#Channel 56

[oldshowbiz]

[viddybiblio]

MC5 Remastered Channel 56 - Black To Comm Live 1967

[girl4music]

Damn. We lost another Irish music legend.

R.I.P. Sinéad O'Connor

I’m still reeling over Dolores O’Riordan.

I’m mourning for you Ireland.

You’ve gone through a lot.

[ovrgrwn]

I discovered tatu that way and it ruined my life

[demonlordcosnime]

lets play persona 3 reload part 56

[joeygallagher]

Bronze TV Channel 56 8/17/23

Edited by Peter Sidlauskas

[whatsnewalycat]

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist��] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next. 

Channel 11: Nothing. 

Channel 12: Zilch. 

Channel 13: Nada. 

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing. 

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over. 

Got enough for the kids? Over. 

And leftovers. Over. 

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out. 

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in. 

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription. 

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages. 

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board. 

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.” 

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew. 

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.” 

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed. 

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date. 

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight. 

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button. 

“Radio check.” 

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side. 

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks. 

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.” 

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding. 

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.” 

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.” 

“Cloudy. Over.” 

Fuck. 

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues. 

“Anything new with you? Over.” 

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation. 

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.” 

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause. 

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings. 

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business. 

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs. 

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl. 

Your heart skips a beat. 

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation. 

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert. 

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk. 

Indecision churns in your belly. 

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say. 

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow. 

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over. 

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you. 

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? 

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown. 

The lights are on. 

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room. 

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?” 

“N-nowhere.” 

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.” 

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?” 

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod. 

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback. 

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?” 

“Try again.” 

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?” 

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?” 

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog. 

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.” 

“I know.” 

“Then why did you?” 

Your heart thuds against your ribcage. 

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble. 

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.” 

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?” 

You respond by rolling your eyes. 

“Answer the question.” 

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.” 

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.” 

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.” 

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek. 

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud. 

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky. 

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.” 

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.” 

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile. 

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you. 

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps. 

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.” 

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question. 

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?” 

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin. 

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong. 

You also understand that you like it. 

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same. 

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you. 

“Wrong answer.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.” 

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?” 

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain. 

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.” 

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.” 

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?” 

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities. 

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.” 

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.” 

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.” 

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm. 

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room. 

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin. 

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you. 

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?” 

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?” 

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless. 

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack. 

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do. 

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together. 

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?” 

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack. 

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?” 

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire. 

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good. 

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake. 

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.” 

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you. 

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed. 

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense. 

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?” 

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?” 

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release. 

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach. 

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.” 

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs. 

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth. 

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again. 

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe. 

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do. 

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly. 

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his. 

For years and years, you ached for more. 

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t. 

But this is something. 

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel. 

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?” 

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?” 

“Not tonight.” 

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?” 

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter. 

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?” 

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure. 

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.” 

“He pulled out,” you shrug. 

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.” 

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt. 

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?” 

You shake your head. 

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor. 

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole. 

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there. 

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock. 

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further. 

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him. 

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“ 

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?” 

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.” 

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper. 

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.” 

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes. 

“What’s that?” 

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?” 

“That’s none of your business,” he warns. 

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?” 

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?” 

In response, you glare at him. 

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately. 

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?” 

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe. 

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.” 

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body. 

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?” 

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away. 

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.” 

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows. 

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?” 

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?” 

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?” 

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch. 

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again. 

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you. 

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed. 

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.” 

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt. 

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say. 

“This stays between us, understand?” 

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.” 

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead. 

“Good girl.” 

[ NEXT PART ]

[dacrystalsim]

The Sims 3 Teen Style Stuff

The Sims 2 Teen Style Stuff converted to The Sims 3! This pack includes 43 items, 7 wallpapers, 4 floors and a collection file with a custom icon. This pack is base game compatible, please let me know if you're having any issues with it.

How to download:

There are 2 versions, please download only one!

Teen Style Stuff-Merged: Merged version.

Teen Style Stuff-Unmerged: Unmerged version, mix and match to your liking.

