#boyfriend survey

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #152

boyfriend survey

What’s his first name? Donald Jr., but I've only ever known him as Girt.

Does his surname begin with the same letter as yours? No.

How old is he? 29 and thinks he's basically 60 lol dude you are still in the youth of your life

How long have you been together? A year and eight months.

Do you have a casual or serious relationship? Serious.

How often do you see each other? At least once a week, sometimes maybe one more day. In very rare cases it's gotten past a week, and then I'm just miserable lol

Do you live together? Not yet.

Do you have keys to each other’s places? I know I don't, and I don't think Girt does either, but maybe Mom's given him one at some point.

When was the last time you saw him? Uh it's been like... around five days?

What is the age gap between you? Is he older or younger than you? Two or three years, I can't math, like he's gonna be 30 before I turn 28, but right NOW he's two years older.

Have you met his parents? His mom, yes, his dad died before I ever met his family.

Has he met your parents? Yes.

How many siblings does he have? One sister.

Have you met his siblings? Yes, she's fantastic.

Has he met your siblings? Ashley and Nicole, definitely, and I feeeeel like he's actually met Katie once at Nicole's birthday party many many years ago? I know he hasn't met Bobby, and I'm quite sure not Misty either.

What’s his name in your phone? "Girt <3"

Have you talked about marriage? Yeah, it's not an uncomfortable topic for us, we're both very open about being in this for the long run, especially with just how long we've been friends, though being a couple is obviously different.

Does he have any kids? No.

Does he want kids? I don't think so, but since hearing him say he didn't early in our relationship, he's since said "every guy wants a daughter" when talking casually about kids and that he'd prefer one over a son, but I don't know exactly how he meant that, like how relevant it was to his own, actual life.

Do you see a future with him? Yeah.

Are you “Facebook official”? lol not technically, it's stuck on "pending" because he's never been one to pay attention to Facebook at all, dude barely even knows how things work on there, so he missed the notification to verify it at some point, but thankfully it doesn't bother me, he puts no effort into hiding we're together at all, and that's what matters.

How did you meet him? High school band.

Where did you go for your first date? It was actually bowling, the first time we tried dating, but during our current and much more "real" relationship, it was uhhhh... wow I'm not sure I remember.

Who was the first one to make a move? Originally, him; he asked me out the first time, but I asked him out this go, but I only had the guts to because I was pretty confident he felt the same still, lol.

Have you spoken to him today? On Discord, yes; we do that every day. I haven't verbally spoken to him.

What’s his favorite pizza topping? With our history I'm actually amazed I'm not positive on this haha, I wanna just say pepperoni though?

Does he cook? He knows how to cook two things and that's it, lol. Still better than me.

What sort of phone does he have? Some sort of good quality Android, idk the details.

What size is his bed? I literally still haven't seen his room lmfao, I'm not sure.

Does he like to be big spoon or little spoon when you cuddle? Big spoon, but there are definitely times in bed when he faces away I'm cuddling against him, he finds it hard to fall asleep facing/cuddling me.

Is he a good kisser? Yeah.

Does he make you happy? He absolutely does, more than anyone else is able to.

What’s his fashion style? Comfort haha, regular pants and t-shirts, particularly Saikou brand stuff.

Does he drive? If so, what sort of car? Yes, but I forget what it is. It's black.

Has he ever bought you an item of clothing? Haha he's wanted to before actually but I was too reluctant to share my shirt size, regardless of how stupid that is.

Does he have any piercings? No.

Is he more fun or serious? Fun.

What does he do for a living? He's worked at a big tire factory for like, nine years.

When is the next time you’ll see him? Probably within the next few days.

What’s his favorite thing to drink? Water, this man can destroy water.

Does he live alone, with roommates or with parents? Well it's technically her living with him, but his mom. Actually one of his best friends does too because of familial problems.

Does he have any pets? Yeah, he has a super sweet pit/shepherd mix named Charlie.

Is he your first boyfriend? No.

