at least put it on indefinite break, don't want to drag it out.

[wellwells]

Dumber and Dumber

The ad from Obeycorps already burrowed it's way into your head. "You need to become dumber, slut!" was what it said. It's hold on you was temporary, but you want to change that. The ad was obviously right, right?

You know you only have a couple of hours until it wears off and you'll regain your normal, well-adjusted worldview again. You quickly make your way to the hypnotists office.

"I want to become dumber. Like, really really dumb. So dumb that men will Take advantage of me."

"You really want that? To be taken advantage of?"

"Yes. I want to be too stupid to be independent. I want to be used and abused by men who like me solely because i am really dumb."

"Well then, if that's what you want. Look into my eyes."

You can immediately feel it. Your concentration becomes harder to hold, heavy like it's a hundred tons. You drop it, which feels better.

"Excellent. You are getting dumber and dumber. Soon, you will be the perfect plaything for every man who wants you. They will use you and discard you, and you will be too stupid to care."

You moan softly as your mind crumbles

"Yes... Amy dumb... dumb Amy..."

Then it stops. Like a cold shower, your recurring intelligence makes you shiver. The effect of the ad ceases, and a little voice inside you wants you to be smarter again. But it is too late. It just feels so good to be dumb.

"I wanna become, like, even dumber. If i am as dumb as possible, i want to be even dumber than that."

"Of course you do. You want to be the dumbest girl in the world. So dumb that you can't even remember your own name. So dumb that you can't even form coherent thoughts."

"Yes..."

There is no turning back as you permanently lose thought after thought. There is nothing in your pretty little head anymore. You don't have family or friends, memories or a personality. All those words lose their meaning, drooling out of your mouth.

"Good girl. You are becoming the perfect plaything. So stupid that you can't even remember how to speak in full sentences. So stupid that you can't even remember your own name."

"Dumb... I'm so... dumb..."

"What is your name, my little plaything?"

Dumb slut... You are a dumb, dumb slut.

"I don't... know... slut?"

"That's right."

You smile at being correct, even though you already forgot your answer.

The hypnotist reaches out to your cleavage.

"Dumber... please... dumber..."

You can still think about wanting to become dumber, which is still way, way too much.

The hypnotist says words you cannot understand. The concept of language spills out of you like the boobs out of your top. You can No longer ask to become dumber, you lack the capability to do that. It's fine, though, the hypnotist seems to know what you want.

He slaps you and squeezes your face.

You smile, not really getting what is going on. Your body seems to get touched, which is enough to send a smile to your face. You don't know what a smile means. You don't know what touch means. You don't know what anything means.

You simply don't know. You drool.

He shoves his cock in your mouth. After a few thrusts, he pulls it out completely again, holding it in front of your face.

Your mouth tries to communicate to him about those jumbled sensations squirming about, somewhere behind your crossed eyes.

"mmmmm"

Truly the most eloquent piece of dialogue you could muster up. A masterwork of literacy. You are so proud for a second, before you completely lose grasp of what little ego you had left.

"You're still way to smart, i guess. Sorry about that. Become dumber, bitch."

That was it. All thoughts gone. You are an object. No internal voice anymore. You don't exist. He fucks your mouth.

[delicious-in-imagines]

What about Laios, Holm and Kabru with someone who has never been in a relationship before, so they are unfamiliar with how they work (nsfw too if possible? Thank you)

As usual, requests are still OPEN, and NSFW will be below the cut!

Laios Touden

The two of you certainly make a pair. I really don't see Laios as someone who's really cared about relationships in the past, so the pair of you will be parsing through the hiccups that come with any new experience.

Between the two of you, you'll pendulum swing between too much and not enough - too much time together, not enough privacy, too much affection, not enough kisses and hugs. It'll be really important for the pair of you to communicate and establish what you want out of that relationship in order for the relationship to remain healthy, and eventually level out.

The first time that you find the privacy to indulge in one another's company, the heavy petting that you started with will shift into something a little more... substantial. The two of you will pull away, feeling the heat and heaviness settling over you, and, just like the rest of the your relationship, it'll be up to the pair of you to decide whether to pull back, or to throw yourselves into the flames.

Holm Kranom

From that little tidbit in the Adventurer's Guide (?) that Holm is attractive by gnome standards. I see him having had maybe a handful of relationships over the years, but none of them have really been fruitful - so he's willing to lend you a hand when it comes to sort of figuring stuff out. He's quite slow and gentle with affections, always checking in with you to ensure that nothing is moving too quickly for you.

If you're ever feeling too overwhelmed, he'll pull back on the overt shows of affections, trading hand holding for linking pinkies, and kisses on the lips for ones on the cheek. It's important for him to know that you're comfortable, while still getting to explore these intimate parts of the relationships.

When things get heated, Holm will excuse himself, not wanting to feel as though he's imposing on you with his arousal. At one such point, you feel bold enough to tug him back, potentially from where you're straddling across his lap. It's his turn to be bashful, his face flushing brightly as he leans back, placing a strangle hold on his patience while you explore to your heart's content.

Kabru of Utaya

I can see Kabru being an accidental heartbreaker over the years. It doesn't take someone much to see that not only is he handsome, but charming as well. He's keen to remind you that he only has eyes for you. He'll indulge you in handholding, especially after dinner while you all discuss what happened during the day.

Even if you talk over dinner, he loves to have you set your bedroll beside his, talking over more personal things. Even despite the rest of the party being never too far away, he tries to make these moments feel as though you're the only two in the world. He likes to start off just laying side by side, holding hands - but eventually the two of you drift closer, until he's checking that you're alright with a pre-bed (and maybe even during-bed) cuddle.

He's got no qualms in explaining to you just what he likes, bearing his erogenous zones to you. He'll encourage you to explore, and is more than willing to reciprocate, moving the warmth of his hands over all over your body. In that nice, even tone, he'll give you words of affirmation, telling you how good you are, what an amazing job you're doing - he doesn't want you to feel like he's not enjoying himself, and he hopes you are too.

[patscorner]

I'm love with kk!!

I was thinking.... what about

Kk with older reader?

Headcannons or a fic (whatever you want)

Remember, take care and take your time. I love uuuuu 🥰💐✨️

love this idea!

I'm Not Even That Old

Summary: KK x Older!GF

wc: 634

Contains: a tad suggestive towards the end

______________________________

Kk definitely makes the most jokes about you constantly. Like the teasing is unending.

“You need help up, granny?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“We can even get you a cane if yo-”

“Kamorea.”

“Sorry.”

Even though you're only 2 years older than her, she makes sure you know.

“How was the great depression?”

“KK, how in the ever loving fuck am I supposed to know that?”

“You didn't have front row seats?”

That's not to say that you don't get her back. Whenever she pisses you off, you just talk to her like she's 7.

The team makes fun of you, too, but KK makes sure she draws the line if she thinks they go too far.

“Granny, can you please grab my water bottle?” Ice asks.

“Nah, don't make the old lady get up, Ice, I gotchu.” Paige laughs.

“Say that again, Paige, I will jam all your fingers.” KK warns.

Just because you're older doesn't stop KK from protecting you. In a party, on the court, even when a playful fight gets a little too intense for her liking.

The game had been physical already and it was beyond frustrating for everyone, but especially KK. The girl that was guarding you was overly touchy, and the refs weren't calling any fouls. She tried not to let her agitation show, and she was doing a decent job at it.

It all came crashing when the girl knocked the ball out of your hand, catching you by surprise. You both dove for the ball, hoping to gain possession.

You managed to hug the ball, the girl’s arm tangling with yours. The whistle blew, and the girl didn't let go. You were both on the ground, and it was not an ideal situation, so you let go, letting the girl yank the ball from you, shoving you simultaneously.

The refs call a technical, but that's not enough for KK, who has a couple of choice words for the girl. “Shove her like that again, bitch, see what happens!” KK spoke rather loudly.

The girl turned around, approaching KK, pushing off the players and refs between them. “Say that again, and it won't just be a fucking push!”

You rush over, attempting to pull her away from the interaction. You failed, and the two kept shouting at each other across the court, both of them gaining a technical.

“Calm down, calm down.” You mutter as you guide her to the bench. KK just grunts in frustration, plopping down.

“My little guard dog.” You smile at her. She rolls her eyes at you. “Fuck off.”

The team is always coming to you for financial advice as if you're not in the same spot as them.

“Paige, my degree is in communications, how the fuck am I supposed to help you with fucking statistics?”

“You're old enough to have done college twice! I thought you'd be able to help!”

“Bueckers, we're the same fucking age.”

“You're older than me.”

“By a single week.”

“Older than me, nonetheless.”

“Get the fuck out of my face.”

When you two argue, you usually have to be the mature one, normally apologizing first. If it's really bad, though, you stoop to her level of pettiness.

“Baby, please, I'm sorry, talk to me, please.” KK begs.

“Are you ready to apologize?”

“...”

“Come back when you have an answer.”

During intimate moments, you'll often take the lead, and she claims it's because you're more experienced, but you both know that's bullshit.

When you tell her to do something, she often quotes the Family Guy Skit, claiming that you're bossing her around.

She doesn't let you drive, saying she doesn't trust your driving skills at your old age. (in reality, she just wants you to be her passenger princess)

Even though she's teasing, the age difference doesn't bother her at all.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie

[pedge-page]

Crash

Sequel to Cravings

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie is reeling from the night you two had sex and can no longer differentiate between his addictions.

Notes: Great y’all, now he's got feelings . Hope you're proud. Anyway, thank you all for the overwhelmingly positive feedback from Cravings: alas, here’s part 2! There will be a part 3 finale following after this (because it was getting too long and I like making you all suffer). Thank you all again for the love and reading so far!

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), F and M masturbation, dry humping, drunk reader, slight dub con drunk sexual activities, references to sex, mentions of drug usage,  language, Frankie is kinda mean in this one :( , poor communication King and Queen

18+ONLY

- - - -

Frankie feels like a stranger who's overstayed his welcome in his own home. When he knew you were deep asleep, he crawled out of bed and sat on the couch for what felt like a simultaneous eternity and quantum leap of time, wrestling in his mind over what just happened.

He knows you'll be waking up soon, and the thought of seeing you now makes him feel so anxious. In direct contract to how he's felt seeing you every morning since you moved in. How much of last night stuck with you? You were tipsy, but not as fucked up drunk as he was. Did he come on to you too strong? Misread your signs? Did he force it on you? Would you regret it?

And even if you wanted it, was it just all for him? Was this just another "helping Frankie get over his coke problem"?

He can't just go back to seeing you as a substitute for his "problems". His hands shook at his side, leg bouncing. You were slowly transitioning from being the solution to his problems to becoming the reason for his new problems. He's never been afraid about how to act around you before, and that even includes trying to touch and kiss you in front of some guy you were flirting with at the bar.

God, what a shitty friend he is. You should have had the chance to go home with that guy, not have to deal with your coke addicted friend so he hog your cunt all night for himself.

Then again, why would you want to go home with that fucker anyway? Like he would know your body as intimately as Frankie does. As if he could even come close to bringing to the edge black out pleasure and back over and over all night. Catfish doesn’t pride himself on much except two things: flying a chopper under any condition, and making you cream on his tongue.

He feels even more guilty as his cock hardens in his pants, the memories of your sweet moans and perfection flood his mind. How he'd wanted it for so long and was so sure he was dreaming. But he could never mistaken: the hot tenderness of your sweaty skin, hair sprawled over his pillow, your nails sifting through his curls and scratching along his shoulders, the way your legs shook around his head, the taste of your over flowing juices needing him more than before, the sounds like honey pouring from your lips, the insatiably tight, wet grip of your pussy swallowing around him like a perfect fit, and the way you wrapped yourself around him like you never wanted to let go.

He wants you. Again. And again, and again. So much that he doesn’t think he can trust himself around you anymore.

-

You wake to a cold bed. It takes you a moment to orient yourself, recognizing the room is not your own.

You sigh relief when you hear Frankie shuffling in the kitchen, the smell of burning toast filling the air. You quickly run to the bathroom to freshen up, wiping your messy eyes. And surprised to find the once mess between your legs from last night had already been cleaned, probably while you had slept.

You can't help but feel like a shitty friend, hogging his bed, having him clean up after you when he was the drunk one who needed caring to.

You bounce into the living space, announcing your presence with an exaggerated yawn.

You rub his broad shoulders over his shirt, feeling him tense at your sudden touch. Slowly, your hands snakes down the chiseled lines of his back, wrapping around his waist. You felt his strong forearms flex the spatula in his hand.

He turned to you, his eyes warm but clearly sleep deprived. His breath is short when looking at you, eyes dilated. He can't stop your hands drifting south and feeling the clear tent in his pants that has been there all morning. He closes his eyes and groans as you palm his erect cock.

"Why didn't you wake me?" You asked, turning off the stove as you stare up at him.

Frankie swallows the lump in his throat. He brushes your hands off his crotch and holds them in his. “I’m okay. Besides, you needed your rest." He leans down to kiss your cheek, lacking his usual affection despite the gesture before coldly turning back to his cooking.

You pull away and sit down at the table, just a moment before he's plating your breakfast.

Frankie cooked you breakfast?

He brushes your hair out of your eyes before leading himself down the hall and into his room without another word.

Sheets, pillow cases, clothes, all of it gets balled up and tossed in the wash. He glances at you down the ball, your feet dangling over the island stool as you catch up on your news feed.

You couldn’t be any more oblivious to how much his heart is shattering—just from doing absolutely nothing.

-

He's annoyed at how well you carry about your business from then on. So much so that he's trying so hard avoiding using you as much. Yes he WANTS to fuck you again, wants to ravish your cunt every waking minute of the day like before, and then fuck you until you're pleading him to stop, tell you how good you look taking him, and how you were clearly made for him. But how much of it did you want for yourself?

After the first night, he’s been doing everything in his power avoiding sex with you because it’s dangerous. Because he can't control what happens next. Can't keep it platonic, and pretend he’s ok with it just staying sex. He almost lost it and confessed everything the first time—and what would happen when you didn't want that from him? If you didn't feel the same?

You'd leave him.

So of course you make it that much harder for him to resist you everyday since.

Did you realize how sexy you looked wearing nothing but panties, bending over your bed with the fan on after a shower to cool off? you left your door open, casually waving to him, breasts smushed between your chest and the soft blanket on your bed. Did you know he swells with pride when can he still see the obvious markings of his fingerprints bruised on to your hips, your thighs, your stomach, after spending so much time holding your shaking body against his mouth? The way your nipples pierce through his t-shirts that you manage to dig out of his closet, and how they do nothing but aide the memory of you underneath him, begging for him to use you?

Every time he sees you, he gets hard. And he immediately tries to ignore you, walks away, goes to do anything other than giving in to the desire of pushing you down, spreading your legs and taking his frustration out on the one who's causing it all now.

He can tell you're starting to catch on. You notice his curt attitude, the way his eyes avoid you when you’re in the same space.