Download links:

[SFS] | [MTS]

Credits: EA / Maxis for the original meshes and textures. Special thanks: TS3CreatorCave discord server for all the help and tips and @virtual-hugs for testing the wardrobes and vanity table for me ❤ @xto3conversionsfinds @pis3update Polycount and CASTable channels under the cut.

Polycount: Surfer Racka H 1024 / M 716 Anthony Roc Board Hanger H 1119 / M 807 The It Poster H 216 / M 56 Pear ShinyStation XTR H 974 / M 775 Curves Music Manager H 1118 / M 782 EDUKATE Shelf H 1216 / M 910 Pompadour Dresser H 1161 / M 1021 Roll On H 1480 / M 1110 The Television Television H 1430 / M 1132 Light Waves Ceilling Lamp H 1566 / M 1096 Dirty Clothes Pile H 2 Swervy Curvy Desk H 1226 / M 1140 Curves and Swerves End Table H 411 / M 367 Simple Single H 2256 / M 1578 Simple Double H 3054 / M 2110 Fluffy Rocker H 1098 / M 768 Higher Education H 1340 / M 966 Nova Table Lamp H 692 / M 558 Wall Flare Lamp H 518 / M 414 Lumosity Candle Holder H 601 / M 417 Seat of High-Backed Terror H 1412 / M 1059 Four Star Ceilling Lamp H 1532 / M 1232 Tall and Terrible Armoire H 2766 / M 2274 Mirror on the Wall H 884 / M 621 Patchwork Desk H 1460 / M 1460 Patchwork End Table H 1276 / M 892 Side by Side H 4492 / M 3270 Coture Clothing Chest H 3320 / M 2438 Ahead of the Table H 1610 / M 1126 The Better Bookshelf H 1302 / M 946 Cork It Over Memory Board H 144 / M 100 Princess Collection Coat Rack H 1520 / M 1103 Fine Finish Desk H 2264 / M 1848 You're So Vanity H 2073 / M 1451 Subtle Touch End Table H 1392 / M 974 Fit for Royalty H 2904 / M 2134 Fit for Royalty V2 H 2112 / M 1492 You're So Vanity Chair H 664 / M 464 Stay Out! Poster H 10 Hollywood Print H 48 Bullseye Throw Rug H 20 TuneJammy Blammer Boombox H 1450 / M 1014 Create a Collage Poster Set H 4

[zvaigzdelasas]

A furious diplomatic spat between Israel and the United Nations has broken out, with Israeli officials calling for the resignation of Secretary General Antonio Guterres after he said Hamas’ October 7 attacks on the country “did not happen in a vacuum.” At a Security Council meeting, Guterres called for a humanitarian ceasefire on Tuesday amid the deepening crisis in Gaza, and told the Security Council that “clear violations of international humanitarian law” are being witnessed. He called Hamas’ October 7 murder and kidnap rampage “appalling,” and said “nothing can justify the deliberate killing, injuring and kidnapping of civilians, or the launching of rockets against civilian targets.” “It is important to also recognize the attacks by Hamas did not happen in a vacuum,” Guterres said. “The Palestinian people have been subjected to 56 years of suffocating occupation. They have seen their land steadily devoured by settlements and plagued by violence; their economy stifled; their people displaced and their homes demolished.”[...]

His comments angered Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen, who was in the chamber as Guterres spoke. “In what world do you live?” said Cohen. “Definitely, this is not our world.” Writing on social media later, Cohen said that “after the October 7th massacre, there is no place for a balanced approach. Hamas must be erased off the face of the planet!” Israel’s ambassador to the United Nations, Gilad Erdan, called on Guterres to resign, saying he had “expressed an understanding for terrorism and murder.” Then, on Wednesday, Erdan said his country will block visas for United Nations officials. It had already rejected an application by the UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, Martin Griffiths, Erdan told the Israeli Army Radio channel. “It’s time we teach them a lesson,” added Erdan.[...]

In an effort to “set the record straight,” Guterres said Wednesday he was “shocked by misinterpretations by some of my statement yesterday in the Security Council – as if I was was justifying acts of terror by Hamas.”[...]

