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mermaidgirl30 · 8 months

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✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Pt 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred ✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

-Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

-Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

-Word Count: 13.2k

- Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, face riding, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

- Chapter Summary: Your relationship gets more heated with a lot more intimacy going on between you and Joel, but will you finally get caught?

- A/N: I love this series so much and can’t wait to bring you more filthy scenes between these two 🤭 Sorry not sorry this chapter is so long, it’s worth it 😉 Reblogs are appreciated and I always love seeing your comments ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

October rushes through Austin as the cool, autumn breeze whisks through your soft curls. The campus is buzzing with focused, anxious students who rush to get last minute papers and assignments in for midterms. You have been diligent and already turned in your law papers, so you’re now free of midterm anxiety, unlike the other students in your classes.

The historic, massive library is filled up with laptops splayed all over tables and empty Starbucks coffee cups that sit next to their cramped hands that struggle to keep writing in notebooks. Sunlight beams through the stained-glass windows as you pass through the library, making your way out into the cold to go find your car somewhere in the mix of all the campus traffic.

As you open the library doors, you get a shot of cold air that blows right through your purple cardigan, and you wrap it around yourself to try to keep the chill from seeping down into your bones. When you cross campus, your mind wonders to Joel and how much you want to see his handsome face right now. The thought of his massive hands cupping your chin and those pretty coffee colored eyes staring down at you make you shiver with anticipation.

Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s always on your mind, never letting a minute pass without him there. You both can’t leave each other alone, not able to go a day without speaking to one another. He always asks if you have plans after school or when your shift gets over at the coffee shop off Main Street. It’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. There’s just that itch behind your ear that’s always buzzing when you’re with him. That loud, annoying ringing in your ears that reminds you that you’re sneaking around your parents, mostly your dad. You honestly have no idea how he would react to the news, so you’d hide it for as long as you could. Your mom might take it lighter, but your dad. He might actually lose it, and you do not want to see that happen.

When you get to your shining Nissan Rouge and hear the click of the unlocked door, you jump in and slam the door shut, throwing your belongings over in the passenger seat. As you put the silver key in the ignition and turn, it barely hums to life and then dies again. The glowing orange check engine light blinks in front of you, and you pound your hands on the sleek steering wheel.

“No, fuck! Please, work for me,” you beg as you turn the key and try again, praying for a miracle. The engine spurts out a pathetic, muffled sound and then magically starts up as the car hums to life once again. “Oh, thank God,” you sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

Joel. He’d know what to do. You pull out your phone and dial Joel’s number in a hurry, trying to keep your patience as you tap your nails on the black steering wheel. Joel picks up on the third ring.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawls into the phone, his voice sounding like thick honey and sinking its way down into the pit of your stomach where warmth spreads.

“Hi, handsome,” you respond, a small smile spreading quickly over your face as the sound of his deep voice automatically soothes you.

“How was school? You get all your essays turned in? I don’t even have to ask, you already did. Didn’t you?” he asks with the sound of a light, raspy laugh on the end of the line.

“Just got them in today, actually,” you smile.

“Look at you gettin’ them in early. Such a smart girl, aren’t ya?” he purrs, making you bite your lip in response to the audible praise.

“Mhm,” you hum, your voice suddenly turning shaky as you look at the glowing engine light that warns you you shouldn’t be driving the car right now. Joel notices your shift in tone and responds with an edge to his voice.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” he asks concerned. It gives you goosebumps the way he’s always so protective, so careful of you.

“Umm-I’m fine, it’s just my car. My check engine light came on just now, and a few minutes ago I couldn’t even get it to start,” you respond back carefully with furrowed brows.

“Oh, shit. That ain’t good. You need a ride home? I can come get you-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “No, no. You’re at work, and my car came back on.”

“Darlin’, I don’t care that I’m at work. I don’t want ya drivin’ if it ain’t safe,” he says with a serious tone. You can tell he’s getting worked up, the way his breath falters and his sighs come out deep and clipped.

“Joel, really. I’m not that far from campus. I can make it home. Promise,” you respond with a more lighthearted response, hoping that Joel will settle with that answer.

“I don’t know if-”

You cut him off again. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll make it home,” you push.

You hear a long sigh and you can visually see him running his thick fingers through his patchy salt and pepper scruff. The vision of it makes warmth spread against your thighs as you squeeze your legs shut tight. “Fine, but I’m lookin’ at your car tomorrow and fixin’ it. S’not safe for you to be drivin’ it with your check engine light on,” he says with a raspy huff.

“Oh, you’re gonna fix it for me?” you ask with a stupid grin planted on your face.

“Mhm, gonna try my damn hardest to,” he replies as he clears his throat.

“And what do I owe you for your services, Mr. Miller?” you ask in a flirtatious voice.

You hear his low chuckle in the receiver, and it makes you giggle in response. “You don’t owe me nothin’, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure you’re safe,” he says with a light laugh. The sound makes your heart pound against your chest. Sweetheart. Safe. The words nearly take you out. He’s such a gentleman.

“Alright,” you say with a giggle. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” you sigh, not wanting to hang up on the handsome man that has your heart beating erratically for those gorgeous honey brown eyes.

“You be careful goin’ home, darlin’. Text me as soon as you make it there. I mean it,” he says with a serious, clipped tone.

“I promise,” you say back in a non serious tone.

“Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later, beautiful. Remember, as soon as you get home,” he reminds you with a knowing tone in his voice.

“You got it. I’ll talk to you later,” you slur into the phone.

“Alright. Bye, gorgeous.” With that he hangs up the phone as you hear the line click dead. You throw your phone in the passenger seat and turn up the radio as Breaking Benjamin blares through the loud speakers. You nod your head to the beat and start to drive off, praying the car gets you there in one piece.

The glowing check engine light stays on the entire drive home, but you make it back safely. You park the car in the hooded garage and turn off the engine, letting it sit idle in the cool room. Whenever you make it through the door, you run straight into your dad as he almost spills his hot coffee all over his pressed white shirt.

“Shit, sorry dad! Didn’t see you there,” you apologize with frantic hands that steady the coffee cup in his hand.

“Careful now, I have a Zoom meeting in five minutes!” he sighs with the hint of agitation in his voice.

“Sorry, dad,” you apologize again.

Before you head to your room, you turn and tell your dad about your messed up car. “Oh, dad, before I forget to tell you. Joel’s coming over tomorrow to take a look at my car. The check engine light came on, and he’s gonna try to fix it for me,” you say lightly.

“Why didn’t you just ask me first? I could’ve taken a look. You sure asked Joel pretty quick there,” he says with his eyebrow raised and the hint of suspicion in there.

You gulp and try not to let your widening eyes give you away. “Oh, uhhh. I just thought you’d be too busy to take a look at it, and you know how good he is with fixing cars,” you shrug innocently.

“And you thought he’d be less busy than me tomorrow?” he asks with the tic of his jaw and wondering eyes staring questionably at you.

Your heart is in your chest and you feel the faint drops of sweat forming on your forehead. “I mean, I just didn’t want to bother you is all. Figured once I told you then you’d just tell me to ask Joel anyways,” you lie with a straight face, keeping your composure together.

He looks at you a few seconds and then nods, face relaxing a little. “Yeah, you’re definitely right, hun. That’s exactly what I would’ve done. Alright, well I need to hop on this call, so I’ll see you later.”

He turns into the direction of his office and you round the corner into the entryway and relax against the wall, breathing out a long sigh of relief. That was close. Too close for comfort.

You head up the stairs and back into your bedroom filled with lilac walls and scents of vanilla and citrus hanging in the air. Apartments. You need to find an apartment and fast.

The air is stuffy and hot in the garage, even though the autumn breeze blows gently outside as it carries red and golden leaves across the driveway. You’re wearing a light blue hoodie and cut off black denim shorts while you sit atop the wooden workbench in your garage. You gently kick your dangling legs off the side of the workbench and stare at the most gorgeous man working on your car. Joel Miller.

You watch the way he picks apart every single wire and car part he can get his hands on. His tousled dark curls sit slicked back against the top of his head by sweat that cakes his forehead, his grey t-shirt bunches around his thick arms every time he flexes and reaches under the hood, and his hands stay covered in grease and dirt from tearing apart your car piece by piece.

You can’t help but gawk at how ridiculously hot he is right now, can’t help the way you bite your lower lip seductively and run your tongue across the bottom of your lip in hopes to get a taste of him. You start to wonder what it’d be like to be bent over the hood of your car while he takes you from the back, start to imagine how good it’d feel to have his thick cock between your slick center as he fucks you senseless into oblivion. Can’t help the burning need in between your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and choke down a moan as slick starts to pool in the center of your lacy underwear.

“You alright there, darlin’?” he asks with concern hinting in his voice as he washes his hands in the garage sink, stepping closer to you as he wipes his hands off on a bunched up rag. “You look a little flushed there,” he says as he steps in front of you, just a few inches from meeting your knees.

“Umm, yeah. I’m fine. Just got a little hot, I guess,” you gasp out, nervously panting as your jaw drops open.

He slides up to you and stops right in front of your thighs, locking his knees up with yours as his t-shirt sticks against his broad chest and bulging biceps. You can’t help but stare at him and his pretty brown eyes with flecks of gold that sneak out and catch you unawarely. You want to run your fingers through his messy greying hair, want to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him until you taste every single part of him as you unravel yourself around him.

“Why don’t you close your jaw, sweetheart. Gonna start drooling if you keep it up,” he smirks as he cups your chin and helps you close. You swallow away all the heat and try to calm yourself as he stands before you, but you can’t. He’s too much, too fucking much.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” you say flirtatiously as you bat your long eyelashes at him, feeling your blush paint the edges of your cheeks crimson.

“You gonna tell me what you were thinkin’ about?” he asks with the tic of his jaw, leaning his weight against the bench as his hand gently brushes your hip.

“I was just thinking how hot you looked leaning over the hood of my car. And your messy curls, how I want to run my fingers through them right about now,” you smile as he leans against you, taking his other hand and placing it against the top of your thigh as he gently runs his rough hand down to your knee.

“Oh, yeah? S’that right?” he laughs as he takes his other hand and pushes your thighs apart, stepping in between them as he runs calloused fingers up and down your smooth skin, turning your breaths ragged from the heat of his massive hands on you.

“Mhm,” you choke out, already worked up from his light flirting and the weight of his thick fingers on you.

“What else were ya thinkin’ about, hmmm?” he hums out, his eyes growing darker by the second.

“I was thinking…” you start as you run your fingers through his damp curls, making him groan as your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. “How good it’d feel if you fucked me on the hood of my car,” you purr, whispering into his ear seductively. You feel the bulge in his jeans already starting to form, feel how turned on he’s getting at the thought of you spread wide open for him on the top of your car.

“Christ, baby. Such a dirty girl, aren’t ya? Wantin’ me to fuck you senseless while I make you cum all over my cock. That’s what you want, ain’t it? To make you scream my name while I make you cum again and again and again…”

His voice lowers with a growl as he wraps his hands around your hips and drags you forward, ending right on the edge of the workbench as your legs clench around his back, his hands moving over the denim of your shorts as he snakes a hand up under the material, finding your soaked lace absolutely ruined for him.

You choke out a moan as he dips his fingers under your lace, slowly spreading your folds as his thumb finds your clit and circles you meticulously, stifling another moan out of you as you dig your fingers into his back and wrap your legs tighter around him.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Always ready for me. Always so needy, ain’t that right?” he smirks as he continues circling you, making your heels dig into his back as you slide a hand through his messy curls and drop your lips to the shell of his ear. Ragged moans leave your lips as he pushes two fingers inside your dripping hole while his thumb continues dancing over your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you pant, biting down on his earlobe as you hold in a loud moan while he circles you faster, getting you all worked up over him. You hear the sloshing noises of your wetness and his fingers pumping in and out of you, and it’s so fucking hot that more slick slides down your center as you start to come apart around him. You’re so close, almost there already.

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he coos, curling up his fingers inside you as he hits the spongy part of your walls that elicit another moan deep into his ear as your toes curl in your Converse.

“Joellll,” you whine into his ear, dragging your fingers against the curls that sit matted to the back of his neck.

“What is it, baby? Can’t handle daddy’s fingers, huh?” he teases as his lips ghost across yours effortlessly. “Tell daddy what you want,” he smirks, speeding up the shift of his thumb against your aching clit.

“Want you…. oh, God,” you moan as he curls his fingers inside you nice and slow, moving them up further as you latch around him tighter.

“Go on, finish your sentence,” he smirks with clenched teeth as he works you over nice and thoroughly.

“Want you to fuck me,” you whine against the shell of his ear.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Can’t fuck you here, sweetheart. Don’t want your father findin’ you with my cock buried deep in that wet pussy now, do ya?”

You whine out as your breathing becomes hard to control, tattered moans filling his ear like a choir of angels. “No, don’t want that,” you gasp out, your fingers tangled in knots against the back of his soft t-shirt. “I want you though. Want you so fucking bad,” you groan as he continues building slick around his thick fingers.

“Wanna put this hard cock inside that pretty pussy of yours. Wanna fuck you so hard over this bench right now that you won’t be able to stand for the rest of the night. Wanna cum inside that drippin’ pussy while you moan my name as I take you from the back,” he growls as he fucks his fingers up inside you deeper, hitting the spongy area again and again as you feel your orgasm about to take flight.

“Want you to moan my name so loud when I make you cum that everyone in the neighborhood knows just who you belong to,” he growls with clenched teeth as he presses down harder on your clit, rubbing it in just the right area that you feel yourself start to spill. You feel the white hot heat start to take over as your eyes roll back and you clench up against his fingers that continuously curl up inside you.

“Joel, I’m… I’m coming,” you moan as you bite down on the scruff of his jaw, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you close your eyes and bite back your moan as you let him have it.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl. So good for me,” he praises as you take a few seconds to come out of your blissed out daze, his fingers gently releasing out of you as he brings them up to his mouth and sucks, staring at you with blown out pupils. Your eyes go wide as you watch him drink down your cum, humming to himself as he licks them clean.

“Taste s’good, darlin’. Can never get enough of you,” he purrs as he pulls your drenched underwear back over your cunt and straightens your shorts out again. You grab the back of his neck and pull him toward you, planting your lips over his as the taste of sweat, black coffee, and you enter your mouth. He wraps his hands around your hips and slithers his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste all of him as his senses envelop you, sweat and all.

Before you can get lost in him anymore, you hear the jostle of the doorknob and the squeaking hinges as the garage door starts to open. Joel jumps back out of your reach and grabs the bottle of synthetic oil off the back of the shelf, drawing his dark eyes away from you as you compose yourself with a quick breath and legs that clash together.

Your dad looks up at you with concerned eyes and purses his lips. “Honey, you feeling okay? Your face is all flushed and your eyes are so wide they look bloodshot.”

Your blood runs cold as you gulp down your nerves and flick your eyes over to Joel, watching as he stares at your idle car as he runs a hand nervously up the back of his neck. “I’m okay, dad. Just got a little too hot is all,” you say as you fan yourself with your hand, trying to get rid of the flush of your crimson cheeks.