What was the last movie you watched with him? Wow I have no idea, we don't watch movies much, which is fine with me because I have a hard time getting through movies anyway.

Is he an active person? Well his job is physical and he has long shifts so kinda, but he doesn't do much outside of work.

What’s his favorite candy? Good question, he doesn't let himself have candy a lot at all. I do know he loves Sour Patch, though.

Have you ever met his best friend? Yes.

What’s your favorite physical quality of his? He has an adorable smile, and I like his arms/shoulders.

What color is his hair? Black but graying early and he haaates it.

Do you argue with him often? No, that's really rare for us.

Where was the last place you went with him? Red Robin for Mother's Day.

What color is his toothbrush? Don't know actually.

What kind of movies does he like to watch? Also a good question, but I can tell you he's not a horror fan.

Have you celebrated either of your birthdays together? Yeah.

Does he play any instruments? He was the guy who played tuba in band, and briefly the trombone before I started high school, but I'm doubtful he remembers anything by now.

Do you have any mutual friends? Yes.

How often do you talk to him on the phone? Basically never, I've learned that there have been times he's wanted to call me just to talk but doesn't just because he knows I hate talking on the phone haha, like dude you're an exception.

Does he have a beard or is he clean-shaven? He never has a full beard, genetically he doesn't get a lot of facial hair, but sometimes he has a little bit but generally stays shaved.

What was the last compliment he gave you? I'm not sure, even though he gives 'em quite a bit. We call each other cute a whole lot, so there's a good chance it was that, haha.

Does he dance? No, he's told me he can't and bitch same

Is he taller or shorter than you? He's quite a lot taller.

Has he ever bought you flowers? Twice now. :'D

Do you ever borrow his clothes? No, I doubt his shirts would even fit me; I weigh a lot more than him, although with how tall and broad he is, some shirts might but I kinda don't wanna try and find out they don't lol

Is he a clean or messy person? He knows he's messy and it's the reason I haven't seen his room yet lol, he doesn't believe me when I say I don't care.

What color are his eyes? Brown.

What does he wear to bed? Pj pants and a normal shirt or sometimes no shirt, he'll sometimes change into new work clothes the night before and just sleep in them so he can have more time asleep lol, extremely rarely nothing.

Does he keep his fingernails clean? Reasonably, but I mean he works in a tire factory with the tires so they're not like pristine.

Have you ever shared a shower with him? No, I don't want to share a shower with anyone.

How long after your first date did you see him again? I don't remember, but I'm sure it wasn't that long.

What’s his bedroom like? As mentioned earlier, I actually don't know.

Has he ever had braces? Uhhh I don't think so? I know he hasn't while I've known him.

When was the last time you kissed him? The last time he was here, a few nights ago.

Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day with him? Yes.

How long were you together before you said “I love you”? We never did the first time we tried dating years ago, which was around four months, and I can't quite remember how long it was until I said it and he said it back. It was definitely a few months, though.

What sort of shoes does he usually wear? Sneakers of some sort, I don't pay attention to exactly what they are.

Do you know any of his exes? No.

What’s his favourite cuisine? I'm not certain, but I know he likes Mexican quite a bit.

Was he born in the country he now lives in? Yes.

Have you ever been long-distance with him? No.

Does he ever wear any type of jewelry? No.

What was the first present you got for him? I'm not certain, it really might have been the Vitamin Me thing I got for our first anniversary, because I absolutely couldn't NOT get him something so I sucked it up and asked my mom, I'm still the one that made all the little notes, what really made up the gift.

What was the first present he got for you? ugh this is much harder, he's actually gotten a lot, apparently gifts are one of the stronger love languages from him. I want to say it was a Carbuncle from Final Fantasy plush, the first time we dated; I saw a picture of one and freaked out over how cute it was and then he fuckin showed up with it lmao, I still want to get him out of the bags with my other stuffed animals to keep out.

Does he smoke? No.

What TV shows is he watching at the moment? I don't think he's actively watching anything at home; it's usually us watching stuff together, and we've yet to start a new show since we just finished one.