But Guterres did not back away from his Tuesday call for a ceasefire, or from his nod towards the historical treatment of Palestinians. The main United Nations agency working in Gaza said it would be forced to halt its operations by Wednesday evening due to a lack of fuel, with the territory having faced days of airstrikes and near-total blockade following the Hamas attacks. Efforts in the UN to endorse a ceasefire have so far been scuppered, with the US vetoing a draft resolution raised by Brazil last week.

Secretary of State Antony Blinken on Tuesday told the agency that “humanitarian pauses must be considered” to allow aid to reach civilians in Gaza, though he notably avoided the phrase “ceasefire.”[...]

The World Health Organization meanwhile reiterated calls on Tuesday for a ceasefire, saying it is “unable to distribute fuel and essential, life-saving health supplies to major hospitals in northern Gaza due to lack of security guarantees.” Six hospitals in Gaza have been forced to shut due to a lack of fuel, WHO added.

There's literally no (0 (zero)) purchase gained by equivocating w these people btw. It is in fact seen as weakness [25 Oct 23]

[reasonsforhope]

Scientists have developed a new solar-powered system to convert saltwater into fresh drinking water which they say could help reduce dangerous the risk of waterborne diseases like cholera.

Via tests in rural communities, they showed that the process is more than 20% cheaper than traditional methods and can be deployed in rural locations around the globe.

Building on existing processes that convert saline groundwater to freshwater, the researchers from King’s College London, in collaboration with MIT and the Helmholtz Institute for Renewable Energy Systems, created a new system that produced consistent levels of water using solar power, and reported it in a paper published recently in Nature Water.

It works through a process called electrodialysis which separates the salt using a set of specialized membranes that channel salt ions into a stream of brine, leaving the water fresh and drinkable. By flexibly adjusting the voltage and the rate at which salt water flowed through the system, the researchers developed a system that adjusts to variable sunshine while not compromising on the amount of fresh drinking water produced.

Using data first gathered in the village of Chelleru near Hyderabad in India, and then recreating these conditions of the village in New Mexico, the team successfully converted up to 10 cubic meters, or several bathtubs worth of fresh drinking water. This was enough for 3,000 people a day with the process continuing to run regardless of variable solar power caused by cloud coverage and rain.

[Note: Not sure what metric they're using to calculate daily water needs here. Presumably this is drinking water only.]

Dr. Wei He from the Department of Engineering at King’s College London believes the new technology could bring massive benefits to rural communities, not only increasing the supply of drinking water but also bringing health benefits.

“By offering a cheap, eco-friendly alternative that can be operated off the grid, our technology enables communities to tap into alternative water sources (such as deep aquifers or saline water) to address water scarcity and contamination in traditional water supplies,” said He.

“This technology can expand water sources available to communities beyond traditional ones and by providing water from uncontaminated saline sources, may help combat water scarcity or unexpected emergencies when conventional water supplies are disrupted, for example like the recent cholera outbreaks in Zambia.”

In the global rural population, 1.6 billion people face water scarcity, many of whom are reliant on stressed reserves of groundwater lying beneath the Earth’s surface.

However, worldwide 56% of groundwater is saline and unsuitable for consumption. This issue is particularly prevalent in India, where 60% of the land harbors undrinkable saline water. Consequently, there is a pressing need for efficient desalination methods to create fresh drinking water cheaply, and at scale.

Traditional desalination technology has relied either on costly batteries in off-grid systems or a grid system to supply the energy necessary to remove salt from the water. In developing countries’ rural areas, however, grid infrastructure can be unreliable and is largely reliant on fossil fuels...

“By removing the need for a grid system entirely and cutting reliance on battery tech by 92%, our system can provide reliable access to safe drinking water, entirely emission-free, onsite, and at a discount of roughly 22% to the people who need it compared to traditional methods,” He said.

The system also has the potential to be used outside of developing areas, particularly in agriculture where climate change is leading to unstable reserves of fresh water for irrigation.