“Oh, sorry about that sweetie. Want me to get you a bottle of water?” he asks with a gentle nod your way.

“Yeah. Thanks, dad.”

“Alright, honey. Be back in a minute.” He turns to Joel and slaps him on the back in a way that best friends only do. “How’s the car looking? Figure out what’s wrong?” he asks as he looks around the open hood of the car.

Joel loosens the top of the oil and sets it down beside the front wheel. “Yeah, there seemed to be some loose wires that got tangled around each other. I fixed ‘em. The serpentine belt looks to be pretty worn out, so I can stop at the hardware store tomorrow and get a new one. Should be an easy fix. And the car needs an oil change, so I’ll get that done real quick. Then it should be good to drive smoothly,” he says as he plays with the used towel in his hands.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Joel. You sure do take care of my little girl,” he smiles in thanks.

Joel smiles back and chuckles. “Anything for your daughter, George. I always got her back.” He turns your direction and winks at you secretly, making your cheeks turn bright red at the secret meaning behind his words.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller. Maybe one of these days I can get you to go on a date with one of Claire’s friends. Trust me, some of her friends already drool over you. Should ask one of them out. Could use a woman around the house. Maybe get you laid one of these days,” he teases as he claps a strong hand over Joel’s back.

Joel’s fists clench and his lips twitch at the mention of dating other women. You won’t lie, you feel a heavy weight against your chest and the tinge of jealousy runs hot down your throat. Joel would do no such thing. Mine.

“Nah, man. Thanks for the offer though. I’m good,” he responds. A breath you had been holding blows out, the wave of jealousy washing away as soon as he says the words.

“You sure? Wouldn’t hurt to at least have a night in with one of them. How long has it been, huh?”

“Dad!” you say forcefully, making both of them look your direction as you dig your nails into the wood, jaw locked into place. “Water?” you ask as you raise your eyebrows.

“Right, sorry. Be back in a minute.” With that he races back inside and slams the door shut.

“So, my dad’s trying to hook you up with one of my mom’s friends?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, mostly joking around with him.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. Already have my best girl right here,” he nods your way, curling his lips into a crooked smile. You can’t help but smile back at him and melt at his words. My best girl.

“That’s right. I’m your girl,” you say possessively.

“Damn straight you are,” he smirks, making butterflies flit through your stomach.

Your dad comes back with a cold bottle of water and leaves the two of you alone again, closing the door to go answer a phone call. As you let the fresh water quench your thirst, you watch Joel meander his way under your car, taking his time to change your oil out. You watch his soft t-shirt lift up just a tad, exposing thick dark hair that trails underneath the waistband of his jeans.

It takes everything in you not to go over and straddle him as he works, slipping your hand underneath his jeans as you pull his hard cock out and go down on him, taking him in your mouth nice and slow as you make his ropes of cum slide down the back of your throat. You hold back the temptation, knowing you can’t do that here. Not when your dad’s lurking around the corner of the house.

You sigh and watch him work, making light conversation with him as he puts the cap back on and crawls out from underneath the car. Grease stains his grey t-shirt, and he has a smudge of grease across his nose.

“Joel, come here. You’re a mess,” you giggle as you grab a towel from the metal shelf and jump down off the workbench, going over to stand in front of him. You wipe off the grease from his nose and wipe off his hands next, making sure you get off as much as you can.

“Baby, I could’ve done that,” he smiles as he grabs the towel from you, wiping off what he can from his ruined shirt.

“It’s fine, I wanted to help,” you shrug.

He looks at the grease stain on his finger for a second then back up at you, mischief written all over those hazy brown eyes.

You back up against the wall and raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning, Miller?” you ask suspiciously, holding in a laugh as you see the playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“Me, planning? Never,” he scoffs, the smirk planting firmly against the corners of his mouth. In a flash he cages you against the wall with his thick arms and smears some grease on your jawline. Your eyes go wide as he does it.

“Joel!” you whine as you push against his chest playfully. “That’s not funny,” you say as a giddy laugh escapes your throat.

“It ain’t funny, huh? Then why are you laughing?” he asks as a deep chuckle ruptures from his chest.

“Get it off, now,” you demand playfully as you try to grab the used tan towel from him. He grabs it back from you.

“I got it, I got it,” he laughs as he uses the pristine end of the towel to clean off the grease from your jawline. When he promises he got it, he throws the towel up on the workbench as you reel him in for a kiss. His lips are soft, plush, and they taste like Joel.

“Oh, that reminds me. I got somethin’ for ya,” he says as he breaks the kiss, digging around the back pocket of his dark faded jeans.

“You got me something?” you ask with a surprised lilt to your voice.

“Mhm,” he hums as he grabs his leather wallet and opens it up, digging around to find what he’s looking for.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask curiously, watching him dig around excitedly as his thick fingers push around old receipts and folded up papers.

“Don’t have to be an occasion to get ya somethin’, darlin’,” he chuckles. “But this is kind of an early birthday present, since your birthday’s next month.” He finally finds what he’s looking for and pulls out two tickets that have a matte gloss covering both sides. You flip them over and your eyes go wide at what the tickets say. Two general admission tickets to see Ghost at the Moody Center on November fourteenth sit carefully in your hands. You gulp back tears as you stand frozen in awe as you stare at the glossy tickets.

“Joel…” you gasp out, your eyes probably as wide as an owl right now.

“Thought you’d like ‘em. I know how much you’ve wanted to see ‘em for a long time. Took me a while to find out when they were gonna come to town, so I jumped at the chance when I saw ‘em post new tour dates. And Breaking Benjamin is gonna be their opener. I know how much you like them too and…”

You jump into his arms and wrap your hands around his neck as you thank him over and over again for the best gift ever. You grab his shirt and pull him in for a long kiss as you run your hands through his tousled curls. When you break the kiss, you stand back to look at him in his pretty face as your arms stay wrapped around his neck.

“You’re gonna take me to go see Ghost?” you ask sweetly with big eyes that water faintly.

“I’m gonna take ya to see Ghost,” he nods with a crooked smile as he looks down at you with brown doe eyes that you want to sink right into as they swallow you whole.

You pull him in for another long hug as his strong arms wrap around your waist. “You’re the sweetest, Joel,” you say as you plant your lips on his cheek, staying in his embrace for as long as you can.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles as he cups your chin, bringing his lips down on yours again. When he pulls back, he keeps his calloused thumb trailing against your jawline, making you dizzy with lovesick thoughts.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ for Halloween?” he asks as he keeps his coffee eyes focused on you, his thumb trailing light circles across your cheekbone.

“I didn’t really have any plans. Sometimes my friends will drag me out to the bars or we’ll find a Halloween party to go to. How come?” you ask, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Umm well, you wanna come over to my place? We could watch some scary movies, make some popcorn, order a pizza. I know how much you like those classic horror movies. Would be nice to have some company,” he smiles shyly as the corners of his mouth rise up into a crooked grin. He’s perfect, so perfect.

“Joel Miller asking me to watch scary movies? You don’t even really like them,” you laugh as you hang around his neck, his left hand digging deeper into the side of your hip.

“Yeah, well. You rub off on me a lot. And besides, anything to make my girl happy. I jus’ like spending time with you is all, darlin’,” he drawls, his eyes glistening with flecks of light and dark brown mixing together to make a pretty coffee color. His crooked smile makes a dimple press against his cheek, and the lines against his eyes crinkle into complete warmth that fills the hard lines in his face. You think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. Because he is.

“Joel… you leave me speechless. Truly. I’m so, so lucky to have you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” you gush to him as you rest your forehead against his.

“No, darlin’. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You stifle out a laugh and bring your lips down slowly over his, this kiss more slow and romantic than all the other ones. Who would’ve thought you and Joel Miller would’ve ever been a thing? But here you are. Completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, and you just can’t get enough.

You hear the jiggle of the door handle and see the door opening fast into the garage. You jump out of Joel’s grasp and take a few steps back, separating the distance between him even though it’s getting harder to act like the two of you aren’t completely crazy for each other. You’re out of breath, still dizzy from all the emotions of the last few minutes with Joel. And he looks the same, pupils dilated and a flushed face as he looks up at your father.

Your father stops and puts on his glasses to take a closer look. “Joel, you feeling okay? Your face is flushed too. You good?” he asks as he hands Joel a water.

“Yeah. Just got up too fast from under the car. Should be fine,” he nods as he flicks his eyes over to you, the look of affection returning to his brown doe eyes you can’t get enough of.

“Alright, well dinner’s ready if you wanna stay. She made chicken enchiladas tonight, so pretty sure you’ll wanna stay,” he laughs.

“Sure, wouldn’t miss those,” Joel nods as your dad smiles back at him.

“Well, come on. Come and get it while it’s hot.” Your dad turns toward the door and goes through, leaving it open for you and Joel to follow.

Joel takes your hand in his discreetly and leads you through, rubbing the pad of his calloused thumb against the back of your hand, making you feel all tingly and giddy inside. Before he drops your hand, he brushes your knuckles with his lips and places a slow kiss against the back of your hand. You blush on the spot and smile up at him as he returns one back, and then he drops your hand as he walks into the light of the dining room.

Fuck. You have it bad for Joel Miller and you’re falling fast. Very fast.

Halloween Night

You spend the entirety of the afternoon getting ready for your night in with Joel. You shower, douse yourself in Victoria’s Secret Bombshell perfume, and pick out the perfect Halloween costume to wear. You go with a short black mini dress that barely grazes your thighs, the long sleeves hanging off your shoulder that leave your neck and the tops of your shoulders exposed to the cool air.

You carefully fix your hair into loose spiral curls and secure a long pink bow in the back of your silky hair. You apply shimmery pink eyeshadow to the hoods of your eyelids, draw perfect cat eyes with liquid eyeliner, and purse your lips after applying the shiny pink lip gloss. After slipping on a pair of black heels, you look at yourself in the full length mirror and grab the pair of fuzzy black cat ears as you top off your costume. Joel’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in this getup.

After nervously driving over to his house, you now stand on the front of his porch and wait for him to come open the door after you ring the doorbell. You pull on your sleeves, your legs shaking as the cold evening wind hits your bare legs. After a few seconds he opens the door and pulls it back.

“Hey, sweetheart. You…” His voice cuts off as his brown eyes go wide as he lets out a low whistle, slowly taking in your figure from head to toe.

You twirl around slowly for him, letting him see all of you and watch him fall apart. “Trick r treat,” you smirk. “Gonna give me something sweet to eat?” you purr, batting your dark lashes up at him sweetly.

You hear him curse quietly under his breath and watch him rake his hand slowly over his patchy beard. “Goddamn, darlin’. Such a pretty little kitty cat. And that dress, fuck,” he bites out as he gazes his dark eyes over your long legs. “Prettiest girl that ever stood in my doorway, that’s for sure. C’mere,” he calls as he grabs your waist and pulls you into his broad chest, pressing his lips against yours as you chase the taste of his black coffee scent you so desperately love.

When you pull away you click your tongue at him. “Thought you were supposed to have a costume on today?” you say with a raised brow, playfully pushing at his chest.

“This is my costume,” he replies with an amused expression on his face.

Your eyes trail down him slowly. He wears a Halloween black t-shirt, an open red flannel, and dark blue jeans that form against his muscular thighs. You shake your head and pull off your cat ears, placing them over his tousled dark curls as you position it to balance on his head perfectly.

You laugh as you take in the big, strong man with the fluffy cat ears on. “There. Now you have a costume on,” you giggle as he just shakes his head and pulls you inside while he shuts the door behind him.

“Funny, very funny,” he chuckles, a dimple forming against his cheek which makes you only melt more for him. “Wanna take ‘em back now?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, holding a laugh in as you watch him examine his face in the mirror, sighing as he takes in the fuzzy ears atop his head.

“I look ridiculous,” he groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his biceps pull at the red flannel, making you anxious to curl up against them on the couch.

“No, you’re adorable,” you respond, lingering your hand against his soft t-shirt as you curl your hand around it.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. That’s all you. You gorgeous girl,” he says with a low drawl, his caramel eyes honing in as he backs you up against the wooden staircase, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Before he leans in, the front door twists open and he pulls away from you in a hurry, putting as much distance between the two of you before Sarah walks in.

Your eyes grow wide as you weren’t expecting her to be here tonight. Sarah gasps as her eyes flick from you to Joel, clearly confused on what’s going on. Her long curls fall over her shoulders as she stands in a Cowboys jersey and black yoga pants with war paint smeared across her cheeks.

She says your name with questions ringing in her tone. “What are you doing here? On Halloween? Shouldn’t you be at a party or something?” she asks as she looks over your outfit carefully, her eyes going over to Joel as she takes in the cat ears that sit perched atop his head.

“Uh dad, why are you wearing those?” she asks as a giggle sounds loudly across the lit up hall.

He throws the ears off and hands them back to you, running a hand through his messy curls as he works to stay composed. “Don’t worry about it,” he says defensively. “And she came over so I could work on her car,” he confirms.

“But you just fixed her car a few days ago?” she says with raised brows, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and him.

“Uhhh yeah. But the light came back on this morning, so I brought it over. Joel said he could take a look real quick. I was just about to head back out. Shouldn’t take too long,” you say with a calm, collected demeanor, giving nothing away.

She eyes you both suspiciously and finally nods. “Okay then. Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “But anyways, look at you! That outfit is so hot, my dad would never let me wear anything like that,” she pouts, crossing her arms over the orange jersey as it scrunches up underneath her.

“Maybe when you’re thirty,” he teases. She just shakes her head and sticks her tongue out at him. He chuckles out a deep laugh in response.

“Whateverrrrr,” she drawls out. She turns back to you and beams her pearly white smile as her curls bounce up and down as she moves. “Bet you’ve got all the boys wrapped around your finger in that outfit,” she smirks out. Joel’s eyes grow a shade darker as he focuses on you, trying his best not to say a word in response.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Maybe just one,” you smirk, your eyes flicking over to his brown irises as you face Sarah again, careful not to give anything away.

“Oooooo you have a boyfriend? Why haven’t I met him? Is he cute? Is he a good kisser?!” she yells excitedly as she hounds you for information.

“Sarah!” Joel warns, telling her to calm down as his eyes narrow over her.

“Sorry,” she whines, giving you a small smile as you return one to her.

“What are you doin’ back here? Thought you were goin’ to your friend’s to go trick r treatin’?” he asks with raised brows, hands on his hips as his jaw clenches up.

“I am. Just forgot to grab my purse,” she says as she reaches around you and grabs her purple over the shoulder purse and heads back to the door. “Alright, heading back out. Guess I’ll see you sometime soon?” she asks as she looks over at you behind her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” you nod her way, waving a quick goodbye to her.

“Sarah?” Joel calls before she heads out the door.

“Yeah?” she asks before closing the door.

“Not too late, alright?” Joel says with his brows furrowed together.

“Yeah, be back before midnight,” she promises.

“Sarah?” he calls out again, making her groan at the name.