You two were sitting on the couch watching tv as always, but he was uninterested, leaning back against the sofa with his eyes closed almost in annoyance. You had interpreted it as a sign of him holding back his urges. Sliding down the couch, you glide your hand across his chest, starting to undo your buttoned night gown. when he opened his eyes and saw the first sliver of your breasts opening for him he stood abruptly, throwing you off. He only mumbles 'goodnight' and headed straight to his door.

It's been a few days since the last time he ate you out, last time he really cared to touch you. And you should be glad, really. He's getting so much better. Clearly craving you less. That was the whole fucking point of all this.

But FUCK if you aren't needy as of lates. You can feel the hot flush of embarrassment as you drag yourself to your room. Wet and bothered and for the first time in months, left unsatisfied to your own devices without Frankie's tender and a bit selfish care. You don't remember the last you needed to masturbate, let alone wanted to.

It shouldn't be embarrassing. And yet as you dip your fingers down your panties and through your slick folds, you feel wrong. Empty. Like something isn't there thats supposed to be. The idea that you're so used to him getting you off whether you asked for it or not that you're now incapable of doing it yourself is—troubling.

You huff in frustration and try your best to work yourself to a minimal slickness, remembering all the times Frankie has brought you over the edge again and again. But thinking about him only makes you slightly perturbed by the fact that he's right down the hall and could be doing this himself, if he only needed you as badly like he used to.

You don't notice your friend is right outside your closed door, ear pressed against the wood as he listens to your hushed sighs. His cock is hard in his hand, pumping it with long strokes to your beautiful yet strained moans. He wants to be buried between your legs. Wants his tongue to lap at your folds, fingers craned deep in that tight hot wet heat thats been calling his name all night. Make you flinch away when the stimulation becomes too much, because he knows you'll still take it like his good girl until he decides to stop. He knows all the right places to push, nothing secret between the two of you. In fact, in the amount of time thats passed with your fumbling attempts to get off and his pulsing dick in his hand, he could have made you cum twice now.

His body has been on overdrive trying not to take you again. Trying to be respectful for a change. Everything hurts, even his cock, which no matter how much he tugs on it, it's nowhere near close to giving him that sweet release. He's feral, nails digging in his thighs with the need to feel you against him again. Needs to just fuck, let it out, and then he can deal with his brain, his guilt, afterwards.

And when he hears you softly moan his name, he can't stop himself from barging down your door, wild eyed, dick slapping against his abdomen as he crawled over top of you and captured your lips.

Stop, stop stop, he's telling himself. But with the way you're wrappings your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss, delicate hands cupping his aching cock, all his needs he's been denying for days have overtaken his movements. 

You're so bad for him. An unavoidable addiction.

Worse than candy, worse than coffee, worse than cocaine.

He flips you on your stomach, his hand engulfing the entirety of your lower back, pinning you there as his elbows spread your knees. He lies between your thighs, ass up in front of his face, and spreads your soaked folds, enamored with your clit twitching for him. Your little hiccup goes quiet when he presses his face into your mound, nose dragging along the line as his jaw works you open, fingers pulling your cheeks apart so he can suffocate himself properly.

His fingers dig into your waist, and he's rocking your body back and forth, dragging so deliciously against the sheets below you. His tongue is plunging in and out of your hole, and you realize he's fucking you on his tongue. You hum in relief, rocking with his movements, earning you stinging slaps on your ass cheeks. He kisses them better before biting your folds and gorging himself on your slit again, his appetite voracious after denying himself of your sweetness all week.

He ignores that bubble of guilt wedged deep in his stomach as he let's instinct bring him the relief he desperately needed, your squelching cunt and satisfied sighs tampering his cravings for you once again.

He watches you shake with your orgasm, encouraging him to keep taking. You babble: "Thats it, baby" "so hungry today aren’t you?" "Use it the way you like" and he closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the clear direction of how you saw this transaction. You were never this vocal before, but now when he's tossing and turning all night with his thoughts about wanting you, here you are telling him plainly. Almost as if you're reminding him the truth, discrediting his hopes for a different outcome.

He sits upright and slaps his cock between your ass cheeks, grinding down on you so you're still pressed flat on your bed. God, he wants to do it again. Spread your folds and split you in half with his fat cock. Make you weep and pass out, and then fuck you again. "Gorgeous fucking ass, mi hermosa. So pretty under me," He grunts as he slicks his member up with your arousal, just barely holding on the last bit of sanity he has by refusing to enter you. You whine in protest, but he has both hands on your lower spine, crushing your hips into the mattress as he uses your ass. "So good spoilin' me. Always there for me." He grits his teeth, rutting his cock against you, occasionally sliding back down to your folds to lather himself up. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He growls as he spills his cum over your lower back, breath catching in his throat.

The guilt creeps back in to his clear mind, and he's angry at himself again.

He can't stop himself.

"Frankie, why didnt—“

Before you could finish, he was storming out your door and slamming it behind him.

-

He used to be so loving. Used to worship your body, warm praises about how perfect you are for him. Sometimes he'd take his time, and other times he'd be fast, but still always with warm hands, attentive to your reactions, even when he was so fucked out of his mind needing you.

But now he's rougher. More sporadic than before, even as he decreases the number of times he's engaged with you. Silent now, too. fewer loving praises, less warmth behind his touch or his eyes, and in fact, spends more time having you in positions where he doesn't have to look at your eyes. He leaves you cold afterwards every time.

He's been acting like it a lot more lately: ignores you all week, being uncharacteristically polite when you corner him but managing to ditch whenever possible. And then he caves all at once, crashing in on you and takingtakingtaking, before going back to ignoring you. It should be a good thing: that he needed you less. That his cravings were subsiding more and more that he could actually go a while before needing a hit. It really should have been like this from the start: Cold. Transactional. Indifferent.

So why did you feel so awful now?

The only reason you haven't lost all hope is that very occasionally, that sappy, wet puppy dog of a mess shows his warm side again. You were showering when you heard him slip the curtain open behind you and step in, his arm immediately wrapping around your stomach, loving kisses adorning your shoulder, neck, and up to your ear. You sigh, relaxing in to his touches. He just held you there and kissed your body. He didn't even try to touch you, although you knew you were growing a different wetness between your legs. He didn't let you touch his obvious erection either. Just peppered you in kisses, dragging his lips over your stomach, combing through your hair, up to your elbow then down in the palm of your hand. There was no rush behind hid actions. No urgency. All gentle.

All Frankie.

YOUR Frankie.

But incidentally as he brought his eyes to yours, his chest seized with coldness again, and he's suddenly leaving you and the now cold shower without a word.

You didn't know how to make it better anymore.

He was so agitated again recently, and you could tell he didn't get any sleep again. You suggested he take the day off, the two of you could spend it "however he wanted", slyly offering yourself to him to take the edge off. But when he ignored you and went to watch the football game, two beer bottles dangling between his fingers, you rolled your eyes.

So fed up with his change in attitude, you spent an hour getting ready in your room, walking down the hall in heels, your tightest shortest shorts, and a low hanging crop. It had been a month since you and Frankie first fucked: combined with his recent behavior, stress with work, and lack of action, you needed a night out, needed to get wasted. Needed to stop being the baby sitter.

You needed sex.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Out."

You grabbed your keys and left.

You hadn’t even closed your car door before opening your phone and texting Frankie that you were going out with Santi to help alleviate any worries he might have of the company you're keeping. Pope’s just as close a friend as Frankie is: he shouldn't have any problems about the fact that you’re in good hands tonight and just need some time to drink and be out.

Away from Frankie Morales just for the night.

-

It’s like you’re perfectly doing everything wrong to him.

She's out with Santi. Fucking Pope. The same Santi who told Frankie years ago you're smoking hot, and he wouldn't hesitate to jump on you if you let him. His best friend, the one who knows him better than himself, and yet here he is making a move on his girl—

But you aren’t his.

In fairness, he has been a total ass. He keeps trying to curb his desires, punch away his uncontrollable feeling about you, only caving all at once on you like a bullet train. Then the emotional brick wall of regret builds immediately after release, desperate to shut out his overwhelming feelings and the rough actions he’s taken against you. It keeps repeating. 

He vainly hopes he'll actually stop wanting someone who doesn't want him any more.

He curses himself for only having enough alcohol to get slightly tipsy. It's been a week since the two of you did anything sexual, a month since "the incident" so it's a good thing you're out.

It doesn't make him feel better.

To his annoyance, his phone buzzes next to him as Santi's contact pops up. He puts it on speaker, can hear loud giggles and music outside, barely registering his friend saying you're completely wasted and need to be taken home. He doesn't even send a reply, already throwing his jacket and cap on and walking out the front door.

-

"FISHY!"

You're leaning over Santi outside the bar when you spot Frankie walking towards you two. Your mascara smeared across your eyes like you had been wiping them all night. You're mumbling incoherently, throwing your head back in a fit of laughter. Pope is barely holding you up right, sheepishly smiling to keep your morale up.

"Hey man. I’m sorry, She lost her keys and I walked here. Otherwise I would have..."

"It's fine. Gimme her," Frankie said curtly. How Santi would ever let you drink this badly, he'd have to berate him later.

"M' Pinocchio!" You gasped as Frankie slung one of your arms over his neck and hoisted you up on one of his shoulders.

Why? Full of lies? he wonders.

“I’m gonna be swallowed by a great big FISH." You hiccuped, cackling upside down with a nice view of your besties tight ass. Frankie readjusts your body like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder and stands up, holding your thighs securely. If Santi wasn't here, he'd smack your ass to get you to shut up.

Frankie nods once at Santi and goes to turn around.

"Hey Fish? Take—take care of her. Please."

No shit.

Frankie is pushing open the apartment door as you're mumbling "fishy fishy fishy—hic!— squishy fishy."

He drops you down carefully on your bed. "Get undressed."

You giggle even more, seductively biting your lips as you pull yourself up to his body, hands roaming his abs and down to his hips. "You first."

He stared down at you, your lust ridden eyes meeting his, as you're pulling your shirt off so you're only in a push up bra. He tried avoid staring at your supple tits, the faint bite marks and bruises from his past ministrations almost completely faded by now. A fresh canvas practically begging to be marked up again...

He shakes his head. "We're not doing this. You're getting in your pj's and going to bed," he said, scolding you like a brat.

"Ppfftttttt." You ignore him, lifting his shirt and kissing his belly button, tracing down his happy trail and pausing at his belt. "At least someone here misses me."

He hasn't even noticed how hard he was in his jeans until you were rubbing your cheek against his clothed bulge, doe eyes staring up at him. He hears the soft pop of his pant's button undone, zipper slowly being dragged down by your teeth.

"When was the last time I blew you, Fishy? Let me relax you. I know you've needed this..."

His jaw clenched as he avoided your eyes.

“Know you want me,” you purred.

 Those fucking words again. If you KNEW how much more he actually wanted from you...

"He's positively aching, Fish. Shouldn't ignore a big man in need."

He doesn't stop you when you pull his cock out of his pants, having foregone the underwear in a rush to get you. He closes his eyes when your pretty nails wrap around his thick length, lips ghosting over his tip as you press an innocent kiss to his slit.

You hadn't blown him in a long while, and not often enough as you would have liked. you don't normally take charge, but he's been so distant lately that you can't help but use the alcohol in your system as a newfound confidence to forcibly get him to unwind. Your cunt throbs with need, forgetting just how indescribably big he is until felt him swelling in your mouth. It's sinister how well his dick reacts to your tongue, like you had been practicing as often on him as he had intimately gotten to know your pussy.

Your lips suction his tip into your mouth, causing him groan. His stomach flexes above your forehead. He's resisting again. Your tongue swirls around the tip as you lightly bob your head, swallowing an inch more and pulling out with a pop, teasing him slowly. You needed to get him worked up so he could let go, relax for once.

Maybe not be so cold to you for a while...

He feels your hands gently grasp his own that were down by his side, guiding them up to the back of your hair. You squeeze them in permission before returning your hands to wrap around the length of his cock that didn't fit down your throat.

You experimentally swallow around his shaft, eliciting a soft "fuck" from his breath. He collects your hair in a makeshift pony tail in his hand so that he had a full view of your face, submissively staring up at him as you gulp more of his cock into your inviting mouth.

You feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, the veins in his v-line in front of you throbbing. Other than holding your hair up, he continues to let you set the pace. His eyes are fixed on you, head slightly titled to the side, entranced by your spell, his tongue just hovering between his teeth.

You push your face a little further, nose brushing against his public hairs, the first jolt of your esophagus resisting the intrusion. y|You hold yourself there, holding your breath for a moment before sucking him again. He's breathing deeply with long, staggered huffs.

You tilt your head back up, eyelashes fluttering as he watches his shaft rest on your outstretched tongue, slowly tracing the veins on the underside of him.

He fists your hair a little tighter, struggling not to grab your face and fuck your throat raw until you choked.

You swallow around him once before letting his dick fall from your mouth with a slick plop.

You stand up, eyes challenging his dominance despite the height difference as you drag him to sit on the bed, and while his eyes are emotionless, body stiff, he doesn't try to stop you. He rests against the headboard as you crawl over his lap. You waste no time to kiss him.

He’s not accepting your tongue, just letting you work over him. What the fuck is his problem? it's never taken him this long to give in. You can tell he WANTS to kiss you back, his jaw clenching so hard he could shatter his teeth. It's never stopped him before.

Truthfully, what you didn't know was that he was tired of you today; from trusting Santi over him for fuck knows what reasons, then having you come home drunk out of your mind, trying to tempt him with more emotionless sex. It's putting him off of your antics mentally. He wanted you, but not like this. He couldn't handle the aftermath of giving in to you again, but not having you.

Sexually, his mind was losing the war over his body's needs.

If it wasn't coke, it was you. And if it wasn't you...

It can only be you.

And Jesus, just when he thought he had a grip on being able to block you out for good tonight, you somehow managed to be an irresistable siren:

"'M so wet for you," you slurred seductively against his lips.

He can't hide the growl rumbling lowly in his chest. His lips part to let out a breath he had been holding and you take the chance to engulf his mouth with the hot kiss you'd been dying to get all week. His lips quickly mold to yours as you whimper pathetically, his hands sliding down to grip your ass in his warm, rough hands. You prop yourself higher on him, cupping his face in your hands, forehead nudging his Standard Oil cap off. You can feel his hot breath panting quickly against your cheek, his resolve crumbling.

He's right there. He's so close to relaxing. Just a little push...

You pull away, his lips almost chasing after yours. "C'mon big boy, wasn't it soooo good?" You playfully bite his ear. "You've got suck a nice cock here," you whisper, fisting his dick once again with the remnants of your spit, pumping his shaft easily. "Shame if it wasn't pounding me tonight...C'mon. Let's do it again."

He finally brings his eyes directly to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, crowded with evident lust. But it was what he could see beyond your eyes that told him exactly what he feared all along:

Nothing.

