#INT: 2 Moments

[outofcontexttokusatsu]

Have a Kingohger screenshot while I continue to bravely make my way through it

[skywalkerbootleg]

one time in my DnD adventure

DM: You need to hide your weapons, because they'll alarm the guards

The party, frantically trying to find hiding spots and changing their appearance, hiding small swords in boots and long swords under cloaks

our rogue: hm now I just need to figure out where to put my bag of holding

everyone else: ...you have a bag of holding?

rogue: yeah why?

[homoeroticvillain]

my tav and the companions have such a funny dynamic to me. cause my tav is just so on board with self sacrifice and personal harm if its him but not if its anyone else. but he is also an oathbreaker and doesnt want to make decisions for anyone else so it ends up with like gale saying hes planning on blowing himself up cause his ex wife told him to and my tav is just like "please don't blow yourself up. i mean you can! its your decision, of course! but i wouldn't. ...okay i would, but you shouldn't, but you can! you have that choice! but... i'll be sad :["

[echoesofadream]

shfhjs de bråkar hela tiden

[codnasties]

cod characters fucking fleshlights

this post includes: soap, ghost, gaz, price, graves, konig & alejandro

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soap 🧼- the one that takes his time

now, this ain't soap's first time using a fleshlight. he started with a tenga egg or something like that, just for the sake of trying something that wasn't his hand. and i just know that troughout the years he has created a decently sized collection with a lot of varietiy: fleshlights imitating pussies, asses, mouths,... even if a man like him could easily pull a pretty lass to fuck, with the job he has and what it requires of him, it isn't always ideal.

but there is one thing that soap does, no matter weather he's fucking one of his partners or a plastic replica: he takes his time. stroking himself tentatively before lubing his dick up and loweing the fleshlight onto his hard on until he's balls deep. and when i say he fucks it as if it were a real person i mean it. he's fucking int in diferent positions, jerking himself with it but also fucking into it, both slow and fast until cums all over himself

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ghost 👻- the stretcher

ghost sometimes has to ask himself if he's really that big and thick or if it's just that the one or two fleslights he owns are way too fucking small. he doesn't know, but he very much loves it. there is something about the size difference, the way the plastic stretches to fit him and how he can perfecly see it expanding as he pushes his dick deeper into it that makes him go feral.

now, other than his size kink goin brrr, he finds himself swiping his cock against the flesglight's pussy-like entrance, as if he were teasing a real cunt, before fucking himself slowly into it. he's mersmerized by the plastic doll completely swallowing up his aching hard dick until he's balls deep. he also intends to pull out - just to save himself some clean up - but he finds himself so overwhelmed by the feeling and visuals that he just fill the fleshlight up with his potent cum - more than once, at that -.

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gaz 🧢- mess making perpetrator

this may be my most repeated gaz headcanon but he's a mess maker and there is no deniying. when he get's home from a mission or something like that and he doesn't feel like trying to find a partner to fuck, he always has a trusty fleshlight. the thing is, he doesn't even make it to the bedroom most of the time, deciding to just fuck it in his livingroom.

he just plunged deeply into the plastic pussy, stretching the plastic over his limit because his dick is too long for the small fleshlight, almos breking it. the pent up hornyness and the feeling of something other than his hand wrapped around his dick sending him into an orgasm faster than he expected. he pulls out to first his impossibly hard cock when he feels himself about to cum. and he stains the sofa with it as the mess perpetrator that he is - and let me tell you, it ain't the first time he's had to clean his seed out of that sofa.

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price 🚬- the first timer

price is an older and more traditional man, he would rather fuck another person than some piece of plastic. but he keps hearing his men talk about fleshlights, how good they feel,.. and all that combined with the fact that he ain't getting younger, he's extra tired and trying to find a partner with a job like his is tedious, he decides to get himself a fleshlight just to try it out of curiotisty.

what he did not expect was that god forsaken piece of plastic would feel that fucking good. all it took was some slow deep strokes into it before he found himself cumming. and at that moment his lust filled brain took over and he started fucking himself into the fleshlight again, trying to extend the pleasure of the orgasm. let's say he now fully understands why his men praise them plastic holes.

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konig 🗡- the nasty fucker

lets be real, konig is fleshlight collector number 2. anxiety gets the best of him so he would rather to make do with some plastic pussy or ass than having to deal with the hassle of interacting with people. his not that experiended ass is fucking enamoured by the feeling of and ass or pussy, even if it isn't a real one.

now, konig allways finds himself doing two thing every time he uses one of his fleshlight. a. he moans. like a bitch in heat. he can't help it, it just feels overwhelingly good to have something wrapping tightly around his unexperienced cock. and the fact of finally getting some release. b. he makes messes - yup, mess making perpetrator no. 2 -. spit, precum, lube and cum mixing all together, covering his dick, hands and fleshlight as he fucks himself dumb and slaps his dick all over yhe plastic ass.

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graves 🪦 - the stressed

now, these military men always find themselves stressed out, it's a part of the job. but for graves, said job and the tension that it generates have kept him away for some time now from a real pussy or ass. so a fleshlight is a good alternative, giving him all that he needs to reach some much needed release.

the few occasions he has had enough time to indulge in some pleasure, he's going to make the most of it. alternating slow, sensual deep strokes and fast shallow ones. hands making sure that the fleshlight stays in place as he plunges into it chasing an orgasm and moanig at the sweet feeling of release. he for sure cums deep inside of the plastic masturbator, because it may be plastic, but he loves creampie-ing it the same way he would creampie a real person.

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alejandro 🤠 - the tip teaser

alejandro doesn't strike me as the type of person that would have a proper fleshlight, you know? instead of a piece of plastic that fully engulfs his dick he has one of those quickshot ones. a transparent one at that. it gives him a lot of options, from fully jerking his cock with it to just teasing his tip.

and oh does he love to tease his tip! using that comact masturbator to play with his angry red bulbous tip. pushing just the head in and out, sometimes tilting it to make his dick pop out of the fleshlihgwith a wet noise. and seeing his cock breach into the plastic, dick twitching at the feeling, his stomach spasming from the sensation... he always inevitably cums all over himself, staining his hard shaft, lower hairy stomach, thights and even the quilt.

[pit-2-podium]

A compilation of my favorite chaotic f1 moments (2024) (in no particular order)

lewis to ferrari like before the season begins

kmag (as a whole)

shoving an 18 year old into an f1 car with like a days notice

said 18 year olds father looking So stressed

the appendix saga part 2

alpine civil war (ciao)

F1 drivers x era's tour

Alonso inspecting the McLaren car going wtf

Max inspecting his own car going wtf

Lewis fixing his own car

Hungary.

The Adoption

The rookies

Mercedes sabotaging lewis allegations

Lando & Max beef

you came, you called (foul versions)

Lewis winking at Nico

"Simply lovely"

"LOL"

"Yabbadabbadoo"

George getting disqualified

Liam lawson looming over danny ric

Mechanics in the rain

Sauber's socials as a whole

Hamilton x Hamilton (not technically int he sport but listen)

On that note "man am i greatest? x femiminonon)

Leo and roscoe meeting

Carlos vs Oscar fight to death's

Oscar mom

There is more but these are the first coming to mind

[tofics]

You Owe Me - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Forced through circumstances out of your control to rely on Joel Miller, you end up traversing the country with him. You're not particularly enthralled with him, and neither is he with you - or so you think, until your period strikes, and you're practically bed-ridden. Or: Joel can't stop jerking off to you after he accidentally got a taste of your lips.

Warnings/tags: canon typical show/game violence, sort of dubious consent (reader gets kissed without being asked and only later agrees), age gap (reader is about ~25 years younger), enemies to lovers kind of, awful period + period cramps, jerking off, fluff, slap on the cheek (brat taming??), unprotected p in v

Word count: ~9k

Previously: How all of that had brought him here, kneeling behind you as the sweetest moans fell from your mouth once more - he didn't know. Joel couldn't tell whether you were a blessing or a curse, if you were the price he had to pay or the price he received. Seeing as how his life had gone though, it was unlikely that you were the latter. And yet he couldn't help but feel like he'd won when he brought his thumbs down on the sides of your lower spine and earned a low moan in return, long and elongated and putting all kinds of pictures into his mind that his head momentarily fell to his chest, a pained expression painted across it. No, no. You were both. A blessing and a curse.

"Joel?"

The mention of his name brought him back to reality. He blinked once, twice, before his eyes focused on you. You were looking at him over your shoulder through hooded lids, your hair all frizzy around your head from how it had rubbed against the cushion. Lord have mercy. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said you looked all fucked out.

"What is it, darlin'?"

There it was again. Not your finger in his face, no, but your bottom lip slowly pushing out into a pout. Joel swallowed. You had to be doin' this on purpose, right? ...right?

"You stopped." You looked at him with your pout, all sad and sorrowful. It was such a pitiful picture that the corners of Joel's mouth quirked up.

"Sorry. Thumbs're hurtin', is all. Gimme a moment," he replied and shifted so you hopefully, hopefully couldn't see the strain in his pants.

You sighed and plopped your head back down on the sofa. Joel exhaled quietly in relief.

"S' still hurting like hell in the front," he heard you murmur into your arms.

"Hmm?" His thumbs were hurtin', he hadn't lied about that. While he waited for the ache to pass, he gently drew his fingers across the exposed skin of your back. He could do that much, at least. And he'd get to keep touching you.

"S' still cramping like hell," you repeated and looked back up at him over your shoulder. That goddamn pout.

Joel inhaled deeply. Keep yourself in check. His hand brushed over your lower back once more. "I know, darlin'. I'm sorry."

He'd had a lot of low points in his life, there was no doubt about that. But this, this had to be his lowest. Joel was bent over what had once been a bathroom counter, his forehead bunched up as he brought his fist down around his hardened cock, once, twice, again and again. Here he was, furiously jacking himself off behind closed doors, trying to hold in his moans and groans through gritted teeth and bitten lips while you finally slept in the living room.

It had taken a while until you'd been able to drift off to sleep. Joel had massaged your lower back a little longer, the hard-on in his pants pressing uncomfortably against the seams, but he hadn't dared to adjust himself for fear of you turning around and seeing what your moans had caused. He'd felt like a fuckin' teenager, getting a boner like that from just touching on you. It was ridiculous. And then, you'd asked him to pet your head.

Can I lay on your lap while you brush over my head? He was convinced then that you knew. You simply had to know. But there was nothing on your face that indicated any form of evil intent on your behalf. You just wanted his comfort - you were in pain, nothing more than that. Joel had scolded himself, then awkwardly gotten up with a pillow already held to his crotch as inconspicuously as possible. C'mon, he'd said and you'd laid your head on his lap, two layers of worn out fabric and a few measly clumped up feathers being the only thing that kept your face from his hard-on. He'd almost felt ashamed as you closed your eyes and he began stroking a hand over your forehead. Sick old pervert.