“Huh?”

“Love you,” he says softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his face relaxes into happiness.

She smiles gently and nods. “Love you too, dad.” With that she closes the door and runs off to the burgundy Cadillac that awaits her out front.

You can’t help but smile at Joel, butterflies flitting through your stomach as you take in his soft side. He’s always so careful and gentle with Sarah, always telling her how much he loves her. He’s such a softie, and you can’t help but fall for him even more as you watch him.

“What?” he asks as he snakes his arms around your waist, backing you up against the stairwell again.

“You’re such a softie,” you smile as you wrap your arms around his neck while you run your fingers through the scruff on his neck.

“Only for Sarah and you,” he grins, dropping his lips down to yours as you drink him in again, feeling every surface of his plush lips against yours.

He breaks the kiss after a few seconds and pulls you into the living room. “C’mon. I’ll get the movie started then I’ll call in a pizza for us. Pepperoni?” he asks as he leads you over to the cream colored couch and sits you down against the soft cushions.

“Pepperoni,” you nod. He turns on the tv and pulls his phone out, heading into the kitchen as he calls Pizza Hut and places an order to be delivered to the house.

You take in your surroundings of the darkened room. Vanilla candles sit sprawled against the glass coffee table, the large display of the tv glows in the near distance as the menu comes up for the movie Scream. You hear Joel in the other room hang up the phone as he places it down on the counter.

“You want some popcorn, baby?” he asks from the other room, his voice carrying into the living room like a song you want to put on repeat.

“Mhm and a Dr. Pepper, please,” you call back.

“I gotcha, baby. Be right there.”

When the popcorn is done popping and the cans of soda are taken out of the fridge, he joins you on the couch and places one hand on your thigh as the other one presses play on the remote, making the movie hum to life as the beginning titles show across the lit up screen.

You take a sip of Dr. Pepper and pop some popcorn into your mouth as the buttery taste slides down your throat conveniently. You curl your legs onto the couch and fold yourself against Joel, letting your arms wrap around him as his arm flexes behind you. He pulls you tight to his side as his hand runs gently up and down your arm, causing your body to fully relax against him as you breathe in his cologne and woodsy scent. He smells like a piece of heaven, your piece of heaven.

He takes a drink of his Dr. Pepper and places it on the coffee table, leaning back into you as he adjusts himself into the back of the cushions and lays a soft kiss against the top of your head, making you melt beneath him.

When the scene of Ghostface asking Casey what her favorite scary movie is comes up, Joel mimics his voice and asks you the same thing in a more southern, non scary tone. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asks mysteriously as you giggle into his chest.

“You should know this one,” you answer back, eyes flicking up to his as he looks you over carefully before responding.

“Halloween,” he answers automatically.

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” you yell out, pulling a laugh from deep within his chest as you hear it rumble against your ear.

“Knew it,” he says proudly. “And what’s mine?”

You lay your head in his lap and look up at him, deep brown eyes staring down at you as he awaits your answer. He’s so pretty that it physically hurts. “Joel, The Lord of the Rings does not count as a scary movie,” you laugh out as he smiles down at you.

“Sure it does. It has spiders, orcs, dark themes.”

You push his chest playfully. “It’s fantasy. This is a scary movie,” you remark as you point to the tv, watching Ghostface chase his victim across the yard.

“Yeah, well. Still,” he vocalizes with a sigh. “Would you watch all of ‘em with me?” he asks faintly, his chocolate eyes glazing down to yours.

You turn to him and nod. “Of course I would. I’d watch amything with you,” you reply with a smile.

The corners of his lips curl up into a soft smile and he leans down and kisses you without holding back at all. He tangles his fingers in your curls and you open your mouth up, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth as he finds your tongue, dancing around as you drink down the taste of him slowly, passionately.

One hand slides down to your thigh as he grazes calloused fingers up and down your inner thigh, making you breathe heavier as he bites at your lower lip, heating up the room as the two of you start to get lost in each other. His hand reaches up, up, gently sliding the edge of your dress up your thigh, working his way nice and slow to where he wants to be. To your aching center that yearns for his touch.

Before he can make it any further, the doorbell rings, forcing the two of you apart as you lift up off his lap. He sighs as he pushes off the couch, muttering something under his breath that sounds like a complaint of interrupting him when he was busy with you. You giggle at his ramblings and wait till he comes back.

You hear the exchange of pizza and money and can smell the fresh cheese and pepperoni that wafts through the air of the dark living room. After another minute, Joel comes in and sets the pizza on the coffee table, telling you to eat up. You grab a slice and take a bite, letting the warm goodness fill your stomach as you set your eyes on the movie again, trying to keep focus on that instead of the handsome menace of a man that sits next to you.

“So, what’s so attractive about a killer that wears a mask? I don’t get it. With all the viral videos of masked men goin’ around, I don’t get the fuss. I even catch Sarah’s friends talking ‘bout it sometimes.” Joel shakes his head and takes another bite out of his pepperoni slice.

You giggle in response. “I don’t know. Guess that’s kind of a part of the dark romance culture now and can be kinda thrilling? A masked man in the bedroom. I mean, I get why they like it. It’s just something new and intriguing, a little dangerous, exciting even…” You stop there, not wanting to give away that you too might have a mask kink.

“Oh, is that right?” Joel smirks deviously, one of his eyebrows rising higher as he looks directly at you. “You into that shit, too?” he asks curiously as he takes his last bite, lapping his tongue along his lower lip and wiping away the last evidence of red sauce from his mouth. You try your best not to bite your lip, wanting to lick every single scrap of sauce off him slowly.

“I mean, I get the hype. Guess it would be kind of hot,” you blush, looking down at your lap to hide the crimson of your cheeks.

“I knew it,” he says as he claps a big hand on his thigh in knowing. “So you’re saying if I ever bought one of those dumb masks, you’d want me to wear it in the bedroom?” he asks as his eyebrows go up curiously while his hand digs into the back of the couch forcefully.

“I think I’d just prefer to see your handsome face, Joel. Besides, I don’t see you doing that anyways,” you laugh and hit him playfully in the shoulder.

“You’re right, darlin’. Don’t think I’d do that either,” he chuckles.

“But,” you lean into his chest and press your glossy lips to the shell of his ear seductively. “Think I’d let you put me in some handcuffs though,” you purr out as you tug on his earlobe and pull back with a sly smirk on your face.

You see the way his pupils expand and the way his chest rises and falls deeper as the blood flows thicker in the veins of his neck. You see the way he adjusts himself on the couch and clears his raspy throat. You started something, and now he’ll have to finish it.

You smile to yourself triumphantly and turn to face the tv, scooting up to the edge as you reach for your Dr. Pepper and take a refreshing sip, setting it back down on the glass coffee table when you’re done.

You hear Joel’s voice come out raspy and deep behind you. “Is that right, sweetheart? You’d let me handcuff those pretty wrists to my headboard?”

You squirm on the edge of the couch and press your legs together, feeling the heat start in your center like a volcano that’s about to rupture. “Mhmm,” you hum out carefully, trying to suppress a moan from coming out of your throat.

“Hmmm.” He leans over and presses his lips against the shell of your ear, his hot breath breathing down your neck and making you feel things you can’t control. “Think I need to go buy a pair of handcuffs then, sweetheart. Show you all the ways I can make you cum while you’re tied to my bed. What do ya think of that, huh? Sounds… erotic as hell,” he whispers darkly in your ear, leaving you panting for more as you keep your eyes focused on the movie on the big screen, watching Ghostface run down the stairs after his next victim mercilessly. He presses a gentle kiss against your cheek and scoots back into the couch, leaving you breathless and wanting.

Just when you think he’s done teasing you, he starts playing with your pink ribbon and runs his hands through your long waves, making your heartbeat gallop like the hooves of a racing Clydesdale against his touch.

“Such a pretty pink ribbon in your hair, baby,” he teases, starting to tug on your hair harder now as he pulls lightly on the curls.

“Mhm, it is,” you reply with a breath held.

“You know I love when you do your hair like this, in these curls. So long and soft to the touch. Can easily do this.” He tugs your head back and pushes you down into the couch. Your hands grip the side of the couch while your ass is up in the air, exposing all for Joel to see.

You feel his hands raise your skirt up to your hips, exposing the meaty flesh of your ass as you feel the cool air brush against the backs of your bare thighs. You hear Joel hum out in approval as he fixes his massive hands over your ass, one hand trailing down as his fingers brush the soaked material of your lace which makes a groan escape your lips.

“White lace, huh? Looks s’good on you, sweetheart. Already so wet for me, ain’t ya? Look at you drip, so fuckin’ wet, baby. Goddamn,” he whistles as he takes his thumb and trails a long line down your center, gathering more slick against the material. You whine out and he chuckles lightly.

“S’right, baby. Gonna make you really whine in a minute,” he murmurs as he slides the wet lace down your legs, gently unclasping your black heels and dropping them to the floor as he unhooks the lace from around your ankles and disposes them on the ground, leaving you completely bare for him to look at.

He slides his calloused thumb over your wetness, and you shiver with need. “Joel, please,” you beg, another whine purring out of you as you feel the pad of his thumb ghost across your clit, leaving you with a pent up cry in your chest.

“What do ya need, baby? Tell me,” he asks, barely touching your folds with the tops of his fingertips which makes you clench up over nothing.

“Need your fingers, your mouth,” you beg, your voice high-pitched from want. With need.

“That so, darlin’?” he teases as he spreads your folds with the tips of his index and middle finger, sliding them up until you can feel them pressed against your clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles as you hear the wetness gathering on his fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as you dig your fingers into the side of the couch, clawing your light pink fingernails as a way to get ahold of yourself before you’re lost into a sea of lust.

“S’right, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need,” he coos.

Before he takes it any further, he drops his hand from your center and lays back against the couch, leaving you out of breath and waiting. “Why’d you stop?” you whine as you turn in the direction he’s in and see him smirking up at you with trouble written all over his face.

“C’mere,” he calls as he curls his index finger in his direction, beckoning you to come over to him.

You look questionably at him and raise a brow. “What?” you ask as you slowly scoot your legs over his, dropping down on his hips carefully.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Not there, sweetheart. Up here,” he smirks as he points to his face. Your eyes go wide at the meaning.

“You want me to…” you trail off, unable to finish your sentence.

“S’right. Want you to sit on my face. C’mon now,” he smirks, a devilish grin taking over his face as his eyes grow dark. He places his hands on your hips as he slides you up his broad chest, stopping just before you get to his neck. You pause right there, blushing as all of a sudden you get extremely nervous.

“Joel…” you choke out, unable to finish your sentence.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he says gently, lifting your dress above your hips as it exposes your bareness for him. He drags his eyes down your center and licks his lips, his eyes blown out as you feel his breath pick up beneath his chest. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. Drippin’ and screamin’ my name,” he groans as his eyes devour you in full. “C’mon now. Sit on my face,” he demands.

You gulp and scoot your hips up, hovering just above his mouth as you stay there, nervous and turned on at the same time.

“I didn’t say hover, sweetheart. I said sit,” he demands, digging his hands into your hips as he tries to lower you down, but you hold back, afraid to crush him.

“But won’t I crush you?” you ask with your breath caught in your throat.

“The only thing that’s gonna crush me is if you don’t sit the fuck down and ride on my face. Now sit!” he growls as he forces your weight down on top of him, the curls above your mound sitting atop his curved nose as he breathes you in deeply.

He inhales your savoury scent and drags his rough tongue all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your folds, catching the end of your clit as you whine out with need.

“Goddamn, baby. Taste and smell s’good, darlin’. Hold on tight. Not gonna stop till I make you cum all over my face, not gonna stop till you moan my name, not gonna stop till you’re all mine,” he growls as he hooks his arms around your thighs and dives back in.

He slowly drags his tongue over all of you, slotting himself between your folds and lapping meticulous circles around your puffy clit. You feel more slick spill out of you and feel him take your bundle of nerves into his mouth, sucking and slurping as every single nerve ending comes alive against his mouth. When he releases, he shoves his tongue into your wet hole, plunging into your core as you vibrate and fall apart against him.

You twist your fingers into his tousled curls and moan his name with a lull, lost in complete bliss as he works his tongue up and down up and down, making the room foggy with the smell of your arousal and the loud moans you’re giving him. “Joellll, fuck,” you moan as you pull at his hair, sliding yourself up and down his mouth as you ride his face exactly like he wants you to.

He groans at your movements, groans at the way you tug on his curls as his tongue works and works to make you fall apart around him. He slaps your ass hard and digs his nails into your thighs as he speeds up his hot tongue.

He’s pulling, sucking, munching at your clit as you feel the building orgasm. You feel it start in your spine, sliding down to rest in the pit of your stomach as you’re almost there, feel it about to take flight as your toes curl and your fingers slip deeper into his wild locks. He knows you’re close, knows exactly what he’s doing. He can’t speak, too far gone in pleasuring you with his mouth, too deep with sucking your throbbing bundle of nerves again and again as his nail beds prod into your flesh.

He loves to feel you come apart, loves to taste your arousal drip down his throat, loves to hear you moan and thrive while you’re about to come undone, and loves when you pull his hair and moan his name while he has his way with you.

You grind your pussy against his mouth, feel how soaked you’re getting him, and it just makes you that much closer to spilling yourself all over him. You feel him groan against your folds, hear him practically whisper the words into your ear as he licks and sucks you repeatedly into his drooling mouth.

Atta girl. There ya go.

Say my name, sweetheart.

C’mon. Give it to me. That’s a good fuckin’ girl.

He pulls your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks hard, setting off every single nerve ending in your body. He sucks nice and slow and you feel yourself fall apart right there on his hot tongue. You roll your hips and feel the heat slide down your body as you clench over nothing and spill yourself all over his mouth, hearing his groan as he laps up all your slick while you fist his hair roughly through your fingers.

You take a minute to let your panting die out and wait for your body to come back down to earth after your intense face riding orgasm. When you slide back to rest on his chest, you see just how drenched and glistening his mouth and beard are from all your slick and cum. And fuck is it hot.

He smiles up at you as he catches his breath, his blown out pupils relaxing into pure brown warmth as he watches you with admiration on his face. It’s probably the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“Rode me s’good, baby. Love the taste of you,” he hums, his crows feet crinkling up at the corners of his eyes as you get lost in those pools of warm honey.

“Yeah, well, I have an excellent instructor with an experienced tongue,” you purr, winking down at him with a big smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles and responds, “Always happy to put my tongue to good use. Especially for you.”

You bite your lower lip and grin down at him, completely entranced by him. You’re so lucky, so fucking lucky. The luckiest girl in the world.

You shift off him and start to turn the other way as you move your legs away from his chest. Before you can crawl to the other side of the couch, he grabs your calves and pulls you back toward him. “Now where do you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” he asks with an edge to his voice.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you ask as his large hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you back up to him as he tangles you around the roots of him, firmly planting you to his chest.

“M’not done with you yet, baby girl. You’re gonna give me another one,” he purrs, his deep voice thundering out of his chest like a bear ready to attack.