Have you ever visited him at work? Yes, there was one day I brought him lunch.

Does he play video games? Oh yes, that's his "thing," he loves games.

What was the last thing you argued about? Well it wasn't really an argument since he agreed with me immediately, but he made a bad joke that just shouldn't have been made and it upset me.

Is he straight? Yes.

When is his birthday? I don't feel right sharing that on here.

Have you ever shared a bath with him? No.

Does he ride a motorcycle? No.

How long is his hair? Not very long, but it's not suuuuper short either. He has really thick hair like me and it's also curly, so while it doesn't actually like hang down his neck, there's a good deal of it.

Have you ever been overseas with him? No.

Does he have any tattoos? If so, which one is your favorite? Not yet, but he wants some. I know he'd like a big one on his back and he likes the idea of having a sleeve.

What is his favorite alcoholic beverage? He's never drunk and isn't interested.

Does he speak any languages other than English? He took quite a bit of Spanish in school and remembers some of it, but he's definitely not fluent.

Is he college/university educated? Mostly, yes, but he dropped out during his last semester because of his dad's death, it became way too much. He wants to go back eventually.

How long have you known him? Over a decade, I don't know the exact years by this point.

Does he text back quickly? If he's not at work, generally, yes, he messages back quickly. Off work though he will occasionally get distracted and forget to reply, he's one of those people that can read a message and then forget to message back by the time he can, but it doesn't happen a bothersome amount.

Have you ever celebrated Christmas with him? Not Christmas day, we spend it with our own immediate families.

Has he ever been in a physical fight? He's either been in one when younger or none at all, I can't remember which. I know he hit another guy once as a child because he wasn't leaving him alone, but I feel like he may have mentioned fighting with a guy once? I don't remember.

Did you go to the same high school as him? Yes, that's where we met.

#survey #surveys #boyfriend survey

[hotyanderedaddies]

How to Tell if Your Boyfriend is a Werewolf

[I have no idea what a “NERP” is 😅]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

So you think that your boyfriend might be a werewolf. Luckily for you, there are a set of questions that you can ask yourself to know for sure:

Is your boyfriend bigger than the average male?

Not just down there, but is your boyfriend really big? Is he kinda built? Werewolves tend to possess genes that cause them to easily outsize the average human. Take note of whenever you and your man enter into a room; if he’s the tallest one and the most muscular there, then odds are that he’s a werewolf. This goes especially for alphas!

2.  Does your boyfriend growl at other people who approach you?

Werewolves are notoriously territorial creatures. And if you’re dating one, then they’ll definitely be territorial over you. Depending on the werewolf, he might growl at other guys (or even girls) who approach you in public to chat you up, or sometimes he might even bare his teeth at a barista who’s simply asking for your order. Next time the two of you are out in public, take note. If your man jealously growls whenever someone else steals your attention away from him, he might be werewolf!

3.  Do all of your belongings somehow smell like your boyfriend?

Like most canines, werewolves like to put their scent on what they view as theirs. And Reader, if you’re dating a werewolf, then in their eyes, you belong to them. Hence, if you aren’t congested and you take a whiff of your clothes, bed, car— anything that you use on a daily basis, try to tell if it smells suspiciously like your boyfriend. If your man is a werwolf, then he one-hundred percent scented your belongings so that his scent clings to you. It’s a way he can show other werewolves that you’re off limits since you’re his.

4.  Does your boyfriend avoid silver?

Silver isn’t just a gorgeous metal, but it’s also deadly to werewolves. It can burn their skin and silver dust in the air at some jewelry shops can prove to be toxic. Therefore, if your boyfriend asks you not to wear your beautiful silver bracelet whenever you’re out on a date, then he might be a werewolf. Or maybe you just can’t pull off silver? 

