#and physically something is Not Right and as I posted about I did go into some weird cleaning trance after crying to my mom the other night

[camels-pen]

consider sanuso bodyswap where Sanji is of course "admiring" Usopp's body and Usopp is trying desperately to keep himself from getting worked up so that he doesn't light himself on fire.

Luffy and Chopper are not helping. They are in fact doing the opposite of helping. They've ramped up their pranks and are doing anything possible to get Usopp angry so that he combusts, freaks out, and then dives into the ocean to put himself out. They think it's hilarious.

Nami and Brook are Also not helping, since they're conspiring with Sanji to put on a fashion show with Usopp's body. Sanji called it "not wasting a precious opportunity to get him in something other than overalls". Usopp called it mutiny and he was gonna- dive into the ocean, holy fuck Sanji why is it so easy to catch fire?!

Best part about this is that Sanji assured him, several times, that his body doesn't get hurt by catching fire. Usopp still jumps into the ocean every time.

Robin pipes up at one point, asking if Sanji was immune to just his own flames or all flames. Sanji just kind of shrugs and said it depends. Franky, having just been leisurely watching all of this gets an idea. Would his Franky Fireball hurt Sanji's body or just give him more fire to work with?

He tries to coax Usopp into agreeing to test it out and, somehow, he manages it. Albeit, Usopp is all knocking knees and chattering teeth, a very odd sight from 'Sanji'. As part of the deal though, he can only shoot a fireball the size of his hand.

Usopp meant his small hand. The one Franky used for tinkering and fine detail work. He did not, however, clarify this.

So, when a fireball the size of Franky's big hand comes out, well. Usopp runs for his goddamn life.

It takes him a few moments- and the voices of his friends sounding distant and below him- to realize he hadn't, in fact, run to the men's quarters, but rather into the fucking sky.

And oooooh, boy he is gonna kill Sanji one of these days. Why was his body's first fucking instinct when running to go up, what the actual HELL-

Usopp lit himself on fire again.

He curses out Sanji as his Sky Walk fails in the same moment and he plummets towards the deck.

[dreamlogic]

...

[toytulini]

hit tag limit on the last post cos i started talking about roller coasters again 😔

[starbuck]

about a quarter of the way through making the WORST PANTS IMAGINABLE and i’m feeling GREAT

[jedi-bird]

My partner is off to the office soon to play online games with their friends. I had planned to write a bit, or at least try to. But honestly? This day has sucked and I'm emotionally exhausted. I think I'll just go to bed way too early and deal with waking up in the middle of the night when it happens. Tomorrow will either be better or worse but that's future me's problem. Current me no longer gives any fucks.

[autistickfigure]

AHHH i wish i could remember exactly when i made these guys cuz i cant remember if it was in elementary school or middle school. but i think it was middle school. (they didnt have tails or floating limbs before this is a NOW art. if it wasnt obvious. it would be scary if i were drawing like this on a computer in middle school) ANYWAY its funny to see how similar some of these guys are to future (and now current) ocs riffing on the same thing. nature is beautiful

[jovalencia]

everybody who has talked to me in the last 72 hours has experienced me on the verge of a breakdown and tbh I would feel bad but like. girl I’m not partying rn

[crossbackpoke-check]

Hi! Against your tags as always are delightful!! The fun thought of the Dylan au pair idea with the usntdp boys +Mo and razor are that Mo actually hung out with zebras at the combine I think when he needed friends and didn’t know folk! So it would actually sorta work! It’s a hilarious and wonderful concept!

first of all 🥺🥰😭💕 you’re so nice and second of all OH MY GOD BELOVED ANON hold on,,, getty images don’t fail me now i can’t believe mo & z hung out at the combine i’m going batshit bazonkers i can’t even-

okay update somehow i straight up forgot jack hughes was in this draft year & while i couldn’t find any pictures i do know that mo was super beloved (funny, personable, charming) at the combine, which is super interesting to think about with trevor “fawn response” zegras and i want to put them both in a little glass jar (a lakehouse fic) and shake them up and study them (write unnecessary side interactions in a fic that’s objectively about neither of them)

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

If I’m offline for a little bit that is bc my dog is having some health issues

[underwhelmingalchemist]