“Another one? But I’m… I’m so sensitive and…”

He shuts you up quick. “No, you’re not too sensitive. I know what you can handle, and you’re gonna fuckin’ take it like the good girl I know you are,” he growls as he drags you back up to him, hovering just over the edge of his mouth as you feel his hot breath connect with your wetness that’s already dripping for him again.

Fuck.

He wraps his strong arms around your hips and tugs you down where your folds are connecting with his plush lips, and the feeling is already overwhelming. But you need it, need him. You suck in a breath as he licks a long stripe up the entirety of you and you moan out for more.

“Need you so bad, daddy. Please,” you beg, digging your hands into the thighs of his dark jeans as your nails embed in him.

“I’m gonna give it to ya, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna lick every inch of that pretty pussy,” he purrs as he licks another stripe up your folds, spreading you out to devour your needy clit.

You groan out and dig into his jeans, needing something to latch onto. When you open your eyes and look down, you see his bulge pressed against the thick fabric of his jeans, begging to be released.

You take your hand and grab around his thickness, working him through the denim of his pants. You hear him groan under your touch and bite your lip at the idea that dances through your mind. You’re going to sixty-nine with him. This is what’s going to send you over the edge.

You carefully unzip his zipper and free his bulging erection, taking him in your hand as you see the precum release from his slit and lap over the edges of his tip, working your hand nice and slow over him to spread the precum over his entirety.

His skin’s soft in your hand as you slide it back and forth over his large length, feeling the thick veins that spider around him that end just underneath the tip of his head. His head is red and swollen and screaming for you to taste him, and you’re happy to oblige.

Just as you meet your lips at his head and slide your tongue across his drenched tip, he shutters underneath you and lifts your hips just enough to speak as you feel the salty precum slide down your throat all hot and bubbly like.

“Fuck, baby. What’re you doin’?” he says with clenched teeth as you squeeze his cock, gliding your hand up and down his shaft as you turn to face him, smirking down at him with a devilish grin forming on your lips.

“What do you mean what am I doing? Isn’t it obvious? We’re sixty-nining,” you purr, licking your lower lip as you watch his pupils blow out into big black pits.

“Sixty-nine, is that right? You’re a dirty girl, kitty cat,” he smirks as he takes his index and middle fingers and pushes them inside you nice and slow, curling his fingers up to hit that spongy soft spot that makes you clench up against him and moan out slowly.

“That’s right, right there. That feel good?” he asks as you bite your lip and nod at him, choking out another moan as he curls his fingers higher, setting a wildlife throughout your entire core.

“Yes, daddy. Feels incredible,” you groan as you rock against his fingers, letting your own hand twist up and down his hard, wet length in your hand. You want to taste him, now.

“Fuckin’ sixty-nine. And with the prettiest girl in the world? Shit, baby. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger like that pretty pink bow in your hair,” he says with a gentle laugh that sounds a little like unbelief in his voice.

You giggle out a laugh as you stare at him as he smiles up at you between your legs. “Got you wrapped around my finger, do I?”

“Mhm, that’s right, sweetheart. All mine,” he says with a crooked grin curling up over his lips, sending your heart into overdrive.

“All yours,” you confirm with a soft smile.

He takes a minute to look at you, warm eyes focused on your face softly. Then his eyes shift into something dark and carnal as he brings you back down to his mouth.

“Well, go on, darlin’. I’ll take care of this needy pussy while you show me how good you can suck my cock,” he smirks, letting his fingers release from you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down on him again. You choke out a moan as his tongue presses deep into your folds and up your dripping hole.

You focus back on his hard cock in front of you and go back down, circling his head as you lap up his salty precum and then dive down on him, taking his long length in your mouth as your hand slides up and down him slowly, savouring his taste on your tongue.

You take him as far in your mouth as you can, making sure you hit the back of your throat and choke on him while tears spill down your face as you take him deep in your throat over and over again.

You hear his moans fill the room as his tongue circles your clit, hearing your own moans get washed out by the sound of you gagging on his thick cock as your spit drips down his length and into the coarse hairs that cover his base.

The wet, sticky, messy sounds of Joel eating you out and the gagging sounds of you deep throating his massive cock again and again mix together, forming a wet, harmonious melody that reverberates off each other. It causes more slick to slide down your center as he licks and sucks and pulls on your needy clit. It’s too much, too fucking hot. This is the best, most intimate thing you’ve ever done. But you have a feeling this won’t be the end of it because he’ll want more, you’ll want more. It’s only going to get hotter, more primal, more possessive as you continue.

Joel Miller may be a fucking menace, but you’re no better. You’re a temptress spinning your web as you trap him, seducing him to you, pulling him and making him yours. Both of you wrapping each other into a complete tangle until both of you are completely, irrevocably bound to one another. Just like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to him as he is to you. Two hearts beating wildly for the other just the same.

The room is hot and sticky as both of you get lost in each other’s ecstasy. Moans echoing off the walls as you both are close to orgasm, both so fucking high off each other that you never want to come down. You just want to stay where your bodies are panting in sweat as you continuously get lost in each other’s bliss and euphoria. You’ve never experienced a high quite like this before. Never experienced anything ever like this. It’s just you and Joel, two bodies completely consumed in the other with no plans of ever slipping away from each other. It’s just Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You start to clench up, feel your walls fluttering as they’re about to spill, feel the way he sucks your clit into his giving mouth as his tongue travels up the entirety of you, covering you in his own spit and drool. And it’s so fucking hot.

“C’mon, baby girl. Give it to me. Cum for me. Wanna feel it,” he groans as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks hard. And that’s when you come apart for him, that’s when you feel yourself let go.

You release your lips from his cock and feel a string of drool fall from your lips and attach to the tip of his head, thinking of nothing as you throw back your head back and moan his name as it echoes across the room. “Joellllll, fuck,” you moan as you release white hot liquid all over his mouth. He’s greedy and takes it all, licking you clean as you hear his mouth drink you up, leaving nothing behind.

You rub up and down his cock faster, feeling him stiffen underneath you as his breath goes shallow. Ragged moans leave his chest as he grips your thighs tight and moans out your name slowly.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” he slurs as you lap at his tip, teasing him before you take him again.

“That’s it, daddy. Go on and cum for me. Wanna take you all in my mouth,” you purr as you wrap your mouth around him again, bobbing up and down as you deep throat him, hearing the gagging noises that send him over the edge. He’s right there, just on the edge. You go down again and hold your mouth there as you take him deep, feeling your throat constrict around his thick cock.

“Baby, m’gonna… gonna cum… oh, fuck,” he moans as you feel thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat, swallowing his large load down as the salty, delicious taste dances down your tastebuds.

You work over his length nice and slow, not stopping till he’s finished cumming. And just when you think he’s done, he surprises you and pours out more inside your mouth.

You see his hand shoot to his sweaty forehead as he grabs at his messy curls, see his eyes roll back as he moans your name again and again. It sounds like music to your ears, something angelic and addictive sinking into your soul at just the sound of him cumming. It’s your sanctuary, your favorite tune in the world. And you’d never get enough of it, never.

When he’s finished sending his spend down your throat, you slowly release your mouth from him as drool cakes your chin. His cock is so messy with spit and drool that you blush at the job you just did on him.

You feel his chest heave up and down underneath you, his breathing gradually slowing down little by little. You take a second to catch your own breath, gulping down breaths of fresh air that smells like him. There’s something beautiful in the rhythm of both of your breaths in sync. It’s almost like you share the same heartbeat, something so intimate about it that you can’t even shake the euphoric feeling. It’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced. He’s the best thing. Joel is.

After a few minutes he helps you sit up as he pulls his briefs and jeans back up over his softening cock. When he sits up, he grabs your lace panties from the floor and pulls them up over your legs, securing them back into place over your overstimulated pussy. He pulls down your dress over your thighs and lays back down against the couch, bringing you down with him.

You sink into his side and wrap an arm around his chest as he cradles you in his arms gently. He takes his hand and runs it up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps over every square inch of skin he marks as his own. And this feels right, all of this feels right. He feels right.

He presses a kiss against your forehead and showers you with the perfect aftercare cuddles. He’s so good, the absolute best at aftercare. It’s always been your favorite ever since the first time he did it with you in this very living room that you sit in now. Joel Miller might be dominant in the bedroom, but he’s a big softie underneath it all. He’s the perfect combination of rough around the edges and pure honey everywhere else.

“Did s’good for me, sweetheart. Always do s’good for me,” he purrs as he places another gentle kiss over your forehead. “My perfect girl,” he whispers, and you can’t help but smile at the words. My perfect girl.

“Mhm, your perfect girl,” you whisper back as you snuggle into him more, sinking into his chest as his soft t-shirt scrapes along your jawline.

“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, his raspy chuckle that sounds like a symphony of guitars in your ear.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

As the movie comes to an end, Joel grabs the controller and puts on Halloween as you hear the theme song play from the speakers. He relaxes his arm back down around you and pulls you closer to where your cheek is nestled in the crook of his neck as he takes his other hand and runs his fingers through your waves. And this might be your favorite thing ever. Being in his arms. You never want him to let go. Never ever.

You feel yourself start to slip into unconsciousness, feel yourself relax into him as the darkness pulls you under. You don’t know when, you don’t know how, but after a few minutes of cuddling you and Joel fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth as sleep takes you down fast.

And then something happens, something unexpected and unwelcome.

After what seems like hours of sleep, you’re woken up to the harsh lights of the living room being turned on. You jolt awake and sit up, blinking a few times to get your eyes situated to the fluorescent lights above. Joel rubs his eyes and follows your lead, adjusting to being woken up from a deep sleep. Your jaw drops when you see who’s standing in the corner of the room. Sarah.

Oh, fuck.

“I knew it, I knew!” she jumps up and down as her long curls bounce up and down along with her, a big smile spread across her face as she can’t seem to keep her excitement down.

“Shit,” Joel mutters under his breath as your eyes go wide in panic. You try to speak but you can’t. You’re frozen, not knowing what to do or say. You’ve been caught red handed.

“I knew it all along! This is so exciting! You and dad? Oh my God, I’m a genius,” she squeals as she jumps again.

“Sarah! Calm down,” Joel warns as his eyes narrow slightly. Sarah stops jumping but continues beaming at the both of you. You feel like your heart is about to come out of your throat. Your dad. What if she tells your dad?

“Sarah, you’re not gonna tell my parents are you? They’d kill me,” you rush out with your breathing uncontrolled. It feels like you're about to throw up with the knot that’s in your stomach. Joel notices your panic immediately and does what he can to calm you down.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he urges as he cups your chin and turns you toward him, his deep brown eyes almost calming you down. Almost. “She’s not gonna tell them. Right, Sarah?” he asks as he turns to her, giving her that knowing look.

She imitates her lips being a zipper and acts like she zips them tight. “My lips are sealed. Promise,” she nods as she looks back and forth between the two of you, your anxiety slowly calming down at the confirmation.

“See? She won’t say a word. It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he confirms as he soothes you over, one hand rubbing your thigh to calm you down. You nod in acceptance.

Sarah calls your name and you look up. “I’ve noticed the way dad’s looked at you for a while now. Been wondering when he was going to make a move,” she laughs, shaking her head. “He’s liked you for a long time, even if he never told me. I could see it in his eyes.”

You just look over at Joel and smile at him. “Yeah, I’ve liked him for a long time, too,” you say quietly. Joel meets your eyes and smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling up to form those perfect dimples again.

“This is so cute, I think I’m gonna throw up,” she says as she claps her hands together.

“Alright, alright. Go on up and go to bed, it’s past your bedtime,” he says as he points at the clock that says five past midnight.

“Okay,” she groans. “Night, love birds,” she sings as she leaves the room and heads up the stairs.

“You sure she won’t say anything?” you ask nervously, anxiety still swirling through your gut.

“If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s keeping secrets. So, think we’re safe,” he confirms as you blow out a breath you had been holding.

“That’s a relief. I guess she was bound to find out at some point, right?”

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” he says as he nods his head. His calloused thumb shifts against your jawline and he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You lean into him and get lost in his scent, in his abundance of warmth. When you hear the creak of the stairs, you pull apart from his lips fast.

Joel leans over the couch annoyed and peeks up at the stairs. “Sarah?” he asks in a deep voice, warning her to stop spying.

“Uhh, yeah?” she asks nervously.

“Bed. Now,” he growls. She obeys and runs up the stairs, not wasting a second of time. He sighs in annoyance. “She’s never gonna let me live this down,” he groans.

“Hey,” you say as you grab his hand and entangle your fingers in his. “I’ll be right there with you through it.”

He rasps out a chuckle and looks you in the eyes, calm brown eyes returning to look at you. “You want me to take you home? I can drop your car off tomorrow.”

You shake your head no. “Can I stay here tonight? Don’t really want to go home. I’d rather stay with you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. You always have a place here.” He pushes a curl behind your ear and pulls you back in, planting his lips against yours as a warm wave of peace and serenity cloud your mind.

“C’mon. Let’s get you up to bed.” He pulls you up and picks you up bridal style as you squeal out and wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss his cheek and tuck your head against the crook of his neck as he carries you up the stairs. And somehow you know it’ll be okay. Things will turn out okay because you’re with Joel.

So when he pulls you tight against him under the sheets and you're wrapped in his t-shirt with his arms around you, you know you’re in good hands. Nothing can ruin what you and Joel have. Not even your dad. Joel has your whole heart and nothing can change that now.

Tags: @amyispxnk @janaispunk @blueseastorm @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @heartstoptrying @littlevenicebitch69 @getitoutofmymindwrites @akah565 @keylimebeag @dugiioh @laurrrra @untamedheart81 @roostersforevergirl @itsokbbygrl @pedrostories

Part 4

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deadmandead10845 · 5 days

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Brady - Fat2Fit2Fat

(243lbs) Brady works at an insurance agency in Kansas City. He’s far away from everything, and hates his job. He hates commuting and has two acquaintances and no real friends. He’s let himself go pretty badly, but he doesn’t have the will power to hit the gym or change any part of his life. Thankfully, he’s been at his company for 10 years and earns a 3 month sabbatical with full pay to use.

(243lbs) Brady took the first part of his sabbatical to hike in the mountains solo. He stumbled upon what looked like an abandoned shack with smoke coming out of the chimney. He knew nightfall would be soon so he wanted to ask the local if he could crash at their place for the night. He knocked on the door and it opened itself. He let himself in and called.

BRADY: Hello!!!

(243lbs) A mysterious figure appeared around the corner. The woman introduced herself as Cora.

CORA: I’ve been practicing witchcraft in the mountains since I was little and now I am the only one left. Some witch will reveal too much about herself and then she’s hunted by the locals. I chose to reveal my house and myself to you because I can tell you’re not from here and you have an open mind.

BRADY: I definitely have an open mind. I came here to the mountains to find myself. I am on a sabbatical trying to find some sort of motivation.

CORA: What is one thing you don’t have control over that you wish to have infinite control of?