5.  Does your boyfriend disappear once a month?

If your boyfriend mysteriously vanishes one night out of the month, then take the time to check the nighttime sky. If there’s a full moon outside, then he might be a werewolf. If he belongs to a pack, then most alphas prohibit pack members from revealing their werewolf status to humans— at least until marriage (talk about a shocking honeymoon). If he’s rogue, meaning he doesn’t belong to a pack, then he might just be afraid of how you’ll react to the fact that he’s a werewolf. Most werewolves have difficulty controlling their animalistic instincts on nights of the full moon, hence he might steer clear from you to protect you… or prevent himself from mounting you nonstop.

6.  Is your boyfriend very touchy?

Wolves are pack animals, and they tend to be pretty handsy with their fellow pack members to show their affection. Werewolves are the same, especially with their significant others. Does your boyfriend smother you in cuddles and kisses whenever you enter the room? When you’re out in public, does your boyfriend NEED to hold your hand or have his arm secured around your shoulders? If your special guy refuses to let any inch of space in between the two of you, you might be dating a werewolf.

7.  Does your boyfriend enjoy belly rubs?

Werewolves often roll over onto their backs during cuddle time, giving their darling a puppy-eyed look as they ask for a good belly rub. If your boyfriend loves your hands all over his chest, the act turning him into mush, then he might be a werewolf. Good news is that it’s a surefire technique to turn a big scary werewolf into a giddy puppy.

8.  When having sex, does your boyfriend howl when he climaxes?

Yes, that happens sometimes.

9.  Does your boyfriend claim to have trouble sleeping without you?

Werewolves usually have a pack mentality, meaning that they stick together in groups. This carries over to sleep, in which a werewolf finds it near impossible to fall asleep without their darling in their arms. If your boyfriend constantly tangles himself up with you in bed, and you wake up using him as your pillow, then it’s quite possible that he’s a werewolf.

10. And most importantly: Is your boyfriend really, REALLY possessive of you?

Again, as stated earlier, werewolves are extremely territorial creatures. And if you’re dating one, this fierce possessiveness extends to you. Pay close attention to your boyfriend. Does he growl at people who approach you? Does he seem to always know your whereabouts, almost as if he just “conveniently” keeps showing up? Has he ever said the specific phrase, “You’re Mine”? Have you ever tried to leave and he blocks the door, or tries to lock you away? If your boyfriend insists on keeping you all to himself at all times, then he’s definitely a werewolf!

#werewolf #yandere boyfriend #yandere werewolf #yandere daddy #yandere boy #werewolf lore #magazine survey #possessive love

[ballpitwitch]

John Wick: Chapter 4 - Blu-ray Featurettes

#me 5'4": i will pick him up #Keanu Reeves #kreevesedit #keanuedit #* #this man is boyfriend shaped #my favorite shape #is he even alive if he's not rubbing his hands together #survey says no #he really laughs HEEEEEEEHEEEEE #and it is precious every time #going to sew pockets in everything i own just so i have a place to keep him #thank you for being so animated and talking with your hands #because H A N D S 👀👀👀 #if i speak.... #*cash register noise* *glass breaking* *car horn* #man do i love me some old man eye crinkles #...that's a sentence #it's true tho #*me trying not to scare new people away with my tags and probably failing* #is that double black denim my dude #very canadian of you but slightly cooler

[ultra-raging-ghost]

bads telling the babies the story of the islanders arriving!!!!

hes. also telling it in a really suspicious way, like... idk how to describe it....

#qsmp #liveblogging #particularly him describing how cucurucho wasnt expecting the islanders and was displeased by them arriving #and how the survey was on the spot trying to get to know them/their motives #which might seem like a random thing but it stuck out to me idk.... #he talks about cucurucho like he knows how he feels personally #we get it thats your boyfriend/j

[harmonity-vibes]

Survey...Again XD

#fictional characters #imagines #fictional boyfriend #jensen ackles #dean winchester #pedro pascal character #pedro boys #javier peña #survey #narcos #spn

[ofmermaidstories]

The original plan was to ask your first fictional love and then ask you to choose between him and Bakugo

I think it’s safe to say my plans have changed but in the best possible way

no, no….. let’s talk about it. i think ernie could take him.