That's how he felt now, hunched over as he got himself off to the memories of your moans once more. He came onto the splintered wood with a muffled groan, his free hand balled into a fist. Sick old pervert, he told himself again as he wiped his hand on a ragged old towel behind the bathroom door and closed his pants back up. He'd make sure to tell you not to go into this bathroom when you woke again next morning. Dead infected, he'd say, and hope that you wouldn't check.

Your period wasn't any more forgiving on the second day than it had been the first. You spent most of it on the couch, dozing in and out of your misery while every single bone in your body ached. The only times you got up were to change your pads and to do your business in the backyard, making sure each time to tell Joel to not look. He was weirdly gentle with you, bringing you water every now and then and making sure you ate. He'd apparently found a well in one of the backyards just a few houses away, so at least you didn't have to worry about dehydrating while you bled and bled and bled.

You woke up again sometime in the late afternoon to the warmth and crackling sounds of a fire. Joel must've had started it in the fireplace while you had been asleep. You also found yourself draped in a blanket that hadn't been there before. A small smile appeared on your face at the gesture. Gruff and snappy as he was, he sure had his sweet moments, just like when he'd massaged you last night.

With a stifled yawn you stretched your (still) aching limbs, then paused mid-stretch as your eyes landed on something by the fireplace. What was that hanging from a string above the fire...?

"JOEL!"

Thump, thump, thump. He came thundering down the stairs and sprinted into the living room, rifle raised.

"What, what," he asked hoarsely, his eyes quickly scanning the room for whatever danger had made you call out to him. You glared at him from your position on the sofa.

"Did you - did you wash my pads?!"

He blinked, then lowered his rifle. A hint of pink colored the tip of his ears. "Uh... yeah. Figured you'd need 'em." He scratched his neck, shuffled his foot.

You kept staring at him. "You... washed. My pads."

You could feel the heat in your face as your own cheeks got colored a soft pink.

"Uh-huh." He nodded again. "Washed 'em out in cold water first, then boiled 'em..." Joel finally seemed to pick up on your embarrassment. "Ain't much different than washin' bloody clothes." He shrugged.

"Umh. Thank you." Pink was a long forgotten shade. Your face resembled more that of a tomato now.

"Don't mention it." Joel stood in the doorway a moment longer, then went back upstairs to do whatever he had been doing before you'd called him down.

Some things fade as time passes. For example, you didn't remember much about your mom. She'd passed away early on after the outbreak, and you had been so young, barely ten years old, that you had a hard time recalling her in your mind. There were a couple of times though when you'd hear her in your mind clear as day.

This was one of those moments, as you stood in the upstairs bathroom of the house you and Joel were staying in. The cracked mirror was foggy as you stepped up to it and ran a hand over the cold and wet glass. Your reflection was slightly warped, but you could see the warm flush in your cheeks, the way your damp hair settled around your head.

Baths can make you feel like a new person. She'd always said that as she'd bathed you when you were sick, and you had to give it to her. She was right about that.

Joel had surprised you with a bath, of all things. He'd spend a day upstairs scrubbing down this tub so he could fill it with hot water, one bucket warmed up over the fire carried up after the other, the tub filling up painfully slowly. You'd walked up and down with him with each water delivery excitedly, watching how the water level slowly rose. Of course you had offered to carry some of the buckets yourself - it's for me, just let me do the work - but he had just shaken his head and grumbled at you. I got it.

It had felt so good, slipping into the warm water. You carefully used the strands of soap you had shaved off of the piece Joel had stashed in your backpack, taking your time as you slathered your body from head to toe. The warmth of the water relaxed your muscles. By the time you were done, you truly did feel like a new person.

You had spent the last three weeks in the same outfit, but now you slipped into the spare set that had been in your backpack. Complete with a fresh pair of panties and a fresh pad, you couldn't remember a time you'd felt so comfortable in the last three, now almost four weeks.

The drain gurgled as you let out your bath water. Soap, grime and blood all swirled around and then slowly disappeared down the creaky old pipes.

Joel sat downstairs by the fire as you came down. His gaze flickered up to you from his book as you stepped into the living room.

"How was it?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to express your gratitude. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, nestled around with the fabric in your fingers. "Like a whole new person," you said finally, a soft smile settling on your lips.

He could tell you meant it too. There was a sense of serenity about you that had been severely lacking the past two days - hell, the last couple of weeks. Joel hadn't known you all that long, but this was the first time you didn't seem tense.

"Mhh, I can tell. Might have to go through that whole hassle again, make me a new person too. Sure could do with a new pair of knees."

The bath didn't grant him a new set of knees, but he couldn't deny that he felt fresher than he had in weeks. He came down the stairs to tell you how you'd been right, running a hand through his damp locks to get 'em out of his forehead when he found you on the couch, a sour expression on your face as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Thought you said you felt all fresh," he commented as he sat down in the armchair again. He couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed at the sight of your frown. Hadn't he helped you feel good? You mumbled something under your breath, still staring at the ceiling.

"What's that now?"

You sat up with a sigh. "I said I did, right up until these fuck-ass cramps picked up again." Another one shot through your abdomen right then, like your uterus was giving you the finger for what you had said. You winced and closed your eyes, your nostrils flaring. Why, why had you been born a woman?!

"Back hurtin' you again?"

You nodded, unable to keep the pout from your lips. "The whole damn deal."

Joel knew. He knew he shouldn't. He'd done so well today, busying himself in completely taking apart his gun, cleaning it meticulously before setting it back together as you took your bath. The idea of you, laying in that tub in just your birthday suit - it had only appeared to him once, maybe twice. His hands had stayed out of his pants, he hadn't paid any new visits to the downstairs bathroom.

But now, you were in pain. He shouldn't offer. He'd done enough today, heaving bucket after bucket of scorching hot water up the steps to fill that tub for you. He'd done his share.

"Want me to have another go at it?"

God-damn-it, Miller. Pray she says no. What was he supposed to do? Let you suffer?

Damn right you should, he scolded himself.

"Would you? You've already done so much for me today. I couldn't impose on you like that -"

Damn right, you couldn't.

"Ain't no bother, sweetheart. C'mon. On your knees, like yesterday."

Diggin' yer own damn grave, that's what yer doin. And didn't he know it.

You were so compliant, so quick to get down on your knees in front of the couch. Joel had half a mind to put a stop to the images that were already flooding his mind at how swiftly you slid from the couch to the ground.

Sick old pervert. Gettin' off on commandin' a young little thing to get on 'er knees.

His joints ached as he dropped down on one, both knees behind you, once again glad for the fact that your head was already buried in the sofa cushions. He was sure the eagerness was written across his face, just short of some drool leaking down his chin.

Should be ashamed of yerself.

He would be, later. When he'd undoubtedly be curled over the bathroom counter once more, spray painting its remnants with his cum. He'd been so good today-

"Joel." You whined in front of him, lightly wiggled your hips as if to say get a move on. Joel found himself questioning once again if perhaps you did know what you were doing to him. "Alright, alright. Gettin' to it, kiddo. No need to whine."

Just like the day before, you melted like chocolate under his touch. Your tense body became pliant, coming loose under his strong thumbs digging into your back. Up your spine, up up up, from down around your tailbone all the way up to your ribcage. In his fingers dug, kneading through your skin and muscles like you were dough.

He'd pushed up your shirt a little higher this time, just an inch or two. You hadn't commented on it. Save for his name, you hadn't said anything since you'd gotten back down on your knees. With the first slump of your shoulders came your first moan, sweet and short, like you probably had moaned when you'd dipped your toes into the hot water first. Joel pressed his thumbs up your spine carefully, running his calloused tips deep into your tissue. A red trail followed his motions as your skin began to bloom under his touch.

Up and down, up and down. His fingers worked tirelessly into your aching back. Joel's brows were furrowed in concentration as he searched out the kinks in your muscles, finding the delicate spots that made you jump and keen. Whether you knew it or not, the words tumbling from your lips when he found a point that gave you trouble were like cocaine to him. Oh my god Joel, right there, fuck- and shit, yes, that's the spot- and right there, right there, oh good fucking god.

It took about three of your moans and one mumbled praise for his work until you'd hitched the tent in his pants again. Joel's cock twitched in his boxers as he dug into your back, begging to be set free. The tips of his ears were burning, set alight each time you commented on another knot he found in your back.

Sick old pervert.

He couldn't help it. Touching you was like drinking nectar. He'd never felt anything so delicate under his weathered hands, never before touched on skin so soft and warm -

"Fuck, Joel, right there. Oh god, yes. Don't stop, please."

You'd be the death of him.

"Tell me where it hurts, babygirl."

Your hands came around your back, shakily trying to locate the spots that bothered you. Joel backed up an inch so you wouldn't accidentally brush over his hard-on.

"S' in here-" Your hand flew over your lower spine, close to your tailbone, where Joel had already spent a good portion of his energy. "An' here-" You fingered over where your bra sat, then hunched up your shoulders. "-n' here, drawing all up into my neck." Your fingers trailed up your neck and got lost in your hair at the base of your neck.

"Mh." Joel tutted at you. "Got my work cut out for me, hu, darlin'?"

He saw your head beginning to turn towards him, likely to interject how he didn't have to, but he laid his hands on your shoulder blades instead, swiftly pushing you back down into the cushions. "Ah, ah. Ain't said I wasn't gonna do it. Relax, darlin'. I got you."

He could feel the grumble vibrate in your chest as he slid his fingers down your spine. "Mh. Lotta' spots givin' you trouble, mh?"

She said as much. Ya need te hear it again, sick old pervert?

"See if we can rectify that for ya, eh? Let Joel take care of ya."

He knew he was treading on thin ice, practically heard it cracking under his feet. His words bordered on dirty talk, but he just couldn't help himself. You gave your back to him so willingly, downright begging for his touch.

He was just a man, after all.

A sick, old, perverted man.

"Might wanna lose this, darlin'. Gonna be a relief for sure, n' I can't go rubbin' over it." Joel lightly tapped on the clasp of your bra over your shirt. He already knew he was going to hell anyway. And he really couldn't go on rubbing over your bra. Wouldn't have been comfortable, for you or him.

He'd expected you to object, had half expected a lecture (that he rightfully deserved), but none of that came. Instead, he watched you do that little wiggly move he'd seen women do before where they reach under their shirt and take their bra off without anything ever showing. It had always been one of his favorites to see. One second a woman would be wearing a bra, the next it got tossed across the room, not a single piece of clothing ever having gone amiss in the meantime. As far as Joel was concerned, it was a little magic trick.

And you pulled it off without a hitch. He tried not to look in too much detail as you put the garment next to you on the sofa. He had other things to focus on.

Wallpaper, wallpaper, hole in the wall, wallpaper, rusty nail, crooked crown molding. He could've fixed that easy, back in the day. Didn't need much more than the tools in his belt to do it. Would've made a fine job of it too.

Door frame. Tarnished, cracked. Long forgotten. He could take care of it, bring it back to life, with just a few touches here and there. Just a bit of straightening up the ridge, nothing too fancy. He could certainly do it, expert that he was, doing work with his hands. He'd bring the wood back in shape, love the wood like it was meant to be, gently work on it until it'd comply with his hands and mold to his touch, soft and warm-

No, no, strong and hard, like wood was supposed to be. Fuck, this was going nowhere.