So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

[churipu]

hi i wanted to ask since your requests are open but can u write abt jjk guys (gojo, geto and maybe megumi as well) and how it would be like arguing with them? thank youuu~

ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN ˚｡𖦹

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing on toji's :)

note. hi nonnie, megumi's been done and you can just click right there to be directed to the said post — so, i'm going to change him to his father jsksdjdk. anyways, i'm so sorry this came out so late, i hope you like it. i was going to focus on my 1k event but then i realized that i'm holding up the requests in my inbox, so i'm going to try to upload them together one by one. / and ngl, i just did my nails done for the first time, aND I AM STRUGGLING TO DO ANYTHING. including typing, but i'm trying my best skdjs.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with him are just plain loud. for instance, we all know how gojo is, he'd be so petty during arguments. despite that though — i feel like he won't ever raise his voice at you, he's petty, yes. but he won't do anything that could scare you, raising his voice.

believe me when i say that he won't back down when he isn't in the wrong. he will argue back if you're wrong; and even with all that banter, both you and gojo will always resolve it together. he won't let you leave or turn away to discard the argument. gojo hates it when you give him the silent treatment — so he tries his best to not let you leave unless everything is talked about, face to face.

"satoru, i'm just saying that i didn't mean to do that. okay? i didn't even realize it!" you tell him, voice loud and bold.

gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, "this is the second time y/n, i'm sure you realize that — you're not a child anymore." you grumbled under your breath.

the past few days have been stressful. hectic for you. you knew though it wasn't an excuse, but when things get too caught up — you lose track of things, and honestly, you wanted nothing to do but to sleep and take a rest. work has been taking a big toll on you, both mentally and physically — and you can't bring yourself to argue with gojo right now.

"satoru, i know. it's just, things have been stressful at work. i'm sorry i forgot to turn off the stove," you tell him genuinely sorry that you almost, possibly burn the whole house down if he hadn't been the one to realize that, "i'm sorry, okay?"

his gaze softened. regaining control over the rhythm of his breathing, gojo reaches out to you, "d'you wanna talk about it?"

you shook your head, "i just wan' to sleep, satoru. i'm tired." he buries his nose into your hair before tossing you over his shoulder, you didn't complain at the way he decided to carry you — you just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

the male held you close as he climbed your shared bed, "'m sorry too," he mumbles, grazing his lips over your forehead.

"you don't have to be, it's my fault for being reckless," you replied, draping an arm over his torso, clutching his black shirt, "can we sleep now?"

gojo chuckles, "mhm. good night," he whispers, "i love you."

you smiled at him, burying your face into his chest, "good night 'toru. i love you more."

GETO SUGURU. arguments with geto can be pretty frustrating, although he never raises his voice at you. he just knows what to say, and he's always right too. whether it being about you forgetting to throw the trash out (once), or you being forgetful about some things — geto just knows the right words to say to you, without making you feel like you're doing something wrong.

see, the thing is in the house. you both divided your chores, geto does the dishes, and the mopping. you do the laundry and vacuuming. while the morning trash is yours, and he does it nightly.

he's usually never in the wrong. most of the time. but when he is, he will admit so. in conclusion, you don't argue with him often, because he will apologize if he knows he did something wrong. but this was on rare occasions.

today is one of those rare occasions. you swore you had left the house clean — and you remembered throwing the trash before you leave for work. yet, here he was, asking you about it.

"suguru, i promise i threw it in the morning. before i left for work," you tell him, taking off your shoes and putting it neatly on the shoe rack. having to come back home from work, you just wanted to eat dinner, have a nice warm bath, and sleep.

god, you hated arguments. you admitted that you sometimes forget to throw the trash out while rushing to go to work, but that was not intentional at all.

geto had asked your prior about it. you knew he wasn't sparking an argument, but the thing is — you remembered it well. going out of the door this morning while holding a plastic of waste, hell, you even remembered bumping into a neighbor on the way out.

"just . . . let me throw it out again—" geto has been awfully silent for the past few minutes, and when you approached the trash can, he immediately stops you.

his hand latching around your wrist gently as he pulls you over, "no, no. it's my fault, i remember now. i was the one who threw that in the trash can after you left," he said to you in an apologetic tone, "'m sorry."

you shook your head, "it's okay, it's just a misunderstanding. and it's not like you intentionally forgot about it, right?" he nods his head mutely, pulling you into a silent embrace, "y'okay sugu?"