The team plans to scale up the availability of the technology across India through collaboration with local partners. Beyond this, a team from MIT also plans to create a start-up to commercialize and fund the technology.

“While the US and UK have more stable, diversified grids than most countries, they still rely on fossil fuels. By removing fossil fuels from the equation for energy-hungry sectors like agriculture, we can help accelerate the transition to Net Zero,” He said.

-via Good News Network, April 2, 2024

[renthony]

One of your posts made it to WattstheSafeword on Youtube! Talking about Pride! I immediately had to tell you because Amp is a cool youtuber and is pro-kink and celebrates kink. The video is called Kinksters React To Cringe Pride Memes. 23:56 in the time stamp.

I'm actually very peeved by this. They made an entire video stealing and monetizing other people's posts, and I have an extremely low tolerance for that. I appreciate the heads up, but as a general note to all my followers, I am pretty much never happy when this happens.

My husband and I used to watch WattsTheSafeword, and have since come to dislike them quite a bit because of past transphobic remarks and their incredibly cissexist framework. They say ignorant cissexist shit constantly, and as a fat trans person, I'm tired of skinny cis people dominating kink spaces. Maybe they've gotten better since we stopped watching, idk, but the fact that those assholes used my post for their own financial gain is pissing me off quite a lot.

They used my post in a video with a corporate sponsorship deal, on a channel that advertises merch. And meanwhile I have to beg to eat.

Fuck them. My pay links are on my website.

[oldshowbiz]

Channel 56

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Blur - Coffee & TV 1999

"Coffee & TV" was written by Blur's guitarist, Graham Coxon, who also sang lead vocals rather than frontman Damon Albarn (whom later started another little band; the Gorillaz). Coxon wrote the song about his struggle from alcoholism, and how after giving up drinking he would unwind by watching television over a cup of coffee instead and writing songs. This experience also contributed to his first solo album, The Sky Is Too High. "Coffee & TV" reached #11 in the United Kingdom and #26 in Ireland. It was a major hit in Iceland, where it peaked at #2. The song's musical style is an anomaly in comparison with the rest of 13, appearing similar to Blur's earlier, Britpop days. The single edit of the song also appeared on Blur's Best Of compilation, released in 2000, and featured on the Cruel Intentions soundtrack.

The super-cute music video featured a sentient milk carton known as "Milky" searching for Coxon, who appeared as a missing person's face on its side. The video won several awards in 1999 and 2000 including Best Video at the NME Awards and the MTV Europe Awards. In 2002, the video was ranked the fourth best video of all time by VH1. In 2005, it was voted the 17th greatest pop video of all time in a poll by Channel 4. In 2006, Stylus Magazine ranked it No. 32 in their list of the Top 100 Music Videos of All Time. In a similar poll, NME ranked it the 20th greatest music video of all time. The model of Milky, as used in the video, was sold at an auction of Blur memorabilia in 1999. When Blur played at the London 2012 Olympics Closing Concert Celebration at Hyde Park, fans who bought a Blur T-shirt on the day were given a free replica milk carton of Milky. The video is seen on Season 3, Episode 11 of The Sopranos in which Anthony Jr is watching the music video on MTV. Some tumblrinas might recognize Milky as gifs from an ancient tumblr post. "Coffee & TV" received a total of 55,9% yes votes.

[nearlydawn]

nights like this.

⋆ pairing: josh washington x fem!reader ⋆ genre: fluff ⋆ warnings: no y/n, just slight flirting, mutual pining, before prologue ⋆ wc: about 3.1k ⋆ note: not proofread, expect part two ⋆ requested: no

masterlist ⋆ about ⋆ ask

tuesday, 7:56 pm.

both you and josh had been planning this night for what felt like weeks—a movie night. to be frank, neither of you are very coordinated when planning hangouts, but when you stepped inside and saw nothing laid out—blankets, snacks, drinks—or even a recorded movie ready—you knew this was going to be a mess, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips.

sometimes things are better done spur of the moment! josh sheepishly let you in, insisting he forgot, but you knew he didn't—he couldn't have. texts back and forth every day talking about how excited you were proved that—not to mention hannah and beth were trying to tidy things up in the living room, waving at you with smiles on their faces. "i'm sorry—really—i'll get popcorn going," he rushed out, shaking his head softly as he made his way into the kitchen. you could've sworn he was blushing. from embarrassment. obviously. you didn't mind in the long run. you were here, and now the party was really going to get started. "it's alright, josh."