#ofmermaidstories-asks #surveys and quizzes and games oh my #i mean canonically ernie is a homeowner LOL #and he and bakugou both have opposite-personality boyfriends that you’d basically get in the bargain

[tenshiharmonia]

I've finally met Tauro, and by Rauru's ears, he's so adorable and hunky ! So, to celebrate our encounter, here is a little scenario I came up with. It’s mostly an excuse to give him a Zonai boyfriend, but hey, I think he deserves it. :p

Now imagine, the Survey Team is investigating some ruins that were spotted in the snowy mountains of Hebra. As they are inspecting the area, Tauro comes across the entrance of some unknown cave. Listening to his archaeological instinct, it doesn’t take long for the intrepid lad to venture into the mysterious chasm, barely taking the time to warn his teammates about his discovery. (I bet you see where this is all going…) Deep within the cave’s freezing tunnels, the enthusiastic archaeologist ultimately happens upon what is assuredly going to be the most important find of his life : a young Zonai man, trapped in a block of ice.

The event is huge enough for the princess herself to make the trip*. Of course, this is a world of fiction we are talking about, so it’s not long before the frozen lad is freed from his prison, awakening from his icy slumber as if it was just a nap. Unfortunately, the young man can only speak in some antiquated Zonai dialect, so it’s up to Tauro and Zelda - who learnt the language from Rauru and Mineru - to explain the situation to him. Naturally, the poor boy is quite confused, but at least he understands that those people don’t mean him any harm. Still, he is now stranded in a completely unrecognizable world, thousands of years away from home, something Zelda can easily emphasize with. Of course, the princess could try and use her power over time to send him back, but considering how relatively inexperienced she is in the matter, it would be far too risky. They don’t even know how many millennia separate them from the man’s original era. Obviously, he hails from a time predating the founding of Hyrule, as the first king and his sister were the last of their people, but it doesn’t tell them much. What if she wasn’t even powerful enough to allow him such a leap ? Sadly, all they can do for the time being is accommodate their unexpected guest the best they can.

But Zelda has the reconstruction of the kingdom to take care of. Having to head back to Hateno, she entrusts their new friend to Tauro. Mainly because he is the only one who can actually communicate with the Zonai man, but also because she knows what a good-hearted and trustworthy fellow the archaeologist is. It goes without saying, but the big guy is more than happy to oblige. It has always been his dream to meet an actual Zonai, and now it’s coming true ! There are so many questions he’d like to ask the dragon man, but he knows that he has to temper his enthusiasm. The situation must already be difficult enough for the poor lad ; no need to overwhelm him even more. For now, the priority is to make him feel comfortable.

So it’s with great dedication and solicitude that Tauro welcomes this new presence into his life. As the days go by, though, the two men start getting closer and closer. Doing his best to help the displaced Zonai adjust to the present era, Tauro takes it upon himself to teach him the modern Hyrulean language. Meanwhile, the dragon lad repays the favour by sharing anecdotes about the world as it was before he got trapped in ice. But what started out as an arrangement of pure convenience quickly turned into something more intimate. As he travels around Hyrule with the Survey Team, discovering everything this new era has to offer, the unfrozen Zonai finds himself genuinely won over by the archaeologist’s charming temperament. His gentleness, contrasting with his manly physique ; his passionate - and sometimes naive - intelligence ; the curiosity with which he looks at the world… truly, there is something about this man he isn’t indifferent to. At the same time, Tauro himself starts to realize that his interest in the Zonai lad might not be purely scientific. Sure, getting a first-hand account of this civilization that has always fascinated him is a rapturous experience. But the inexplicable warmth he feels inside him when he is in the dragon man’s company definitely goes beyond his usual excitement and reverence for everything Zonai…