BRADY: *looks down at his soft out of shape body and looks up*

His body has always been a sense of insecurity that made him feel inadequate and less than because he wishes he was fit.

CORA: Nothing with power, career, money?

BRADY: I just want to like how I look and control what I look like.

CORA: *rummages through the cabinet and throws some leaves into what looks like a brewing potion. Once all the ingredients were stirred in, the liquid began to glow a pale orange color.*

BRADY: Is this legit going to help me?

CORA: You drink and find out. Or you can go beg your doctor for Ozempic and forget you came here. At least this is free!

BRADY: I’m not being drugged right now?

CORA: You are, just not a bad kind.

BRADY: *takes the vial of orange liquid and drinks it*

CORA: How do you wish to look?

BRADY: I just want to lose like 75 pounds.

(165lbs) Brady’s pants fell down immediately and his blue polo shirt wore him like a dress.

BRADY: Holy shit I must be hallucinating.

CORA: You’re not but I figured you’d have this reaction. Sleep it off.

Cora snapped her fingers and Brady’s vision blacked out.

—

Brady woke up in his hotel room down at the base of the mountain. He walked to the bathroom and sure enough he was completely thin. He went to put on an outfit and quickly realized nothing in his suitcase would fit him. Everything he had was a 40” waist and all his shirts were XL. He ran through the closest Walmart holding his shorts bunched up in his hand hoping he wouldn’t drop them and bought a new pair of 30” waist shorts. He was so happy.

After his 3 months concluded, he returned to Missouri and submitted his 2 week notice. He wanted a fresh start where he could show off his new skinny body and get laid for once. He was a gay man living in the Midwest with approximately 5 blank Grindr profiles within a 25 mile radius.

(149lbs) Brady packed up all his belongings and moved to Miami. He looked in the mirror and audibly said “I wish I was a twink.” And in the blink of an eye another 15 pounds disappeared off his body. He met Javi at Twist, the local gay club near his apartment. After almost 2 years, the two fell in love and became inseparable and lived together. Javi told Brady he should start going to the gym and getting big arms and a six pack because he wasn’t super into twinks. Brady quietly looked at himself in the bathroom mirror once or twice a week asking for just 1 pound more trying to subtly get larger for Javi without alerting him to his powers given to him by the witch.

(195lbs) Brady had gotten extremely fit and did no work for it. The potion he took two years ago was unbelievable. Javi loved Brady’s new extremely fit body and Brady loved the attention. Brady however, wasn’t sure he loved how he looked. Javi was going away on business to Houston for a month, so Brady booked himself a trip to Hawaii by himself to hopefully ground himself.

(210lbs) Brady wished another 15 pounds of muscle onto his body before he left for Hawaii. He wanted to look his best for the beach so he could post photos of his body online for attention. He wasn’t the happiest, so the online attention helped. Once he landed in Hawaii he took the private boat to the small isolated island resort he had booked.

(175lbs) Brady hated how he looked so he wished 30 pounds off his body because he thought a leaner look would suit him and he tried to walk around the beach and feel comfortable but he really wasn’t sure why he wasn’t comfortable with himself. Brady had an idea, he went to the surf shop in the lobby and bought himself a pair of 2XL swim trunks and went up to his room. He bought himself a case of beers and drank away. He got in the mirror looked at himself and asked for a dad bod.

(280lbs) Brady, still very much in shape but much larger (100lbs larger to be exact) walked down the beach with his beer gut and massive arms. He was happy. He actually liked how he looked. No one recognized him from earlier and all the other guests just thought he was a new arrival to the resort. Brady went back to the surf shop and bought a 2XL Hawaiian shirt before returning home to Florida.

(305lbs) Brady was a huge guy. He wished himself even bigger and squeezed himself into the premium economy seat he booked on points and flew home to Florida. He spent nearly 12 hours total on the plane and when he walked in the door felt like everything was all wrong. He was skinny Brady in Florida, not big and beefy. Javi was due to arrive at any minute. When Brady heard the lock turning, he ran to the bathroom and wished his body back to his 195lb self.

Javi found the 2XL shirts and asked and Brady told him he was trying oversized fashion and didn’t like it, so he threw the shirt away. Brady couldn’t stop thinking about his little escape he had in Hawaii and after a few months went back to the bathroom and wished to be a bit bigger. Javi hated it so much. Javi kept telling Brady to hit the treadmill and to eat less.

(243lbs) Brady was back at the same weight he was before he met Cora the witch. However, he had so much muscle on his body he was a lot smaller than Javi still hated it. Brady loved his small belly and missed playing with the belly he once had when he was an insurance agent back in Missouri. The two attended couple’s therapy to no avail. Ultimately, it let to Brady and Javi breaking up. Javi kicked Brady out of the apartment. Just to get back at Javi, Brady lost all the weight before coming to the apartment to collect his belongings.

Brady needed a new start so he called one of his buddies in New York who was starting a boutique insurance agency and cofounded it with him.

(327lbs) Brady wanted a fresh start in New York so he bought a 3XL hoodie and sweat at the last Walmart before the Holland tunnel, and sat in traffic looking in the mirror and wished to be fat. He’d never been as big as he was now. He watched his body tighten the dress of a hoodie he had put on and fill it out. Compared to last week in Miami, he was completely unrecognizable. He was truly starting over. Once he showered in his apartment he got a look at his new fat body covered in stretch marks and rolls. Brady was generally happy with his size. The only drawback and he couldn’t find much clothing in the city stores that fit him well so he was barely able to dress well.

(327lbs) Four years went by and Brady’s joint venture had taken off. He was able to buy an apartment and afford more than ever. He seemed very content. He was overworked. One fateful day on the train he dozed off. In his dream he was even fatter than he is now. The dream was so vivid he could feel his body sloshing with every step.. when in reality the jerky subway train was sloshing him around. He missed his stop and rode the train to the end asleep. In the dream, Brady said he wanted to get fatter and…

(415lbs) He woke up. His shirt had ridden up his entire belly and his pants completely ripped. He was huge. Brady embarrassed walked to the next departing train that would get him home attracting the stares of everyone for the lack of clothing he had one, especially for his size. Brady decided to take several months remote from work after that, to give his business partner a believable timeline for his nearly 100lb weight gain.

(415lbs) Brady went to Industry, a New York gay bar and opened up his shirt in hopes he would find a chub chaser. Unfortunately he just got stares.

(451lbs) Brady had to get an entire new suit made for him because of his sheer girth. His seamstress couldn’t believe the size of him. She had made him his suit four years ago when he weighed more than a hundred pounds less. Brady knew it wasn’t going to last long because he planned to put a little more weight on. His business partner couldn’t believe the size of him either. Brady needed to remove the armrests on his desk chair so he could fit.

(485lbs) By the summer, Brady had willed another 35lbs onto his body. He attended a big party on Fire Island having fun with his friends. All of the sudden he saw a familiar face.

Javi.

BRADY: Javi???

JAVI: Hiiii…. Have we met?

BRADY: Javi it’s me

JAVI: Where have we met you look so familiar??

BRADY: It’s me, Brady

JAVI: Brady who?

BRADY: Your ex boyfriend.

JAVI: There is just no way. I thought you lost all the weight you put on.

BRADY: Then I gained it back, and then some

JAVI: Holy shit Brady you look awful, do you need me to get you a nutritionist? I am worried.

BRADY: No not at all. I am super happy the way I look.

JAVI: Weren’t you happy when half of Miami wanted to f*ck you?

BRADY: No, but I am happy now.

JAVI: Can I ask how much…

BRADY: How much I weigh?

JAVI: ….

BRADY: Four Hundred Eighty Five pounds last I checked. I don’t really fluctuate.

JAVI: God, this is just insane to me..

Javi walked away.

About 10 minutes later, Javi’s friend Andres walked by and…

ANDRES: Brady?

BRADY: Andres long time no see

ANDRES: I’m sorry Javi said all that… he’s just insecure and projecting on you.

BRADY: Yeah that’s why we broke up all those years ago.

ANDRES: Well, let me tell you. I like the change

Andres grabbed Brady’s belly from underneath and leaned in and kissed Brady on the cheek. He began to walk away.

BRADY: Wait a second, Andres!

Brady grabbed Andres’s hand and pulled him back for a real kiss. Andres’s hand found its way back to under Brady’s belly jiggling it while the pair made out.

Javi watched from a distance fuming with anger.

BRADY: Does a guy like me get to ask you for your number?

ANDRES: Definitely.

Javi walked over

JAVI: Wow Andres making out with my fat ex in front of me is really classy.

ANDRES: Sorry you’re too superficial to understand what a big guy can give you.

(508lbs) After texting for weeks, Andres invited Brady to go golfing with his friend.

ANDRES: Hey big fella.

BRADY: Hey handsome, ready to play?

ANDRES: Yes it’s been a while.

BRADY: It’s been too long for me too.

ANDRES: Shirt’s a bit small Brady…

Brady, embarrassed tried to pull the shirt down over his belly. He knew it was way too small but wanted to test Andres.

BRADY: Wow, I seem to have grown out of it…

ANDRES: Been a while since you wore it?

BRADY: I think this fit me when we met a few weeks ago.

ANDRES: Are you going to try to tell me it shrunk in the wash then?

BRADY: No, I just have put on about 25 pounds since that pool party and haven’t bothered to go shopping.

ANDRES: Wha— … how?

BRADY: Guess I’ve been hungry

Andres knew that Brady was the man for him in that moment. The two began dating.

(528lbs) Brady had gotten into the bad habit of putting 15lbs on every time he was going to be seen at an event to show that he was a growing man. He attended one of his friend’s backyard weddings and knocked over one of the displays with his huge belly.

Everyone who saw him at this point was asked if he was doing ok or if he needed anything. Some of the attendees even offering to give him a doctor referral for weight loss drugs. He assured them he was perfectly ok.

(600lbs) Brady admittedly took it too far. Brady had weighed in at 551lbs this morning. He had some room in his suit and had a big event for his company. He and his business partner were announcing the sale of their company to a big insurance company. He stood on the scale and watched the number go up until he hit 600lbs on the dot.

He was now basically 75lbs heavier than he was 4 months ago. After the sale of his company, Brady was to retire with enough money for him and his grandchildren (if he ever had any) to live comfortably.

When he got home, he totally forgot he would be facing Andres.

ANDRES: Brady…

BRADY: Hey honey.

ANDRES: Something is different

BRADY: What happened.

ANDRES: You look different. Something is just off.

BRADY: I am not sure what you are talking about.

ANDRES: Wait. Is that the suit you had made last week?

BRADY: Yes

ANDRES: Then why does it look like it’s about to pop.

BRADY: Oh yes something is different.

ANDRES: What.

BRADY: I got fatter.

ANDRES: Since this morning?

BRADY: Babe I think it’s time I tell you something.

Brady explained to Andres the whole story about his past life in Missouri. His sabbatical, meeting Cora the witch. He explained how he lost all the weight for Javi. Went to Hawaii and experimented with his body in different sizes.

ANDRES: What do you expect me to believe you have powers or something?

BRADY: Watch this

Brady walked into the bathroom, and willed himself to be a twink again. He walked out weighing 150lbs adorned with abs.

Andres walked to the kitchen and splashed cold water in his face. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

BRADY: I would never tell anyone about this.

ANDRES: You chose to be fat?

BRADY: If I didn’t I wouldn’t be living with the man of my dreams so let’s not.

ANDRES: Ok you’re scaring me you look emaciated.

BRADY: Oh yeah.

The two started to make out while Brady’s body slowly inflated back to 600lbs. Brady’s face filled out and his abs disappeared. Slowly a belly started to form along with soft supple moobs. His love handles expanded outward and his body started to widen. His thighs began to push against each other as they filled with fat.

Andres was so horny watching his boyfriend blow up to such a massive size and came hands free when he watched the fat pad swallow up Brady’s dick.

ANDRES: So how much do you weigh now?

BRADY: Let’s go see

The scale read 600 pounds.

Brady maintained 600 pounds for a while and about a year and a half into dating Andres, knew it was time. He popped the question getting down on one knee.

He couldn’t get back up after getting down which was very hot to Andres, who eagerly said yes.

(705lbs) Brady returned to the mountains. He bought three aur plane seats and filled them up with his girth. He struggled but he hiked his way all the way up to Cora’s hut wearing a suit to thank her for her potion that changed his life.

Brady knocked on the door which immediately opened. His belly knocked over a beaker off the table which led to Cora running into the room.

CORA: How did you get in here??

BRADY: I opened the door.

CORA: How did you find my house?

BRADY: I’ve been here before.

CORA: Who are you??

BRADY: Do you not remember me?

CORA: No, and I would.

She looked down at Brady’s belly.

BRADY: Oh right would this help?

Brady pulled out his phone and showed her a photo of him from about 10 years before. A photo of him and Javi together where he was less than 200lbs.

CORA: What was your name.. Bradley?

BRADY: Brady, close enough.

CORA: Did I do something wrong with the potion, brew it wrong?? I am so sorry!! Let me help you slim down.

BRADY: No, I am this big by choice. I could get down to this weight again any time.

CORA: Why?

BRADY: I was skinny for a while and I just didn’t like it. I was constantly making adjustments to my body so other men would see me as hot. My boyfriend left me when I decided to try out a *very slight* dad bod.

CORA: So you did this? You could’ve been half the size and still been fat.

BRADY: Well some days it just doesn’t feel like enough.

CORA: I never expected you to look like this. I expected you to have gotten massively jacked and been narcissistic.

BRADY: You were wrong

CORA: Very.

BRADY: I came here to thank you. It took me a long time to get up the mountain, but I knew that before long it would not be possible with my size.

CORA: You could’ve shrunken down to climb up here…

BRADY: But that isn’t me

CORA: Well I am happy.

BRADY: Being confident with my size and my body found me the best fiance ever.

CORA: You mean a chub chaser?

BRADY: —

CORA: Right.

BRADY: Well I mean you would have to be to like me at this size anyways. People stare.

CORA: I am staring.

BRADY: Well thank you for doing this for me.

CORA: Any time. Here, let me get you something.

Cora made a green cocktail of ingredients. She bottled them up.

CORA: You two are getting married?

She said looking at the Lock Screen on Brady’s phone.

BRADY: Yes

CORA: Wait until your wedding night to drink this. You both need to drink it for it to work.

BRADY: What is it?

CORA: You two will never break up or fight.

BRADY: This is perfect.

CORA: You also will never get health issues from your weight because you look like a heart attack waiting to happen.

BRADY: Hey!

CORA: So don’t have one before your wedding!

(750lbs) Brady and Andres had a lovely wedding.

The two got married and after the reception concluded, drank the potions together.

(785lbs) Brady loved going out and seeing the reactions on everyone’s faces seeing his size. He would eat for hours just for show and go home stuffed.

(830lbs) Brady was walking through Central Park. Let’s be real, he was barely moving and barely waddling. Suddenly he saw a familiar face again.

BRADY: Javi!!

JAVI: Holy fuck Brady you are huge.

BRADY: I know. Why are you here?

JAVI: I moved here for work. I got a job at an insurance company.