Joel was doing all in his might to distract himself from how you were falling apart under his touch. Your moans didn't let up, praises flowing freely from your mouth as he slowly worked his way up your entire back, pushing more and more of your shirt out of the way until all of your back was exposed to him.

He was glued to the carpet where he knelt, afraid to even move an inch. If he looked hard enough, he could imagine the soft rounds higher on your torso, where shoulder blades softly gave way to what he was sure was a delightful pair of boobs-

No, nope, he wasn't gonna move. Couldn't risk it, not even an inch. If just the thought of your breasts sent his head careening, what would a mild case of side-boobs do to him? He couldn't risk it.

Pity what you consider 'standards', pervy old man.

He did what he could. And he was making you feel so good. You kept telling him so. That had to count for something, didn't it?

You wish.

Where was he, then?

Door frame. Right. Perhaps he'd have to replace parts of it. That'd be okay, too. He'd have to find wood to match the leftover structure - sand the original down, couple of times likely, then apply the stain. He could make sure the new and old pieces matched up that way-

"Fuck, Joel. Yes. Right there."

His head slumped down in defeat.

"Babygirl, please. Go easy on me. I can't do this no more." Joel's beard touched on his chest as he shook his head. "I can't - I'm tryin', I am -"

He heard you shift, felt the loss of your warm skin under his hands as you turned around in front of him. He couldn't look, just kept his eyes shut, not out of respect but-

Open yer damn eyes, you coward. See how she looks at you. Face your shame.

Joel forced his eyes open.

He wasn't met with shame, or even disgust. You had a worried look to you, like you couldn't quite figure out what had happened.

"Are you okay? I'm - I'm sorry, I knew I shouldn't have let you go on for so long, your hands must be hurting-" You felt awful. Joel looked like he was in actual pain. In all your bliss, you had let him work on your back for way longer than you had promised yourself, and he had overexerted himself.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you started again, but then his hand flew up in the air, silencing you almost immediately. You looked at him with big eyes, trying to read his face. He was red all over from how exhausted he was.

Let an old man work for you like that, you should be ashamed. What are you, a princess?

"Joel-"

"Darlin', I ain't hurtin'. Is' - s' just - goddammit." You watched him run a tired hand over his face. Was it just you, or were the tips of his ears a slightly darker shade of red than the rest of his face?

Joel sighed. You looked at him with worried eyes. What had you done?

"Sweetheart, ain't about you workin' me to the bone. I don't mind that one bit. Trust me," he insisted as you opened your mouth to object. "S' about how you... how you respond to my touch."

You furrowed your brows. "Uh...huh?"

"Your moans, darlin'. They're just about killin' me."

...oh.

You felt your face flush red in a couple of seconds. Of course. How thoughtless of you.

"I'm - I'm real sorry, Joel, I didn't-" Joel shifted in front of you, visibly uncomfortable, and your eyes fell into his lap, widening at what you saw.

Oh.

If possible, you grew a couple shades darker in the face. You could feel the heat pulsating in your ears as your eyes flicked around the room, unsure of where to look. "I'm - uhh, sorry...?"

You heard Joel huff. "Will you quit apologizin'? S' fine. I'm the one that ought to be apologizin'. Ya didn't mean te-"

"You? You've been nothing but good to me all day! You did nothing wrong!"

Another huff of amusement. "I got a tent in my pants here that says otherwise."

Your eyes found his, decidedly staying on his face. "Yeah well, but that's... natural. Not like you're doing that on purpose."

"That bit, no. But I'd be lyin' if I said touchin' on you, workin' your back - that ain't just entirely for your benefit."

He figured if he went with the truth, he might as well come clean about it all. Half-truths had never really been Joel's thing.

He watched you work through his words, could practically see the gears in your head turnin'. He wouldn't have blamed you if you had told him off, hell, he was expecting your finger to come flying into his face any minute now.

"Alright."

He blinked, once, twice. Hu?

"Alright?"

You nodded, slowly at first, then more decidedly. "Alright. Yeah."

Joel's eye was twitching. "Uh... catch me up, darlin'. I got no idea what you mean."

"I mean, alright. Yeah. You can... do me. If you want to."

He watched the words come out of your mouth, heard them coming in through his ears, a faint ringing sound following them. Surely, he had to have heard wrong.

"Come again?"

A slow smile spread across your face. Joel watched it stretch out, like a cat waking up after a nap. The ringing sound in his ears wouldn't die down.

"I said, you can do me. Fuck me. Make love to me, whatever you wanna call it. You have my consent."

Well, now you've done it. You've broken the man.

Joel kept looking at you, a blank expression on his face. The silence between the two of you began to stretch so long that you were seriously beginning to worry.

"...Joel?" You snapped your fingers twice in front of his eyes. "Miller? You home?"

His eyes zeroed back in on you and you let out a sigh of relief. Not a stroke, then. Good. The tips of Joel's ears were burning a bright red. You had to bite down on your lips to keep from smiling.

"You... good?"

He nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. Thought I heard you say I could do you there for a second. Fried my brain for a moment."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. The mighty Joel Miller, feared by all, reduced to an abashed puddle by just a few of your words. Now wasn't that something to see.

"Probably cause I did. Do you need me to write you an invitation? Put my consent on paper? You surprise me, Miller. Didn't seem much to care for it when you pulled me in for that kiss on the stree-"

"Uh-uh." Joel suddenly growled and leaned forward, towering slightly over you on his arms. "None of that again. I paid my dues. Got you out. I drew you a damn bath, girly. What more do you want?"

His finger was right in your face, daring you to object to him. You bit down on your lips once more, trying not to grin at the reversed roles.

"I want you to help me with my cramps. Not on my back. In the front. Please?"

Look at that, you old fucker. Got her on her knees in front of you, begging you to take her. Ain't you a lucky old bastard.

And didn't he know it. Joel's tongue darted into his cheek as he looked you over, taking in your puppy eyes and slight grin that was surely meant to taunt him, but only spurned on the hitched tent in his pants. If you had been a sight to see while he drooled over you in secret, you were almost out of this world when you wanted him to touch on you. Like that.

He shifted around on his knees, a hand on his crotch to find a more comfortable position for his hardened cock that was straining to spring free. "Darlin' -" His voice was strained. "Not that I don't want to, but it wouldn't be right, me being that much older than you-"

Oh, so now you got standards, you pervy old man? Who are you trying to fool?

"Joel, do I need to beg?"

Yes darlin', please, on your knees, impatient and whining like when you were waiting for my hands on your back-

"Cause I will."

Lord have mercy.

Joel had you scooped up in his arms faster than you could blink, bringing you onto his lap in one swift motion, his old arms and knees suddenly very willing to be cooperating with him.

"No, sweetheart. Don't gotta beg," he said as he cupped your face with his hands, running a gentle finger over your cheek to tug a hair behind your ear. "Joel's got you. I'll help you with your cramps. No begging needed."

He looked at you a moment longer, determined to take all of it in. The way you were looking at him expectantly, a soft tint of color in your cheeks hinting at the fact that you were perhaps a bit nervous, the way your teeth bit down in your bottom lip. There was a glint in your eyes too, the kind he had seen when he had pleaded for you to work with him. You looked wicked, bewitching. You could've told him to lick the floor in that moment, and he would've done it, no questions asked.

Joel Miller was a goner for you.

No news there, you old fuck. Now get to it, before she changes her mind.

Joel took one last look at you before he gently tilted his head and put your lips on his. It was a gentle kiss, soft and probing, just testing the waters. He was dipping his toes in, seeing how you reacted to him.

Your lips met his hesitantly, just a blank, unmoving canvas at first, but then you came to life. He felt your lips beginning to move against his own, tentatively and careful, just like he had been. Joel's right hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your head to hold you tighter, his left thumb drawing soothing circles on your other cheek for comfort. I got you, darlin'. Let yourself fall, he was trying to say, and you seemed to understand, sighing and relaxing into him with your body.

Spurned on by your reaction, Joel nipped at your bottom lip, asking you to let him in. He didn't have to ask twice. Your lips promptly opened at his silent request, letting Joel's tongue in to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

My god, you tasted like heaven. Joel was certain he'd never tasted anything so sweet in his life before and he couldn't hold back the groan that had built in his throat. His hands flew down to your hips, securing you against him tightly, as he rocked forward to push himself up. "Hold on to me, sweetheart."

You were so obedient, legs swiftly gripping around his waist as he pushed himself up to heave you and himself on the couch. Joel grunted with the effort and from impatience. He couldn't wait to feel your legs wrapped around him like that without a barrier of fabric between them.

You were gently laid down in your preferred place for sulking, though you couldn't currently remember which, if any problems you had had in the past few days to complain about. Any and all period-related issues seemed to have flown right out of your mind the moment Joel had put his lips on yours, and your brain was too busy tracking the movement of his hands on your body to do anything else, even if it was just about 'remembering'.

He had laid you down on the sofa and had positioned himself over you with one knee between your legs, while he steadied himself with one foot on the ground. The couch wasn't very wide, but you didn't have it on your mind to complain, and neither did Joel. Not that you would've had any time to complain either. Joel was too busy by keeping your mouth occupied with his own while his hands traveled up and down your body as if he was trying to map out all your curves and dips. He must've had more than just two hands, the way he was feeling you up, his hands seemingly everywhere on you at once, brushing over your shoulder, running up the side of your neck to tug on your hair at the base of your neck, holding you at your waist to steady you, then gently cupping your breast before giving it a careful squeeze. There wasn't any part of you that remained untouched and all you could do was try to remember how to breathe in between moans.

"Joel," you panted when he'd abandoned your lips in favor of your neck, trailing down kisses towards your collarbone where he nipped at the skin and then promptly brought his lips down on the harsh mark, soothing what little pain he caused you. There was a growing need between your legs, your arousal mixing with your wetness from your period. You felt a tug in your abdomen, decidedly different from the cramps you had been experiencing for the past days. While also slightly painful, this one was born out of want. You wanted Joel inside of you - no, needed him inside of you.

So you're an old-people fucker now? Yeah?

Apparently, you were, if Joel Miller could be described as "old". He certainly felt anything but as his hands glided under your shirt and found one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger trailing up the soft skin until they found your nipple to take between them, rolling it gently between his finger tips. You moaned into Joel's mouth at the sensation, bucked your hips up into him. Needy, needy, needy. You needed him.

Old-people fucker. Yep.

"I got you, darlin'. I got you," he reassured you when you ground your hips against him, willfully. "Just gotta sample everything on the menu first, before we get to the desert. I got you, sweetheart. Relax."

You whined at his murmured words. You couldn't relax, it was the furthest thing from your mind when there was a pool of heat between your legs that you needed to be cooled down.

"Ah, now." Joel tutted in your ear as you writhed beneath him. "Patience, darlin'. You trust me, don't you?"

You pushed your bottom lip out in response. Of course you trusted him. But that didn't mean you couldn't ask him to hurry the fuck up?