He doesn't stop the words from tumbling out of his month. "Why? so you can just use me for sex?" he said matter-of-factly, his face relaxing into a mix of coldness and spite.

You stop giggling and pull away, eyes widening with the most seriousness, and hurt, he'd ever seen on you. "And how is that any different than how you've treated me for the past year?"

His jaw is slack with panick, immediately wishing he could take back what he just said. No I—shit, I didn't mean —I didn't mean it like that—“

You get off of him with a hostile sense of urgency, ignoring his hands trying to caress your elbows, to keep you on him. You dig in your back pocket and then you're throwing something hard at his chest. "No, you know what? Fuck you, Frankie." You storm off to your bedroom and lock it.

He covers his face with both hands and leans back against the sofa. Looking down at his lap after a minute, he sees the pair of keys you've had to his apartment for the past year.

What he'd give to be high right now and to forget everything.

-

You spend the entire night packing. He's right at your door first in the morning when you open it, his stomach churning with pain at the image of your eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, hangover, and tears.

You brush past him before he can even apologize, settling your belongings on the kitchen counter. As you toss your scattered items in to your tote, he watches you, fingers twirling in on themselves with anxiety.

Now, now, do it now! he's screaming in his mind.

“I—“

You interrupt him, and it's only now that he sees you're not shaking in anger—you're trembling in tears: "I'm s-sorry that I snapped at you last night. I wasn’t— in the right head. I c-came on to you. You had your reasons for doing what we've done, and last night I was just genuinely u-using you for no other reason other than self interest and I'm s-so sorry." You swallow and take a deep breath before continuing: "I gave up a lot coming here, trying to help you, letting you use me to get better. But I can't do it anymore. I wanted to help you, but then when we had sex, I didn't know if things would change, I didn’t want things to change, and when I woke up, you weren't there, and then you treated me so coldly afterwards. I don't know what I did wrong.” Your voice cracks, sniffling away the running of your nose. “And it felt awful. I just wanted to go back to the way things were. But you s-seem like you hate me now, and I—“ you pause, rubbing your eyes on your sleeve, suddenly changing tone in a polite manner, like you were address a principle and ignoring your previous breakdown. "I'm very happy you're clearly doing a lot better and don't need me anymore. Sorry, I don’t—I don't mean to cry like this.”

Frankie is frozen.

You're crying. You're crying in front of him, which wasn't a first; you've cried to him about stupid boys before. But what IS a first is that you're crying for the first time over the stupid boy right in front of you. You're crying, Because. Of. Him.

Just tell her tell her tellhertellhertellherNOW 

But as he opens his month, his words get caught in his throat, like swallowing a lump of coal and puking a ball of fire all at once. His chest aches unlike anything he'd experience before. All he can say is "I... understand."

Nononononoyoudumbfuckwhatareyoudoing!

You nod and sniffle, clearing your throat. "I'd like to just go back to being friends. Before all of this. I'll still support you, I swear. I want you to still feel like you come to me for anything else. But I need some time. To get myself in check." You calmly collect your things and make for to the door.

"Wait!" he goes to grab your arm but his hand freezes up, like touching you would give you painful blisters. You pause and look over to him as he stands a bit closer. “I—I think you should keep this." He puts your key in your hand. "In case. Something happens."

Your lip quivers with empathy, eyes softening for him. "Please. I don't... I don't want to think about..." I don't want to think about seeing you lying face down OD'd on the carpet.

"Just. Hold on to it. Just in case. I'm asking as your friend. We're still that at least. Right?" The words feel like hot iron in his mouth, a heaviness in his heart desperately trying to convince himself more than you.

He wants to hug you. but if he did, he wouldn't let you leave. The warmth of his hand draws away from you after depositing the key in your palm.

You nod, rub his shoulder affectionately yet with clear distance, and leave.

He stands there like a statue in the hall, unable to comprehend just how much quieter and colder the apartment is now than it has been in months.

- - - -

Tagging people who either requested a part two or directly requested to be tagged. At least what i can remember (sorry if I missed you!)

Part 3: Insatiable

Series masterlist

Taglist: @paleidiot @pedropascalsbbg @tonakings @nerdieforpedro @thewritermj @ahintofkiwistrawberry @perfectly-imperfect-me23 @sammy-4103 @survivingandenduring @millercontracting @emilyjustemily

[kiame-sama]

Just started my period and everything hurts! How do you think each Dorm Leader (Or Dorm Leaders of your choice) would handle a Reader who started her period and suffers agonizing cramps, migraines, back pain, very tender breasts and sudden mood swings

I unluckily suffer from PMDD and become an emotional hurricane, but I always feel a little better whenever I read any of your older or newer works

Warnings; different dorm leaders and their different upbringings, menstrual cycle, yandere behavior, manipulative behavior, hints to a potential poly relationship with Rook reader and Vil, some platonic yandere behavior,

- Riddle is not sure how to broach this subject in the slightest. He may have had his mother, but that doesn't mean she communicated her cycle or educated him on it. He will look to Trey for help on the matter when a simple invitation to tea results in an unusually tearful response from you. Trey- being the older brother he is- will be first to offer comfort food before pulling a confused and slightly offended Riddle to the side. Riddle turns red from something other than anger as Trey gives the vaguest of explanations as to your current state.

- Riddle chooses to let Trey field most of the focus, trying to learn from his friend on how to best handle the situation. He becomes increasingly concerned as he learns about your back pain and migraines, deciding that he needs to learn what he can about your apparent condition. This will lead to a sleepless night of research and pestering Trey for information.

- Come the next day, Riddle is doing everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, going as far as to invite you to stay in his room in Heartslabyul while you are feeling so pained. Don't worry, he will sleep on the couch. He is a gentleman after all. Riddle insists. While you are in Heartslabyul he will pamper you to no end with sweets and good food. Whatever pain meds you need, he's getting them for you and he will hear no talk of repaying him.

- He needs this first time to go well so he can get you back time and time again into his care. He needs you to need him and he will do what he can to create that reliance on his care.

- Leona knows before you do. He has a superior sense of smell and will know your hormones are off long before the physical impact actually hits. You're going to wake up that first morning to Ruggie tiredly shoving things into your arms, saying something about Leona insisting he do it that moment. The next few days will be a lot of the same, from various gifts to comforts and essentials. Poor Ruggie isn't the only one who will be dragged into this either. Jack will be showing his face a few times as well with more things from Leona, embarrassed as he shoves the items into your arms and promptly flees.

- If you do see Leona any time during this, he speaks gently to you and will check in on you. He's not going to push if you don't want to tell him, but he will increase the gifts if he thinks you are suffering in any way. He will be pulling you from class to nap with him, using himself like a heating pad for you, and he will tolerate any anger or sorrow you throw at him with little more than vague frustration. He's trying to help you, herbivore, stop fighting him on this already.

- You eat like a king, Leona ensures it. There is no room to argue with him or insist you don't need/want his gifts. You're getting them regardless and you will keep getting them. No arguing or complaining will move him on this matter. It is common courtesy in the Sunset Savana to take care of the female aligned in the kingdom as needed, which also means in times of hormonal imbalance. He sees it as a basic politeness which is why he can't understand if you argue with him over it.

- If you get weepy he will clam up a bit, not used to handling these things gracefully. You'll be able to coerce him into cuddling you if you ask him while in this upset state. He'll be a little stiff until he relaxes into it, making it clear to you that he's not going to let you suffer without at least trying to help you.

- Floyd smells the blood on you first, confused and frustrated when you snap at him for what was meant to be a lighthearted comment about sharks in the water. Jade is more intrigued by your change in temper and attitude as you typically put up with Floyd better than most. These reports back to Azul are concerning and he decides to bribe the little monster you insist on keeping with you Grim with tuna for answers.

- What he is greeted with is a slew of information he isn't entirely sure he wanted, but it did give insight into you and your behavior. He keeps Jade and Floyd on your case to garner what information he can about your well-being as he studies up on this odd affliction you endure.

- Azul being Azul decides to write up a contract for you that looked like a god-send on the outside. From ensured pain-medication, to comfort food, all the way to taking notes in class for you, it is promised for every cycle you endure. Naturally, the fine print emphasizes a reliance on Azul during these times and an agreement to only come to Azul for help. Not to mention the 'Boyfriend clause' that extends the contract indefinitely if it's use exceeds six months, automatically granting Azul status as your boyfriend as added collateral for him due to the continuation of the contract.

- No, he won't be disclosing all of this outright, you should read your contracts better. He will be encouraging you to sign rather eagerly, already ready to be your Achilles heel if he needs to be. Just sign and make him the happiest cephalopod ever. Please. You need to sign.

- He is confused and worried all at once because throwing parties is not fixing your tears fast enough! How is he supposed to smile and laugh if you look like you're in pain like that? You are in pain? Why didn't you say so earlier?!

- Kalim is falling over himself trying to get you everything you could possibly need and then everything you don't possibly need on top of it all. He knows you're a bit dubious about staying in Scarabia, but he wants you close so he can make sure you feel okay! What kind of friend would he be if he left you laying in agony and so unwell?

- Jamil is already anticipating cooking meals for both you and Kalim during these times, wanting to also aid you in some regard. Where it is a duty to serve Kalim, Jamil is fond of you and what you have done for him as a person in his own right. He doesn't like the idea of Kalim getting all of the credit as per usual, but he knows you appreciate his care as well.

- Kalim tries very hard to help, but it will ultimately be Jamil who is of greater use to you. Still, Kalim hopes his attempts at making you smile somewhat cheered you up! So long as you are okay, he is happy.

- Oh, is that all? Vil has worked with others who have menstrual cycles quite a bit in the industry and some bad critics have likely called him a pmsing priss anyway. He gets that it is not a fun time and he will be much more understanding of times you have an ill temper with him. He will also be the graceful comfort for when you can't hold back tears anymore.

- You will be doing spa days with him and he will try to keep you hydrated during your cycle, providing pain meds as needed. He will be so kind as to put Rook on retrieval duty for whatever you need during this time (though Rook volunteered to do it in the first place).

- Spending it alone in worn down Ramshackle? I think not! Vil will absolutely be moving you into his room for the duration of your cycle and he will hear no complaints on the matter. You will be expected to participate in the nightly skincare routine with him and he will graciously share his products with you (and you are going back to Ramshackle with products as well). He will share the bed with you- don't misunderstand him, he will not be taking advantage of your state in that way- because it is his bed and he is being so gracious as to impress you with the life he can provide to you give you comfort in your time of need, why should he take lower quality when he can share?

- Rook will beg you to allow him to be your faithful servant at these times, enamored with the sight of Vil so happy with you and the beauty of the two of you together so domestically. If only he too could join in on the picturesque moment of domestic bliss you so flawlessly portray with beautiful Vil at your side. He will be more than a little eager to get anything you need him to retrieve. He is your faithful huntsman and you are his beloved trickster

- Oh shit, like IRL? Damn, well, the best Idia can offer is a stint in his room, taking classes virtually and having all the comforts he can possibly offer. You won't have to go anywhere, you can play games with him and binge sweets.

- You need a heating pad? He's already got it for you. You need some kind of massage? He wants to offer to do it but unless you ask, he won't have it in him to speak up about it. A fanboy can dream, right? Besides, a good several days with him, gaming and relaxing away from all that triggering ass social nonsense.

- He will not know how to handle tears and will completely panic, calling on Ortho to try and help. He has limited social grace but he will try to comfort you. Throw him a bone and tell him if you need him to just hold you or get you pain meds. Whatever you want, he will try to get for you as soon as he can, and if he can't get it, Ortho can.

- He hopes you'll let him crash on the bed with you, but he can get a cot too if you don't want a firey haired wierdo like him in the bed with you. If you do let him in the bed, he can't guarantee that he won't cuddle you (and he hopes his dakimakura of you stays hidden beneath the bed no matter what).

- Malleus is confused as to why his sweet child of man is in such disarray as of late. Surely he can aid you in some way? Perhaps even gain something from you in return for the gifts and boons he would grant you.

- Your pain is of great concern to him so he will be consulting Lilia on how best to treat your condition and soothe your unrest. Thankfully Lilia knows more about humans than Malleus and will be able to aid in your care. This caretaking will result in Lilia being more of a father figure to you because he can't help but enter that role when presented with a new charge to foster. Malleus is content to aid Lilia and learn from the elder Fae.

- Malleus intends to take over the care at some point, but he will have to fight Lilia for that right as Lilia becomes more than a little parental over time. Still, he will do what he can and use his magic as he sees fit to soothe you and give you peace.

- Lilia ensures this is not a one time thing as he will arrive right on schedule with your cycle next month to pick right back up where he began. Having already retrieved things to aid in your care. Malleus will be frustrated Lilia beat him to the task of caretaking, but he will resign himself to a partial caretaker for Lilia's sake. He is indulgent of the elder Fae and who would he be to tell Lilia to not care for his beloved child of man?

[intothestacks]

As a children's librarian, people who harass fans of Harry Potter indiscriminately really worry me.

Here's why.

1. The majority of Harry Potter fans are children.

I've had people call me disgusting and scum and an embarrassment to my disabled community. I've been suicide baited and have received death threats. All of this can be heavy enough stuff for an adult to deal with.

And then I think of how most of my 700+ elementary-aged students are huge Harry Potter fans. Because, you know, Harry Potter is a children's series. And they also have access to the internet and social media like TikTok and YouTube.

Now imagine the stuff that's been said to me being said to a kid. Because Harry Potter's main audience are KIDS.

2. This black-and-white mentality isn't healthy.

Very few things in life are cut-and-dry good vs bad. And if you employ this kind of thinking in one area of your life, odds are you'll apply it to other areas too(more on that in a moment).

And people who go out of their way to harass people who like Harry Potter don't seem to particularly care about any context beyond "If you like Harry Potter in any way whatsoever you're scum".

It hasn't mattered when I've pointed out that I absolutely and unequivocally think Rowling's TERF views are awful and scummy and wrong. It hasn't mattered that I try my best to consume the content only in ways that won't monetarily support her, (which kids typically can't do, btw). It hasn't mattered that it's literally in my job description to keep up with children's media to procure content for my patrons as well as to be able to hold conversations with them.

3. Saying "You're not allowed to read this without being harassed" is no different from saying a book should be banned.

This is ironic, seeing as the people doing the harassing are also often up in arms about queerphobic and racist book bans (as they should be) while demanding book bans of their own.

Because in their all-or-nothing way of thinking, book bans are only bad when the "bad" people do it.

No. Book bans are always bad, no exceptions.

Book bans aren't bad because they're banning the "good" books, they're bad because banning access to different ideas is always bad. Because every book has a lesson to teach us (perhaps not the lesson intended by the author, but a lesson nonetheless).

[kalki-tarot]

Love & Career in 2024 🖤🍷💸

@kalki-tarot

I'll be using tarot cards and my own intuition so it may not resonate with everyone. Keep in mind that this reading is purely for entertainment purposes so be mindful of your own actions and choices. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of my readings.