-

you sat criss-cross on the washington’s couch, remote in hand as you scrolled absentmindedly through the channels. josh, on the other hand, was in the kitchen whipping up popcorn. you were supposed to be looking for movies… but nothing seemed to be on tonight. nothing interesting, at least. it bored you to the point you were lost in thought while clicking the down button. their house was one you'd been in many times, and honestly you treated it like your own—albeit a bit better since you wanted to make a good impression. every time you arrived you just felt an immense sense of comfort, like you were wrapped in a warm blanket the second your foot hit the hardwood floor. but i guess that's just the effect the washington's have. on everything, really. whenever you get texts from them you're unable to hide the smile from your face.

the subtle pops and snaps of the kernels filled your ears, as well as the overwhelming smell of butter. it was a nice contrast to the frustration you were feeling... just seeing the same shit as you switched channels—almost to the point where you just wanted to take that dumb, plastic remote and throw it at the screen. deep breaths, you said. just take a deep breath.

click after click, channel after channel, nothing. the only things coming up were reality tv, animal planet—hell, judge judy. honestly, you could've settled for something dumb like 'ridiculousness' or 'the impractical jokers', but you desperately wanted to find a horror movie. you know. that cliché movie scene where the girl clings to the guys arm helplessly as she pretends to be scared—nuzzling her face into his shoulder to 'hide' from the absolute terror on screen. and then the boy consoles her, telling her that there's nothing to be afraid of, but deep down the girl just wanted an excuse to be by him. -

“aye, ya find anything?” he walked up behind you, a dopey grin on his face. his hands rested just behind your head, leaning on the couch. his voice broke you out of your small fantasy... unfortunately. you glanced behind yourself, thumb still auto-pressing like a zombie. “nope. no luck,” you sigh, scrolling so far you reached static.

“mm, well, i'm pretty sure i have dvds lying around somewhere,” he shrugged, patting your shoulder gently as he stepped back.

“now that's more like it.” you smiled with relief, setting the remote down by your side as your hands came to rub your face. "any idea where they are?"

you stood up from the couch, circling it as you followed him back into the kitchen. josh hummed softly, trying to think whilst pouring the popcorn into a medium sized tin bowl.

“they’re either in my room or my sisters, i’d assume,” he concluded, shooting you a knowing look. “we’re all movie people.”

you nodded, walking over to the fridge as you grabbed two bottles of water. “i can go check with hannah and beth,” you smiled.

hannah and beth. they had left the living room in silence the second they were done organizing—no hello or hug like usual. it was a bit strange, but you chose not to question it. i mean, they were only helping him, you know.

your hand lingered on the fridge handle for a moment, closing it quietly as you walked back to the couch. the cold of the water bottles were beginning to burn your hand—a sensation you never enjoyed. quickly, you set them down on coasters on the coffee table, wiping the condensation on your pants.

“so you don’t want to come to my room with me?” he teased, following after you as he brought the popcorn out.

“ew, josh,” a slight scoff escaped your lips, faint blush dusting your cheeks. “i’d much rather talk to your sisters.”

you feigned annoyance, but the smile creeping up on your face clearly said otherwise. it was incredibly hard to hide the fact his little comment made your heart race and all of your blood rush to your face.

silence fell between the two of you—a tension filled silence. your heartbeat echoed in your ears, trying to steady your breathing. his eyes scanned over your face, and suddenly the world seemed to stop. the glow of the tv seemed to illuminate his face perfectly—accentuating all his features. it was like he was luring you in. a sort of magnetic pull that just had you absolutely captivated.

conflicting feelings arose in your mind. it was a known fact that you liked josh—but should you act on them? your heart wanted you to walk forward and close the distance, but your mind was unsure. you were good friends, sure, but it was far-fetched to say he felt the same. he was unobtainable in your book.