"the next time i do that — i want you to smack me in the face, okay?" you chuckled, placing a wet kiss onto his lips.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. i don't know how to say it — he's just accepts his fate and does whatever you want him to do. he thinks arguments are a complete waste of time, it's not like he likes arguing with you in the first place. he just doesn't see a point to it since he never initiates the talking; you always do. but that's because he did things that sparked the said argument. you reap what you sow.

toji can be lazy sometimes. scratch that. most of the time. clothes sprawled out in the living room, on the kitchen counter which he claimed he forgot when he was grabbing water, on the couch, on the headboard of your bed, on the bathroom sink. and honestly, he's a grown man — he knows better than that.

"toji, how many times do i have to tell you—"

"put the dirty laundry in their place, yeah, y'reminded me that like . . . three times today." he grumbled under his breath as he yawned out loudly.

"then why are you still leaving them everywhere? god, this is so childish! it's like 'm taking care of a fucking baby," toji lets out a sigh, "i'm so tired of telling you over and over again. you're a grown man, why can't you act like one?"

toji's not dumb. he knows it's his mistake, and sometimes he genuinely forgets about leaving his shirt out while being too preoccupied with other things. he loves you, he really does. the last thing he'd like is you leaving him because he can't stop his habit of leaving his shirt everywhere.

he approaches you, taking the shirt out of your grip, "my fault."

"damn right it is. the next time i see another shirt, i swear to god, you're sleeping on the couch." you muttered out, crossing your arms — watching as the male meekly trotted into the bathroom where the laundry basket rested beside the bathroom cabinet.

"is that a threat?" he chuckles, peeking his head out.

"no. it's a warning."

he walks out of the bathroom, slithering an arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. prepping you on his lap, "mm. noted, can you stop getting mad at me now?" he comments, grazing his finger over your neck.

and he did it again at night (and slept on the couch like you warned him, he still hates you for that).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[dark-fics-4-you]

Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???

How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting

Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.

The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.

He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”

At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.

“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”

“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.

Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.

His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.

Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you

When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.

Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”

That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.

You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.

Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.

After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.

Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.

You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.

Except for the one time you really needed to.

After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.

As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.

“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.

You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”

His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”

You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.

“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.

When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.

“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”

You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”

His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.

“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”

Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.

“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.

Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.

His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.

You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.

“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.

You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.

Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.

He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.

You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.

His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.

“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”

He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.

“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.

The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.

He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.

When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.

“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”

That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.

He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.

Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.

You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.

Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”

‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.

The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.

A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.

If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.

Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.

‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’

You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.

To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.

You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.

Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.

“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.

You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.

Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”

If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.

Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.

You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.

“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.

“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hiii, could you write something about Tom meeting his celebrity crush ( he also maybe said it in an interview) at the Museum Gala? She is a big actress ( maybe did house of the dragon or something). She thinks he is super hot and she has seen the new hunger games movie, so she kinda flirts with him because she knows she is his celebrity crush and he is a nervous wreck. Eventually they start going out and end up dating! Just something about another British Tom manifesting his life LMAO

could you also add some insta posts ? I love this kinda of au! I hope you like this idea

lots of 💋 t!

And They Meet || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: love love this request ty anon 😙

Warnings: none!

Wc: 1,232

Dividers by @pommecita

“Do you have a celebrity crush?” The question caught Tom by surprise as he chuckles, his fingertips tapping on his chin. “I do actually, uh Y/n Y/l/n.” He admits for the first time on camera.

“I watched House of the Dragon the moment it came out and I just fell in love with how she portrayed Alicent Hightower, truly one of the greatest actresses at such a young age,” He smiles like a mad man as he recalls the time he first saw her on screen.

The gorgeous green coloured dress you would wear looked heavenly, and of course, your impeccable acting drew his attention. He binge watched the first season over and over, a smile adorning his lips everytime you would bless his screen with your beauty.

“Have you met her Tom? She’s a lovely person in real life.” The brunette sighs, “Unfortunately I have not, soon hopefully, soon,” He crosses his fingers as he lets out a low chuckle before moving on.