Pick a pile masterlist 🖤

Pile 01

8 wands, 6 wands, page of swords, queen of swords, knight of pentacles

Hello beautiful souls 💓

Let's talk about your career first. I'm seeing you getting praised or popular very fastly. If you're manifesting something career related then it's your sign it's gonna enter your life soon! You'll get a promotion at your workplace and if you're still studying then I'm seeing you're gonna be the top student of your class. Everyone will praise you and you'll be in Everyone's talks and gossips about how did you achieve it.

If some things got stuck or stagnant then a change is coming soon. All this stagnant energy will flow away and new creative and inspiring energy will lead you towards success my dear pile 1. Don't worry just be consistent and your efforts will be recognized and appreciated very soon.

New ideas will be put into action or will be manifested in reality. If you wanna start a new course then it's the right time to do so. I'm seeing communication for you too. You'll get new opportunities and will make new contacts and connections in your work life which will help you alot leveling up more.

Your overall energy is the Queen of swords which tells me that this year, you'll just focus on your goals and won't spend too much time thinking about the bs. Your plans would be clear cut and will be put into action. I'm not seeing you procrastinating or smth like that. It's a very fast, quick and easy going energy, but stable throughout.

New opportunities on the way! I'm seeing you getting a job letter or something like that. If you're struggling with getting a job then an opportunity is out there in 2024! So be ready ♡

2 wands, 8 wands, 9 pentacles, Temperance, 6 swords, 9 swords ( 5 pentacles, the devil, 4 pentacles, the moon, 5 swords)

Woah! You know what pile 1, we need to let go of some things before before it's too late. We need to let go of things even if it hurts only for our own good. The bad or good news is I'm seeing you breaking up or finally letting go of a toxic relationship or love. You've held it in for so long and in 2024, I'm seeing you releasing all of that. It's better to leave than being left out in the cold, right?

2024 is the year of a fresh start and ending the cycles. It's the year to relax and heal. It's great that you're walking away from such people. I know it takes a lot of strength and courage to do that and you have the guts to leave someone so toxic and unhealthy for you. I'm not necessarily seeing someone new entering in your life. I'm seeing YOU, choosing to walk away from this situation.

You'll know that the grass is greener on the other side. You'll explore new things in love. Maybe go on a few dates? By the end of 2024, you'll be balanced spiritually and physically. You'll be properly healed and you'll discover much more about yourself rather than other people. It's necessary to know ourselves before trying to understand some one else. That's it for you, please reblog this post if you liked it. Thanks ♡

Pile 02

3 of swords, page of pentacles, ace of swords, 6 of wands, the devil, 8 of wands

Career wise, Things may get a little rocky for you this year. But don't worry, with extra caution and mindfulness you'll be able to thrive through this. The advice I'm getting for is to not take any shortcuts for success to come fast, as it'll only result in your own downfall.

Be careful of people who look very nice and popular as they're not what they seem from their outer side. Just focus on grabbing opportunities and working truthfully for yourself and your loved ones. Your creative energy would be at peak this year, it's time for you to realize your potential and work with it next year.

Your 2024 is the year to hustle hard so be dedicated to your work/study. Lot's of success will be at your door if you don't fall into any traps.

Knight of cups, wheel of fortune, 9 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, the hermit, 7 of wands ( 9 swords & 8 pentacles )

Wow babe! You've done lots of healing and lot's of self care in 2023! And now it's the time for love finally coming into your life through divine intervention in 2024. As we have the wheel of fortune here, I'm seeing You've finally let go of the old cycles and karmic patterns.

The old thinking patterns and attachment wounds will be healed. You'll fight your way through this very powerfully. You've done a lot of self introspection and self discovery in 2023.

You are one step ahead of pile 1, you're asked to just go with flow and let the universe guide you through the vast ocean of sadness to the never ending love. A romantic, water sign energy may approach you with love 👀 next year. Abundance and clarity will flow through just don't complex your emotions any more. Trust your intuition and let it guide you.

That's it! Pile 2 ♡ If this helped you a little bit please comment and reblog xoxo

Pile 03

The magician, Temperanc, ace of wands, 8 wands, ace of cups, the fool (king of cups)

The year 2024 will bring you lots of emotional satisfaction in terms of your career. You would be a successful person, but with the right actions and decisions. Create a path for yourself and walk on it. You should have the desire amd commitment if you wanna achieve something in life.

In 2024, there is a need for you to have a clear mindset snd step wise approach. Do everything in a proper balance. Good things take time to manifest. Your dedication and ability to stay composed under pressure will help you stand out.

Whatever you're thinking about, go for it. Just "go for it", don't think too much if that gives you happiness. Whether you've been thinking about launching a project or reaching out to a new networking connection, 2024 is the time.

Next year would be an year of swift progress and rapid growth. Everything will seem so fast and would gain momentum. You may even travel for work.

Something would be headed your way in your professional life, whether that's a new job, a new responsibility within your current role, or even a new business partner or connection, a new and promising path may be opening up.

You'll overall enjoy this year in terms of your professional or career life.

10 swords, 2 of wands, knight of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, queen of swords, 5 of wands, the tower ( 9 swords, 7 cups, magician )

Listen pile 3, to be honest 2024 would be rocky for you, you know. I channeled that you should not go alone in clubs or pubs or take any drinks with strangers. Be careful guys.

For some of you I'm getting that you guys are just staying single this year and focusing more on your self growth and options in love. You may solo travel or go on solo dates. You know loving yourself and all.

You may actually reach out to a therapist if your experiences were not so good in love before. If not, then I'm seeing you reaching out for yourself, my love. You're giving yourself the love and warmth you've never received from anyone else. You're now, not letting bs people get into your life and make a hell out of it. You're tryna stay healthy and happy.

For some of you, there's an advice of manifesting new love in your life. Get into that mindset. List down all the qualities you want in a partner and visualizing would also help you.

I'm seeing a divorce for some of you, or even a legal matter that involves a person you once loved. They probably lied and deceived you. You may fight for yourself in the court this year. Sending Lots of hugs and love to you dear if this is happening to you. Stay strong and you'll be more blessed. 💓✨️

[billthedrake]

FAMILY BUSINESS (PART TWO)

The Mazza men chalked it up to the new project that was having them work late, pretty much every night. Mazza and Sons had won the bid for a community center building and had been aggressive in the timeline they could offer. It was part of the son's Anthony's plan to get into higher-budget, higher-profit contract work.

But this was the third night in a row when the father and son looked at each other around 7PM, silently reading the other's expression, trying to feel each other out.

"Feel like Chinese take out, Dad? Or maybe pizza?" Tony asked, looking away from the email he was trying to work through. He did his Crossfit classes in the morning and liked to start the workday with a relatively clean slate, even if it meant putting in extra hours in the evening.

Frank's heart beat a little faster as he took in his son's handsome features. Some fathers were just super devoted to their sons, he reckoned, but with Frank, that love of Anthony took on a perverted spin. He low-key resented his hunky son for getting them started on this little game they were playing, and he loved the kid for it, too.

Maybe Frank would take the initiative tonight. "Why don't we get that other kind of take out first, Tone?" he said with a naughty grin.

That brought out a matching one in Tony. That Mazza smile. "Yeah? I could go for that for sure," he said, leaning back in his chair. He was dressed in professional-casual "contractor" attire of a gray polo and khakis, but even those showed off his muscular, youthful build. "Who ya thinking, Pop?"

Frank knew, but didn't want to seem too eager. It had been a month since Tony showed him the fun of the no-string blowjob from men on the app. In that time they'd shared that experience, generally with the same cocksucker, Ian. They tried out another one but it hadn't felt the same, in part because the Mazza men were nervous about being sussed out as father and son. Ian knew and not only didn't care, but actually encouraged the clear erotic tension between Frank and Tony.

"Ian," the father now said. "He's really fucking good at it."

Anthony smiled. He'd been hoping for that answer. "The best."

Tony messaged Ian. Frank had the guy's cell number and used it frequently on his own, to suck the guy off, but his son didn't know that.

"He'll be here in 15," Tony said proudly as he set down his phone. With a glint in his brown eyes, he looked over at his dad. "You've really gotten into this, Pop."

Frank blushed but gave a nonchalant shrug. "Leave it to my son to show me new tricks," he said. "Besides... I'm 44, not 84... I still got needs."

That made Tony smile. "I think you passed on that sex drive to me, Pop."

"Too much for Becky?" Frank asked. Before this would have been a sore subject, maybe.

His son nodded. "Too much for any chick," he replied.

"You'll find her, Anthony, you'll find the one. I know it."

"Thanks, Pop." He hissed. "Fuck, I'm boned."

This was a new openness too. The Mazzas had indulged guy talk before, sex talk. But now Tony was more open about his cock and his hardons.

His father looked over and tried to see without staring. He'd been thinking a lot of his son's dick. It was a forbidden thought, but the more he tried to suppress it the stronger the urge got. "Promise me something, Tone."

Anthony leaned back in his office chair. "Sure, Pop. What?"

That made Frank laugh a little. "I didn't even tell ya what."

Anthony flashed that killer smile. He certainly inherited a double share of the Mazza good looks. "Doesn't matter. You'd give me the shirt off your back. Figure I could do what you ask."

"Well, when you find your next girl, Tone... make sure she's gonna take care of you."

Antony grinned. "I take it you're talking about more than cooking and laundry."

"That, too," Frank said. "I know you want a traditional wife."

"Yep," the son said, his face getting more serious.

The father took that in. He felt like maybe he'd raised Tony with unrealistic expectations. His ex wife was a good mother, but maybe Tony put her on a pedestal. Frank didn't want to bad mouth her, but he wanted to make sure his son found a woman who'd be more supportive of him than Cathy had been.

Frank was gonna reply, but Tony's phone buzzed with a text. The grin on the son's face was adorable as he looked back up. "He's here. Fuck... I'm horny." He got up and walked over to the door to greet Ian.

Frank felt a flash of embarrassment when Ian walked in. The guy was good looking, not Anthony Mazza good looking. But Frank had hooked up with the gym-built man a few times on his own. He felt bad sneaking around like this, but maybe it wasn't Tony's business if his old man was enjoying his chance at sucking cock.

Ian for his part seemed to relish the naughty secret. Hooking up with both father and son. He had that impish smile now as he walked in ahead of Tony, who was shutting the office door behind them. "Hey Frank," he greeted.

"Hey," Frank said gruffly, more gruffly than he intended. But he was nervous.

Tony's eagerness put him at ease though. Already, he was walking in around Ian and pawing at his khakis. "OK if I go first Pop? I'm so fucking horny."

"Yeah," the dad replied. He hoped the croak in his throat wouldn't betray him. "I can..." he started.

Already Tony was unzipping and hauling out that thick Mazza dick. "You don't gotta. It's not gonna take me long today."

Goddamn, that cock was beautiful. His son's cock, so much like Frank's and yet thicker, more manly somehow. The masculine power of it just made his son's youthful cute handsomeness that more jarring. It was like Frank was fully reconciling two parts of his son's personality. All while he tried to figure out where to look without seeming like THAT much of a perv.

Ian had no hesitation about worshipping the younger Mazza dick. He crouched down and ran his hands up and down Tony's hairy, build thighs. The cocksucker's face was nuzzling against Anthony's balls a second before licking up the shaft.

"Aw yeah, bud... just fucking right," Anthony gasped before Ian took that thick boner into his talented mouth.

Frank could see the tension build and release. Tony wasn't cumming, not yet, but he was relaxing into the blowjob. Instinctively Frank knew how much his son had craved this. It was almost as hot to watch the facial reaction on Anthony's face as it was to see that hard cock being serviced.

His son's eyes lifted up from Ian to meet his Dad's. Not pervy, not ashamed, not accusatory. The gaze was just direct and honest. "He's an incredible cockscucker, right, Pop."

Frank nodded dumbly, which somehow made Tony's smile break out. Fuck, that smile.

With a leer, Anthony looked back down at Ian. "I'm getting close man... you ready, buddy?" he hissed. With a commanding gesture he put his hand on top of Ian's head, which just encouraged the cocksucker to really go for it. Ian's face turned redder as he doubled his efforts. Tony's dick was thick and not easy to take like that, Frank guessed.

Tony's face was getting redder itself as he reached orgasm. "FUCK!" he gasped. Frank had never been so excited in his life as now, watching Anthony cum. It was sexy and beautiful. He felt proud for his boy, and glad for him.

"Damn," Anthony finally hissed as he pulled back. That hardon was doubly attractive slickened with spit and leftover cum. He looked back up at Frank. "Your turn, Pop."

Ian was grinning. And Frank knew why. With Ian, when it was just the two of them, Frank was the cocksucker. But Ian wasn't gonna let on. He sat back on his haunches and watched the father step up and pull out his own erection. Not quite as impressive as Tony's dick, but closer.

It was only as Ian's started going down on him that Frank realized the gay dude was extra worked up to be doing father and son like this. Together, one after the other. That knowledge was hitting Frank, too, deeply. "Fuck!" he gasped, the mouth strokes just adding to the pervy thrill.

Tony meanwhile was acting normal. Or as normal as a dude could be sharing a cocksucker with his father. He'd tucked back in and had walked over to rehydrate with a big slug from a water bottle. His dad's outburst made him turn back around to the action.

"He gonna milk you off quick, too, Pop?" he laughed.

Frank nodded. Ian was great. Greater than great at this. But it was Tone's presence that was gonna get him to the finish line, fast. His hot stud of a son looking on, like they were two fraternity brothers gangbanging some chick together.

Frank Mazza's vision went blurry and white and a burst of wild pleasure jolted through is body. His Anthony was watching him cum. Surprisingly that was as incredible as witnessing his own son's orgasm.

Frank breathed heavy as Ian lapped up the dribbles, his own hand jerking wildly. Frank's paw reached down to creadle Ian's head. Not possessively like Anthony's grip, more encouraging. He had to thank this this gay dude for bringing him and his son together like this.

Ian was on cloud nine, even after he came and cleaned up. "It was a pleasure, fellas. Hit me up anytime," he said. Frank could see the perv had a major bucket list to add to his experiences, and now that the father was in his post-nut clarity he resented that a little.

Anthony was back to his normal bro mode, backslapping Ian as he showed him out. When he strutted back he pulled out his phone. "I may meet my buddies to watch the game, Pop," he said. "See ya tomorrow?"

Frank looked for reproach in his son's face. Or guilt or something. But it was just the look of a young man who'd gotten his rocks off and now was ready to hang out with his friends.

"Sure, Tone. See ya tomorrow."

***

It took two more joint BJ sesions before Frank got the courage. It was Thursday night, guy time at Frank's house, the unofficial start the weekend night for father and son.

Frank didn't have a big cooking repertoire, but he made a mean sunday Italian gravy. Tonight, he did a quicker meal of pasta and meatballs.

"Better than Ma's, Pop," Anthony exclaimed as he pushed his finished plate forward.

"Must have been hungry, Tone," Frank grinned, eating up the compliment.