Aaand this is pretty much all I’ve got so far. I’m not sure about the direction I’d want their story to take regarding how they’ll act on their feelings at first, but I think you got the idea. So I’ll leave the rest to your imagination for now, although I’d definitely like to write something about their very first time. Think of all the emotions it would arouse in Tauro, to actually get to explore the body of a Zonai… that would certainly make for an interesting scene. Still, before I write anything, I’ll need to flesh my Zonai boy more. I don’t really know what I’d want him to be like for the moment, but there are many delightful possibilities. A short and rather chubby warrior, to contrast with Tauro being a tall and beefy scholar ? A towering giant, like Rauru, leading to the amusing situation of the normally huge archaeologist actually being the shorter one in the relationship ? Really, I’m quite spoilt for choice. And I’m not even talking about his personality…

Anyway, I’ll have to work on the details, but I hope that you had fun reading about my silly little concept. :p Take care, everyone. ^_^

* The way I envision it, this would all happen after the events of the game and Ganondorf’s defeat.

#the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #tloz #totk #zonai survey team #tauro #zonai #original character #zonai oc #zonai boyfriend #work in progress #wip #what a joy it is #to wake up and find that one of the sites you frequent has completely overhauled its interface...

[chungledown-bimothy]

the struggle of wanting to collect some information via a survey but needing it to be Perfect before i let anyone else even look at it.

#and the thing is it's not even important #my boyfriend asked me a really interesting question #i answered it as best i can #but now i want Data to see if i'm right #but also i think to get the information i really want it'd be an incredibly complicated survey #i want so many more connections and nuance than just flat data with no clear connections #i guess i could make a bunch of them free-response? #gahhhh i hate this #this is so stressful and it's entirely me putting this on myself

[babylulururu]

so got him within 20 pulls but

they're running fucking HOYOLAND WHY

hoyoland just happened this March WHY ARE THEY FUCKING WITH THE TIMELINE THIS BADLY

they should've just ran marius personal chapter while we waited for halloween mrs smh

#tears of themis #man i dont know how to feel #at least my s chips are safe cause artem is free #but #still kinda ticked that i specifically asked for them to stay on cn schedule in the recent feedback survey #guess that went unheard #</3 #especially because hoyoland happens in the middle of the boyfriend arc #like #development is going to shit #who reads cards in order anymore

[ozzgin]

Once can assume the house tentacle monster has access to the pipes. Pulling your underwear down to go to the bathroom might be perfect access to your holes…

When you mentioned the household pipes being used as tentacle transport, my immediate thought was that the boyfriend must be terribly confused by the spontaneous, unexplainable clogging.

“Hey babe, can you deal with the plumber? I have a match coming up.”

You sigh, putting the towels back in their drawer. You were on your way to take a shower. The monstrous resident must’ve thought the same, as there are horrified shouts coming from the bathroom. You rush downstairs and discover the plumber, crawling his way out in disbelief. There are thick tendrils surveying the area with visibly confused movements.

Ah, perhaps that wasn’t you, after all.

[More monster doodles]

#yandere house monster #yandere x reader #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster x human #tentacle monster #monster boyfriend #terato #teratophillia #doodle

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

#ONE CABIN 🏚️ #ONE BAND #ONE DREAM #ONE DIRECTION #IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN HAHAHAHA #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

[whoistartaglia]

trust falls with genshin mem

neuvillette would catch you and it would be something out of a romance novel. one hand supporting your back, the other your legs. the perfect bridal-style hold. when he realized you’re just playing a prank on him, he’ll gently and gracefully return you to your feet, and sneak a chaste kiss on your cheek as he does so.

wriothesley would try to be a bridal-style hold but start it too late. this leads to him to awkwardly clutch your legs and arm. he might try to adjust his hold and make it slightly better, but if he can’t, he’ll make you do it again, despite your protests it won’t be a surprise anymore. if he does convince you to give him a redo, he’ll have a mostly perfect hold, even as you playfully roll your eyes in faux annoyance.

zhongli would catch you before you even knew you were committing to the fall. a firm touch on your back stops the trust fall before you can even yell it out. what can he say, he knows you better than you do yourself sometimes. if you try to do it again later, zhongli will also best your attempt. and if you try once more, he’ll keep that hand lingering on your back. just in case.