BRADY: You mean the one named after my last name that I just sold?

JAVI: Oh my god..

BRADY: Yup!

JAVI: What's new with you. I haven't seen you since you hooked up with my best friend at a pool party. I haven't seen him either that was so messy and rude of you.

BRADY: We got married.

JAVI: What…

BRADY: Yes we've been married for just about a year.

JAVI: Bet he didn't expect you to get fatter than you already were.

BRADY: He probably didn't but he loves it. He takes care of me and all the things I can't do anymore.

JAVI: I am so glad I left you before this happened.

BRADY: Me too. Next time you see me, I'm sure I'll be even bigger.

Andres walked up between the two of them.

ANDRES: Javi?

JAVI: This is insane. You married him??

ANDRES: Yes.. of course

JAVI: Why did you let him get this big

BRADY: I’ll answer that. He likes his men big, and I wanted to get big.

JAVI: Is that why you tried to get a dad bod all those years ago?

BRADY: Yes, and now I weigh more than eight hundred pounds.

ANDRES: 830 to be exact.

Javi stormed away.

The end.

#ai chub #bhm #exjock #gainerart #gay belly #gainer stories #weight gain stories #weight gain story #male weight gain #gainer story #ssbhm belly #gay moobs #beer belly #belly worship #male feedee

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makingfattypay2 · 2 months

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When he comes out and says right to your face what you yourself are constantly thinking when you look at yourself in the mirror: “How fucking fat are going to let yourself get? You used to be so handsome and hot. You’ve gotta do something about that weight problem, before you get really out of control. I’d date you, you know, but not at this size. It’s a shame really. You can see how nice-looking you are, how in shape you used to be, except, you know, now you just like, well, like a fat man. Lose 25 pounds and then call me, okay? Show me you have some self-respect and discipline and then we’ll go out. I’d love to have a relationship but I can’t have a fat boyfriend. I gotta have a guy who cares about his appearance.”

And you just stand there and can’t say a thing. You’ve never had anyone be that brutally honest, it’s utterly humiliating but also deeply arousing and you feel something shift in your gut and you know you won’t be eating anything for the rest of day, maybe for the rest of the week. All you’ll be thinking about is him, his hot naturally slim body, his smirking cruel superior smile, his thick young fertile cock, and how quickly you can get starve off all this daddy fat you both hate, get back to the size weight and appearance you used to be when you actually had a sex life and hope then he means what he said, that he’ll get with you once you’re normal size and aren’t stuffing your fat face.

You lower your eyes. “Yes. You’re absolutely right. I gotta do something about my weight. And it starts today.”

He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. “Text me daily. I want to see your progress.” And then he walks away.

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moosethren · 5 months

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A new Beginning

This is my Nioh/Rise of the Ronin crossover fanfic, about my Hide and his time in Rise of the Ronin.

In my AU, the Sohaya continued to thrive and became guardians of the Spirit Stones, in order to keep them safe. I'd really recommend giving Hide's page on my character carrd a read, as it contains info about him and a summarized timeline. Since I will not go into details about that in the story itself.

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Hide awoke from his sleep in a manner that would have terrified everyone around him. Rasping for breath, he sat up instantly, clutching at the shirt over his chest. His heart pounded wildly, but was quick to slow down once he realised it was just a nightmare. One of the usual ones, where he was stabbed in the chest by Tokichiro. Even centuries later that one still came around to haunt him. The utter look of hatred in his old friend’s eyes.

It wasn’t how he wanted to remember him. And most of the time, it wasn’t. He still fondly recalled everything good Tokichiro had brought in his life. A sense of purpose after 25 years of being alone, ever since his mother’s death at Kashin Koji’s hands. A powerful friendship and someone who helped Hide to be able to speak at all again; something he had struggled with ever since childhood. Though, he still found it highly uncomfortable and nearly impossible to talk to strangers still.

Leaning forward enough to rest his wrist on his bent knee, he used his free hand to run it through his short, coarse hair. Then he pressed his index finger and thumb against his temples. A loud sigh escaped him.

Mornings like this were just awful. Because his mind always spiralled about his past. The grief. How much things had changed. How much he was losing of those he used to know. Tokichiro’s voice still carried strongest. He still saw his mother’s face in his dreams. Everyone else was starting to fade with time.

Mumyo still remained, or Minami as was her actual name, though she was still known as Mumyo to everyone within the Sohaya clan. She was still trying to guide the clan along the right path, despite the numerous times the Shogunate had tried to take them out. In ignorant fear. All the clan ever did was keep artefacts and Spirit Stones safe… far away from the hands of those who would misuse them.

Hide knew she was nearing the end of her life though. Ever since 1810 she had decided to no longer extend her life, settling down with her husband and later giving birth to Reyse, a promising member in the Sohaya. Sooner or later, she’d join the faces he’d start to forget as well.

And Tenshin… the other shiftling he’d found around two decades ago. Now he’d become like a little brother to him and then he’d lost him just like that back on the Black Ships. It was only through Tenshin’s Guardian Spirit that Hide knew he was still alive at all… and why Hide had sought to try and find him. He owed him that much.

Suddenly he wished William was back in Japan. He could have needed his help now and he’d be a familiar face in Yokohama. But the man was busy travelling the world. Something he had done since he’d faked his death centuries ago, in order to protect his family. After all, someone would notice eventually that the man just didn’t age… and it brought uncomfortable questions from dangerous people.

Hide’s hands had travelled up to nearly tug at his hair by now, trying to focus back to reality. To the current time. Dwelling that deeply wasn’t good. For a shiftling like him, negative emotions were a danger… and too much of it could very well turn him into an aratama.

A knock on the door made him look up abruptly. That pulled apart the clouds in his mind easily enough. Standing up, he wrapped the blue yukata he had slept in closer against him, before moving over to open the door. He wasn’t too surprised to see Ryoma standing outside. Chipper as ever and fully ready for the morning, it seemed.

“Hello!” Ryoma started before looking over the man quickly. “Oh, uh… rough night?” Hide’s skin was coated in sweat and his hair looked like a mess despite his previous attempt at correcting it. What stuck out the most was his eyes though. Ryoma was so accustomed to the man’s choice of black eyeliner and eyeshadow, that he could immediately tell when it was off. It was still there but less of it and it somehow looked more natural. As if it was just part of the skin around his eyes.

Hide noticed where Ryoma’s eyes travelled and turned quickly enough, to allow the man to step inside instead. People finding him like this, before he could get a chance to tidy himself up was a small nuisance normally. It was when they started to notice that his eyes just were dark like that and his hair had an unnatural texture to it, that the shiftling grew nervous.

Those were all signs of his half demon side, physical features he couldn’t do much about beyond hide with properly applied makeup. And he was one of the lucky ones. Tenshin’s grey skin and red eyes had attracted a lot more attention than Hide’s blue eyes or his eye markings. Not to say the few slivers of teal in his hair.

“Katsura wanted me to fetch you,” Ryoma explained once he paused inside the longhouse, looking around with an interested expression. “Seems he’s got big plans for tonight. So, I figured I’d get you a nice breakfast before he drags you into one of his schemes.”

Hide, who had been milling about with his belongings, stopped long enough to roll his eyes. Using the hairwax he kept in a locked box, Hide dragged it through his hair, in order to straighten it out into the mohawk he usually had. Digging into the bag again, he pulled out another box and applied the eyeshadow and eyeliner with practised movements. He’d been doing this every morning for centuries by now. The man didn’t even need a mirror anymore.

Ryoma had been politely quiet the whole time, patiently waiting for Hide to get ready. Watching with some fascination at how quickly and easily the other man went about his routines. Something else caught his attention though, and he was unable to comment this time.

“Huh, I thought you painted the blue streaks into your hair but… they’re just there, aren’t they?” Before Hide could react, Ryoma had stepped up to him to inspect his hair closer, tilting his head to the side to see better. Ryoma’s inane curiosity was entertaining… when it wasn’t aimed at Hide himself. Plus, the man had an attention to detail most humans didn’t.

“Just like your eyes before,” the ronin continued before Hide looked at the very short distance between them. Putting his finger on Ryoma’s chest, he slowly pushed him away from him, his expression a tad uncomfortable. Ryoma let out an awkward laugh suddenly, lifting his hands, palms out.

“Apologies. Curious mind, you know,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest instead. As if to contain his curiosity that way. Hide was an enigma he really wanted to know more about but the man was very secretive. Which just made things worse for the shiftling, because that just made Ryoma even more curious.

Hide’s unnaturally blue eyes had been intriguing enough the first time he had seen him, but the hair and the dark markings around his eyes? Oh, how his mind chewed at the reasons.

Ryoma wasn’t ever going to push the man for answers though. Even after four months of knowing him. And it was just the last two weeks that Hide had started to speak back at all. Childhood trouble, as he had explained the first time he had uttered a word and Ryoma had… unfortunately been very shocked but happy about it.

As well as becoming even more curious, because of course Hide hadn’t expanded on that little tidbit.

“It looks very nice,” Ryoma continued, trying to save face now after having made Hide uncomfortable. Hide’s eyebrow shot up, in a doubtful manner. There was no need for Ryoma to be socially polite around him.

“No need to lie,” the shiftling shook his head, a little bemused. “I know I look strange.” He cleared his throat, realising how hoarse his voice was after the night’s poor rest.

“Now that right there is a serious accusation,” Ryoma waggled a finger at him, his voice rising in pitch a little as it always did when he sounded indigent. Faking it or not. “I won’t stand for such hearsay. Now I simply must buy you breakfast, so you won’t go around telling others that.”

Hide had moved away by now, reaching for his clothes. He gave Ryoma a soft look over his shoulder, his usual indication that everything was fine and he should just relax.

“It does look nice,” Ryoma insisted, his voice a little calmer now. “Even so, I’ll stick to just keeping my clothes in order I think. And hair. Got enough trouble keeping that tame.” He gave a wry smile. “All of it.”

Hide didn’t know how to read the last comment. But he could see why Ryoma’s hair would prove troublesome for him. It currently looked like it wished to escape the hair tie it was trapped in.

Ryoma started to talk about an encounter he had on the street on the way to the longhouse, as he gazed out over the garden while Hide got dressed. At some point Ryoma glanced over his shoulder as he talked, just in time to spot the koi fish tattoo on Hide’s left arm. He’d never seen that before either, he realised. Well, obviously, the man had never taken off his shirt around him.

The man carried more secrets than a dozen men would, it seemed and it intrigued him more than he cared to admit. As if knowing he was being watched, Hide slowly turned his head to look back at Ryoma who quickly fixed his gaze back out in the garden. Hide shook his head, finishing up with putting on the clothes.

“What’s with the tattoo?” the ronin asked, unable to really be quiet for too long. The fact he had a tattoo at all was curious. Hide didn’t exactly look like a hardened criminal, which were the usual subjects.

“Rough childhood,” the shiftling finally shrugged, looking rather unperturbed. The tattoo was his own choice, so the questions regarding that didn’t bother him. Only those referring to things that hadn’t been his choice. Ryoma groaned quietly, smacking himself in the forehead, even as Hide approached him, resting his hand on the hilts of his dual katanas.

“Today isn’t one of my finest moments, huh?” Ryoma sheepishly asked him now.

“You’ll live,” Hide smiled easily, before gesturing with his hand towards the door.

Ryoma did keep true to his promise and bought Hide a proper breakfast at a nearby tavern. Here Hide was told everything Ryoma had been up to in the last week since they’d last seen each other. He didn’t have a great need to talk much himself, listening to others was by far more enjoyable.

It was Ryoma’s turn to surprise him though, when they left the tavern again. The ronin had pocketed some bread from the breakfast and Hide watched his pocket for a few moments afterwards. Searching for the man’s gaze, he furrowed his brow slightly, before pointing to his pocket.

“Oh, that.” Ryoma smiled broadly, as he patted the pocket once. “You’ll see. We’re taking a little detour on the way to Katsura’s.” Hide’s frown grew even more puzzled.

“If you can have secrets, I can have small, short secrets,” Ryoma pointed out, quickening his walk through the streets. Clouds hung over the city, darkening the grey streets.

He brought Hide to a quiet spot by the ocean, in Yokohama’s outskirts. More trees grew here, as the city hadn’t quite taken over this corner yet. Something else seemed to roam here in numbers too. Crows. They gathered around them, seemingly recognising Ryoma. They kept a wary eye on Hide however, delivering a few sharp caws his way.

They sat down on a bench there, overlooking the ocean… and the black ships docked in the harbour. Hide’s frown grew deeper at the sight of them, lost in the bad memory of losing Tenshin on one of them.

“Ah, don’t tell anyone but I quite like crows,” Ryoma chuckled suddenly, almost startling Hide out of his dark thoughts. He was tossing pieces of bread to the birds, who seemed to enjoy the attention. Even if they occasionally bickered with each other about the food.

“I know, messengers of death and all that but they’re more than that, I think. There’s a keen intelligence behind those eyes.” Ryoma pointed to his eyes while smiling broadly, before tossing out more bread. “I’ve watched them a lot. They bicker just like we do. And they take care of their injured ones. Just like we do.”

Hide’s eyes were wide with intrigue as he watched and listened to Ryoma gush about the birds. Something stirred in his chest, a painful reminder of what once was. Ryoma wasn’t the first man he had encountered with a fondness or even connection to crows in particular.

The Shiftling felt a physical weight on his shoulder suddenly, turning his head slightly. One of his Guardian Spirits, Yatagarasu, was perched there, as it often did when his thoughts strayed to Shigehide.

It had been such a long time since his death. 100 years, give or take. Hide’s memories of him had grown dimmer over the years, as time had a habit of doing. The sound of his voice was a mere echo now. His scent almost lost to him. His face… only the occasional dream provided a clear picture now.

Hide withdrew into himself, while Ryoma kept talking about the crows. That awful, heavy feeling had returned to his chest. Not even Yatagarasu pressing his head against Hide’s cheek seemed to help. There was a hollow space in his chest. A space that the demon within him would be more than happy to fill. To let all that sorrow out and lose himself to it. Something Hide could never allow.

That’s why he had entered a strange hibernation for almost a century after Shigehide’s death. As if his body knew and wanted to protect him from falling to corruption. He wasn’t sure if it had actually made the grief easier or not. Now, almost fifty years after waking up again to a new century, he was starting to live with it much easier than before. Or as easily as he ever would.

“Hey, are you alright?” Ryoma’s voice actually made him jump this time. His hands were almost white from having pressed them so hard together. Looking down at them, he carefully stretched them. He wasn't worried about Ryoma spotting the Spirit on his shoulder. Unless he knew what to look for, he’d never find it. Most people alive in this day and age, didn’t. Not since the Yokai invasions had faded and the spirits had calmed down enough that they were mere whispered stories now.

But the Guardian Spirit moved suddenly. With an elegant swoop, it landed on Ryoma’s other side on the bench. Looking at the crows, it then jumped up on his shoulder instead. Tilting its head towards Hide as it perched comfortably. For a moment, it looked like it belonged on Ryoma’s shoulder. As if it wanted to be there.