There was a light smack on your cheek before you knew it. You blinked, feeling the stinging sensation before heat spread through your cheek where his fingers had struck you.

"I set the pace. You hear me, sweet cheeks?" Joel's beard prickled against your tingling skin as he pressed soft and gentle kisses on your blooming cheek. "'Nough with the impatience. I got you. I'll take care of you. You gotta trust daddy Joel."

Fine, perhaps he got a little carried away with his smack, but you didn't seem to mind, not severely anyway. He watched you closely just in case, looking for signs that you were uncomfortable or wanted him to stop, but even though you'd looked mildly shocked after he had struck your cheek, your eyes had soon glazed back over with bliss as he worked your nipples between his fingertips. Attagirl.

Joel felt like a kid on Christmas morning, the way he got to undress you piece by piece. It was like tearing off wrapping paper, except he didn't tear through your clothes (not for a lack of want - he'd have scoured the down for new clothes for you if he didn't know that was just a tad overboard) but carefully slipped them off of you, piece by piece, step by step. With each garment of fabric that got discarded on the floor, he got to unearth more and more of you. More of your delicate and soft skin that he had been lucky enough to get a taste of from behind as early as the previous day.

He got stuck on your boobs for a good long while, drawn in by the sight as soon as he pushed your shirt up over them. It was just too good of a sight to pass up, and he had to get a taste to commit your breasts to his memory for good. He sampled one boob first, kissing up from below it and working his way towards your areola, taking his time with your nip as he whirled his tongue around it, even gently pulled on it with his teeth.

Joel couldn't decide what he liked better, the way you felt and tasted under his tongue or how your body responded to him, writhing and rocking up towards him to meet his mouth, the sweetest moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he mapped out your torso with his tongue. It was a hard decision, and he kept falling back and forth between it.

He knew he was pushing your patience by sound of your moans changing. They got breathier and whinier as he went on, sampling your other breast in the same slow and painstakingly precise way he had the other, and he could hear how worked up you were getting, your whines rising in pitch with every stroke of his tongue.

"Joel, please."

He chuckled, drew himself up to meet your pleading look at eye-level. "Gettin' there, sweetheart. I promise." Joel watched your bottom lip push out once more into that delightful pout of yours. He dipped down to suck on it, pulling your plump lip in between his and nibbling softly on it before capturing you in another sloppy kiss.

If it hadn't been for the stark reminder in his pants, he would've worked you over until you were nothing but a whimpering mess underneath him, begging for him with tears in your eyes, but alas, he was nearing the end of what he could take as well.

There was only so much he could do to your upper body before he inevitably got pulled downwards to where you wanted him most, needed him most.

You all but scrambled to help him get out of your pants as he tucked the fabric down your hips, your bottom springing up into the air when he tapped a cheek and nudged his head upwards. "Up, babygirl." A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he pulled your pants down your legs, carefully slipping them off your feet. "Needy little thing, aren't ya. Mhh, me too, darlin'. Can't wait either." He lightly grabbed your calf and helped your leg up on his shoulder, peppering kisses up your shin towards your knee.

You fumbled with his hair when he continued his trail up your thigh, stopping him when he was more than halfway towards his target. Joel looked up at you from between your legs, his hand running up and down your leg that was holstered on his shoulder. "Somethin' wrong, babygirl?"

You mumbled something unintelligibly, color blooming in your cheeks without his palms ever having come near either of them. You were too quiet for him to hear all of it, but he could make out a few words here and there. Period and all he heard and don't wanna make a mess and the smell.

Joel kissed your thigh again, not nearing your core. "Don't gotta worry about that, hun. Ain't nothing I'd care about. But I'm not gonna do somethin' you don't want. Alright?" He looked at you, made sure you saw the sincerity in his eyes. You fumbled around with your fingers, visibly uncomfortable. Joel kissed your thigh once more.

"Ain't gonna do anythin' you don't like," he repeated and brought himself up again so he was hovering over your torso once more, lavishing kisses on any piece of skin he could find on his way, save for where your panties kept you hidden from him. He made sure to move around it with enough distance that you knew he took you seriously, honored your boundaries. He still had standards.

Low fuckin' standards. More like bare fuckin' minimum.

If anyone had told you you'd be under Joel fucking Miller three weeks ago, you'd have laughed at them and asked them if they'd had one too many helpings of moonshine. Yet here you were, stark naked from top to bottom, laid out for him to see like an exhibition piece under no one else than Joel fucking Miller, about to fuck you.

It was as much as a surprise to you as his tenderness had been. Besides the strike on your cheek (which, the more you thought about it, you didn't really mind) he was being more than soft and gentle with you, working over every spot of you with a dedication and mind for detail that you had never encountered before. You had been exceedingly grateful when he had heeded your wishes about not coming close to your core with his mouth, and it could have been your imagination, but he had seemed even more gentle with you when he slowly coaxed your panties off of you, praising you and leaving kisses all over as he went. You'd never been called so many pet names in one day, let alone within the two minutes it took him to get you out of your underwear. Doin' so good, darlin' and you're so beautiful, sweetheart and never felt a thing so soft, tasted anything so sweet had been among the many, many things he'd purred at you.

Now he was lining himself up at your entrance, kneeling on the sofa with one leg while he steadied himself with the other on the ground as he softly padded the tip of his cock against your soaking folds. You still didn't feel too keen about being out in the open like that, blood just leaking out of you unstopped, but Joel seemed to have an answer for that too.

"Gonna draw you another bath afterwards, mh, pretty girl? Get you all cleaned up nice?" He dipped just the bare tip of his slightly leaking head between your lower lips, gently dragging it up and down, coating himself in what you were sure was a bloody mess. While picturing what was leaking out of you made you tense up slightly, Joel seemed blissed out at the sighed of it. You could see the glint in his eyes, the hunger that was written all over his face as he dragged his cock up and down through your slick, coating himself and more of you in it.

"Ain't that the prettiest cunt I ever did see," he mumbled, his eyes transfixed on your entrance. You felt your cheeks bloom once more, both from the compliment and embarrassment you felt. It was a strange sensation, to feel so flattered and put on the spot at the same time.

Joel didn't give you much more time to think about it though. You flinched when you suddenly felt his warm tip tapping against your clit, gently but forceful enough to send tiny sparks flying through you. "There she is," he said and you saw the smile draw across his face. "Saw you getting all lost in your own pretty head, darlin'. Can't have you zoning out now, we're just getting to the good part." He lightly tapped against your clit once more, a sly grin taking over when he saw how you inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"With me now, sweet cheeks? Ready for me to come inside?"

Joel fucking Miller, a man full of surprises, as you had come to learn. Looks like he could learn after all.

"Yeah," you breathed out and shook your head eagerly. "Yes, please."

You saw his eyes darken as you renewed your consent. A growl sounded from his chest and he quickly dipped down once more, surprising you with another fierce kiss. "Attagirl."

You felt him align himself with your entrance once more, the tip of his length pressing against your aching entrance. "Eyes on me, sweet cheeks," he murmured and your eyes quickly flew to meet his, not wanting to do anything that could stop him from what he was about to do. A kiss was placed on the edge of your lips. "Good girl. Listening to me so good. Makin' me real happy, you know that?"

You gasped as you felt Joel slowly pushing into you. It was a good stretch, on the brink of too much, but he took it slow, pushing in inch by inch while he peppered your chin with more kisses in between murmured praises. "Look at you, taking me so well. Doin' so good, sweetheart. S' a bit of a stretch, hm? Yeah? Pretty thing like you, all tight for big ole' me?" More kisses rained down on your face, Joel's beard tickling over your cheeks as he kissed down your nose, teeth nipping at your lips. "God, you feel so good," he breathed out and you watched in awe as his eyes fluttered close. He was filling you out more and more and you wondered how much more there could possibly be of him as he kept gently pushing into you.

Joel stilled as he bottomed you out, the tip of his cock pressing into you deeply. You could feel it deep inside of you, a gentle push on a spot you alone could never reach, not even dream of reaching. Your breath was shallow, trying to get acclimated to his width.

You felt Joel's beard brush against your face as his head dipped down. "God, darlin'. Takin' me so good. Let me come in all the way, didn't ya? Such a good girl." Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him retract slightly, the gentle pressure on your inside slowly retreating as Joel slowly pulled himself out of you. Not all the way, no, just enough to make you worry he could, but then his teeth were softly nipping at your chin and you were being stretched out again as he caaarefully drove himself back inside of you.

You made something of a gurgling sound as your eyelids fluttered close while your eyes rolled backwards into your skull. It was the most excruciatingly slow pace he could've taken, and though you knew - guessed - he was doing it on purpose for you, not to tease you, you couldn't help but yearn for more, and faster.

Your hands flew up to Joel's back to pull him closer to you. Would you not have had Joel's penis painfully slowly plowing into you at this moment, perhaps your movements would have been more coordinated. But alas, your hands fumbled all over the place, pulling and grabbing at him in an attempt to get him down to your face so you could kiss him, to hopefully spurn him on to get a move on. You groaned into Joel's mouth when your lips connected at the same time as he met your insides with the tip of his cock once more.

"Fuck, Joel."

He grinned like a stupid school boy as he heard you curse. Hadn't he dreamt of this just a night ago, hunched over the broken bathroom sink? Even if he had imagined it, he never could've imagined this, the real deal. Filling you out with every inch of him was so much better than he ever could've dreamt up himself. Where your moans had been like cocaine to him, your pussy was just straight up heroine. One push inside of you and he knew he was a goner, lost to your pussy forever. He would never feel anything like it anywhere else, that much, he knew.

"Yeah, baby? That feel good?" He kissed your ear as he pulled himself back out, then drove back into you. It was an agonizingly slow pace, but he wanted to savor every moment of it, drag it out for as long as he could. Who knew if you would allow him such a delicacy ever again? He had to make the moment last.

You nodded below him, your cheek rubbing against his scruff as you did. "S'so good, Joel," you murmured against his ear. "But faster, please. Please go faster."

Now how could he say no to such a kind request?

Joel felt his knee object as he adjusted his position on the sofa, preparing himself to fuck into you faster.

Not now.

He didn't have time for aching joints and other ailments. Not when he had you below him, asking him to go faster. Now who was he if he denied a pretty girl like you a favor like that?

A sensible man instead of a pervy old fuck, perhaps?

No. He'd have been a heartless old fuck, that's who.

He grounded himself into the floor with one foot and then got to work. Never mind his fifty-six year old hips. Never mind his aching, complaining knee. He had a job to do, and he was gonna do it.

Joel fucked into you like his life depended on it. He gradually increased his pace until the old sofa was creaking and shrieking underneath the two of you, but those weren't the sounds he was listening for. His hearing was attuned to you instead, carefully dissecting each moan and groan that fell from your lips. What did you like more? What made you groan, what made your fingers dig into his back?

Joel acutely listened to the cues of your body, your verbal ones taking the lead while the rest did their own speaking. He didn't care that your nails pierced the skin on his back, or that you drove your teeth into his forearm, likely leaving a bite mark that would last him a day. It'd be a kind reminder of the gift you were giving him, and had he not been pounding into you at this very moment, he likely would have fantasized about giving the old bathroom another run while staring at the bite on his arm, perhaps running his tongue over the indents in his skin that you were so kindly imprinting at the moment.