xiao would be very confused and almost let you fall, until his instincts kick in and his body autopilots to catch you. his hold will be firm and uncomfortable as he rights you back to your feet. he gives you a look like what are you doing? he might also ask if you’ll ill, and if you admit it’s a prank he’ll laugh, once, and then ask you to never do that again. you and your mortal antics scare him sometimes, y’know?

childe is familiar with this prank from his siblings, and he’ll play one back, by not catching you until the absolute last second. you think you’re about the hit the cold hard ground, until childe’s hand slips under your back millimeters from the impact zone. everything after that is a whirl as childe bypasses getting you back on your feet, but instead hefts you over his shoulder, maybe twirling you around. what were you thinking, pranking someone with younger and older siblings?

kaeya would warn you that he’s not going to give into you’re little prank before you start the fall. he knows what you’re up to as you survey your surroundings and decide on a place to land incase he’s not quick enough. you ain’t that sly. if you should decide to go ahead with the prank anyways, you’ll see kaeya was just bluffing, even as he grumbles with you now in his arms. give him a peck on the lips, he deserves it.

diluc would literally stop everything to catch you. pouring a drink? it’s on the floor. reading a book? not anymore! his catch might not be terribly graceful, but it’s efficient and gets the job done. you don’t touch the floor and you’re not very disoriented by the end of it. he might ask you not to do that again, before huffing out a small laugh at your prank. a dusting of rose can be seen on his cheeks at the romantic position you put him it.

alhaitham will catch you without looking. yeah, he’s just kind of cool like that. you’ll do your trust fall and alhaitham’s arm will reach out, cushioning your fall and either guiding you to the floor or righting you immediately. he’ll only look at you when it’s over, raising an eyebrow in a judgemental stare, before returning to whatever he was doing beforehand. what can he say, he’s a busy scribe/acting grand sage/boyfriend.

kaveh would fall with you. whether he was also planning a trust fall or just decided to join in, you can’t decide. all you know it that you were falling, he was falling, and seconds later, you had landed, and so had kaveh. except you landed on a confused, slightly miffed, and a little hurt, kaveh. you both laid there in bewildered silence, both trying to understand what just happened. kaveh technically did break your fall, even if it was in rather unfortunate circumstances.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader

[ightham]

the eye doctor completely ignored my eye concerns lol. i told them THREE times that when i look at things out of my right eye, they disappear. i could not read the letters with my right eye because there werent any. and they were saying it was normal for it to be blurry because my right eye is worse. which wasnt the concern.

and then they took images of my eye and stuff and said they look completely normal and healthy but then asked if i had any injury or trauma to my right eye (specifically my right!!) that they should know about. and i was like no? and they were like ok! and didnt bring it up again and kept saying they were normal and healthy

#54$ for just the exam #i dint have a job!! that money was saved up from doing 1$ surveys !!!! #and im going to have to go in AGAIN with my boyfriend so they can advocate for me!!!! #i was genuonely starting to doubt myself bc i was telling them my problem and they just assumed i was lying or wrong

[harmonity-vibes]

#pedro pascal #fictional boyfriend #fictional characters #imagines #fictional crushes #survey #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro boys #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedrostories #pedrohub #pedro is daddy #pedrito #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ppascaledit #baby pedro🥺 #pedropascaledit #tim rockford x reader #mr ben x reader #mr ben snl #tim rockford

[murdrdocs]

plsss do fem!reader getting a call from ethan!ghostface 😩 could be smutty or maybe 16+!! also ur writing is so good wtf

ahhh thank you so so much i'm glad u enjoy it! i rlly liked this request :)) this is SUGGESTIVE 16+ but not smut

Sometimes, truly, if you sit in silence for long enough, you start to consider that maybe you aren’t the best person, morals wise. 

You have your good qualities: helping old ladies cross the street, dog sitting for your friends, helping out sick relatives, doing good deeds without having to be told so. 