Hide’s expression relaxed in a strange understanding. He squinted slightly suddenly, as the sun made its way through the clouds, dispelling them. When he looked back towards the Guardian Spirit, it had disappeared.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ryoma continued, lifting his hands to wave it in front of Hide’s face. Hide let out a quiet grunt, quickly looking back out towards the ocean, which was now glittering in the sun.

“You reminded me of someone I lost a long time ago,” he quietly said, looking down between them instead. “He too liked crows.” Ryoma leaned back a little, lifting his eyebrows.

“Ah, a man of taste then,” he gave a nod, scratching his own beard as he looked back at the crows. Still, the forlorn look on Hide’s face gave him some thought. “A friend of mine used to have a tame crow, you know. Clever little bastard. Mischievous too. Caused a lot of ruckus for my friend. But…” he paused, giving Hide an earnest look, as he shuffled over enough to put his arm over his shoulders and gently jostled him. “Whenever my friend was sad, the crow was the first to be there by his side.”

Hide let out a bemused snort through his nose, before shaking his head.

“Caw caw,” Ryoma continued then, laughing as Hide shoved him away but it was too late. There was a smile on Hide’s face and that’s all Ryoma needed.

“Ah, see!” Ryoma lightly punched his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s see what Katsura’s up to, shall we?Ryoma was quick on his feet, which did scare away the crows. They landed on the nearby roof with indignant caws. When Hide didn’t immediately move, Ryoma grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, as he set them both into a walk. And the ronin set to talking again, much to Hide’s amusement.

#I'm posting the first chapter here but I'll probably just put links on tumblr to the Ao3 version after that #rise of the ronin #nioh #ryoma sakamoto x oc #plus i know the fandoms are near non existent on tumblr so D:#i'm just uploading it at all in case someone else finds it interesting

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xalygatorx · 10 months

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Worthy (2015) | Chapter 1, "Subject Camo"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Tony Stark and Clint Barton are called in for a briefing on “Camo” from Agent Coulson and Fury. The target is 25-year-old Cora Dempsey—her codename references her sporadic ability to disappear from sight and, strangely, give off similar readings to the ones they’ve picked up from the BiFrost when she does. Tony expresses opinions.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: None.

Word Count: ~1.5k

"I just wanna know one thing," Tony Stark muttered as he coolly adjusted one of his wristbands and then proceeded to finish off the packet of pomegranate seeds he was working on. "Why I got called out of a meeting, an important meeting, by Agent over here to chase a kid."

"You know, you can call me Phil," Coulson chuckled with a patient smile as he passed the self-righteous billionaire to sit down beside Clint Barton at the conference table. "And I'm pretty sure Pepper would attest to the fact that you were otherwise unpreoccupied."

"That's my girlfriend, you're not allowed to talk to her," Tony noted over the seeds in his mouth with a wag of his finger. He glanced around the room before asking, "So, what, it's just me and Big Bird that got called in?"

"Steve will meet you at your starting point. Didn't need Agent Coulson to be distracted…," Nick Fury said with a pointed glance toward Coulson, who averted his eyes a bit embarrassedly. "We've finally been able to make limited contact with Asgard, with the help of Dr. Selvig, and though the snow-bridge or whatever hasn't been entirely repaired yet…"

"The BiFrost, sir," Coulson supplied.

"…we've been able to enlist Thor as a backup. They've been very forthcoming since New Mexico."

"Why so many recruits for this one test? I could do this solo," Tony declared unabashedly as he dropped the empty silver snack bag onto the table and sat down, the Arc Reactor glowing vividly through the fabric of his shirt. "Actually, I take that back. Seems like you're pretty well-staffed. So I can go home."

"You haven't seen this girl," Clint commented with a knowing look, habitually plucking the string of his bow to check the tension before setting it down and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Hate to admit it, but we're going to need all the help we can get."

"How are you guys having so much trouble finding one chick? Amateurs." Tony shook his head, putting his feet up on the edge of the table.

Fury gave a small, frustrated sigh before giving the file he was holding a toss. It skidded down the glass surface to lose momentum in front of Tony and Clint, who glanced away without interest; he'd already read through the file. Tony, however, picked it up, eyes always alight when there was information or data to be packed into his already jam-packed brain. "Finding her isn't the issue. She was fairly easy to identify and even easier to spot. Agent Coulson?"

Coulson leaned forward and calmly explained, "Cora Dempsey. Twenty-five years old. Hair: Black. Eyes: Blue. Pale, five feet and eight inches tall, one-hundred and twenty pounds."

Tony opened the case file and glanced at the photo inside, giving a soft whistle. "You sure her eyes are blue? They look black."

"They're really dark, apparently. Her driver's license and all her other official documents say blue. None of us have gotten close enough to tell for ourselves."

"Why not? What'd she do?"

"Remember that incident in Central Park two weeks ago?"

"Refresh my memory," Tony requested as he pored over the documents in front of him.

Clint was the one who spoke up first. "Someone wavered out of sight on one of the park benches by the Alice statue in front of about twenty people. Then again in a subway terminal off Broadway."

"And that person was this girl?"

"Yeah. There's no one we can bring in to ask about her either. No family apart from her grandmother, who's homebound in California."

"If she's homebound, there's got to be someone taking care of her," Tony pointed out a bit impatiently.

"Yeah, her uncle, but he's only met the girl once, according to him, and doesn't know a thing about her," Fury stepped in.

"Anyway, so she's pretty simple to spot," Coulson noted. "She's not very well off, financially. Owns like four different shirts as far as we can tell, so there haven't been elaborate disguises to get through. She also has distinctive tattoos on…"

"You know how many shirts she has?" Tony repeated with an arched brow. "You get bored around here or something? Creeps, shame on you."

"As I was saying, tattoos on her back and her right wrist. She also has a stud in her nose."

"If she's so easy to spot, why haven't you caught her yet?" Tony asked, closing up the file. "You. Big Bird. You started to say something about that earlier. What is it about her?"

"Well, we catch up to her fine and then she disappears."

"What, does the wavering thing? I saw some news report on that when the subway stuff happened. It's not like she turned invisible. She just flashed a little."

"She seems to do the 'wavering thing' just enough for us to lose track of her. And it does the same thing to our equipment. The interference is…"

"What?"

"Well, it's similar to what the BiFrost arrivals did before," Coulson admitted, frowning. "It doesn't make sense though."

"This can't be the first time someone's slipped in some radioactive sludge and gotten powers. Stranger things have happened."

"It's definitely not. Most of them grow extra appendages though," he noted seriously. "But she's not radioactive in any sense and not an Asgardian. And the readings are nearly identical."

Tony snorted at the idea that there were actually weird alien-god-men up in space somewhere. "Okay, well, considering there might be these gods out there, maybe it's another kind. Maybe she beamed down from Krypton or Vulcan or something."

"Vulcan's highly unlikely since it got blown up," Clint offered, earning a roll of eyes from Fury and Tony, both.

"My point is, if there's actually one other 'world' out there besides ours," Tony noted, hooking his fingers through the air to punctuate his doubt, "there could be more, right?"

"She's been on Earth her entire life though and so have, er, had her parents. You saw the birth certificate, the diploma, the driver's license, the degree… All of that's there. In fact, her family dates back through the centuries, no problem."

"What happened to her parents?"

"Car crash. She was inside, but came out with just a broken arm."

"Did that have anything to do with her?"

Coulson shook his head. "Just a freak, tragic accident."

Tony nodded, not having to open the file back up to reassure himself there were all those documents inside. He'd seen them and his suggestion had been to exhaust all possibilities. "What's the interest here?"

"Interest. And she's a potential threat, should she opt to use her…talent for bad intent. It'd be ideal for a thief, a spy, really any covert operative position out there. She doesn't seem like a criminal yet, but we'd rather get to her before that happens," Coulson explained.

"Not much of a party. Just picking up a runaway," Tony murmured as Fury retrieved the file.

"You say that now, but I think it might be more of a challenge than you think."

"Tell you what, Stark, I'll give you a five minute head-start when we find her. See if you can catch her on your own," Clint smirked.

"Could with my eyes closed, Barton. In fact, will." Tony got up from the conference table and cracked his fingers. "Heading out, when?"

"Now. There's not much time to waste," Fury noted. "Don't do anything stupid either."

"Aw, Nick, didn't know you worried about me," Tony said with mock affection.

"Not as much worried about you as what your cocky ass gets me into sometimes. Now that you're working as part of the Initiative, you're going to have to act with a little more forethought."

Tony snorted. "Some of my best ideas come from impulse." He gave a flippant salute and then walked out of the conference room, seeming to walk on clouds of his own confidence.

Fury gave an exasperated sigh. "Our definitions of 'best' are very different…" He looked over to Clint as the other man rose up, starting to follow after Tony. "I'm counting on you, Agent Barton."

"Won't disappoint you, sir," Clint said decidedly as he left as well with an inclination of his head.

Coulson looked toward Fury with a raised brow, but a smile still on his face. "You sure you don't want me to accompany them, sir?"

"You've done enough for now, Phil," Fury told him easily. "Let them give it a shot and we'll see where we're at. It couldn't get any worse than it already is."

"Wouldn't say that too loudly, sir," Coulson chuckled. "But, for the record, I wouldn't have been distracted."

"Lying doesn't suit you, Phil."

Next chapter: Chapter 2, "If She Be Worthy"

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #slow burn

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 9 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 23: Neverland Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1709

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

CS Genre: Neverland Canon Divergence

Notes: This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection last year.

Emma tossed and turned, everything about this place uncomfortable–from the fact that there didn’t seem to be a single square inch of this damn jungle without a tree root or rock where she could lay her sleeping bag to the oppressive heat and humidity to the feeling of doom that seemed to hang heavily over everyone.

To the crying.

The crying was the worst.

Finally giving up, Emma got to her feet, looking in amazement at the rest of their group that were evidently sleeping like babies. Did they not hear the crying? O gods, what if Henry was one of the kids crying out there? She had to get to him. She had to!

If only she had any idea where to start looking.

Hook was right; she knew it. They needed to get their rest and not go off half-cocked when they had no idea where Pan was keeping Henry, but that didn’t make the sitting around and waiting any easier.

Moving as quietly as she could, Emma got to her feet and walked back to the beach. It wasn’t far; she could still see their encampment if she looked closely enough, but it was far enough away from everyone that she felt safe letting the tears flow as she sat upon a log and looked out across the sea.

She had no idea how long she sat there crying, hating herself for the absolute failure she was as a mother, when suddenly she heard the crunching of footsteps against the forest underbrush. Her heart pounded as she jumped to her feet, taking hold of the cutlass Hook had given her as she prepared to confront whatever or whoever was sneaking up on her.

“Easy Swan,” Hook said, stepping into view, hand and hook raised in surrender.

Emma sagged in relief…which quickly turned to frustration. “What the hell are you doing skulking around the jungle, Hook?”

He took a seat on the log she’d recently vacated, and then patted the space next to him. After shooting him a suspicious look, she took the seat he indicated.

“I could ask the same of you, Darling,” he said with a smirk.

She growled, in no mood for his nonsense.

He sighed, teasing grin sliding from his face to be replaced with sincerity. “I heard you get up and leave the camp. Swan it’s unwise to venture out alone on this bloody island. You’ve no idea the dangers that are ever around you.”

The oppressive feeling settled in over her again. Henry was out there, alone on this island full of dangers and psychotic teenagers.

“Your lad is resourceful, Swan,” Hook said, shooting her a sympathetic look. “I’ve no doubt he’ll handle his challenges quite well until we’re able to rescue him.”

“How do you do that?” she asked with a scowl. “How do you manage to know exactly what I’m thinking?”

“As I’ve said,” he answered, “you’re something of an open book. Besides, I was a resident of this damned island for centuries, remember? I know something of what you’re currently feeling.”

She felt the sharp sting of tears again, but with an effort she blinked them away. It was one thing to lose it when she was alone, but crying in front of Captain Freaking Hook was not an option.

Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his flask and offered it to her. She took it without comment, took a long swig and then handed it back.

“How is this thing always full?” she asked.

“One comes across all manner of wonders while plundering the realms, love,” he said. “I obtained this on one of my conquests. This flask has been imbued with an enchantment that ensures it never runs dry.”

“Happen to have another one of those on you?” she asked.

He laughed. “I’m afraid not, but never fear, Swan. You always have access to my flask.”

They fell into silence after that, both looking out at the waves. Finally, Emma turned back to Hook. “How can they sleep through the sound of the crying?”

“They don’t hear it,” Hook said simply. “Only those who have been abandoned, those who have gone through their lives as lost boys or girls can hear the perpetual Neverland crying.”

“Great, so my issues make Neverland’s horrors even worse,” she said.

“Unfortunately that is correct, Love,” he said, his face a mask of sympathy. “This place…it makes one relive their worst memories, it brings to mind one’s greatest insecurities, it steals joy and every bloody bit of light within the soul.”

Wonderful

“Hook?” she asked after another moment.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“How did you do it? How did you survive this place for hundreds of years.”

He took his time answering. “My hatred, my quest for vengeance sustained me through a lot of it,” he finally said, turning to look at her. “But hatred is no real bulwark against despair. I’d have gone mad, if I hadn’t found something else to sustain me.”

“And what was that?”

“There is always beauty to be found if one looks close enough,” he said, his look in her direction so intense that the blush rose to her cheeks. “And even in the worst of times there are happy memories that can be accessed.”

“What were some of the happy memories you accessed to help you through it?” she asked, before realizing how personal the question really was. “Nevermind. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged. “What sustained me? Odd though it may sound, Christmas.”

“Christmas?” she asked. “You guys celebrate Christmas in the Enchanted Forest?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “I’d wager people throughout the realms celebrate Christmas. On the nights when the oppressiveness of this place became too much, I’d think back to Christmases past, happy moments spent with my family. My mother baking in the kitchen. Liam challenging me to a snowball fight. It was always a magical time.”

“I didn’t have the kind of warm and fuzzy Christmases you see on the movies,” Emma said, taking another swig from his flask, “but I have to admit, it was one of my favorite times of the year. People always tended to be generous toward the group homes around Christmastime. What were some of your favorite Christmas traditions?”

He smiled, and the gesture made him look younger, almost boyish. “A few days before Christmas Mum always helped Liam and me construct the most magnificent gingerbread ships.”

“Ships?” she asked. “You didn’t make houses?”

“Houses? For a fine, strong sea-faring family like ours? I think not.”

Emma grinned. “I stand corrected.”

“Somehow, even in the worst of times I could recall those gingerbread ships–the fine sight they made, the delectable taste. It reminded me that there was good, there was beauty, there was happiness out there once upon a time, and if it was out there once, it could be captured again.”

They continued talking for what felt like hours–although time was rather meaningless on this stupid island–swapping story after story of Christmases past, but finally Emma yawned, realizing she was finally sleepy.

“I guess we really should try to get some sleep,” she said.

“Aye, you’re right,” Hook said, getting to his feet and offering her his hand to help her do the same.