~

You watch with a grin on your face the interview that mentioned you. After Tom revealed that you were infact, his celebrity crush, you couldn’t help but feel like a giddy high school girl.

The thought that the Tom Blyth took a fancy towards you was mind blowing, especially since you’ve watched him from afar and admired him for quite some time now. You remember you first saw him on Billy the Kid and thought he was exceptional, and quite attractive.

“You think he would be at the museum gala next month?” You lift your head to Ally, your manager as she thinks. “Most likely, why’s that?” She smirks at you as you roll your eyes jokingly. “Nothing, nothing, just wondering,” You put your hands up in defence.

“Okay you have 10 minutes left,” Ally looks at her watch. You were at The Kelly Clarkson Show about to be interviewed about the upcoming season of the House of the Dragon.

~

“Y/n, do you have a type? If so, I think your fans would like to know, don’t you?” Kelly winks to the crowd as they erupt into laughter, including yourself. “Physical wise? Most definitely tall, brunette, blue eyes, a nice smile-“ “That sounds a whole lot familiar to a guest I just had a couple days ago….” Kelly teases as your eyes widen.

“Really?” A nervous chuckle leaves your lips, “Yeah, a Mr Tom Blyth happens to fit that description. I also know he mentioned you as his celebrity crush just the other day,” You play with the ring on your finger as you look at Kelly as if it was new news to you.

“Did he really?” You couldn’t help the smile off your face, “I watched the movie the day it came out and I understand the girlies who were rooting for Coryo,” You fan yourself jokingly, “truly understand.” The crowd cheers as you laugh. “I mean, I’m willing to ignore the red flags because he’s just so incredibly good looking!” You were lowkey fangirling.

“I know right!” Kelly agrees, “Tom did such a fantastic job playing young Snow, he really charmed us all,” You grin.

~

“Do you think she’s going to be at the gala?” Tom lifts his head up, the interview of you at The Kelly Clarkson Show displayed on his phone. “She should be,” His manager says as he smiles to himself, his eyes redirecting to his phone as you continue to talk about House of The Dragon.

Truth be told, after her let the entire world know that your his celebrity crush, he had been basking in the many comments saying how good the two of you would look together. It boosted his ego for sure.

He was hoping he’d finally be able to see you tonight at the museum gala and feed fans content. The second Tom set foot the gala, his eyes wandered around, hoping to see a glimpse of you. "Are you looking for someone Tom?" An interviewer calls out as he chuckles whilst posing for the photographers. "Yes actually," He responds with a shy smile.

Then, he hears loud screaming coming from the entrance as everyone in the gala turns their head towards the noise. And in you walked. Tom was standing in the red carpet section along with other celebrities as you walk towards his way, waving at the cameras along the way.

You wore a beautiful black gown, your hair in curls as the cascade down your back. Tom didn't even realise but he was staring at you, his mouth slightly agape, entranced by your beauty.

Cameras take photos and videos of Tom's reaction to you, it was quite cute. A man who finally got to see his celebrity crush in front of his eyes. Little did he know, you were looking around, hoping to find him.

Your eyes look around the place before you spot Tom, a few metres away from you as your eyes lit up. Abandoning your spot where you were posing for the cameras, you picked up the fabrics of your dress with the help of your assistants and made your way over to him.

It took a few seconds for Tom to realise that you were walking towards his direction. "Tom!" You greet him, going in for a hug as if you had known each other for years. He was slightly taken back but nonetheless hugs you respectfully. "How are you, darling?" He says as you pull back.

The pet name making you blush as you grin at him. You always knew Tom's eyes were blue, but jesus, you didn't realise just exactly how blue they are from up close. "I'm great now that I've finally met you," You chuckle, your hand gripping his bicep as he bites his lip lightly, smiling at you.

"Your eyes are really blue," You blurt out as he laughs, "I get that a lot," "Y/n! Tom! Can we get a picture of the two of you please?" Paparazzi calls out as you and Tom make eye contact, not realising how close your faces were before quickly looking away shyly.

"May I?" He says to you, asking if he could put his hand on your waist. What a gentleman. "Of course," You grin at him as he snakes his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip as your arm wraps around his waist.