“suit yourself,” he grinned, shrugging nonchalantly.

the second time you were broken out of your thoughts.

his voice was smooth—the way he replied igniting a spark within yourself. he turned around almost as soon as he spoke, disappearing into the hallway that led to his room. as his footsteps slowly dissipated, you finally exhaled. honestly, you didn’t even know you were holding your breath.

but, did he always look at you like that?

- the walls of their home were decorated in a plethora of family photos, some of just them individually. there weren't many of josh, but the ones they did have up were cute, mostly him as a little boy with a goofy grin on his face. excited about his first day of kindergarten—catching his first fish—all his milestones. you couldn't help but look at all of them as you wandered around in attempt to find hannah or beth. you envied the washington's a bit—a well off family with a big house that just so happened to own an entire fucking mountain, not to mention the lodge and other buildings on that property. (dare i say nepo-children?). no matter how many times you were in that house, you only seemed to remember where hannah's room was, aside from the living room. your footsteps were quiet as you navigated, walking up the staircase with your left hand on the railing. as you reached the top of the steps, you b-lined it to hannah's room, knocking on her door gently. you could the muffled sounds of laughter, followed by soft steps as the door swung open—beth greeted you with a tight hug. hannah was sitting on the floor in front of a line-up of nail polishes. fun! "hey," she grinned as your name fell from her lips, "long time no see! i thought you and josh were supposed to be watching a movie?" she let her hands fall to your sides, holding your arms as she gently shook your body back and forth. "yeah, we were going to—" you smiled, laughing a bit as she took your hand and brought you into the room, "i came to ask if you guys had any dvds. he said they might be in here." the twins shared knowing glances, and they both nodded as they looked back at you—almost in sync. it was scary. were you first hand experiencing twin telepathy? they had a full-on conversation with their eyes alone. "they're in my room, i'll take you." beth took your hand in hers again, leading you out of hannah's room almost as soon as you arrived. you quickly waved to hannah, mouthing 'bye' as you were practically dragged through the endless hallway. a couple turns away and you were in front of her door. a small, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her lips, glancing between you and the door as she opened it. "can i tell you something?" it came off as a question, but you knew she was going to say it anyway. beth walked straight to her bedside, picking up a stack of movie cases. you stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe with you arms crossed. a bit skeptical, you nodded, "of course." she almost seemed giddy at your reply, walking calmly over to you to hand you the tapes. there was an expression you couldn't quite read on her face. it was like she was excited—but also like she wanted to hide it at the same time. your arms opened to take the dvds, holding them to your chest as you read the titles from the top down, slipping the case to the bottom of the stack once you were done. "i'm pretty sure josh has a thing for you," beth started, tucking her bottom lip in between her teeth. she was trying to shut herself up, but honestly she couldn't keep it in any longer. your eyes flicked between the names of the movies and her face, your brows furrowing. she knew something you didn't. "what do you mean?" curiosity laced your voice but your eyes never met. you avoided her gaze. she leaned on the wall beside you, watching as you were suddenly so focused on reading all of the movie titles. "well, for starters, you are the only girl he's ever invited over to the house," beth nodded, sticking out a hand to count how many things she was listing off. she stuck her thumb out. "the only time he ever sees sam and the others are when we go to the lodge or hang out as a group." you hummed a small 'mhm', wanting her to continue. to say you were intrigued would be an understatement—you wanted to hear more, needed to hear more. just a half hour ago you were trying to convince yourself it was too good to be true, and now you weren't so sure. "and, he keeps asking han and i what kind of things you're into." she stuck out her pointer finger.

resting her head on the wall behind her as she looked up at the ceiling, she continued: "he's been listening to a lot of fleetwood mac ever since we mentioned it to him."

a small laugh managed to escape you as you listened to her, followed by a gentle nudge on her part. "i'm serious, i've never heard someone listen to gold dust woman so much!"

“maybe he’s just being a good friend—y’know, i always try to get into—“ beth placed her pointer finger to your lips, a quick and silly way to silence you.