"That's right, babygirl, take what you need," he encouraged you and did his best to give you what you needed too. He had heard about it once, how cervical stimulation could help with period cramps, and he could only hope he was alleviating your pain in the same way you made him forget about all his aching joints. Joel wasn't fifty-six as he drove himself into you again and again, he was twenty-five at best, fucking his heart into your pussy like she owned it.

"Joel - Joel -," you whined underneath him and he laid a gentle hand on your face, turning your chin with his thumb so you'd look at him. "Whaddaya need, babygirl? Hm?" He never stopped his pace, never slowed down so you could think better. Joel watched your brows furrow as you tried to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm - Joel, think I'm gonna -"

"You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Yeah?" Even though his instinct was to lower himself on you so he could kiss on you again, he knew better than to change his pace or angle now. If he was lucky enough to be able to gift you with an orgasm, he wouldn't pass that chance up, even if it meant to starve himself of your lips.

Your face was scrunching up like you were thinking real hard. Moans were no longer falling in a steady stream from your lips, but Joel didn't worry. He'd been with enough women to know the signs, knew that you were getting close. Even though he missed your moans, excitement tightened his chest as he drove himself into you again and again, hoping to push you over the finish line. It'd be the best damn thing he'd ever done.

He felt you clenching around his dick, your walls cramping down around him more and more as your breath hitched in your chest coherently. One, two, three more pushes, and Joel saw the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. You fell apart underneath him, moan after moan flowing from your heavenly lips right into his ear, jumbling into one another as your orgasm rocked through you. Joel bit down on his tongue hard, the sight and sound of your climax enough to make him cum right there and then, but he was determined to fuck you through it. He owed you that much.

"That's right, babygirl, let go," Joel cooed as you convulsed underneath him, wave after wave of pleasure slowly rolling through you. He fucked you through it like he promised himself he would, then slowed in unison with your ebbing ecstasy, despite his dick yelling at him to keep going.

Not now. He had other things to focus on.

Joel leaned down to kiss your blissed out face. First your forehead, then each closed eye, down your nose, over your right cheek, left cheek, the corner of your mouth. You kissed him back lazily when he finally landed on your lips, a satisfied hum vibrating in your throat.

"You good, darlin'?" Joel searched your face as you slowly blinked up at him. He ran a thumb over your cheek, drawing small circles on your soft skin.

He didn't care that he hadn't finished. He could do that later, in the bathroom when you were asleep. Of course, nothing would feel as good as your silken walls wrapped around his cock - but that would be fine, too. He'd have all of this to remember, to draw from for the rest of his life, if need be.

You nodded slowly, a sheepish smile on your face now that you had come down from your high. "Yeah. Think I made a mess of you though."

Joel looked down at his pelvis. He was covered in your blood and slick, tinting his pubic hair a deep shade of red. "Don't you worry about that, sweet cheeks. Nothing some water can't clean up. Want me to run you another bath?"

Periods aren't fun, that much was true.

But you couldn't help but think that perhaps, they weren't the worst thing in the world, now that you laid in a bathtub full of warm water, while Joel Miller slowly massaged your upper body.

Having your period in the apocalypse could prove as a challenge, but it helped to have help. Help like Joel Miller, who washed your pads and massaged your back and fucked you deeply to help with your cramps if you asked him.

Yeah, perhaps periods aren't the worst thing in the world, you thought as you tipped your head up and pulled Joel in for a kiss. You could certainly survive another period or two this way.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Credits: plant divider by @strangergraphics

A/N: Yep, part two out not even a full two days later because I could not stop thinking about this fic. This is only the second time ever I've written smut (not counting part 1 of this mini-series?) and I would highly appreciate some feedback! (Don't hold back on the criticism too if you got any, I can take it!) This fic was definitely very much influenced by @strang3lov3's 'Seeing Red' story which I highly, highly recommend, and the fact that I was on my own period. Also, if anyone's wondering, I couldn't stop thinking about these goddamn gifs so I had to bring the cheek biting into this. 🥵 Now, none of this is proof-read so I apologize for any typos etc. Hope you had fun reading this! Please leave a comment if you did 🫶💓

(No pressure) Taglist:

@missladym1981 @guelyury @roboticsupersonic @auteurdelabre @ashleyfilm

@mandojojo @picketniffler @vickie5446 @frogsdeservelovetoo @elli3williams

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @justajoelsreader @oldmenenthusiast

[angusbyrne]

Angus would accept the role of a traditionalist. That was a previously-crafted outline that was easy to step into, and comfortably far from the wild man he refused to emulate. He rubbed absently at his chin, taking stock of the stubble that'd started to come in as the sun very slowly sloped back toward the horizon. He hummed politely as Natalia continued.

"I never told you that you had to be boring," he said with ostensible warmth and good humor. "I simply recommended a good dose of responsibility: social, financial, moral... That's not too boring, is it?" Despite the heat, the tips of his fingers still felt cold and twitchy. "You know, I've seen that film La vie de bohème. The starving artists on the Left Bank, if they still exist—I don't imagine you rub elbows with them all too often, do you? The philosophical descendants of the Charles Baudelaires and Leonor Finis." It was a fascinating mental picture, imagining Natalia as one of the women captured in a Toulouse-Lautrec painting. Slumped at a table in profile, a half-empty bottle of wine before her, caught in a moment of reflection.

As they continued on, the din on the lawn grew quieter and quieter. Angus never imagined he would ever be so happy to disengage himself from a networking opportunity. He exhaled heavily, then made the conscious decision to turn it into a breathy chuckle by the tail-end of it. The sign of good nature, of the outline he stepped into. "I've always been more of a Sudoku man, if all truth be told."

Natalia looped her arm around Angus's offered one with ease, always appreciating what a gentleman he was compared to the other men at Woodrow. The thought of chivalry has probably never occurred to the likes of Reuben or Dante.

"Please, you're a traditionalist. You'd probably go into shock if a woman ever beat you to the punch." Angus was arguably the most predictable man Natalia knew, and she didn't mean that in a way that was unkind. It was actually a compliment given how some men liked to carry themselves with the turn of the century — all sagging pants, baggy clothing, and yo what up's. Angus was well-tailored suits, expensive watches, and a firm arm to hold onto as you walked from one place to another. She wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to ensure he walked on the side of the road facing traffic when strolling on a sidewalk with someone too. He seemed the type.

"Ha. Don't be jealous now, Angus. It's unbecoming," she teased, her tone light. If only he knew there were a few Aurelies and Juliettes among the string of casual lovers she'd found herself entangled with Paris. "But no, I haven't eloped," she reassured him. "I'm decidedly focused on work. Living my life, enjoying it. Being boring," she tacked on for good measure. "Just the way you like it." Much like her catch-ups with Alison, Natalia avoided the unsavory bits when it came to chats with Angus. He didn't need to know about her dalliances with women, or that she'd occasionally sleep with her boss — a divorcée in her mid-forties. He'd probably have a stroke, and she wasn't keen on attending another funeral so soon.

It was easier to share about her life when she pretended that her last day in Paris never happened. If she cut out Geneviève telling her not to come back if she left, her life was still as wonderful as she wanted it to be. To avoid thinking about not having anything to return to after this week was over, Natalia doubled down on poking into Angus's private life. "So just because work's far too busy doesn't mean you don't have time for play... What do you get up to when you're not working? There has to be something you do for fun. Don't make me picture you sitting in some sad apartment doing the crossword until it's time for bed."

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝙎𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢...

Read part 2 here - Soup...

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

screencaps: @din-jarring they are amazing, the best most amazing person. I definitely recommend you check them out 🫶🏻

Pairing: dark!Raider!Joel Miller x fem!virgin!reader

Summary: Seven years after the outbreak and with two days of starvation looming, desperation drives you to attempt stealing from your own assailant. But in this dire bid for survival, what unforeseen consequences await?

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, VIRGIN READER, breaking and entering, bondage (belt), groping, spit, fear, non/dub-con, guns, toxic people, degradation, praise, (maybe kind of), fingering kinda, biting, male moaning, breeding kink, kissing, kidnapping, mean joel, daze, kinda inexperienced reader, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it, kids. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 2.5K

Your pulse quickened as a looming silhouette tore through the door of your family's cabin, a formidable rifle in hand. The once serene sanctuary of your family retreat had morphed into something ominous during the seven years since the outbreak. Time had shrouded the cabin in secrecy, but now it felt like it held more secrets than safety. With no one around to offer aid and your provisions dwindling, a sense of foreboding gripped you. Who was this intruder, and what did they want?

Huddled behind the worn fabric of the couch, you trembled, trying to decipher the intruder's intentions. The eerie silence of the cabin was only broken by the sound of your racing heartbeat and the slam of the empty cupboards. The emptiness of the cupboards, devoid of sustenance for two long days, added to the dread coiling in your stomach.

Your father's departure had cast the first shadow of unease. Taking the only means of protection—a small pistol—he left behind a void filled with questions and fear. When days stretched into weeks without his return, your mother embarked on a desperate quest to find him, leaving you alone to wrestle with gnawing uncertainty.

Peering cautiously from your hiding place, you observed the intruder ransacking the kitchen. Panic surged as you spotted the cabin door ajar, a white van parked conspicuously outside. Desperation prompted a daring idea – if there was nothing left to steal, why not take whatever the intruder possessed? With knowledge of the terrain on your side, you calculated a plan to hide in the woods until the coast was clear.

You watched the intruder's every move, hoping for the perfect moment to act. When he cautiously ventured into the bathroom, likely searching for supplies you lacked, you seized the chance to make your move. With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slipped out the door and tiptoed toward the van, determined to reclaim control of the situation.

Peering into the dim interior, you scanned for any signs of danger before cautiously stepping inside. The van's interior was a jumble of crates and boxes, their contents obscured by shadows. Time was of the essence, so you swiftly lifted the tarp covering the crates, revealing precious bottles of water. With careful precision, you gathered as many as you could carry, ensuring not to drop any or create any disturbance.

Exiting the van, you concealed the bottles in a nearby bush, intending to wait there until the intruder departed. Once the water was safely stashed, you returned to the van, continuing your search. As you reached for a few cans of canned food, you suddenly found yourself confronted by a terrifying sight: a tall, muscular man with a rifle pointed directly at your face.

The sound of the cans dropping from your hands seemed to fade away as you stood there frozen in fear, unable to move or even think. The man had a heavy, muscular build, with dark hair and an incoming beard that made him look even more menacing. It was clear that he had been watching you, and that he had no intention of letting you leave without a fight.

As you struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding before you, the man's voice shattered the eerie silence, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Caught red-handed, are we? Thought you could just waltz in and help yourself to my supplies?" His words were like a cold slap in the face, jolting you into a state of panic.

Before you could utter a word in response, he roughly pushed you onto your back, the barrel of the gun pressing into your chest. Fear gripped you tightly as you found yourself unable to move, your mind racing with thoughts of imminent danger.