"You bet. On a bulking cycle at the gym," the son exclaimed.

"You trying to get bigger son?" the father asked with some surprise. Anthony just seemed perfect to him already.

Anthony grinned. "You know how it is. The chicks like 'em big and strong."

Frank felt his crotch grow tight.

"What about you Pop? You're looking pretty fit these days."

Forget muscles, Frank thought, those puppy dog brown eyes and Mazza smile were gonna be what made a woman put out.

"Just do enough to keep it up, ya know," Frank replied. "Nothing like you, Tone."

"You do all right, Pop," Anthony grinned. "So... you getting out on the market again?"

Frank blushed. He didn't know how to be honest with Anthony, or with himself for that matter. "Nah, not yet," he replied. "Guess I'm not ready for that..." Frank blushed as he realized how fucking stupid he sounded. "I mean, sex is one thing Tone, but women my age, divorcees, they take some work."

Anthony smiled. "I get it Pop. After Mom, you don't want another princess."

Frank gave a shrug, in a wasn't-gonna-say it kind of way.

His son laughed. "At least Ian is a good consolation prize, right? He tells me you've been hitting him up a lot."

"Yeah?" Frank gulped. God if that guy told Tony that Frank sucked dick, well, Frank didn't know if he'd be more angry or mortified.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, Pop. I'm the one who urged you to try out guys. Didn't think you'd take to it like you have, but it's cool."

"Ian gonna spoil you, son?" Frank had to ask.

Anthony answered in a way that made it seemed like he'd been asking himself the same thing. "It's certainly nice to have someone very willing and able, ya know? Ian's not the only cocksucker I have in my contacts, but he's the best."

Frank's crotch was beyond tight. The man was full on boned. "You deserve to have your needs taken care of, son," Frank said. Then immediately regretted it.

Thankfully, his son didn't seem fazed, more amused. "Yeah? Well, you too, Pop." He got that telltale smirk. "I was gonna take a night off but what do you say we hit Ian up again?"

Frank nodded, not speaking in case he gave away how eager he was. He watched as Anthony pulled out his phone and sent a few texts.

He finally put it down. "It's wild you're so open minded, Pop," he said. "Kind of cool."

Damn, that Mazza smile was gonna get Frank in trouble. At least they add Ian as the focus and excuse for Frank's pervy state.

Frank actually felt bad at how much they were taking Ian for granted, but when he showed up at the house, he had a very eager grin. Frank was the one to answer the door, and something about the gay dude's excited smile made the 44-year old more relaxed. "Good to see ya, bud," he said patting Ian on the shoulder as he showed him in.

"Man," Ian replied in a whisper. "I'm not gonna turn down a chance with you guys. Ever."

Frank gulped. But he was getting turned on by the incestuous tension of the scenario. He'd given Tony his space once, then the next time he'd watched against as Ian sucked his stud of a son off. "Yeah."

Ian leaned in. "You should go for it today," he said.

Frank knew what he meant. "I dunno."

"I'll set it up. I'll be fucking hot."

Ian maybe meant hot to watch but it would be hot to do. He just didn't want to cross that line. Or he did, and didn't know how the fuck he could do it. This was his Tone they were talking about.

"Hey bud," Anthony greeted as they walked into the living area. "Dad and I were having a beer... can I get you one, or you want to get right to business?" he laughed. God, it was crazy how easygoing Anthony could be about sex.

"A beer sounds good, thanks," Ian said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Frank was surprised, but he watched as as Ian sat next to Frank on the sofa. "This is gonna work, trust me," Ian said.

Frank wasn't so sure. But it was almost like normal, sitting and having a beer with his son and their mutual cocksucker. Frank felt a little bad he didn't know shit about Ian, not really. But Tony kept up a lot of the conversation. Hell, they were talking about the Yankees season for christsake.

Finally Anthony gripped his crotch and stood up. He was still wearing his polo and khakis from the work day but somehow with his youth he made the unofficial uniform seem like it was made to show off his body. "All right, I'm pretty horny," the 24-year-old said with a goody grin. "You ready to take care of me, buddy?" he asked Ian as the young stud walked over to the couch and began undoing his belt.

Frank gulped. He was sitting right there with a front row seat. Watching just two feet away as the gay dude helped his own son pulled out that big thick dong. Ian ran his fingers up that hard length, watching it get harder. And watching Frank see his own son's erection in process.

"Nice," Ian hissed then leaned forward to start sucking Anthony's cock.

It was just beautiful, Frank thought. Ian was very skilled and now very comfortable with Tone's big meat. But his Anthony was what made him horny beyond belief. Seeing his son in full sexual hardness, being taken care of, a total stud. He looked up at Tony's face and expected awkwardness. But his son was mostly looking down, watching Ian work toward some deep throat action, before he turned to look at his dad.

"You got the best seat in the house, Pop," he chuckled. But there was something behind the joke, behind the playful grin.

Frank felt it. Maybe that's what gave him the courage once Ian pulled off, lapping at the tip teasingly. That Mazza dong was veiny and spit-wet.

"Wanna closer view?" Ian asked quietly. For Frank's benefit, though of course Tony could hear it too.

Frank's face burned hot. He didn't have the courage to look back up at Tone, he just kept his eyes focused on his son's throbbing cock and scooted in.

Ian's eyes were on Frank now, in a challenging way, as he opened up and swallowed Anthony again. All the way down, slowly, then all the way off. Then again. Showing off for Frank. "Your son has an amazing cock."

"Yeah, he does," Frank admitted. It was wrong and pervy to say, but it was the truth. Quickly, his eyes darted up to meet Anthony's. But instead of disapproval he saw a simmering, quiet lust in those puppy dog brown eyes.

"It's OK, Pop," came Tone's words, soft and deep. "If you want."

Frank thought judgment day would come and that hell would open up beneath him. It didn't though. Not even as he leaned in and pressed his nose against Anthony's prick.

"Fuck," Ian gasped quietly, his hand holding the base of Anthony's meat still but otherwise pulling back to watch.

The first contact of Frank's tongue to his son's dick gave his whole body and electical jolt. Then again. And again. Frank started lapping Anthony's thick prick and working his way up. His son wasn't stopping him.

When he opened his mouth and felt that Mazza cock press in between his lips, the father was in heaven. He was so glad he'd practiced on Ian and even now was doing his best to copy the cocksucker's technique. Lots of spit, then some suction, up and down, not too hard, undulating a little. Milking his own son's prick with his warm wet mouth.

"Good god, Pop...." Tony hissed. "You're fucking good at this."

Ian was now kissing along Tony's balls while Frank blew him. Then licking along Frank's neck and ear. The guy was thrilled to be witness to an honest to god incest blowjob.

Particularly as Anthony got close. "Just a little more, Pop... a little slower actually... yeah, that's it... fuck, that's gonna get me right there... right fucking there... aw yeah... you ready to make me cum, Dad... gonna suck my cum out... fuck yeah... here it comes, Pop. Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUUUCKK!"

Frank prepared for the worst, but it turned out to be the best. The sensation of having his mouth and gullet flooded with his son's cum, that Mazza seed, briny and thick, a million of his grandkids being force fed to him as Tony got a little wild with some mid-ejaculation thrusts that knocked his cock head an extra inch down Frank Mazza's throat. Frank coughed a little but adjusted just as suddenly.

Ian couldn't take any more. He stood up. Frank had no idea when the guy had pulled out his own dick. Anthony didn't know either for that matter. The 30-something dude flogged wildly to get to the finish line, aiming his prick toward the constractor's face.

The first shot his Frank's cheek just as he was finally pulling off Tony's dick. The second one caught him in the eye as he turned toward Ian. Instinct took over and Frank latched his mouth on that spurting dick, catching at least half of Ian's load.

Frank regretted it. It was hot and all but he wished nothing was pushing the taste of Tone's cum off his tongue now. Still, he swallowed then leaned back, embarrassed.

"Whoa," Anthony said, sighing as he tucked back in. "That was fucking hot."

"Yeah," Frank admitted. He was rock hard in his jeans but the emotional side of what had just happened was hitting him hard and fast. "It was."

His son actually gave his dad a sly wink and looked at Ian cautiously before turning back to Frank. "I actually should get going, Pop. Got an early workout tomorrow."

"Yeah," Frank said, trying to act nonchalant. He wished he could be like Tone. Get his rocks off and split. He stood up.

"You don't gotta walk me out, Pop, I know the way," Anthony said with a laugh. "Besides I think Ian needs to take care of you, right?"

Ian smirked. He knew or least thought he picked up on Anthony's drift. The Mazza kid was a little freaked out his dad was a cocksucker too. Still, Ian wasn't going to pass up the chance for the dad's load. "Sure," he said.

Frank and Ian had barely heard the front door close when Ian was in servicing position for Frank Mazza, pulling out that dad cock and bobbing up and down. It took ten whole seconds to get Frank to cum, hard.

"Thank you," Frank said as he helped Ian to his feet.

"I like sucking you man, you've got a nice dick," Ian replied.

"No, I mean about earlier," Frank clarified.

Ian gave a smile. "Dude, that was a total bucket list thing... dont' worry, I'm not gonna tell a soul. But that was incredible."

The man's assurance helped calm Frank's apprehension. Somewhat. He showed Ian to the door and said he'd reach out again sometime.

****

Anthony either skipped his workout or finished early. Frank had just finished his breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"Tone," he said when he opened the door. His son was already dressed for work, hair freshly showered and gelled.

"Pop. Ok if I come in?"

Frank nodded. He'd barely slept the last night. Thinking over everything. Worrying about everything. "Yeah, come in," he said.

He sat down and expected Tony to, but instead his son stood and said simply. "I don't want you sucking Ian's dick from now on, Pop. His or anyone else's."

Frank blushed deep red and nodded. "I'm sorry Tone, I...."

Anthony cut him short. "Don't apologize, Dad. I'm just telling you how it is, OK?"

Frank didn't quite follow but he just looked up at his son, feeling more emotionally vulnerable than he'd ever felt. God if he fucked him the relationship had with his Tone, he'd never deal with that.

Time seemed to stop as Anthony undid his khakis and unzipped. "I want you only taking care of me, Pop."

Frank gulped. That big Mazza dong plopped out. Not fully hard but getting there.

"Got it?" Tony asked. With authority but a lot of love.

Frank looked up, misty eyed. Turned on. Something clicked for the middle aged divorced father. This felt right. "Got it, son."

With that, he leaned in and started going down on his Tony.

[joelscruff]

for what it's worth (joel miller x reader) 18+

part 3 of the soft!dom joel collection has arrived! this one tackles some backstory; it's time to see how they met and how exactly their little "arrangement" came to be. i hope you guys like it, your feedback means the world to me. i also have a kofi if you'd like to give me a tip (but of course this is completely optional). previous parts: you know i don't mean it & don't think we could help it summary: your relationship with joel has always been complicated, but it's about to change drastically, for better or for worse. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: fem!reader, smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), mentions of porn (specifically magazines) word count: 10k (it's a doozy) | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major but i figured i should warn for it anyway.

To say that your first day in Jackson is alienating would be an understatement.

You feel like everyone is staring at you (they are) and no one will let you out of their sight (they won't). You understand immediately that there's a lack of trust which will need to be formed as soon as possible, otherwise you'll never be able to create a home here.

"They're wary of you," Maria explains in your brand new living room - you still can't believe you just went from having barely any possessions to having your own house - and gives you a weak smile, "It'll pass, they just need to make sure you don't have any ulterior motives."

You get it, but it still hurts. Especially that night when you join your new community for dinner and find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the room, poking at your food and trying not to let your emotions betray you. You're determined not to show weakness, even though you've never felt more isolated. You can feel their eyes on you constantly, like they're waiting for you to pull out a rifle and start picking them off like a shooting gallery.

There's only one person who seems to be consistently minding his own business, a middle aged man who sits in the opposite corner of the room. He's hulking and broad, kind of intimidating, but there's a softness to his jaw and the grey scruff covering it that makes you see something else, something kind. He takes large bites and seems lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall to his left but unfocused, like he's looking through it. He's by himself too, mirroring you, but you can tell by the way people move around him that he's been here for a long time. He must just enjoy his solitude.

"That's Joel," Maria tells you, sitting next to you and following your gaze, "He's my husband's brother, came down here a few years ago."

"He doesn't stare at me like everyone else does," you say, still looking over at him, "Does he just not care or...?"

To your surprise, she laughs, and everyone who's giving you dirty looks suddenly seems to soften. You're grateful for Maria then for bothering to talk to you, to try and trust you.

"Don't ask me to explain the things Joel does, I wouldn't be able to tell you," you notice that she has a full plate of food with her and that she's decided to sit next to you for dinner, an attempt to alleviate the mistrust for you in the room. You can't help but smile, thankful.

"He's a closed book," she continues, "Even Tommy finds him hard to read and he's his own brother."

She changes the subject then, wanting to know more about you and what you've been through, a not so subtle way of trying to get some information for the council. You humor her; you have nothing to lose.

Your eyes still stray to the man named Joel every so often as you speak, but you're not sure why. After about ten minutes he gets up to leave, and you watch him place his empty bowl in the dishwashing area and give the woman working there a small smile. She smiles back, says something to him. He laughs, and you can almost hear it over the bustle of the dining area. You watch as he says something else to her in parting, gives her one more smile, and turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look at you, not even once.

-

Over the next few weeks, things get better. Less people are looking at you and more people are actually trying to talk to you, get to know you. You have some nice conversations and answer questions about yourself - mostly appropriate, save for the one teenager who kept asking how you got the different scars along your bicep, the long one on your neck, the one on your cheek, stories you really didn't want to recount. After hounding you for a few minutes, her friend had pulled her away with an apology, "She likes scars," she'd said sheepishly, tugging the girl's arm, "Come on, Ellie, leave her alone."

You meet everybody, shake hands and even hug a few people. You start getting invited to things, asked to suggest films for movie night, help set up some games for the kids, Tommy even asks you one evening to help him herd a few sheep that had gotten loose. They trust you, and it feels good.

You still see that man, Joel, every night in the dining hall. But that's the only place you see him. You're not sure where he goes during the day or after dinner; he must just be a bit of a recluse, which you can't blame him for. The people here are nice but a lot are overbearing and a bit too friendly sometimes, plus it's hard to find time for yourself when everyone has tasks to complete and always likes to help each other out. You begin to wonder if he'll ever notice you, which leads you to wonder why it even matters to you that he does.

-

Your patrols start around the three month mark. Tommy takes you out with a small group beyond the borders of the community and shows you the ropes, points out where most of the patrol spots are with a pair of binoculars and goes over the routine. Your first assignment is simple: manning the watchtower with Maria. You spend most of the patrol getting to know her, hearing about her past and telling her more about yours. You like her a lot, she's easy to talk to and has a strong spirit akin to your own. The conversation gets pretty personal around the seventh hour, and you end up telling her how exactly you got the scar along your cheekbone. She listens deeply, thoughtfully, nodding along as you detail the more difficult things you've had to deal with in the past, the things that have made you stronger.