“can you just trust me on this one?” her voice was desperate but playfull, her hand dropping to her hip.

a beat of silence fell between you two. it wasn’t awkward, just giving you time to think about it all. and then it dawned on you.

he’d been flirting with you the entire time.

stolen glances, the way his hand brushed against your own, little presents here and there—everything began to make sense. and you looked like a fool. blush instantly rushed to your cheeks, shaking your head as your eyes met beth’s.

“and you’ve known this for how long?”

“about 4 months. he begged us to not say anything—i swore on my life.”

another beat of silence.

“does josh know that i—“ you began, cut off by beth once more, this time by her words.

“nope, not to my knowledge. unless han said something, he is also oblivious.” she reassured, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“is it as painful as watching chris and ashley dance around the topic?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly with a bashful smile on your face.

“worse, actually, way worse. you guys are always so close to making a move, and then you chicken out.”

you shook your head once more, then glanced back down at the movies. they were all comedy except for one—‘the shining’. you’ve already seen it, quite a few times actually, but it wouldn’t hurt to play it. you politely handed the other movies back to beth, tucking the horror case underneath your arm.

her palm fell from your shoulder, taking the movies into her hands as she returned them to her bedside, then right back to the spot she was standing at.

“okay, but, that still doesn’t explain why he ‘forgot’,” you put air quotes up, “about our hangout today. is something up?”

“well,” she sighed, glancing to the floor before she met your eyes again. “i honestly don’t know. i think you just make him nervous, he was kind of just sitting around fidgeting all day.”

you nodded, butterflies swirling in your stomach. you made josh nervous? hell, he made you nervous. palms all sweaty any time you got too close—your body naturally heating up—not to mention how you always get red in the face when he stares at you for too long.

“promise you won’t say anything.”

“i won’t.”

-

eventually, you had made your way back to the living room, this time ignoring the family photos and instead trying to figure out if you were going to say something to josh. each step you took matched your heart beat, nice and steady. that was until you spotted josh on the couch, eyes closed.

your heart fluttered a bit just seeing him. despite only being apart for a couple minutes, you couldn’t help but miss him. it was a familiar feeling, unfortunately, it came with the burden of having a crush on him.

as if he felt your presence (undoubtedly heard your steps), his eyes opened as he turned his head to look in your direction—immediately sitting up straight with a small smile.

“there she is,” he stood up, walking over to meet you in the middle, “i’m guessing they had the movies?”

“mhm,” you nod, handing him the case. “you’ve seen ‘the shining’ before, right?”

he shook his head, taking the dvd into his hand, examining it. his eyes glanced between you and the writing on the case. "horror?" he questioned, sauntering over to the tv—you followed after. "would you rather watch 'pretty woman' or 'ferris bueller's day off' again?" you teased, leaving him to put the movie in while you sat on the couch, sneaking a few pieces of popcorn. josh chuckled gingerly, popping the disc from the holder straight into the dvd player. you changed the hdmi until it displayed the previews for other movies, signifying that you were on the right one. he strolled back over to you, sitting on the other side of the couch. comfortable silence fell between you two as he skipped the previews, immediately turning the movie on. he seemed invested—which was good—but you were starting to get bored. it was a great movie, don't get me wrong, but having seen it a few times... it just wasn't something that sparked your interest. compared to the other movies, this was the best bet. "scared?" you turned your head to look at him, a small smirk on your face. "need someone to hold onto?" "yes, definitely," he retorted, a dramatic flare grazing his voice. josh almost immediately moved closer to you, your knees touching as his arm hung on the spine of the couch—behind your body, of course. "what would i do without you?" you rolled your eyes, graciously accepting the newfound warmth that spread through your body. yes, from the proximity, but also because your heart was racing once more. he seemed so eager to be beside you. which is a good thing. - minutes passed and you found yourself watching josh's face more than the movie. he was completely entranced—hyper-focused on the screen in front of him, oblivious to your fond eyes examining his every expression. and over that time, your positions had changed. his arm was now resting around your shoulders, pulling you (basically) as close as possible, with your legs touching, both of you glued to each other. you could feel each time he was startled—his body tensing—then relaxing. eventually you decided to watch the movie, your eyes returning to the bloody horror that was being displayed. your head rested on his chest, and you wrapped your arms around his abdomen—a lazy hug, but also because it was more comfortable this way. you swore you could feel his heart rate pick up. "scared?" he mocked, glancing down at you. you scoffed, shaking your head gently against his body. “if anyone’s scared it’s you,” you retorted, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

josh looked back down at you, this time holding the eye contact. both of your eyes simultaneously flicked between the others eyes and lips—the two of you thinking the same thing.