"Please, I didn't mean any harm. I'll put everything back, just please don't hurt me," you pleaded, your voice quivering with desperation. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he grabbed your arm with force, pushing your chest against the center console. Your heart sank as the cold metal of the gun dug into your back, a sense of hopelessness washing over you.

In that moment of vulnerability, you couldn't help but curse yourself for choosing to wear a dress today. The fabric rode up your thighs, leaving you feeling exposed and defenseless. It served as a harsh reminder of how unready you were for the predicament unfolding before you. While you weren't naive, you'd had discussions before, even received "the talk" about the delicate subject of virginity. But contemplating the act itself was a realm you never envisioned venturing into, especially not now. The weight of such responsibilities loomed heavy on your mind, intertwining with the immediate danger at hand, creating a tangled web of fear and uncertainty.

He knelt behind you, his rough, calloused hand replacing the gun at your back. "You want to leave here in one piece? Then you better be prepared to compensate me for what you were trying to steal," he demanded, his grip firm as he lifted the hem of your dress.

As panic surged through you, you attempted to break free, but his hold only tightened. He swiftly changed tactics, his unfamiliar touch gripping your waist just above where your panties ended. With a rough tug, he pulled down your panties, his words and actions leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Now that's a pretty lookin' pussy," he taunted, his fingers tracing over your folds. You squirmed uncomfortably under his touch, his chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

Feeling trapped and afraid, you remained frozen, unable to escape his looming presence.

He started to palm your bare clit, making sure to rub the wet spit onto your pussy. You were starting to become wet at his actions, he rubbed his middle finger around your damp pussy teasing you, making you squirm again. “I like it when you squirm. Makes things more interesting," he chuckled, his words sending a shiver down your spine. In a desperate attempt to escape his unsettling presence, you jolted forward, scrambling towards the front of the van, hoping to create some distance between yourself and the menacing figure behind you. He pulled you back and firmly grasped your shoulders, preventing you from escaping further. Then, he cupped your face with his hands, his touch possessive yet tender, his eyebrows lifting in a silent question as his husky voice filled the space between you.

"I'm never—" he began, his lips pressing against yours briefly before he lowered his voice, his gaze locking onto yours, "gonna let you go." His thumb traced gentle circles on your temple, a stark contrast to the intensity of his words.

But then his touch shifted, his lips leaving yours to trail along the curve of your neck and shoulders, igniting a tingling sensation that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if he was trying to seduce you, drawing you in with each caress.

Returning to your lips, he initiated another kiss, and you found yourself torn between conflicting emotions. Part of you felt trapped and scared, but another part couldn't deny the thrill coursing through you. As he deepened the kiss, you found yourself responding, losing yourself in the moment.

Finally pulling back, a small smile played on his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. His voice dropped to a whisper as he repeated his vow, "Never."

As one of his hands traveled down your stomach, a shiver ran down your spine, and he began planting kisses along your neck. For a moment, you closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, feeling a sense of serenity wash over you. But reality crashed back down as he suddenly shoved you forcefully onto the center console. Your head collided with something hard, causing a sharp pain to shoot through you, and blood began to gush from your nose.

Shocked and a little dizzy from the sudden impact, you struggled to gather your bearings, your head throbbing as blood continued to trickle from your nose. Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus, but the dizziness made it difficult to think clearly. Panic began to rise within you as you realized the severity of the situation, your heart pounding in your chest.

One of his hands held you down harshly against the console keeping you trapped once again sanity has left you, his other hand swiftly unbuckled his belt, the sounds of his movements echoing in the tense silence of the van you felt hopeless and dazed as you felt his dick rub against your pussy still wet from the desire of his kiss.

He leaned closer to you, his entire body weight pressing down on yours, his chest now firmly against your back as he roughly pushed his dick into you. he was big you let out a loud shriek as a burning sensation cascaded through your body, causing your eyes to squeeze shut in pain. Desperately, you reached for his thighs, trying to push him off you.

"Quiet." He groans as he pushes deeper into your cunt you felt his pubes brush against your clit, he was so big so overwhelming you could feel him in your stomach even as he was still. He gripped your hands and grabbed his belt from beside him before tying your hands together behind your back. you could feel every movement making you let out small sounds of discomfort as his dick rested inside of you.

"Suckin' me right in." He lifted your dress higher taking a moment to stand and bask in the view of his dick being swallowed by your pussy. he started groping your ass taking his time as he started he's penetrating your soul. he began to thrust setting a slow but harsh pace. "You're gonna be achin' for days.” you let out a few broken moans at his movements your daze and confusion were replaced with a sense of pleasure and warmth as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

He shifted his hands to grip the makeshift restraints around your wrists, then began pushing you towards him so that you met his thrusts. As the new sensation overwhelmed you, you started to squirm again, unable to contain the mix of pleasure and discomfort. "I said squirming makes it interesting, I didn't say be difficult," he murmured, his voice low and filled with amusement. With a swift movement, he hooked you up so you were pressed against him, your struggles futile against his strength. He noticed the blood from your nose and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as you whimpered in fear.

He started to thrust up into you harder. more primal for his desire, he moved one of his hands to play with your breast. you let out a loud moan as one of his thrusts hit just where it was needed for his movements to feel like he was heaven. He pushed you back onto the console, this time skillfully avoiding the sharp object, sparing you from any further facial damage.

His weight presses you down onto your back again, forcing you to stay still as he pounds deep into you over and over again. His power and speed never slow down as he bites down hard on your shoulder to muffle his moans, he hits that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust making it impossible to hide your obvious pleasure from his actions making sure to move your hips back to meet him every time it makes you feel so dirty, "You tried to take from me, but now you're learning your place. Beneath me, where you belong, like a whore".He stopped biting your shoulder and whispered, letting out a soft moan

"Don't call me that," you manage to mumble, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance, though you still push back into him, your back arching involuntarily making you press into his chest. "I-I can call you whatever I want when... when..." Your words falter as you struggle to find your voice, the pleasure taking over you. As he continues to pound into you.

But he cuts you off sharply, he pinched your side hard, causing you to whimper in pain. "Shut the fuck up," he commands, his voice harsh and threatening. "I'm tired of your mouth. Keep it up, and I'll find another way to shut you up."

His thrusts grew more erratic, his grip tightening as he abandoned any pretense of restraint, his small moans and grunts escaping him freely. "Shit, I'm gonna need Viagra or something to keep up with this pussy," he muttered, his words punctuated by the force of his pistoning movements. "Gosh... feels like you're gonna swallow me whole."

Suddenly, he stopped hitting that spot that had pleased you, and a sense of disappointment washed over you. As his thrusts became sloppy, you ceased meeting him halfway, hoping he would find that sweet spot again. But he didn't.

With a final, desperate thrust, he let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he reached his climax. As he withdrew, leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied, a wave of sadness and confusion washed over you.

Your walls were slick, not with your arousal, but with his, milky ropes of his release making an obscene set of sounds as he pulled out of you. Still restrained, you watched silently as he got dressed and exited the van, leaving you feeling abandoned and exposed.

Minutes passed, the silence heavy and suffocating, before he returned with a few papers and items you recognized from your cabin. "Hey, those are mine!" you protested, your voice tinged with a mix of anger and desperation.

He ignored your protest, tossing the items into a bag without a second glance. "They're mine now," he replied coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As he released you from your restraints, you felt a surge of defiance rising within you. "You can't just take everything!" you exclaimed, trying to assert some semblance of control over the situation.

But his gaze was icy as he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Watch me," he muttered, before turning and striding away, leaving you feeling small and powerless once again.

"Get comfortable," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the driver's seat, his voice devoid of any warmth or compassion.

You watched him go, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. As you sat alone in the van, surrounded by the remnants of your life that he had taken from you, the reality of your situation began to sink in.

He wasn't just taking your belongings. He was taking you.

With a heavy heart, you realized that you were now at his mercy, trapped in a situation you couldn't escape. And as he started the engine and pulled away from the cabin, leaving everything you knew behind, he turned to you with a chilling smile.

"You're mine now," he said quietly, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "And you're not going anywhere."

[maneskinwh0re]

Hellooo, would u be able to do a sevika or butch logan (don't mind who) reacting to the reader pulling a knife on them in a fight?Please and thank you ❤️

yes omg !! i love ur loki pfp btw 💚

lemme get a small sevika fic on here before s2 comes out tmrrw !! :3

wlw nsfw >> no smut :c …this time

🔪 but she would DEFINITELY look at you like this vvv

»»----------►

⊳ “ready for round 2?”

⊳ you groan in frustration as you push sevika off your body onto the floor next to you. she chuckles and rolls to her side, leaning up on her elbow to look down at you.

⊳ “you’re a jerk,” you grumble, clearly pissed off over how your muscular girlfriend successes every time you train together.

⊳“are you mad at me, beautiful?”

⊳ of course not. how could you be? you’re just frustrated with yourself. as one of silco’s newest guards, you have to improve on hand to hand combat in order to protect him and your fellow colleagues. you enjoy your new job—it comes with the privilege of getting to see your girlfriend every day, but the tasks do take a toll on your strength. that’s why you need to work both smarter and harder.

⊳ you pout at sevika and stand up, pulling up the waistband of your grey sweatpants and smoothing out the fabric of your black compression shirt. sevika herself wears wrist wraps and a black sports bra — and god, she just loves distracting you with peeks of her boxers when she “adjusts” her own baggy sweatpants. her toned abs are on full display and framed by her deep v-line. her short, dark hair is pulled back into a tight bun while a few wisps fall against her gorgeous, scarred face. has it been mentioned her appearance distracts you?

⊳ “let’s just go again,” you huff as you shake out your wrists and prep yourself into a defensive stance.

⊳ sevika’s movements are just as quick as before, but this time, you’re quicker. she is taller, stronger than you, but not by much. it takes a moment, but you find her fighting pattern. her jabs and punches are soon dodged by your swift motions, and by the time she processes your leg sweeping her feet out from under her, her back hits the wooden floor and a groaned curse leaves her lips.

⊳ the wind has been knocked out of her, but you know that’ll only fuel her attitude to not take things easy on you. before she can catch her breath, you pin her to the ground, straddling her hips and holding her flesh wrist down above her head. in your free hand, you lift a beautiful, black knife made with serrated steel against her neck.

⊳ “i win,” your chest heaves with exasperation. you announce your triumph as if sevika isn’t literally under your panting body, but you want her to admit it. she needs to admit it or else it didn’t happen in her mind. “i fucking won, say it.”

⊳ she seems surprised at first, your boldness catching her off guard before she zones out to admire the sight above her. sweat coats your flushed skin, baby hairs stick to your face, and you can’t help but breathe into her mouth. she loves every aspect of this perfect position — both of you feeling trapped in this moment yet more than satisfied with never wanting to leave it.

⊳ her widened eyes then narrow as she looks at the blade against her neck, then up at you — and she can’t help but chuckle softly at her own dirty thoughts. “where’d y’ find this little trinket?”