"You're tough," she says near the end of your shift, nudging your shoulder, "You don't really belong on watchtower, do you?"

You shrug, "I mean, if there's somewhere else I'd be more useful..."

"How'd you like to head out to the ski lodge with Joel next week?"

Your ears prick up at the name and you nod quickly, unsure exactly why, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

"He knows the area well," she adds, then grimaces, "I have to warn you though, he might not talk very much. He keeps to himself, I'm sure you've noticed."

You wonder why she's so quick to put you on patrol with someone who might not even speak to you, but it starts to make sense as you're walking back from the watchtower in the early hours of the morning. Tommy exits the dining hall and walks over to the both of you with a smile, pressing a tender kiss to Maria's cheek.

"How's my girl?" he asks flirtatiously, and she bats him away playfully.

"Was just telling the new recruit that she's gonna go on patrol with Joel next week," she replies, and Tommy stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow.

"Her? With Joel?" he appraises you and bites his lip, "I don't know, honey, wouldn't she be better off with someone who'll actually talk to her? I thought she was on watchtower with you."

"Tommy, I never see you anymore," she gives him an exasperated look, "The weekends used to be for us and ever since the Kingstons left-"

"I know, I know," he looks at you again, twisting his mouth in thought, "I've been, uh, a lot busier than usual lately. We had this family here for a while, big family, they helped out with the patrols. But they decided to go south a few months back, so-"

"So Tommy's been filling in for every shift he can," Maria finishes for him with a sigh, "And I never see the damn idiot anymore."

You smile, "I'm totally fine with taking over for you, really."

Tommy raises an eyebrow, "Seriously? You sure?" Maria slaps his arm lightly and he gives her a look, but then shrugs, "I mean, okay, if you wanna give it a try. It won't be all the time or anything, maybe just every other weekend, but it would actually be a big help."

"It really would," Maria adds, "You have no idea."

"But... you gotta understand, my big brother, he's.... he's complicated," Tommy's expression is serious now as he looks at you, "He's not very talkative these days, not since..." he shakes his head and you don't push it any further, though you do wonder what's changed.

"So you'll do it?" Maria asks, eyes bright.

"Even if he doesn't talk to you?" Tommy adds with a grimace.

You nod, somehow believing it won't actually be that bad.

-

It is that bad.

The first time you're officially introduced to Joel he doesn't even bother to shake your hand, just nodding vaguely to you as you stand there like an idiot with your palm outstretched. Tommy makes a face at him and then looks back to you with a reassuring smile.

"There's not usually much trouble up at the ski lodge," he says kindly, ignoring Joel's ambivalence, "The trek back and forth is arguably the worst part. The lifts were already damaged beyond repair when we got here so it's a bit of a hike, 'bout an hour to get up there and the same back."

You begin to wonder if maybe this really isn't the best idea, eyeing Joel silently as Tommy explains what you should expect. You've seen this man smile, know he's capable of making some kind of small talk, but it's clear that you're not an ideal candidate as he stands there stiffly and lets Tommy do the talking. Tommy had told you earlier that if the patrol didn't go well he wouldn't make you do it again, and you're already thinking this might be your first and last shift with Joel.

Tommy walks with both of you to about the halfway point, still going over the routine as Joel trudges silently ahead of you. He hasn't said a word, not one word. It's honestly starting to piss you off.

"Well, I gotta head back," Tommy says, giving you another smile of reassurance, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, see how it went, see if we might make this more permanent." He seems doubtful but you can't blame him.

A few moments later it's just you and Joel, hiking in complete silence save for the sounds of nature. The cogs in your head frantically turn, trying to land on something you can say to make things less awkward.

"So, when's the last time you saw infected up here?" you settle on, hoping it'll be enough to start some kind of conversation.

"'Bout a month ago," he replies immediately, voice gruff but quiet, "Weren't too many."

He's got an accent like his brother but it's fainter, less obnoxious, like he's spent more time with non-southern people in the later years of his life. Tommy had said they'd grown up in Texas and lived there 'til he was in his late 20s and Joel his mid 30s, then somewhere along the way they'd separated. You don't know much else about him other than that.

"It's the people you mainly worry about though, right?" you ask, quoting something Tommy had said a few weeks back, "Tommy said you've had more run-ins with raiders than infected."

"Tommy's tellin' you too much," he replies with a grunt, "Don't know what he's even thinking sendin' some kid up here."

You feel anger rise in your chest immediately, "I'm not a kid, asshole."

He stops then, turns around and appraises you with his eyebrows furrowed. It's the first time he's actually gotten a good look at you, his gaze catching on your face for a lasting moment before his eyes fall to your gun. You feel slightly vulnerable, intimidated by his heavy stare.

"How old are you?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Twenty seven."

His brow furrows even more, "Coulda sworn he said you were seventeen."

"Well, I'm not," you reply awkwardly.

"No, you're not," he acknowledges, "I'm sorry," He seems to mean it, giving you the smallest of apologetic nods and then turning around again to keep walking.

"You thought Tommy sent a seventeen year old up here with you? I thought you had to be eighteen to patrol outside the border."

"You do, I just wouldn't put it past Tommy to send a kid up here with me," he grumbles, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"...Why?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, but now I'm just thinking you're some kind of pervert," you say it in a joking manner but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he stops again and spins around, looking at you with what you can only explain as pure rage. You flinch backward, eyes widening.

"Do I look like a fucking pervert to you?" he asks, voice hard and angry.

"I was joking," you say immediately, shaking your head frantically, "It didn't land."

"No, it fucking didn't," he starts walking again at a faster pace, leaving you standing there completely floored.

Yeah, it's bad.

-

"Ellie's not speaking to him," Tommy explains to you the next morning in the dining hall, hands gripping his coffee mug. You've just told him about your patrol with Joel and the horrible impression you've already managed to make. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but with an outburst like that...I need you to understand why he reacted the way he did."

You look at him, bewildered, "Ellie? That teenager who plays guitar down by the stream?" And the one who'd relentlessly bothered you with questions about your scars, but you keep that part to yourself.

"Yeah, she's...well for all intents and purposes, she's Joel's kid. And she stopped talking to him a while ago, maybe six or seven months back now," he takes a sip of coffee, "Don't ask me why 'cause I have no idea. I've asked both of them and neither'll give me any kind of explanation. All I know is they ain't speakin' and he's heartbroken over it."

"Must've been a bad argument," you say, scrunching your nose in thought, "I mean...seven months? That's a long time to not speak to someone, especially your dad."

"Eh, you haven't met Ellie. She's one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. They both are," he shakes his head, "Anyway, you calling him a perv probably pissed him off 'cause Ellie's real special to him, a surrogate daughter. He wouldn't like someone misunderstanding that, seein' somethin' dirty or wrong there."

"I wasn't-"

He puts a hand up, nodding, "I know you weren't, I get it, no worries. It's partly my fault anyway 'cause he's right, I have tried to send a teen or two up with him, thought it'd do him good to mentor somebody again. But he doesn't want it, I know that now. He doesn't want it if it's not Ellie."

"Well, he doesn't seem to like me anyway, no matter how old I am," you sigh, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, "I mean, he didn't talk to me once after that, not for the whole shift. It was bad. I don't know if it's gonna work, Tommy. I'm sorry."

He nods and gives you a small smile, thumbing the handle of his mug, "It's okay, I didn't think it'd work out anyways." He tries to hide the disappointment in his expression but fails miserably, and you leave the dining hall feeling bad about your failure.

-

A few days later you're back in the dining hall finishing up dinner, chatting with a few of the community members who you've warmed up most to. There's not many, but you are starting to find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around people as the days go on, more like yourself. You're caught up in a story about an infected you'd encountered in a gas station when their gazes suddenly divert from you and instead fix above your head. Confused, you slow your words and turn around.

"Oh, hi," you say, voice a bit breathless when you see Joel standing there, hands in his pockets, "Did you need something?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," he says it softly, kindly, completely the opposite of how he'd talked to you before, "When you're finished, of course."

"Oh, yeah, sure," your words are broken and awkward, "Uh, I'll meet you...?"

"I'll be outside the main doors," he says quickly, "Take your time."

"Okay, I'll be out in a few."

He nods to you and then to your friends, then turns on his heel and walks out through the big double doors at the end of the dining area. You watch him go, bewildered.

"I thought he hated you," one of your friends says, voicing exactly what you're currently thinking.

"Yeah," you reply, furrowing your brow, "So did I."

You finish your story much quicker than intended and shove away from the table, waving goodbye to your friends and bringing your empty dish to the cleaning station. You push past the double doors and scan the outside area for Joel, eyeing the picnic tables where a few people are enjoying their meals in the fresh air.

"Hey," you hear behind you, and you turn to see him leaning against the left side of the building, arms crossed, "Over here."

You walk over, trying to plan out exactly what you're going to say so you don't end up making some stupid joke again that'll push him further away from you. It turns out you don't need to, because he speaks first.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he says it seriously, a soft and genuine look in his brown eyes, "I treated you horribly the other day, you didn't deserve that."

You raise an eyebrow, "Did Tommy put you up to this?"

He frowns, "No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause if he did...I mean, I get it. It's nice of him to look out for me like that but you really don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything, I'm the one who said the tactless joke."

"Tommy didn't say anything to me," he seems to mean it, kicking the toe of his boot against the building, "And I know you were joking, I knew it then too but I'd just..." he takes a breath, avoiding eye contact, "I was havin' a bad day. Doesn't excuse my behavior by any means but it...you just..." he finally looks at you again, expression pained, "I wasn't expectin' you to be there. Tommy only told me you were takin' over for him about ten minutes before you showed up. And then I thought you were a kid and-"

You put your hand up, silencing him, "Joel, it's okay. You don't have to explain."

"I didn't even shake your damn hand," he says gruffly, sounding genuinely ashamed.

You extend your hand to him immediately, splaying your fingers out into the cold air, "Here, shake it now." He stares at it, unsure, and you wiggle it a bit in response, "Seriously, it's okay. Let's start over, clean slate."

He slowly reaches up to take it, his much bigger hand enveloping yours completely. His grip is strong and firm and you can feel calluses along his fingers, showing you exactly who taught Ellie how to play that guitar.

"Clean slate," he repeats, and it begins.

-

He's annoying, but you kinda love it.

He's grumpy most of the time, hates when you don't obey his orders, isn't afraid to give you shit, and gets irritated with you very easily. But it goes both ways. You're stubborn and set in your ways, you hate being told what to do, you dish it just as much as you take it, and it doesn't take much to get you riled up. And somehow, as much as you'd both probably hate to admit it, you work well together.

After your little conversation with Joel outside the dining hall, you'd flagged down Tommy and told him you were willing to try again with Joel on another patrol. He'd looked at you like you were crazy but hadn't shot the idea down, telling you that if it's what you really wanted, he'd keep the schedule the same.

You've been up on the mountain with Joel three times now, and while there's certainly been challenges and a few arguments, it's starting to become a routine. He doesn't talk about himself - it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you dare not break - but in return you don't tell him much about you either. Your main conversation points are usually tied to your interests, not your pasts, and you find yourself discussing movies with him, as well as music and books. He's surprisingly well-read for someone in an apocalypse, but you suppose he could say the same thing about you.

-

The fourth trip is what sets things in motion.

"Did you catch the movie last night?" you ask nonchalantly as you hike beside him, almost to the ski lodge. It's early morning, around five, and the sun is just beginning to crest the tree line, "I don't think Maria knew about the sex scene."

He groans, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes - you've noticed that he does this a lot, a quirk you've become rather fond of.

"Yes," he replies, wincing, "I heard her givin' Tommy a piece of her mind afterwards."

"The way she was yelling for him to turn off the projector was so fucking funny," you grin at the memory, still fresh in your mind, "And listen, I get it, sex is taboo, yada yada yada, but it's not like there were any little kids there last night, it was just the teens. And it's not like it was a porno or something, it was one little sex scene."

"Oh, I know, but I think Maria's trying to keep 'em as innocent as possible for as long as she can."

"Good luck with that," you snort, "I think we all lost our innocence a long time ago, for better or for worse."

"For worse," he replies instantly, "Definitely for worse."

"You're probably right," you grimace, "Although, you know what? I've actually never seen a porno."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Seriously? Never?"

You bristle slightly, suddenly a little self conscious, "Well, it's not like there's an adult video store in this town, is there?" You can remember them existing when you were a kid, before everything happened, but it's not like you'd had any use for them at that time.

"No, you're right," he turns away from you, lost in thought for a moment, "They do still exist though. Pornos, I mean. Just in other forms. There's a stack of magazines up at the ski lodge, actually."

Your eyes go wide, "Wait, really?"

"Yup."

"Could I maybe..." you trail off and stop speaking, realizing that you should definitely not be asking what you're thinking.

"Look at 'em?" he finishes for you, not looking behind him as he keeps walking, "And you call me a pervert."

The conversation ends there, and you don't dare try to continue it.

-

The day is spent keeping watch along the ski lodge balcony, binoculars passed back and forth as you trade shifts and chat here and there about irrelevant things. Your main objective in this patrol spot is to keep watch of the main watchtower's blind spots, keeping an aerial view of the border perimeter in case people - mainly raiders - decide to make themselves known. You'd thought early on in your admittance to Jackson that infected were their main concern, but you've come to learn that's not the case at all. When Joel had said they'd come across infected up here he'd been lying to you; they'd actually come across a group of raiders who'd tried - and failed - to murder Joel and Tommy during their watch. Not the most reassuring thing to hear now that you've taken over, but you needed to know.

"It's why we got the trip wires down near the entrance now," Joel had explained to you during your second patrol with him, "We won't get snuck up on again," he'd made a face, "Not unless someone decides to disobey my orders."

You'd given him a weak smile, remembering how you'd decided not to heed his warning about going outside the ski lodge after light's out and ended up almost getting your leg shot off by a booby trap, "My bad." He'd rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself.

Now that it's your fourth watch you've gotten the hang of things and have learned to enjoy the semi-solitude of being on the mountain with Joel. He's got a battery operated radio and a box of cassette tapes that keep you from being bored out of your mind, plus a few containers of books that he and Tommy had carried up over the course of a few patrols. Now that you really think about it, you don't remember seeing any of the aforementioned porn Joel had spoken of in any of those crates.

It's midday when you decide to glance through them again out of curiosity, handing the binoculars over to Joel and slipping past him as he traipses out onto the balcony. You head for the boxes immediately and start to dig through them, not sure exactly what you're even looking for. Someone naked, you guess.

"They're not in there," Joel calls to you after a few minutes and you stiffen, turning to look at him through the glass where he can very clearly see what you're doing. He's got a shit-eating grin on his face and you feel your skin flush red.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," you call back, walking away from the books and plopping yourself in the chair by the unlit fireplace, which has somehow become your chair via another unspoken rule, "I was looking for a tape."