your lips parted almost instinctively, both of you leaning in—

“am i interrupting something?”

hannah’s voice cut through the tension like a knife—neither of you even heard her coming. you sat up quickly, blush evident on your cheeks.

“not at all,” josh replied, his arm still around hour shoulders—he seemed rather calm—but his body was tense against yours.

you didn’t want to admit it, but it was so excruciatingly obvious she interrupted something. with the way she was grinning, she had to have known it too.

a small smile fell on your lips, looking at her, that same mischievous smile that her sister wore was now on her face.

beth was right. you and josh dance around the topic too much—at this point, you need to come up with your own choreography for it. the fact you two almost kissed—faces so close—yet so far.

how long were you going to have to wait for it to happen again?

thank you all for being so patient while i took my time writing this. pretty sure i experienced writers block lmao? i got kind of lazy halfway through but hope you enjoyed!!! let me know what you think in the comments pretty plzz tried to hurry this shit out like 3 days ago and got bored but now i REALLY had to have it done by today so i could watch arcane s2 LMAOO also i'd like to say that i got my layout inspo from ruewrote, so thank you for having a blog (lol)

[obsidiendo]

DUESSEL: "And I'm sure you're quite amused with the outcome, aren't you?" Duessel tries to keep his voice level, but there is an anger that is swelling deep within his chest. He closes his eyes, tries to center himself. "And what of your companion? Is she of the same mind -- to leave us here?"

VALTER: “ What’s not to laugh at? The two of you went through all this effort to collect your fiends and then— ” (A dramatic snap of his fingers.) “ —delivered right into the hands of your enemies. A perfect tragedy! ” At the last remark, he shrugs. “ I don’t care what she thinks. ”

This back and forth is only a momentary reprieve, if you could call it that. The heat rises and coats his mouth, making it harder and harder to breathe. Luckily Citrinne and Gerome are not distracted by the banter, and they keep their minds on the task at hand.

"..."

He sighs, breathes in through his nose as Gerome is freed. With eyes closed for just the moment he begins to swing, ready for Citrinne to help catch him and bring him down.

CITRINNE: Her hands only loosen after Gerome's bindings are freed, only realizing how tight her grip has been after slowly letting go. But she cannot rest yet, as the second man still needs assistance. "Of course, Sir Duessel," Citrinne nods before whispering to Gerome. "Can you...help as well?"

GEROME: Gerome nodded. "Of course. It was my plan to."

DUESSEL: Duessel leans as if to begin his escape, when his eyes narrow on Valter. "Are you doing something you should not be doing?"

VALTER: “ Why would I do that? ”

CITRINNE: "Could you two argue after he's safe on the ground?!" Citrinne finally snaps at her teammate.

VALTER: “ Before and after. ” He smiles. “ I agree with that kind of thinking. ”

He ignores him as best he can, and swings, swings --

-- lands. Safe now, he inhales sharply and tries to ignore the frantic beating of his heart. He's not someone who likes heights -- even taking away the whole 'lava pit' part, he feels out of place. Uneasy on his feet, and unsure what to do next.

Pleasantries are exchanged, and Duessel looks up just as Valter grabs Minjina... and runs.

END.

𝚆𝙻𝚅𝙸 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝟻𝟼: Creature Double Feature!

𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚂𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚃𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂, 𝚆𝙸𝙽. 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎! ▼

--- starring our two contestants: Duessel from Grado and Gerome from Ylisse! ---

[demonlordcosnime]

lets play genshim impact part 56