⊳ you smirk above her, that glint in your eye forming once you realize she likes this. because of course she does. you tilt your head slightly, studying her gaze as if she’s waiting for you to take things further and commit to taking the control you’ve worked so badly for. “got it jus’ for you. why?”

⊳ she looks back down at the blade, her smile widening before returning eye contact again. “’s nice… almost makes me wanna let y’ win.”

⊳ her words settle in as you watch a bottle of shimmer pump through the gears and wires of her mechanical arm. you move fast to pin one of your knees against the geared surface of her shoulder and sheathe the thin knife through her robotic wrist and into the floor without a moments’ hesitation. the magenta, vibrantly-drugged liquid bubbles and spurts out of sevika’s machinery, the gears whirring for only a moment before hissing in defeat.

⊳ it doesn’t hurt her, she can’t feel a thing, but that doesn’t stop you from realizing the weight of the action you took. with how advanced it is, sevika’s robotic limb takes time to adjust, fix, upgrade, etc. and when training/fighting with anyone, she only uses a small dose of shimmer as a last resort. but now that the arm is useless and her body is pinned under you, your girlfriend is now completely at your mercy.

⊳ although the thought doesn’t settle as nicely as it usually would. especially when her eyes briefly look over the mechanics in the prosthetic, seeing slight steam rise from the misplaced gears in her wrist. oops. you remove your hand from the knife yet the blade keeps her pinned to the floor, unless she were to remove the prosthetic altogether. her eyes return up to you, playful yet there’s a slightly warning, piercing glare. a further intention.

⊳ naturally, guilt first washes over you for the amount of repairs your girlfriend will have to make. but she isn’t mad, you know that. she doesn’t need to say a word. however, she now looks forward to using this as an opportunity to make show of punishing you. you know that as well, and lift your hands in surrender.

⊳“i’ll fix it…”

»»----------►

sorry this is kinda rushed^^ note for pt 2!!

manifesting happy ending for sevika in s2 🙏🙏✨✨✨ requests are open my lovelies and if you’ve sent one, i haven’t forgotten about you!! i have lots of works in the drafts rn and hoping to get them all out asap <3

-🐝

[outofcontexttokusatsu]

[miwiheroes]

Light = Truth

So this whole Byler post is literally just based off something that my friend who has a studies film at school said to me about lighting. Me and my friends do a presentation night like every few months and obviously my hyperfixation atm is byler so I did '10 reasons why I think byler could be canon'. My friends were convinced by the end btw, which is fun (and they kept pointing out yellow and blue things afterwards i loved life), but they also contributed so many things that I have never even considered or seen on byler tumblr before.

For example, my friend who studies film (btw we aren't just kids who like movies or smth, we are adults studying film lmao), stopped me during my presentation because I wasn't talking about lighting choices that were super clear.

I guess you can take what they said with a grain of salt because they aren't like, a professional ig, but they said that so many times during film, light is symbolic to mean truth. And it's like... oh my god. Suddenly, after they said that, everything made sense. Of course, light means truth in all these scenes! So I just want to point out two Byler/ Mike is gay moments that I think are related to this:

Light in the Closet tm

Hello??? Why is there a light in the closet here, not just to draw ur attention towards it, but also to symbolise something. Who tf has a light in their closet unless its massive, and why would it even be on in this scene?

The truth is, you're in the closet, Michael. We've all seen these images before and how he has his eyes open, yada yada, but the light literally means truth here, and its framed on his head, like he's thinking of the truth.

In literally the first scene in season 4 with Mike, as we know, we see a closet. That's almost comical. Not only that, but the light is on. Meaning, the truth is, Mike's still in the closet, again it's framed near his head. (Pair this with the one way sign, it's very obvious what they're trying to say here)

Let's talk about this image right here:

First of all, the light is literally shining out of the closet, not just in a blurry fashion, but it's literally a ray of light pointing at Mike who's standing in front of it. This being in the very first scene with Mike in it sets up the sort of arc he has in season 4, the fact that the truth is he's in the closet, but the one way sign shows he's still in it.

I showed this image to my friends during the presentation and the one I mentioned earlier also said that the set designers put the lamp where it is for a reason as well. The lamp in Mike's room is, of course, lighting up Will's drawings on his notice board as well as the buff guy posters. So, his true feelings are that... he likes men. Yah

2. Lights on Will

In the Van scene, everyone knows about how they spent a reallyyyy long time getting the lighting just correct, and if it was meant to mean truth, it all makes sense. (Also to get that heart in Will's eye lmao)

In this shot, (not particularly this frame but yknow) Will is literally bathed in sunlight, and it could just mean that Mike's seeing him in this light because he's pretty to him or something, or it could mean that Will's literally telling the truth/ Will is Mike's truth. Playing D&D and Nintendo for the rest of their lives is really what he wants, as established in season 3.

(my fave byler scene yes pls) When I showed this photo to my friends in my presentation, my film studies friend literally laughed. Yes, it is very very clear what they are trying to tell viewers here. The light is purposefully shining perfectly on Will only. Mike is completely cut off from the light and is in the dark. Some think that it's because he's 'in the dark about Will's feelings' (and yeah he is) but I think it's because by the end of season 4, Will has kind of admitted the truth to himself. He loves Mike, but Mike hasn't admitted his truth, that he loves Will.

However, we get clear foreshadowing for the next season in this scene because:

Mike reaches into the light, for the truth. It also foreshadows him supporting Will more in season 5 perhaps, but the fact that the next shot is this:

kind of just makes it super duper obvious that he's going to (very cheesy but) 'find his truth' or true feelings with Will/ in the next season.

Okay thanks for listening to me ramble about how light = truth, i would love to hear any other moments that could also mean the same thing :) Anyways, byler endgame.

[estxkios]

HEYYY OMG I LOVE UR WRITING WHAT??

ANWAYS, could you do something with drunk bill? not smut, but like bassicly reader picks him up from a party or something and he’s like SUPPERRDUPPERR drunk LOL. and later in the story he’s keeping reader awake by talking so much, and reader just exhausted and so tired of his shit and accidentally tells him to shut the fuck up or something like that. then billy willy starts crying bcs he’s drunk and can’t process and reader just comforts him.

TYSM!! xx

FEELINGS ੈ✩‧₊˚

2008 bill kaulitz x fem!reader

summary : the request :3

warnings: ANGST with comfort!!, reader is grumpy, drunk bill, a lot of swearing, bill gets comfort not the reader...

--------------------------------------------------------

;- 2:16 am

“what the fuck..?” you muttered under your breath.

your room was completely dark, your phone screen turning on as you received text after text was the only thing that illuminated it.

you tried to shift your position in bed, turning away from the phone. 

you tried to ignore the messages.

but they just kept coming to a point where you could no longer ignore the irritating rattle of your phone against your nightstand.

you let out a string of curse words as you shift in your bed once again.

you reach your arm out towards your nightstand and aimlessly grope for your phone until you find it.

you squint your eyes as they adjust to the brightness of your phone, finally seeing who has been disturbing your sleep.

it was your boyfriend.

;- 2:24 am

you and bill had eachothers location, so finding him wasn’t going to be the hard part. 

the hard part was going to be trying not to fall asleep at the wheel as your drove to whatever house party bill was attending tonight.

well, trying to get your drunk boyfriend in the car would be hard too, but based on his texts, he would probably be too intoxicated to break free from your arms as you shoved him in the back seat like you have done previously.

-; 2:35 am

you could hear the faint sound of trashy music playing as you pulled into the driveway and right as you exited your car you bee-lined for the front door.

you pounded on the door loudly enough so that people would be able to hear it over the music. 

no answer.

“oh-! hiii baby!” a voice said behind you, to which you immediately whipped your head around.

“whatthefuck-“ you stopped when you realized who it was, “bill? why the fuck are you outside?” 

“i was jus’ waiting for youu!” he stumbled towards you and smiled.

you shook your head and laughed to yourself in disbelief. how much had he had to drink?

“yeah, okay.” you paused, “we’re going to my house. c’mon” 

you grabbed bills arm and led him to the passenger seat, he was trying to open the door while you rummaged around in your purse trying to find your keys, the darkness which surrounded the two of you definitely didn’t help this.

bill kept pulling the door handle.

“bill fucking stop you’re gonna rip the door handle off-..“ you found your keys and unlocked the door.

“m’sorry! i jus wanna-“ he tried to continue talking but you pushed him into his seat as fast as you could and shut the door.

you were so ready to get back in your bed as sleep. 

-; 2:40 am

on the drive back to your house, bill stayed mostly quiet.

“are you okay?” you asked him in a concerned tone, “because you’re usually a fucking obnoxious drunk-“

“im not drunk.!.” he looked at you with a very stern expression and you couldn’t help giggle.

“okay.”

-; 2:50 am

when you finally got back to your house you did the same as when you arrived at the frat house. 

you immediately bee-lined for the door.

except the difference was you now had a drunk bill following you.

once again fumbling with your keys, you unlocked the door, bill attached to your arm.

“go to the spare room bill, or take the couch, i don’t care.” you said as you hung your jacket and purse back in their designated areas.

“okayyy..” bill obliged, walking down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

you followed after him moments later, walking into your bedroom.

as you went to settle into your bed you saw something that certainly wasn’t one of the many blankets that littered your room.

“bill.”

“hm? oh hi y/n!” you could see his toothy smile at you even in the darkness. 

“bill, i said go to the spare room. i actually need to sleep tonight. please, baby.”

“but- but i don’t wanna be alone!” he cried, “i promise i will never ever do this again, please can i just stay in here?”

you thought about shoving him off of your bed and letting him find his way to the spare room, but then you thought about how hard it would be to get him off of the floor once you pushed him off the bed.

so you scratched that idea.

“fine..” you muttered, “but be quiet, okay? can you do that for me?” you kissed him lightly on his sweet alcohol-ridden lips.

he looked at you with drunken eyes and smiled. “okay..”  

you smiled at him through the darkness and planted a kiss on his forehead, then continuing to position yourself in a comfortable sleeping position. 

after moments of silence, you thought bill had fallen asleep.

but no.

you flinched as he started fidgeting with your hair, although soon after you leaned into the touch as he usually did this to help soothe himself to sleep

then you heard suppressed giggles behind you which soon turned into full-on laughs.

you tried to ignore him, thinking it would end soon.

but once again, no.

“bill, stop.”  you would whisper, but he couldn’t. 

he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. 

big mistake.

the hand he intended to cover his mouth with was the one he had tangled up in your hair, which led to him accidentally tugging on your hair as he brought it up to his mouth. 

“bill what the fuck!? - ow!” you whipped back at him, “that was my fucking hair!”

you rubbed the back of your head where bill had tugged to soothe the pain, muttering to yourself as you did so.

bill didn’t utter a word. 

you stared into his pitiful eyes and spat many insults at him before grabbing a stray pillow and smacking it between the two of you.

that had to keep him from disrupting your sleep, right?

not right.

the giggles that you heard behind your back minutes ago had now turned into small whimpers.

the bed shook behind you as bill whined out an unsteady breath.

he had to be messing with you.

you turned around for the final time, about to completely snap, “bill can you just fucking-“

you fell silent and stared into bills eyes which were somehow even more pitiful than before.

his makeup was not yet running down his face but it was smudged under his eyes, a streak of the black shadow ran up into his hairline where he had presumably wiped it.

bill sat up, but that didn’t keep him from breaking down. “i didn’t mean to pull your hair..!!” he hid his head in his hands, sobbing into them.