"Okay, well the 'tape' you're looking for is in the back of the supply closet," he sounds like he's fighting back laughter and your skin burns even more, "Underneath a box of cleaning supplies."

"I'm ignoring you," you yell out, "Get back to work."

You swear you hear a muffled laugh through the glass.

-

When he comes in from his shift he barely looks at you, just pushes past you lightly and heads for the supply closet. You follow behind him, heart pounding a bit harder in your chest the closer you get to the stash. He opens the closet door and you watch as he yanks out the cleaning supplies, then digs a bit deeper and reappears with six or seven magazines in his arms.

"Here," he leans them toward you and you hesitantly reach forward to take them from him, "They're mostly from the 90s."

"And you know this because....?" you raise an eyebrow and you swear his cheeks go pink.

"I'm a man," he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant as he passes you again to head back to the living room.

"Perv," you call after him, but he doesn't turn around this time.

"You got ten minutes."

-

You've never seen so much nudity in your life, which is saying something considering you'd seen your fair share of it back in your QZ when life had been a bit easier. But seeing it on paper, in photographs that have somehow lasted through years of this shitty reality, it's something else entirely. You stare with wide eyes at the onslaught of naked bodies, most of which are posed in extremely graphic sexual positions, and feel your heart continue to pound in your chest.

Without much thought you'd opened the first magazine right there where Joel left you standing outside the supply closet, and you now find yourself sitting in said closet with your flashlight aimed at the pages, breathing heavily and trying to comprehend exactly how you feel about what you're looking at. A lot of it feels kind of fake, especially the looks on the faces of the models, but there's enough sexual energy there that makes you start to feel a bit wet in your underwear, a feeling you haven't experienced for quite some time; not since a few a years ago in the QZ when you'd been in your last relationship.

"I gave you ten minutes," you suddenly hear Joel say from the other room, and you quickly scramble to your feet and frantically shut the magazine, "In case you forgot, it's your turn."

"Fuck," you trip out of the closet and dash to the living room, clutching your brand new collection of media to your chest, "Sorry, I got distracted."

He stands by the balcony door and looks you over quickly, eyes scanning from the magazines to your face and back again, "Enjoy yourself?" his expression is unreadable and it makes you self conscious.

"Oh please," you reply, making a face, "Do not start."

-

"So which was your favorite?" he asks you casually once darkness has fallen and you're both safely settled in the lodge for the night.

"Which what?"

He looks at you from over his book and gives you a look, like he's questioning your sanity. You stare for a moment and then slap your hand over your eyes when you realize.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you groan, "I'm never gonna hear the end of this now, am I?"

He laughs and you look over at him again, laying there on the couch with a smug look on his face. You retaliate by grabbing the pillow behind you and tossing it at him, making him drop the book he's reading.

"Hey!" he reaches down to pick it up again, "I showed them to you, I'm allowed to ask."

"False," you say, flipping your hair, "And for your information, I only managed to look at one of them."

He chuckles to himself and returns to his book, "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. I was just kiddin'."

"Joel Miller? Kidding?" you make a faux-shocked face, "I fear we've entered the Twilight Zone."

"Don't even pretend you know what that is," he says it seriously but his smile betrays him, "You didn't know about the Twilight Zone 'til I told you about it last week."

"That's just what I wanted you to think."

He rolls his eyes and keeps reading, letting the silence take over again. You watch his eyes scan the page back and forth, taking in the story - whatever it is - and transporting himself to another world, away from the ski lodge. He does this every patrol once it's too dark to see outside, sets the battery powered lantern to its highest setting and reads until he falls asleep. You wish you had his concentration and focus; instead, you curl up in the red armchair and force your eyes shut until your thoughts quiet down enough to let you sleep. Which is difficult tonight especially, seeing as all you can think about are those damn magazines.

After about five more minutes of silence you take a deep breath, then quietly say, "The one with the blonde girl in the bunny ears."

You don't dare look at him, waiting for his response and focusing instead on the empty fireplace beside you. You hear the crinkling of paper as he dogears the page of his book and then the gentle thud as he places it on the floor.

"That's a good one," he says just as quietly.

Another moment of silence passes, and your skin feels like it's on fire as you whisper, "I like the page where she's like...bent over."

"I can't remember the pages, if I'm being honest," he replies, "I haven't looked at them in a while."

You nod to yourself, "Well, there's this page where the guy has her bent over a table. And he's like...pounding into her from behind." You wait for him to say something else but he doesn't so you continue, "It's one of the only pages where she actually looks like she's enjoying herself."

"Hey, uh, I really was just kiddin'," he says awkwardly, "You don't have to tell me, it's okay."

"Oh," you can't help but sound dejected and embarrassed, your fingers trembling a little bit as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Sorry."

"I mean, if you want to, you can," he corrects, sounding slightly embarrassed himself, "I know you probably....you probably want to talk about it."

You bite down on your lip and sigh exasperatedly, placing your hands over your face, "Kinda," you mumble against your fingers, "It's all I can think about right now."

"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asks, voice still gentle, "A lot of people are offended by that kinda stuff, you wouldn't be the first person to find it weird."

"It's definitely weird," you take a shaky breath and drop your hands, "But no, I'm not uncomfortable. It was....I mean, it was hot," you bite your lip, "I haven't even thought about sex for a long time so it made me...uh..."

The silence is deafening and apparently neither of you wants to break it as you sit there without speaking, letting your words hang in the dead air. You suddenly feel like you want to crawl out of your skin for saying anything to begin with, for even asking about the magazines in the first place.

"Wet?" he suddenly says, voice breaking a bit, "It made you wet?"

"Very," you reply, relieved that he's not freaked out and trying to change the subject.

"Well, that's normal," he says, voice stiff.

You can't help but laugh, finally peering over at him and seeing that he's just laying there, staring at the ceiling, "I know it's normal, Joel. It's not my first time being turned on, trust me."

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" he grumbles, looking at you in exasperation, "You can't just say that and expect me to give you a casual response. It made you wet, you got turned on, congratulations."

You stare at him, watching as he reaches for his book again, "Wait," you clamor out of the chair and reach beneath it to grab the magazine you'd looked at earlier. You shuffle over to him, thumbing through the pages until you find the right one, "Here," you open to the correct page and show it to him, "This is the one I'm talking about."

His eyes assess the page, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily in his throat as he takes in what you were referring to. He nods slowly, "Okay yeah, I see what you mean. She's about to come, that's why she looks like that."

Your brow furrows, "You can tell that from a picture?"

He shrugs, eyes still on the magazine, "Well, see, he's rubbin' her clit," he points to it and your face goes hot again, "And he's fuckin' her pretty hard. So yeah, I'd say she's either already comin' or about to." his gaze shifts back to you, noticing that you're staring, and he awkwardly pushes the magazine back toward you, "What?"

"I just..." you swallow, shaking your head apologetically, "Sorry, it just sounded really dirty hearing you say that."

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, shifting on the couch and leaning away from you as he crosses his arms, "Well, you asked."

"I know, I don't mean it in a bad way," you step back and realize you're suddenly throbbing in your jeans, feeling that familiar wetness again, "It just... hearing you say it out loud like that, it makes the picture hotter, somehow."

He looks at you, gaze trailing from your eyes to your lips. You suddenly feel like you've said too much, exposed even though you're fully dressed, and you walk back over to the chair and quickly plop back down in it. You give him another look and see his lips parting like he's going to say something else. Instead he takes a breath and drops his eyes from your face, twisting around on the couch to face the opposite way, "It's late, we should sleep."

"Y-yeah," you breathe, crossing your legs, heart stuttering as your clothed core presses wetly against the denim of your jeans. "You're right."

You curl back up in the chair and try to calm your breath, slow your heart, try not to focus too much on the fact that hearing Joel of all people say the phrases he's rubbin' her clit and fuckin' her pretty hard has made you start falling to pieces. Do you even see Joel that way? Has there ever been a moment where you found yourself thinking about him like that? You want to tell yourself the answer is no, that your body is simply experiencing some pent-up sexual frustration and he has nothing to do with it, but you know you'd be lying to yourself.

He's hot. It's not some shocking revelation or something you've realized over time. There's a reason you'd felt so drawn to him that first day in the dining hall, a reason you'd watched out for him every day and hoped he'd notice you. Hell, there's a reason you're still doing patrols with him despite him being a pain in the ass. You're not an idiot, you know yourself well enough by now to know what these things mean.

You're attracted to him. You've been attracted to him this whole damn time.

You shut your eyes tight and curl up into a ball, holding your knees to your chest. He's rubbin' her clit, his voice echoes in your mind, and your cunt begins to ache.

Stop thinking about it, you shake his words away and try to focus on falling asleep. There's no way you're gonna touch yourself right now, not with him in the room, and you're not gonna excuse yourself either like some horny teenager. You can do this, you can get through it, it'll go away soon.

-

It doesn't go away.

About twenty minutes later you're still sitting there with your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to touch yourself. But it's so fucking difficult. His words are playing on a loop in your head, over and over, soft yet rough, kind yet sexy, his southern drawl making it all the more hotter:

She's about to come, that's why she looks like that.

He's rubbin' her clit.

He's fuckin' her pretty hard.

I'd say she's either already comin' or about to.

You squirm in the chair, imagining what he'd sound like whispering that in your ear with his fingers pumping in and out of you as you came undone beneath him. Rubbin' her clit, his voice breathes in your mind, fuckin' her pretty hard, she's about to come.

You're ten seconds from breaking your own rule and heading back to the supply closet to find some release when you hear an unfamiliar sound coming from a few feet away. Your eyes flutter open, thoughts stopping momentarily as you try to figure out what it is. You turn slightly in your chair to see if Joel hears it too, and you feel your breath stop completely.

He's turned off the lantern so you can't see him properly, but you can make out the shadow of him in the moonlight, see the long shape of him directly mirrored against the floorboards and his hand stroking himself up and down, quick and rough. Your lips part in disbelief, realizing the noise you're hearing is the sound of his palm slapping against the base of his cock as he jacks himself off.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

Here you've been, desperately trying to push away any and all sense of desire so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself, wouldn't make him uncomfortable, and here he is doing that exact thing. Angrily, almost out of spite, you sit up in the chair and stuff your hand down your jeans.

Two can play at that game, asshole.

Your finger goes straight to your clit and you begin to rub it furiously, eyes trained on the dark outline of his hand moving up and down. You can only vaguely make out the shape of him but it's enough to make you start dripping, the base of your palm getting slick as you stimulate yourself continuously. He's well endowed, that much is obvious, and you watch his silhouette as he releases his large cock for a moment to bring his hand to his mouth and lick a stripe along his palm. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the moan that threatens to bubble from your throat at the action, watching through lidded eyes as he brings his wet hand back down and fists himself once more.

Without much thought you slip your middle finger inside yourself, eyes trained on him as you pretend it's his cock pushing past your entrance. It's pretty difficult to imagine though, considering his cock is probably five times as girthy as your one finger, but you make do. You can kind of make out the shape of the tip, wide and shiny, disappearing and reappearing over and over. You slip a second finger inside and bite back a whimper.

The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin and the sudden wet squelch of your fingers; you don't even bother to try and make it softer, you're getting off now whether he knows or not, the fullness overwhelming you as you lick your lips and furrow your brow. You haven't masturbated in a long time; you know it won't take you long to get what you need.

"Are you-" he suddenly gasps into the darkness, and your head snaps up to look at him again, heart pounding when you see that his hand has stilled on his cock and he's looking over at you with an expression of pure disbelief.

You should probably be embarrassed, apologetic, but instead you can't help but feel a rush of pride, of spite, as he realizes what you're doing.

"Like you're not," you hiss back, practically spitting as you continue to fuck yourself, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he says back, and you can see his fingers clench around his length, like he's doing everything in his power not to stroke himself.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He groans and lets go of himself completely, sitting up slightly on the couch and shaking his head like he's trying to wake himself up from a dream he isn't having. When he looks at you again his eyes fall to where you're still getting off, not bothering to be sneaky about the way he practically bores a hole in your jeans with his gaze.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" he challenges gruffly, eyes coming back up to meet yours, the hint of a cocky smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, he's proud of himself, isn't he?

You glare at him, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going," you mean it too, fingers not even slowing down as you pant breathlessly in his direction, "And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

It does matter, actually, it really does. If he was to get up and walk out... it would basically be a rejection, something you're not sure you'll be able to deal with. You don't break eye contact with him, staring him down as you give him your own challenge.

He swallows, gives you one last look, and then flops back down into a horizontal position as he reaches for himself again. He returns to his quick strokes, almost purposely more heavy this time as he mutters, "No talking. Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you reply immediately, and add a third finger.

It doesn't take long for you to find your release, a particularly hard slap of skin from Joel on the couch pushing you over the edge. You don't try to stifle your moan this time, focusing completely on enjoying your orgasm as your hand stills in your pants and you begin to shake in the chair. Your hips buck pathetically, eyes shutting tight as you whimper and cry out in pleasure.

"Jesus Christ," you hear Joel pant a few seconds afterward, followed by a long groan as he starts to come too, "Fuck."

You manage to catch a glimpse of the way he twists his wrist, aims his cock against his button-down and stains it with his release. You wish you had a better view, that it wasn't so dark, but just hearing him come apart is enough. It's exactly what you hoped it would be.

You lay there in silence for a few moments, both of you panting breathlessly from your orgasms as the weight of what you've just done starts to creep in. You're suddenly slightly afraid of what he'll say, what he'll do. Will he get mad? Will he say he doesn't want to patrol with you anymore? You decide immediately that you don't want him to have the first word.

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, barely a whisper.

It takes a few moments for him to reply, and you start to worry that you've already ruined everything, but then he answers.

"Bunny ears," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I was thinkin' about the bunny ear girl," he's still breathless, "From the magazine. Weren't you?"

You figure you can't dig the hole any deeper.

"I was just watching you, Joel," you breathe, feeling butterflies tingle in your belly at the words, "Didn't have to think about anything else."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then mumbles something to himself that you don't understand. You can't fully make out his expression but you swear you see him frown in the moonlight, not exactly the response you were aiming for. He suddenly turns on the couch again to face away from you, exhaling loudly, "Go to sleep."

The words strike you hard, lips parting in surprise. You obviously hadn't expected him to completely reciprocate, to jump into your arms and kiss you, but that? "Go to sleep"? What the fuck kind of a response is that? You stare at him, hoping against reason that he'll turn around again and apologize, say something different, but he doesn't.

"Yeah, sure," you mutter, curling back up into a ball in the chair and hoping sleep finds you as soon as possible so you don't have to think anymore, "Asshole."

You hope he hears you.

-

You wake the next morning to the sound of someone rummaging nearby, and you open your eyes blearily to see Joel crouched near the door, packing his bag. You stretch and yawn automatically, momentarily forgetting what had transpired between the two of you last night. His head tilts up to look at you and it all comes flooding back when you see that familiar frown on his face.

"Do you ever smile?" you say, voice rough with sleep.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his pack, shaking his head, "Like you're so chipper."