The two of you looked good, good together. Throughout the night, you and Tom couldn't get away from each other. He was always by your side, even when you were doing interviews, and vice versa. His hand would rest on the small of your back protectively as you two navigated your way around.

Even at the dinner, he was coincidentally seated beside you which made you happy. You even recorded a video for your Instagram story about it and tagged him. The two of you hit it off straight away, exchanging numbers and even planning to meet up in a couple of days.

Being each other's celebrity crush blossomed into even more. Tom asked you to be his girlfriend after a few weeks of seeing each other and fans were going crazy, saying how he manifested it. You and Tom as a couple received so much support from everyone, including those in the acting industry saying how much of a talented young couple you were.

[olivianyx]

OMGG I JUST GOT RESULTS WITHOUT BEATING MYSELF UP WITH ROUTINES 😭 + RANT ✨

HEYY LUVS! I JUST WANNA SHARE MY RESULTS I MANIFESTED WITHIN 2-3 DAYS! THIS YEAR'S GONNA BE MY BEST YEAR Y'ALL ✋AND GUESS WHAT I DID? NOTHING. LITERALLY NOTHING. NUH-UH. PERIODT.

⚠ LONG POST AHEAD, SWEARING ⚠

WHAT I MANIFESTED:

🪄 PASSING MY FRESHMAN YEAR WITH HIGH SCORES

🪄 MY FAMILY BOUGHT A NEW APARTMENT WHICH WERE PREPARING TO MOVE IN 3 WEEKS

🪄 ME GETTING INTO THE VOID STATE 😭 AND MANIFESTED CLEAR SKIN! (DAYUM GETTING INTO THE VOID IS DEFO VERY EASY OMGG)

🪄 GETTING LESS ANXIOUS LATELY!

🪄 MY GASTRITIS AND ULCERITIS GETTING CURED

🪄 GETTING MORE COMPLIMENTS IN MY UNI!

🪄 GETTING TALLER! I WENT FROM 5'3" TO 5'7" IN 2 DAYS 😭😭

🪄 GETTING DREAMS OF ME SHIFTING TO MY WR 🥺 (ACTUALLY RESPAWNING LOL, AS THIS THING IS REALLY CONTROVERSIAL IN HERE, PLEASE DON'T GET ME CANCELLED- I'M DOING DEATHLESS RESPAWNING ✋)

🪄 MY MIND IS SURPRISINGLY CALM 😌 THERE'S STILL INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS THO (THOSE ARE ANNOYING ASS BITCHES) BUT I JUST IGNORE EM LIKE I IGNORE PEOPLE AT SCHOOL 🗿

🪄 GOT MANY CONFESSIONS TOO 😭 AND I REJECTED EM ALL, CUS I JUST WANT TO BE SINGLE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE ✋🗿 JK

🪄 GETTING COOL CLOTHES THAT MY MOM DENIED A LOTTA TIMES! (ACTUALLY I'VE ORDERED EM BUT STILL HAVEN'T SHIPPED TO MY ADDRESS YET LOL)

🪄 MY CRUSH BECOMING CLOSE TO ME HEHE 🤭 LIKE SHE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ME MUCH, BUT LATELY SHE'S BEEN TOO CLOSE TO ME AND ALWAYS WANNA BE WITH ME LOL, 3 DAYS BACK SHE AND I WALKED HOME TOGETHER, WHILE WE GRABBED SOME SNACKS, SPOKE ABT EACH OTHER AND ALL (I FELT LIKE BEING IN A SHOUJO MANGA 😩)

🪄 A NEW PHONE! THAT SAMSUNG GALAXY S22 😩

I MANIFESTED EVERYTHING WITHIN 3 DAYS 😭 I REALLY CAN'T BELIEVE MY EYES, JUST. 3. FUCKING. DAYS. GODDAMMIT.

HOW I DID IT:

JUST FULFILLED IT IN MY IMAGINATION

YEP, YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT. I LIVED IN THE 4D REALITY, I NEVER GAVE A SHIT ABOUT THE 3D AT ALL. OK LEMME BREAK IT DOWN FOR Y'ALL SO JUST PAY ATTENTION FROM HERE ONWARDS.