But the one bad trait, the one you were currently indulging in, seemed to outweigh everything that was good about you. 

Allowing some sick joke between you and your boyfriend to continue. 

As soon as Ethan switched from his usual, saccharine sweet voice, to the raspy, demanding tone of Ghostface, you should’ve told him to knock it off. Seriously. Not with that light, airy tone in your voice that showed how easily persuaded you are. 

But you couldn’t help but let him convince you to continue. Plus, you could’ve pretended that you hated it. Instead…

“Isn’t your line supposed to be: ‘What’s your favorite scary movie’?” 

Ethan, or Ghostface, chuckled. 

“See, you know the rules, sweetheart. Now, what’s your favorite scary movie?” 

You took a second to think, fiddling with the half completed puzzle that you and your roommates have been working on at the coffee table for two weeks now. 

“Probably Get Out. Does that count?” 

“Is that the one by that comedian, Jordan Peele?” 

“Yeah. It’s not really that scary, which is why I like it, but the plot and storyline is horrifying enough.” 

Ghostface hums and you decide to take a leap. 

“My boyfriend likes those traditionally scary movies, with the jumpscares and excessive gore.” 

He takes the bait. “Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” 

“You didn’t ask.”

You take a seat on the couch, your eyes glancing over the window. Briefly, you considered drawing the curtains, but then Ghostface continued to speak. 

“Hm, maybe I should’ve. Does he treat a pretty girl like you right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, he does.” A beat. “How do you know I’m pretty?” 

“Because I’m looking at you, sweetheart.” 

Your breath hitched. You should have known as much, but just considering the possibility is one thing, having it confirmed is another. 

Attempting to play it cool, you stand to your feet and approach the window. “Really? Because I’m calling bullshit.” 

You pressed your face to the glass and used the hand that didn’t hold your phone to your ear to shield your view from the light inside of your apartment. You scanned the streets below, the windows across from yours, and anything else your eyes could reach, but you couldn’t see anything. It was late, there wasn’t much activity in your complex, and the streetlight that previously illuminated your section of the complex was still out. 

Ghostface chuckled condescendingly. “There’s no point in looking. You won’t find me.” 

Stepping away from the window, you surveyed the apartment. Nothing there, save for the organized mess left by yourself and your roommates. 

“But you can trust my word. I see how delicious you look in that little number. That tight shirt, those tiny shorts. Looking like a whore, begging to be fucked,” he spat the last bit as if the words were venomous. "maybe gutted," he toyed with the idea, “your boyfriend know you walk around like that?” 

Your eyes met the cameras in your apartment, the ones that your roommates decided were needed in this big city. You’d never been more thankful to have them. 

“He does,” you took a seat on the couch again, propping your feet up onto the coffee table and positioning yourself to where you could be seen by the camera. Your legs crossed, and you ran a hand along your thigh. “And he loves it. If he could see me right now I bet he would be cumming in his pants.” 

There was a hitch in his voice, barely noticeable, but there. 

You took his hesitation to spread your legs and trail a hand down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes flitted up to the camera, you smiled softly, lifted your hand in a wave, then stuck it into your shorts. 

“You said you’re watching me, right, Ghostface?”

#ethansworld! #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #celeste writes scream

[readingcryingishot]

greetings fellow readers !!  

the romance genre has grown so much over the years, and i'm forever grateful to see such a diverse fandom for the various books. after all the hype shown for romance books on booktok, i currently came across various videos and articles about who the best book boyfriend is. and i was like, you know what, lets find out! 

this survey has been created to learn about what the most popular preferences are, and who your favourite book boyfriends (or girlfriends!) are! 

after receiving an adequate number of responses, i'll be sharing the data and my favourite responses here, so be sure to circulate this survey to your friends and book clubs!! enjoyyy 🤧💗

#book #books #books & libraries #book recommendations #colleen hoover #bookaddict #bookaholic #book aesthetic #survey #reader #romance #romance books #romance book #boyfriend #book boyfriend