“oh bill…” you almost started crying seeing the state that he was in. how could you have made your own boyfriend feel like this?

you removed the pillow that you had put between the two of you, discarding it onto the floor as you practically scooped bill up in your arms.

you hugged him tightly as he sobbed into your shoulder.

“i- im so sorry!!” he whined out almost incomprehensibly. he was a drunk, sobbing mess.

“bill.. please don’t apologize..” you stroked the back of his head, gently combing through his rough black hair.

“do you still love me?” his manicured nails dug into your shoulders nervously as he waited for a response.

your heart sunk as his words. had you made him feel like you didn’t love him?

you moved your arms to wrap firmly around bills torso, pulling him flush against you.

you held him tightly, holding back tears of your own as you rested your chin on his head.

“bill..” you trailed off, moving your head away from his as you gently tried to get him to meet your gaze. “i love you so much.. i’m sorry for snapping. really. i’m so fucking sorry. i’m just so tired and-“ 

bill cut you off by smashing his head into your chest, “i really didnt mean to hurt you.. i was just trying to go to sleep..”

“i know you didn’t mean to hurt me bill.. its really okay.”

you felt bill nod into your chest, the poor boy was so tired and he was just trying to soothe himself to sleep.

god, why did you yell at him?

--------------------------------------------------------

oh i really hate this but enjoy nonetheless

[utilitycaster]

The thing about Ludinus is that yes, he does have a very high INT score but he is in fact stupid. He is a particular brand of stupid that I like to call Wizard Stupid, which is related to but not identical to Wizard Hubris. Wizard Hubris is the vision; Wizard Stupid is the realization.

Wizard Hubris is excessive confidence that is derived from the fact that one is a wizard, and therefore obviously knows everything, probably even more than the gods. Wizard Stupid is then carrying out the plans derived from Wizard Hubris without any kind of safety net. Where Wizard Hubris says "There is nothing beyond my capabilities"; Wizard Stupid says "No consequences can touch me." Wizard Hubris is building the Tower of Babel; Wizard Stupid is leaning one ladder on top of another ladder to do so. Wizard Hubris is the belief that you can, and indeed, are entitled, to fuck around. Wizard Stupid is the unshakeable belief that you will not be subjected to finding out.

So: let's look at Caleb. Caleb is FULL of Wizard Hubris for most of Campaign 2, given that he desires to reconfigure the time-space continuum, but except for a few relatively rare occasions, he is not terribly Wizard Stupid. He actually tends to be extremely cautious, and the cases in which he indulges the Wizard Stupidity are relatively self-contained (eg: the emerald).

Yussa, meanwhile, has few grand designs and mostly wants to hang out and fuck with the gentrification and political cronyism of Nicodranas, and honestly, good for him, seems totally reasonable. However, he does think that the Archmage's Bane is not referring to him (archmage) and that Astral Projection, a totally standard high level wizard's spell well within his abilities without any need for hubris, will carry no risk if he then decides to check out a little place called Cognouza.

Of course, many wizards have both. It's actually pretty rare to be mostly one or the other (which is why Caleb and Yussa are used for illustrative purposes). It's also pretty rare to have neither; Allura is the closest, and even she has her moments. Some degree of Wizard Hubris and Stupid do come packaged with the act of being a wizard.

Ludinus, obviously has both; he is, basically, building the Tower of Babel and he is, canonically, violating a list of safety protocols that rivals the length of a CVS receipt. And so: the hubris is "I can, should, must, and will blow up the moon that imprisons a god-eating abomination"; the stupid is sticking his fucking arm in the machine to power it.

[warpcoreweirdness]

just finished season 2 of Lower Decks and i'm SO glad i tried this show again

i actually started the show a while ago, but the constant easter eggs put me off.

(i still don't know how non-Trekkie viewers are meant to get the jokes where the punchline is "reference!! 😂", but lots of people enjoy it so ymmv).

i stopped a few minutes into episode 2 after Rutherford agrees to quit his job as an engineer so he can watch the Trivoli pulsar with Tendi.

i honestly thought it was going to be a storyline about a guy giving up a job he loves and making his boss angry so that he can spend time with a female friend he has a crush on, because that's the plotline i've been conditioned to expect from tv. i wasn't feeling excited about the show, so i put it on pause.

but if i'd watched for about two more seconds before noping out for a few months, i would've seen this:

when i started watching again, i realised that the episodes never bog themselves down in drawn-out, uncomfortable storyline or character staples - they're actually incredibly well-written, tightly paced, and tell their stories in just the right amount of time. Rutherford wants to be Tendi's friend (at least for now), his boss Billups is really supportive, and Tendi brings a PADD into the Jefferies tube so they can both do what they enjoy, separately but together.

another great part about that scene with Rutherford and his boss is something that Lower Decks does a lot, which is make jokes that actually rely on subverting audience expectations. a big example - and a way of referencing other parts of the Star Trek franchise that does work for me - is when the creators gently poke fun at or subvert common story beats, emotional arcs, or dramatic moments from other parts of Trek.

like when Rutherford loses his memory and Tendi is excited to get to know him again, rather than devastated that he doesn't remember her.

or when they save themselves from being smooshed by Dooplers by dramatically ejecting the warp core of their tiny model starship.

or when Tendi goes on an arc of significant personal development over the course of one (1) whole episode.

they're general enough that even people who haven't seen other Star Trek shows (or movies) can still recognise and appreciate them.

beyond this, the show also has great moments where they (lovingly) cast a light on some of the flaws and foibles in the franchise, often in subtle or comedic ways.

like showing people in beep chairs living their best lives (in contrast to TOS and SNW's view of the beep chair as a tragic, doomsday fate for Pike).

or using Tendi to comment on Trek's depiction of Orions specifically as all pirates and slavers, and alien cultures more generally as monocultures.

or even just acknowledging that Trek shows mostly focus on the bridge crew doing heroic first contact-esque adventures, when that can't be all there is to Starfleet.

heck, they even have Rutherford go on a journey of acceptance and self-discovery after a permanent memory wipe (in contrast to Uhura in TOS, where it's never mentioned again).

another reason i really appreciate the show is that the creators have taken the time to think through what a more inclusive future could look like, in ways that are noticeably lacking or absent in many other Trek shows:

beyond exploring diversity through explicit identity representation (which is still very important), it does this through its world building as well.

i love this communal sonic shower scene for what it says about gender and body politics in Trek. in the future, why would we still separate bathrooms and changing rooms by gender? and why would we have the same views and expectations around bodies that we (by "we" i mean Western countries) do now?

this short scene dismantles the idea that nudity is inherently sexual, that gender is binary and biological, that some genders can't be trusted around other genders while naked, and that heterosexuality is the default (and when you bring dozens of alien species into the mix, why wouldn't we have more and newer ways of thinking about gender?). it even has a little mention that Boimler prefers not to shower with others, leaving space for people to act however feels most comfortable for them.

it's such a little thing, but after years spent (lovingly) yelling at the screen during TNG, TOS, DS9, etc saying, "why are they assuming everyone is straight? WHY would people be this sexist?", i noticed it immediately and appreciated it immensely.

(this isn't related to the storytelling, but i also have to say - the animation in Lower Decks is so pretty???):

this isn't a perfect show, but it's funny, has fantastic storytelling, and it loves the source material without worshipping it. (which is not something i expected to say, given how it started).

plus i love these characters SO MUCH.

so far, so very good 🤞.

(image descriptions in alt text)

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: What is Your Future Online Persona?

Top Left-> Right- 1,2 Bottom Left->Right- 3,4

Introduction

Are you interested in knowing what kind of future online persona you will have? Pick one of the images and you will receive who you might turn out to be as an online persona in the upcoming months or years given your current trajectory in life. You should also know the messages that came through for each pile has certain gothic vibes to each. If you are interested, check it out.

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Pile 1

Cards: The High Priestess, The Hermit, Seven of Swords Reading: Your persona is like a hidden force—introspective, secretive, and deeply reflective. The High Priestess speaks to intuition and mystery; this persona of yours reveals little to nothing about your true personal life, choosing silence over engagement. With The Hermit, you are moving towards spending time alone in contemplation, valuing your privacy above all. The Seven of Swords adds a layer of subtle strategy—when you do share something, it is deliberate and cryptic. Others may feel intrigued but can never quite understand who you as a person really are, leaving an aura of mystery. You will give off a lone wolf vibe, almost like retreating from a toxic environment that you were subjected to in a certain phase of your life. Peace over everything will be your motto.

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Pile 2

Cards: The Sun, The Empress, Ten of Cups Reading: This persona that you will embody radiates warmth and kindness. The Sun represents a bright, positive energy that lights up every interaction. You will have a persona that is generous and nurturing, always there for others with The Empress, embodying motherly compassion. The Ten of Cups signals that you offer a sense of fulfillment, creating spaces where people feel safe and supported. Your online presence feels almost too perfect, a constant source of happiness and encouragement, giving off an impression of a life in perfect harmony—though people might wonder if you are really as flawless as you appear. Basically your mask is just too perfect, but of course your life could entail a lot of interesting experiences that allow you to post all these in the coming times. Certainly there is an underlying tension , like you are trying to prove someone wrong.

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Pile 3

Cards: The Moon, Eight of Cups, The Tower Reading: The Moon shows a persona cloaked in illusion and shadows, hard to pin down. People may search for you online, but there are no solid traces, just vague whispers. With the Eight of Cups, this persona of yours shows that you have deliberately turned your back on the digital world, walking away from the distractions of online life. The Tower reflects a decision to drastically remove yourself from the conventional world, shocking to those who attempt to look you up. You are going to be a ghost in the machine—here one moment, and gone the next, leaving no footprints behind. Who are you truly?, people will wonder... But you have an air of success, yet you remove yourself from the limelight... Why is that? people wonder. Certainly an interesting persona you will have going on. Truly an illusionary. You seem to be planning something with your life bts, so this is one reason why you are having this persona. A machine that rumbles is the vibe that is given off. You are preparing for something so you intend to keep things super low key.

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Pile 4

Cards: The Hierophant, Knight of Pentacles, The Devil Reading: Your future online persona appears steady and predictable with the Hierophant, you will appear as someone who follows routines and systems, offering consistency in their posts and interactions. The Knight of Pentacles represents dedication—you are seen to be all about the hard-working, and stability. You will likely be someone who shows a life of following the rules and being by the book. However, beneath the surface, The Devil card suggests there is something unspoken, something darker or more complex hidden from view. While you may appear well-put-together, there is a hidden depth or struggle that you choose not to reveal, maintaining a curated version of their life for the public to see. Life is nothing but a play is one of your mottos. Life is a Costume Party, like Kafka has mentioned, so why show up with your real face?

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