🪄 SUPPOSE SOMETHING UNDESIRABLE OR UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE HAPPENING IN YOUR 3D. WHO'S THE CAUSE FOR THAT? YOU. 'BUT I DIDN'T IMAGINE OR THINK OF THESE 😭' BABY, YOU'RE THE SOLE CAUSE, EFFECT, AND THE SOLUTION. THERE'S NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO THIS.

🪄 AS WE ALL KNOW, 3D IS A MIRROR. RIGHT? WHATEVER YOU THINK ABOUT, YOUR ASSUMPTIONS, YOUR THOUGHTS, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR PERSPECTIVE EVERYTHING WILL BE REFLECTED. SO WHY NOT THINK THE WAY YOU WANT SO YOU CAN EXPERIENCE THE SAME? GET IT.

🪄 IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE THE 3D, CHANGE YOUR 4D FIRST. CHANGE YOUR PERSPECTIVE TO HOW YOUR DESIRED SELF WOULD SEE THE WORLD. KEEP DWELLING IN IT. IF THE 3D SHOWS UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, DON'T FUCKING GET TRIGGERED. GO BACK TO YOUR IMAGINATION AND DENY YOUR SENSES.

🪄 EVERYTIME YOU SEE SOMETHING ELSE IN THE 3D, GO 'BRUHH THIS IS MY OLD STORY, I ALREADY HAVE WHAT I WANT, THIS IS JUST FAKE' AND MOVE ON. DISTRACT YOURSELF. CUS THE 3D WORLD WHICH YOU SEE IS AN ILLUSION, IT'S NOT REAL. IT'S YOUR CREATION, WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO CONTROL WHAT YOU CREATED? IT'S ALREADY IN CONTROL. YOU ONLY GOTTA REALISE YOUR GODSELF. YOU ARE THE CREATOR, NOT THE CREATION. STOP FUCKING VICTIMIZING YOURSELF.

🪄 I GET IT THAT MOST OF THE PEOPLE ARE CONFUSED BETWEEN LAW OF ASSUMPTION AND NON DUALISM. EVEN I WAS, BUT SLOWLY I REALISED THAT WE'RE ALL NOTHING. WE'RE JUST LIVING IN OUR OWN CREATIONS. VICTIMIZING OURSELVES IN OUR OWN CREATIONS. IRONIC RIGHT?

🪄 THOSE THOUGHTS, ANXIETY, FEELINGS, EMOTIONS ARE ALL IN YOUR PHYSICAL REALM. YOUR MIND, YOUR BODY, YOUR EGO EVERYTHING IS NO REAL, WE ASSUME IT TO BE. WE'RE ARE SHAPELESS, FORMLESS, WE'RE NOTHING! AND EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME. CUS EVERYTHING COMES DOWN TO ONE THING, I AM.

🪄 K Y'ALL MIGHT BE SUPER CONFUSED, WHAT I'M TRYNA INFUSE IN YOUR BRAINS. SO WHAT YOU DO IS, LIVE IN YOUR 4D.HOW? IMAGINATION. NO MATTER WHAT YOU SEE IN YOUR 3D, GO BACK TO YOUR IMAGINATION, AFFIRM OR VISUALISE. ANYTHING IS FINE BTW. JUST STAY IN THE STATE OF WISH FULFILLED.

🪄 STOP RELYING ON METHODS, FUCK THEM. JUST BE. DON'T TRY TO CHANGE SOMETHING WHEN YOU ALREADY HAVE THEM. JUST STOP, SURRENDER, STOP FIGHTING, STOP TRYING SO HARD WHEN YOUR ALREADY IT. SO GO LIVE IN YOUR IMAGINATION, FULLY SURRENDER. DO THINGS WHICH YOU LIKE. GO LIVE YOUR LIFE. TAKE YOUR POWER BACK.