It was then that Emma realized she didn’t hear the crying anymore. “Hey! They’ve stopped! The crying stopped.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine sight, and then shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not,” he said. “You’ve merely come to realize that you aren’t a lost girl all alone in the world anymore. If there’s anything I’ve learned from you hero types, it’s that together, you always succeed in the end. Emma, we will find your lad, and we will find a way to get him, and all the rest of your friends and family home.”

“Thanks, Hook,” she said, meaning it with her whole being.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

New York, the next Christmastime, during the curse

Emma rolled her shoulders as she walked down the street on her way back to the apartment she shared with Henry. It had been a long night, but in the end, she’d finally gotten her skip. Everywhere she looked evidence of the season greeted her.

She supposed she should be happy–she was damn good at her job, she had a great home, a great kid, and she’d even started dating again. Henry called Walsh her boyfriend, and while she wasn’t ready to put a label to it yet, she could potentially see something developing there.

She was happy. She had a good life.

It’s just….well, sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. Sometimes she had this weird, almost deja-vu type feeling that there was something important, something vital that she was forgetting. It was like one of those dreams where you remember the emotions of it after you wake, but hard as you try, you can never quite remember the details.

Emma walked past the bakery she and Henry went to every Sunday morning and peered inside. The baker had placed a magnificent gingerbread house in the display window, decorated within an inch of its life with all manner of frosting and candies.

Henry and I should make a gingerbread house together, she thought to herself. No, not a house. A ship. We should make a gingerbread ship.

Now where had that thought come from? Who made gingerbread ships?

There was good, there was beauty, there was happiness out there once upon a time, and if it was out there once, it could be captured again.

She could almost hear a deep, British voice saying those words, and the feeling it evoked was–peace, peace and joy.

And there was something more, a feeling so deep and intense it almost scared her.

Emma shook her head, trying to dislodge the strange deja-vu.

Back to the issue at hand. No, making a gingerbread ship might make no sense, but somehow it was right. It was time she and Henry make a new tradition together. Stepping into the bakery, Emma made her way to the counter, placing an order for several sheets of gingerbread.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #neverland christmas

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 6 months

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I was slightly disappointed to get to the August 2017 episodes of the Elis and John radio show, and find that they took a couple of weeks off at that point, so we only got two episodes with John broadcasting from Edinburgh. Which is entirely understandable and he was very busy doing an award-winning hour full of jokes and the cynical inclusion of emotional heft, but still, I wanted to know what it was like. I enjoyed the little audio diary he gave us every week during the 2015 Edinburgh Festival, and enjoyed the two weeks we got from 2017 even though we didn't hear from the end. I enjoy it when a radio show becomes an audio diary from the Edinburgh Festival. Howard and Richardson in 2007. Lee and Herring in 1994. Bit of history.

My interest in that particular type of history is why I very much need to thank @oxymoronish for alerting me to the fact that the internet still has archives of something that could not be more perfectly tailored to my interests. Edinburgh history. Specifically, Chocolate Milk Gang-era Edinburgh history. Festival diaries. John Robins being young and pointlessly intense and a bit annoying but also full of youthful earnest wonder that's borderline sweet. Apparently during the 2007 Edinburgh Festival, John Robins wrote a blog for Chortle. I have been told that this blog once included video clips, including video of the knife he kept next to his bed, and I am of course furious that I have been denied video footage of 25-year-old John Robins showing us the knife he kept next to his bed to ward off Scottish intruders, but it's all right because there are so many textual diary entries to be getting on with. I have of course saved the PDFs.

Opens with a story about losing So You Think You're Funny in 2005, getting drunk with the other competitors and getting glared at by Dara O'Brien for quoting Father Ted too loudly, tells this story as though it's one of when he was an obnoxious kid and he's glad he's now more mature and not like that, even though this is only two years later and he then goes on to describe himself being similarly annoying throughout the 2007 festival as well. Goes into a story about how he'd planned to not drink all month but that lasted 13 hours. Then how he came up two days early to save nine pounds but the extra two days ended up costing him a lot more than that, and then a story about buying a human skeleton on eBay as a gift for his girlfriend. Classic Robins.

Two references to fantasy novels (a mention of listening to the Lord of the Rings audiobooks, and comparing hanging out with older comedians in Edinburgh to getting sorted into Gryffindor). Several instances of that thing John Robins like doing on the radio, slipping quickly into character when he complains about something and then right back out of it, which it turns out works less well in text where we can't hear the voice change. A running thread of obsession with the TV show 24. Complaining that Brook's Bar, which he misspelled, is overrated and the only redeeming part of it is you can stare at Simon Amstell. Quite a lot of spelling mistakes, on this blog that he published on Chortle, coming from a guy who, on his radio show, occasionally makes fun of Steve Bennett's inability to spell. Which I enjoy, because I am also amazed that Steve Bennett gets away with running a professional website while not knowing how to write, but it does make it more hypocritical when it turns out that John Robins has contributed spelling errors to Chortle (I am not a hypocrite because no one pays me for my Tumblr blog so it's fine to spell things wrong on that).

One account of how he got to chat to Tom Binns and was very excited about that, so I'm just going to pretend that's not there, like I do every time on the radio show that John and Elis plug Russell Brand's radio work (that one's objectively worse, as no one knew about Tom Bins in 2007 but I think people knew about Russell Brand in 2017, though obviously John and Elis were just told by Radio X that they had to cross-promote). Anyway, the Binns story does lead to John saying: "I never saw stand up as an option until I was 21, but new I had to be involved in comedy, and that was because of Bottom, Lee and Herring and Armando Iannucci et al." Which I found interesting - I mean I knew he was a huge Partridge fan, but it's interesting to hear him specifically mention Stewart Lee as a person he liked, back in 2007.

Selected my walk on music etc today, which is all very minor yet exciting. I'm increasingly aware that my preparation for Edinburgh this year has been more financial than artistic. Unfortunately due to the nature of gigs in July it was easier to make nice money than play nice gigs. June/July is a hard time if you're A. unsigned and B. not doing a solo show, as there are no uni gigs, a lot of places just do previews for hour shows and you've no lovely agent to sort you out weekends at nice clubs. But such is life. At least i can eat like a king if i perform like a cockend.

I don't know why I'm so fascinated by the logistics of Edinburgh performing, but I am and I like how many little bits like this are in there to let us know how that works. Older and wiser John Robins does sometimes tell stories about his early comedy years, and said stories make it sound like it involved a lot of picking music and being bitter about not having an agent, so this tracks.

There's one part where he gets somehow locked into his bedroom while drunk, can't get out when hungover the next morning, pees in a bin due to not having bathroom access, goes on a brief and entirely unnecessary tangent about whether the Scottish accent is sexually appealing, and then it escalates very quickly to sleeping with a knife beside his bed in case whatever intruder locked him in his bedroom comes back to murder him. Classic Robins.

There are multiple parts where he mentions that he's going to slow down on the drinking because the festival is too long to be doing too much drinking, always immediately followed by more stories about drinking a lot. Classic Robins.

A whole lot of complaining about places being too loud and too crowded and too busy. Used the word "schmoozing" to describe a thing he does not like to do. Classic Robins.

Oh, at one point, during the first week of the festival, he suddenly tells an absolutely insane story of a fellow comic (whom he goes out of his way to not name) got much too drunk, made an idiot of himself at the bar, went outside, yelled some anti-Scottish abuse at some locals, and then story escalates very quickly to where the locals start beating him up and John and some friends intervene and pull him out of there covered in blood. What the fuck? How have I not heard John tell that story before?

It’s the kind of thing you only imagine doing when you’re brain won’t sit still at night; “God, imagine if I shouted ‘Fuck you all’ at a funeral, or went to a Millwall game and called them all fags”. It’s not just social suicide, but increasingly physical suicide that I am watching. As the punches and kicks are thrown we wade in to stop the trouble, in the slightly awkward position of being totally sympathetic with the people who are kicking the shit out of him. One minute they were buying chips, the next being called “foreign cunts” and being told to “speak English” in their own country. He didn’t mean these things, but says them to achieve the desired effect: self destruction. As Burgess said, and never truer than now, “destruction’s our ode to joy”. As we break it up, and shelter our colleague away from the gathering crowd, tears fall from his battered face, and now I properly see myself in his little boy lost eyes. I know that burning need to feel something, anything, other than what you’re feeling inside. In a former life I’d have put my fist through a door, or smashed a bottle or jumped through a shop window, something more controlled than letting half a dozen drunk Scots administer the punishment. “We need to get on top of this”, I say to him, and beating in my head is that statement, like a fucking beacon; “the law of love says ‘you are enough’” to be honest this guy is more than enough. But somehow I need to show him that like Phil suggests, he himself, is all he needs to do whatever he wants. That release, the blessed release that comes from being half killed by an angry mob can be found inside you, the law of love says so.

I was about to post the "What are you two fucking talking about?" reaction image here, but that would be disingenuous, as I fully understand what he's talking about here, I understand it extremely well (though I'd like to be clear, I have never yelled "foreign cunts" at people just for eating chips). The difference is that I wouldn't admit that (not on a blog with my real name attached, anyway), while dramatically quoting poetic language used by Anthony Burgess and Phil Kay. What the fuck, John?

Phil Kay was on his mind due to a story from earlier in the post of how he'd been to see Phil Kay's show that night, which is absolutely classic Robins:

It does begin, however, with some of the most beautiful prose I’ve heard in a comedy show. So much so that I have to take out my notebook to write down the statement “the law of love says ‘you are enough’”. Unfortunately Phil sees me do this and takes me for a reviewer. “He might be a journalist” I look up “bang, you’ve missed a bit of the show” he says. I’m wearing headphones round my neck and he riffs on that for a while then moves on. But by now my face is burning and I become his point of focus after delivering set pieces. I feel terrible for the pressure he now seems to think he’s under when there is no need, “I’m not a reviewer Phil! I’m a fan! I’m a worshipper!” but I stay quiet, sit back, and enjoy his remarkable talent.

Older and wiser John Robins is still awkwardly pretentious at times, but I don't think he could ever reach the heights of the earnest absolute mess of pretension that was younger John Robins. Pulled out his notebook to copy down a particularly deep quote during a comedy show, then repeated it back in dramatic fashion while rescuing a guy who was getting beaten up for abhorrent behaviour. Good God.

There's a lot of gushing about how great Pappy's is, mentioning Matthew Crosby in particular, and quite a bit about how great Jon Richardson is. Including relaying a comment from Daniel Kitson about Jon making good comedy, which is odd because I realized as I read that that I'd assumed Daniel Kitson did not like Jon Richardson's comedy, though I have absolutely no idea where that assumption came from and it is probably incorrect so I'll get rid of it. He might have made some comment or other on some old radio show and the sentiment stuck in my mind even if the quote didn't, but it is probably not representative.

There's one part where he gets upset because he lost an "Alan Partridge rap-off" to Matt Forde. He does not explain what a rap-off is, but from context, I think it's a trivia contest of some sort. Or possibly a battle of impressions. Though I don't see why he'd expect to beat Matt Forde at the latter.

And so to the Dome for a drink with Jon Richardson, Sinha, Alex Horne and Rob Deering. If you can name four nicer people to spend your time with then I want to know.

Aww.

The blog posts follow a basic, expected trajectory of starting out exited, getting tired and worn down as it goes along, ending up slightly sick and bitter, then at the very end, rallying back to positivity and getting a bit sappy and sentimental about how great it was and how he's sad he'll never get to perform with those same Comedy Zone partners (Joe Wilkinson, Carl Donnelly, Barry Dodds) again. Ends on:

Here are my top five fringe things: 1. Being told that Matt Crosby had described the ‘Lost Vagueness’ launch party as “a total cunt museum” 2. Doing ‘On Heat’ with Russell, Mark and Jon. Just like old times. 3. Dan Atkinson ending his show by saying “ladies and gentlemen, outside there is someone collecting for an AIDS charity, so PLEASE… don’t give him any money” 4. Pappy’s 5. Richardson getting nominated. 6. Oh yes, and telling a drunk woman heckler who tried to chat me up that "I'd rather fuck a window"

At one point he gets absolutely furious at some people who did an improv performance art piece.

How can you be so vomitously earnest in the face of overwhelming evidence that 'contact improvisation' is, in fact, merely a misspelling of 'look at us, our personalities are made of toilets'? Twelve hours!? TWELVE FUCKING HOURS. You should get the if.commedies panel prize for having the gall not to take your own lives.

The above quote is about 20% of the full rant.

In terms of Classic Robins pointless intensity, nothing is going to beat quoting a poetic Phil Kay line to a man who's just behaved abhorrently and then been beaten up. But I'd like to enter in the "pointless intensity" collection the way he described the time he had a good gig, got too excited about it while drunk after the gig, and then felt bad the next morning for getting too excited:

I didn’t go round telling everyone I was awesome, I was just far too confident in banter to people I don’t know well enough. What a tool. What’s annoying is I like to think I have quite a wise comedy head, in terms of the theory and dealing with the ups and downs, but alcohol, adrenaline and relief are a dangerous combination. It’s just hard to expect people to see that any cockiness only exists in my words, not in my eyes.

What a line. I'm going to start going around telling people that cockiness only exists in my words, not in my eyes.

There are lots of little stories about hanging out with other comedians and watching other people's shows and performing with other people, and I did notice, at some point, that not a single female comedian is referenced in any of the blogs. I'm not saying that as a mark against John Robins or anything, I don't think he was intentionally avoiding them. Just an interesting sign of how much the comedy industry has changed, because I don't think you could write a story about comedy at the Edinburgh Festival today without mentioning any female comedians (not unless you were intentionally avoiding them, anyway). There weren't nearly as many of them back then. Though there were definitely some. You'd think at least once John might have watched Josie Long or something. I think the only women he mentions are his stage manager and some agents at one point.

To be fair, I guess we don't know the makeup of whatever group was doing the performance art piece that made John Robins say "I know deep down there is a nagging feeling you can't quite put your finger on, it's been bugging you for years but you can't get to the bottom of it. Well it took me exactly four seconds to recognise that feeling as being one of total and utter self loathing for carrying on with the charade that you are not a total and utter quim-rag-mouthed charlatan." (I have now quoted more of the rant, but that's still not all of it.) It's possible that there could have been women in that performance art group, so it's not fair to assume he didn't mention any female performers.

John does also mention getting angry and doing rude hand gestures at some comedians for doing rape jokes, so that's nice.

There are a bunch of interesting stories about the comedy itself, performing on/compering a mixed-bill gig instead of doing his own show (Comedy Zone), the ups and downs and figuring out the right rhythms on different nights. The wild fluctuations in crowd numbers and how that affects things. How to know if an environment is better for crowd work or material. One interesting bit, I thought, where he tries some more structured stuff that he thought he could turn into a full hour for the next year, and then realized that you can't do that at a club-style gig where no one wants it.

The whole thing is just so very very relevant to my interests, thank you again for sending it to me, @oxymoronish. Thank God for the internet archive.

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