"Well, at least I have a good reason to be annoyed," you snap, sitting up in the chair and stretching your legs, "Asshole."

"You love to call me that, don't you?"

"Just calling it like I see it," you mutter, pulling yourself up and heading past him to the door, "I'm taking a piss."

"Watch out for th-"

"The trip wires, I know," you interrupt coldly, "I'm not an idiot."

He doesn't say anything else but you feel his eyes on your back as you walk out onto the balcony and down the steps. You both have to pee in the woods when you're out here - the ski lifts aren't the only things that don't work properly anymore - so you've managed to each figure out your own designated area. You feel relieved once you're out of his eyesight and beneath the thick layer of tree branches that keep your makeshift bathroom secluded.

You really shouldn't be so pissed at him, it's not like he owes you anything. You know you're projecting your own feelings onto him and that it isn't fair, but god, him telling you to go to sleep after you'd essentially confessed your attraction to him makes your blood boil. He'd really had nothing else to say? Couldn't have come up with something a little softer, a little kinder? Let you down easy?

You grumble to yourself on the way back up the steps, questioning whether or not you should keep ignoring him or just get over it. Is it really worth an hours hike of hostility? You already know this is your last shift with him, there's no way you can come back from this in any way that will keep your dignity intact. It's over.

"You say you're not a kid but you sure do act like one," Joel says the second you re-enter the ski lodge, and you stop dead in your tracks. He's got his arms crossed, nose flaring in anger, "I'm sick and tired of the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, all that shit. What happened to people just talkin' to each other?"

You shut the door behind you and shake your head, "I'm not giving you the silent treatment Joel, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," his voice is firm but you can hear some emotion there, something deeper. He doesn't like being ignored and you know why, but it doesn't soften your resolve.

"I'm pissed at you, yeah," you admit, shrugging, "But I think I have a pretty valid reason."

"And what is it?"

You stare, scrunching up your face in confusion, "Are you serious? Jesus, Joel, I thought you were smart."

"Oh, fuck off," he grumbles, rolling his eyes again, "I ain't a mind reader."

You shake your head again, inhaling deeply, "I'm not asking you to read my mind, Joel," you exhale and try to calm yourself, feeling the angry tears begin to sting your eyes. God, you hate how emotional you get when you're angry. You hate showing weakness like this.

"Then tell me," he groans, "Is it about last night? 'Cause I thought we made a deal that we're not gonna talk about it."

You laugh at his words, cold and hard, "Right, yeah, sorry. Deal's a deal, right? My bad," you couldn't sound more sarcastic if you tried, stuffing your roll of toilet paper back in your pack and zipping it up, "Come on, let's just head back and forget about it." Your voice cracks on the last few words and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling the tears spill over.

"Are you crying?" his voice falters, and you hear a twinge of kindness in his tone, something you'd desperately wanted to hear last night.

He crosses the room before you even have a chance to reply, striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder firmly, making you turn around. His face softens immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your face, the tears you're already trying to wipe away.

"Fuck," he says, brow furrowing in concern, "I'm sorry."

You snort involuntarily, shaking your head, "I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid," it's almost a whisper, "I'm the stupid one, believe me," he brings his hand up like he's going to touch your face but seems to think better of it, bringing it back to your shoulder again, "I shouldn't have... I don't know what I was thinkin' last night, I'm sorry. You showed me that magazine and-"

You put your hand up to silence him, "I don't care about why, Joel. I don't even care that you did it, it's not like I told you to stop."

His brow furrows deeper, "Then what...?"

You close your eyes, breathing deeply before putting on your best impression of him and mumbling, "Go to sleep," like he had the night before, opening your eyes again to see if he understands.

He stares at you for a few seconds, confused, but you watch as it suddenly dawns on him, realization spreading across his features. He suddenly lets go of your shoulder and takes a few steps back, eyes falling to the floor.

"You can't... you can't think of me that way," he says it gruffly, swallowing and shaking his head.

You stand there without saying anything, waiting until he finally looks back up at you to speak. When he does, you make sure to look directly in his eyes.

"Why not?"

His hand comes up to touch the back of his neck and you swear you see patches of red begin to bloom along his collarbone, like he's embarrassed...or flattered? You take a step forward and he quickly takes another step backward.

"If it's because of the age thing... I really don't care, Joel," you say earnestly, heart beginning to beat heavily in your chest, "I think you're..." You can't believe the words are even coming out of your mouth, the tears on your face already beginning to dry as you try to process this new situation you've found yourself in, "I think you're sexy."

His brow furrows again, not in anger but in confusion. He doesn't take another step backward when you move toward him this time, staying rooted in place as you peer up at him, waiting for him to speak. He remains silent, his eyes trained directly on your face, lips set in a firm line.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

He shakes his head slowly, "I don't."

"Why?"

He doesn't reply, just keeps staring at you like he has absolutely no idea what to say. You suddenly feel the need to reassure him, comfort him. Your hand moves upward, aching to cup his face in your hand, feel that grey scruff beneath your palm.

He pulls back before you get the chance, shaking his head again, "Don't," it's barely a whisper, voice breaking as he says it, "Just...gimme a minute."

"Okay," you nod, dropping your hand, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin'," he breathes, still not breaking eye contact, "Just let me think, please."

You swallow, teeth tugging on your lip as he continues to stand there motionless. He's still looking at you but his thoughts are miles away; you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating exactly what he's supposed to do in a situation like this. Part of you wants him to kiss you, part of you wants to kiss him, part of you wants to wait until he makes a decision. You settle firmly on the third option.

"I lied," he finally breaks the silence, jaw tense and firm, "I wasn't thinkin' about that fuckin' bunny ear model."

Your lips part; you hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"Then...what were you thinking about?" You already know the answer before he replies.

"You," his voice is strained, broken, like he's holding himself back, "I was thinkin' about you and the stupid magazines in the supply closet."

You feel your skin flush, a tingle trailing up the back of your neck as you try not to show him how pleased you are, "W-what?"

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about you in that closet, lookin' at those pictures, getting...." he trails off and swallows, then whispers, "Wet. Gettin' all wet in your panties from that girl getting fucked."

His words send an immediate throb to your core and you can feel your heart in your throat, pounding relentlessly as he continues to speak, continues to say exactly what's been on his mind as you stand in front of him, so much smaller than him, letting his words get lost in the sudden warmth of your body and the buzz of your thoughts.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about it," he repeats, voice rough, eyes dark, "Your wet panties, your big eyes, your..." he practically chokes then, "Your pussy, all wet and aching."

"Oh my god," you whimper, crossing your legs involuntarily as you feel an immediate surge of wetness in your underwear, "Please, keep talking, please."

"Wanted to see it and touch it," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across your face as he peers down at you with desire in his eyes, "Wanted to fuck it and make you come."

Without hesitation your arms shoot up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his warm chest and tugging at the collar of his coat, "I want you to," you practically moan, clawing at the material, "Joel, I need you to fuck me right now."

To your absolute dismay he reaches up and removes your arms from him, taking a step back so neither of you are touching. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide and that red blush of heat now spread all over his neck and cheekbones.

"I can't," he says, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

You're about to protest, whine and beg if you have to, but his eyes fall to your groin. You watch with wide eyes as he goes for his belt, begins to unloop it and remove it.

"Take your pants off," he groans, and you don't need telling twice.

-

You end up masturbating together again, this time in the light of day. You find yourselves laying on the couch where he'd slept last night, the memory of what he'd done there fresh in your mind as you pump two fingers in and out of yourself steadily and watch him stroke his cock to match your pace. He watches you behind hooded eyes, his lips parted as he pants and gets himself off to your pleasure, watches you do the same thing to him.

"That's it," he murmurs, eyes scrunching in arousal as he scans your face, watches you come undone, "Rub your clit, nice and fast."

You whimper, unable to hold on for much longer as you eye his cock and see the way the fat head of it drips for you, slicking his hand and allowing him to stroke faster and faster. You want to say something to help get him off too but your words are completely lost in the sensation; you couldn't speak even if you wanted to.

He knows you're about to come, can see it in your face the way he saw it in the face of the model in the picture. He swallows heavily and fucks himself impossibly faster, harder, silently asking you to match his pace. You do it, thumbing your clit and feeling the tense coil in your belly snap as your jaw drops and you let out a long and ridiculously loud moan. Your eyes shut tight and you throw your head back, feeling your body begin to shake from the stimulation.

"There you go," he grunts, and you hear the slapping of skin stop as he rides out his own release, coming into his fist, "Fuck." Your eyes open at just the right time to see his jaw go slack, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the pleasure. It somehow makes you ache for more, even though you can't possibly imagine being any more overstimulated than you already are.

You both lay there, chests heaving, hearts pounding, completely undone. It goes without saying that you've both just managed to each have one of the best orgasms of your lives.

"New patrol rule," you whisper to him, legs still wide and cunt dripping with your release, "We do this. Every time. Please."

"Yes," he replies immediately, still catching his breath, "I can do that."

-

"It can't be any more than this," Joel says to you quietly as you hike down the mountain a little while later, the sunrise cresting the trees again the way it had yesterday when you'd hiked up; it's like nothing has changed, but you both know that everything has.

"Okay," you say just as softly, though part of you aches to reach for his hand, loop your pinky through his and have some degree of touch between you. But you can tell he means business, that there won't be any more discussion on the matter today.

"Just this," he whispers, glancing at you with a meaningful look, eyes soft and tender as he peers at you, knowing what he's done, what he's started.

"Just this," you agree, but you don't really believe it.

You hope, deep down, neither does he.

thank you so much for reading! there will be more in this collection coming very soon. i'd like to do some short fics of certain nights they've had, especially the first time he calls her a good girl. that was originally going to be in this part but it was just getting wayyy too long and i have so many ideas i need to flesh out more lol. i'm also going to continue where they left off in "don't think we could help it", and yes, eventually they will do the deed, i promise. among other things....

if you liked it, please let me know! and again, if you'd like to give me a tip you can do so on my kofi 💖

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Grabbing König's body when you think he isn't looking. König x Pervert reader. Established relationship/situation, whichever way you wanna read it. FUCKK I ADDED COMFORT FOR KÖNIG AT THE END I SUCCUMBED IM SOFT ASF.

Looking for a quick squeeze of his stomach when you hug him from behind. Hand sliding from the front of his hip all the way to his shoulder. Downright dirty and seamless. Sure the man whiplashes every time he feels someone touching but you think you're slick enough to just get this quick feel. Just while he reacts. Got it, scott free right?

"Ah there you are Schatz, scared me for a moment."

—

Your hands reaching over his sleepy form in bed while you 'look for something'.

"Move aside König gotta grab the-"

And your fingers are squeezing at his tits, sliding across as your arm squishes against his breasts, just enough to linger on the way his boobs surround yours like a pillow before you say aw shucks! Guess the water isn't there! Silly you!

"Sorry love, must've forgotten", you didn't even try to conceal the smile in your voice.

—

The last straw was when you were out at the beach. You couldn't resist yourself! Who could blame you when he was just wearing those tighty whiteys of shorts! A size too small too! What a slut!

You just had to cop a feel. Or two. Or three. C'mon couldn't he see you we're practically cumming over it!

"You want to help me with my sunscreen? That ist nice Schatz." And you're kneading at his back. Drooling over the way his muscles dented under your skin.

"Ach- I can reach there- No? You want to do it?? Hm, okay?" And you're creaming over his lap, lathering the sunscreen as if you were molding his thighs for him. Listening to his timeless gasps as you relax the sore muscles, they deserve a little break too from carrying this behemoth for so long. After all he's been so good you both deserve a little treat too.

—

It's hard not to act so perverted when he looks at your food with those eyes. Soft, pleading, almost naive but you'd know better than to call the monster that. He's only soft around you, and you'll take advantage of it.

Soft enough to let you feed him. A purposefully small cookie in your pointer and index while you carefully balance it on the sides. Fuck, his lips were so soft shit you're cumming-

"Ooh ja, tastes good", and he huffs out the hot air. Hopefully he didn't notice how your hands trembled.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

But he did.

"Schatz? We need to communicate better I believe."

"It's about how you've been...touching me. I find it rather confusing."

A pause and a sigh.

"Be honest with me, do you enjoy me only for my body? I do not care if you do but ah, just be truthful, bitte."

And oh how his eyes softened at you while yours lusted at him. Your heart was all for him couldn't he see that? But he's no mind reader. Just a man who held you close after you talked with him.

"I'm sorry, I love you." And all he can do is just dry heave into your shoulder. Anxiety clawing away at him from the first hug you shared down to the latest, ripping him up inside out until his words were forced out of him.

Silent once again. Much more than he was at the beginning but he's happier. Even while your hands pat his back, trying not to come across as sensual while you usher him closer. Just close enough for him to rest on you. He just wants to be the only one you think of, not just the body you think of :(.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

You ease up on the touches and he's eased up. Or you can tell him downright and he'll be calmer when you're clear about it, two options and a healthy[Ish] relationship.

Masterlist

[alchemistc]

Thinking thoughts about Gerrard deciding, day one, that Diaz is his only ally amidst this group of degenerates. Diaz, with his dead wife and his disabled kid, close enough to be white passing if he ignores the Spanish phrases always coming out in between his sentences.

Eddie, who has Too Much going on to really notice the preferential treatment until he's having drinks with Tommy and Buck and Buck is just railing about what a fucking douche Gerrard is being, and what he'd say if his job wasn't on the line, and how Gerrard seems to have an extra squirrelly bug up his ass about Buck in particular because he's really the only member of the group that actually fits Gerrard's typical bill.

("Except, you know, the part where I really enjoy having a dick up my ass, like that's a personal choice I made just to piss him off, specifically."

"Well I sure hope not," Tommy says, cheesing when Eddie makes a face at the both of them.)

In the face of this realization, Eddie decides he's already torpedoed literally his entire life, so what's a little disrespect to his Captain gonna do?

Eddie responding to every order from Gerrard with an obtuse "Si senor, claro." Eddie listening to Gerrard's commands and then immediately turning to Hen or Chimney with a raised brow like "Sound right to you?" and just waiting there until he gets a head nod from one of them.

Eddie gentle-parenting his way through every homophobic, racist, misogynistic remark that comes out of Gerrard's mouth. "Oh, the preferred term is transgender, Cap." "Actually, Cap, that's a term that's been reclaimed by the community but I'm pretty sure you're not in the community so you shouldn't say that." "Well, Cap, I think you'll be very lucky if she doesn't file a complaint -- were you not around for the whole #metoo moment we had half a decade back?" "They/Them is actually really easy, we use it all the time without realizing it, like, remember when [...]" etc etc.

Clipboard!Buck doesn't get him. Out and proud Hen doesn't get him. "I will talk back I don't care how many times you write me up" Chimney doesn't get him. Ravi constantly serving him the biggest, burntest piece of casserole every time they eat doesn't get him.

Eddie "Baby Runs For President" Diaz is what ultimately does Gerrard in.