LIKE AREN'T YOU TIRED? TRAPPED IN YOUR OWN CREATIONS? YOU CREATED THEM, YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE WHATEVER. TELL ME HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA LIVE THIS BULLSHIT LIFE? YOU'RE REALLY GETTING COMFORTABLE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE. SO LISTEN UP, DO WHAT YOU LOVE, AFFIRM, VISUALISE, OR DAYDREAM, ZONE OUT, WHATEVER. ALL I DID WAS DO THIS MEDITATION IN THE MORNING, WENT ABOUT MY DAY WATCHING JUJUTSU KAISEN LMAO. THEN RANDOMLY AFFIRM, LIVED IN MY 4D, NEVER PAYED ANY FUCKING ATTENTION TO MY 3D, CUS I'M GOD. I REALLY LOVE VISUALISING, SO I PUT ON A SONG AND START DAYDREAMING IN MY ROOM SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT. ALSO, I DID SATS BEFORE GOING TO BED. THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL I DID FOR 3 FUCKING DAYS, AND GOT WHAT EVER I WANT. ALSO I MADE A CUSTOM TAPE TOO (IT'S A GENERAL SELF CONCEPT ONE) I LISTENED TO IT FOR 30 MINS AND JUST WENT ABOUT MY DAY THINKING I HAD WHATEVER I FUCKING DESIRE, CUS IT'S ALL MY CREATIONS AND I HAVE IT ALREADY. THERE'S NOTHING TO GET, IT'S ALREADY IN ME.

LUV YOU, BYE 💋

[cherubfae]

I'm the anon who asked if you write for mammon and adam. I just sent the ask in, but regardless of your reply i was wondering of you could write the hazbin cast +helluva boss cast (the ones you write obviously) with a super sleepy slot like s/o? Like they sleep all the dam time and are still tired as hell, so tired they literally fall to the ground while walking in silence for too much, they sit down for a second and go out cold. They move so slow it's incredible, theyre always super clingy and always hanging on by their shoulder, It's very concerning.

lmao this made me cackle. Here ya go, sweets! Apologies if you wanted something serious, I literally couldn't 😭😭 just had lunch with my mama to celebrate her belated bday and I'm very full

sloth!like partner || hazbin/helluva boss x reader

tags: fluff, comedy, this is probably mostly crack lmao, established relationships

Alastor

Okay but remember him with the Egg Bois? That's essentially him waiting for you to get ready for your date. What feels like an eternity was only roughly thirty seconds. He hopes you haven't fallen asleep in the bathroom.

"Dearest... I could just teleport you to places with my shadow provided I'm somewhere near." He suggests. It takes him a while to get used to any sort of physical contact so he's not crazy about the clinginess and does what he can to establish boundaries if and when he feels comfortable doing so.

Lucifer

Haha! You're so adorable! He actually quite likes having you on his arm, though sometimes not literally. It's comical watching you climb him and then slowly lose your energy halfway to his shoulders and slow-motion crash land towards the ground. Rinse and repeat.

Husk

By now he's quite used to you falling asleep, especially on him. You tucker yourself out so easily, he wonders what tricks Belphegor has up their sleeves lately. Husk loves you for who you are, but he is rather curious if there's anything that can cure or at least lessen your narcoleptic behaviors.

Angel Dust

Constantly cracking jokes and puns. Some of them can come off as a little mean though it's never intended to hurt your feelings. Though, he does know not to make the 'slow-burn romance' jokes every time you guys have a date night.

Vox

He's gotten used to you being constantly sleepy and rather sluggish. He does wonder if you are, in fact, a Hellborn from Sloth instead of a Sinner sometimes or if you drew the short straw. Vox is typically okay if you're constantly sleepy and a bit sluggish, but he is a fast-paced guy and likes all aspects of his life to progress at a decent speed; romance included.

Blitzø

Deadass he's watching you slowly drag yourself face-down along the ground with a soft skrrrr skrrrr along the cement. Honestly he's surprised you made it on Earth as long as you did. This was amusing but the more you, literally, drag on Blitz isn't sure what he should do. He's probably gonna start driving everywhere. Gotta keep pollutin' bb.

Loona

With how often you sleep, Loona isn't sure how you still manage to be so tired all the time. It honestly perplexes her but she's learned to roll with it. If you're moving too slowly for her liking, she'll pick you up and carry you off like royalty-- or if you're small like Millie, Loona is gonna commit you to her backpack transit indefinitely.

Striker

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Ya'llright, darlin'?" He asked with a raised brow. You just ate shit and aren't currently really doing anything about getting back into the upright position. Striker's tail swishes curiously and he gently prods you with his boot, heaving a sigh when you move.