#where da bears at

[justgrey]

I have something worse up my sleeve on Vander that idk if im gonna post that includes the shimmered up version of him we see for 10 seconds before he dies and some bussy gobbling if yk what i mean 😈🥱🔥

Vander x Reader - General Relationship HC's

Warnings: Swearing cuz we fukin' balling

Beefy

b e e f y

He gives really great hugs, obviously. He's got so much meat on him that he feels like a really large pillow, and I'm here for it. And if you're reading this, I guess you're for it too 🤷‍♂️

Crazy protective, too. Man doesn't love easily after what happened with Silco, but when he does, mwah, you are not leaving his sight for longer than an hour before someone on his side is just "keeping an eye on you"

Vander loves jokes. Especially dad jokes. Because he's a dad. Please joke with him. Please, his kids always respond with "ughghh" and all he wants is an adoring audience. Please be that for him.

"What's the time?"

"It's... time to get a watch!" *big goofy grin*

"Hah- hahahahhahahahhaahhaahhaha please, Vander."

"Right, sorry. It's a quarter past seven, love."

👉👈

Anyway, Vander loves nicknames. Like, a lot a lot. He loves nicknames. What one's? Great question. Take a guess. He loves playing games with you and this is one of those games

Guess.

If you said anything along the lines of sweetheart, love, sweetie, or honey. You'd be right. He loves using generic nicknames with you because he wants to be as domestic as possible.

He likes to feel like his life is as normal as can be despite it being absolutely the opposite of that. He loves his children, and he loves you, so why not make the most of it? At least, that's what he figures.

The wackiest shit happens sometimes. There's a real mix of interactions in his little family and we living for all of them.

"Can you pass the sa-?"

*glitter bomb explosion from Powder's bunk*

"Oh, for the love of- POWDER, ARE YOU OKAY?!?"

His kids are all extraordinary. Mylo is very charismatic and is able to talk his way out of a lot of trouble, Claggor is great at lifting heavy shit, Vi can punch the daylights out of everyone, and Powder has the potential to be a great inventor someday. His goal is to inspire them all to be the best versions of themselves and to always be kind when they're able to despite living in the meanest area around.

You are also very intertwined with his children's lives to the point where they're basically your kids as well. If you didn't want that, break up with him. He's a package deal. All or nothing.

"Hey... what's that you're tinkering with, Pow Pow?"

"It's a bomb."

"It's a what."

"She means- uhm- it's full of confetti...? For... For Mylo's birthday! Y'know, that's totally coming up soon."

"Wait, my birthday isn't-"

"Yeah, yeah... for Mylo's birthday!" *innocent smile*

"For some reason... i d o n ' t b e l i e v e t h a t . . . Just... just stay out of trouble. As much as possible."

The kids treat you like a member of the family as well if you couldn't tell. They latch onto you, some take longer than others but they all eventually view you as their other parent.

First it was Powder, then it was Claggor, followed by Vi and then Mylo a little later on.

Vander actually wants to make it official with you someday and make you stay with him and his family forever by proposing to you, but with the current state of the Undercity, he may never get to. He's a busy, busy man, trying to hold the Lanes together. Sometimes, he gets too focused on that and forgets to share his attention around when crime is really bad.

But even just being around helps him out 🫡

Thanks gang 👍

#vander x reader #arcane #arcane vander #vander arcane #arcane vander x reader #arcane x reader #i love men #big beefy men #i need a big beefy man #where da bears at #jinx #powder #arcane jinx #arcane vi #arcane mylo #arcane claggor

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#there's something really beautiful about experiencing the weather patterns of a new place #where i live now. its not like where i grew up. not like the foothills of Appalachia but its more familiar than the Chihuahuan desert was #when i go home to ohio everythings so green. so green. unimaginably green and the towns are in the woods. the hills roll #and trees billow deciduous and packed so tightly the treeline is like a wall of plant matter. here there are trees but they are tall and #evergreen. patchy in places like shrubs in the desert. the grass grows green but also pale tan and dead. houses are routed in valleys #between mountains. they're made of wood and not stucco but they still look strange and the landscape is crumpled together tall. and there's #water. it rains. days can be dreary and gray with drizzle. i forgot what thats like. when a single low stratus cloud blocks out thewhole sk #and fog clings to the trees. my school bus used to drive by a lake where thr fog was so thick i didnt kno how the driver could see the road #but somehow i forgot how much joy suspended water vapor gives me living in a place where when it rains it pours so hard the streets flood #and the greedy ground drinks the landscape dry. but there are new things as well. here smoke rolls up over thr mountains and gets stuck in #the valleys so that the weather forcast reads: Smoke for days on end. im used to tornado warnings and heat warnings and dust storm warnings #but ive never expected Smoke as a type of weather. and im sure there's more to experience. ive only been here like 3 weeks. its not as gree #as home. the storms dont seem to get quite so violent. the woods are so full of bears that its an active threat. but its not the desert #and while ill miss the shapes of desert plants and little lizards. when i look up at the pine and spruce trees i feel like i can breathe a #little easier. well see how i feel once the long cold winter sets in haha #but i dunno. part of me still longs for a violent thunderstorm. one where u can feel the temperature drop and u csn feel it building all da #one that bends the trees and smells like ozone. it was never like that in thr southwest and im not sure that happens here #but maybe thats just a desire for chaos and violence as a product of my pathological internal control. i cant be spontaneous so let nature #bring the fear to me. some of my favorite memories are watching lightning strikes #so it goes i suppose #unrelated #listen. is it fucked up to have ohio nostalgia? maybe so. but in my defense i grew up in the pretty part of ohio lol

[studiousbotanist]

okay finally dleepy.time I think good lord I wish i had the sleepy medicines but I'm OUT . I was reading tjis long form fic I've been reading too but it got so tense and bitter (THE ROMANXE TENSION AND FUMBLED BAG MOMENTS) ouhhhh

#i gotta be so careful reading fic exploring internalized homophobia & the . they kissed but got scared & the otjer blames himself #scared tjis fic gonna hurt me in tje end but for now its really well written and good #as a gay man who used to date women its refreshing seeing a richie where its like oh yeah hes dated women hes been w women but He Is Gay . #not enougj people understand the nuance of yeah you coulda still enjoyed the relationships w women bht ultimately its not the Big Spark of #Joy ... vs tje most popilar of uhh actually thats impossible . its misery only until #until you are out and gay and like wow that was all da WORST EVER pretend it didnt happen #i think i lost how i was wanting to word it . 😕 oh yeah people like naw youre just bi . i love bi peeps but its not always the case ... #idk im on my pissed abt confirmed canon people getting put as bi or pan but this is a personal gripe #either way . FIC GOOD !!!! #does a bear blog in the woods

[gutsby]

Cabin Fever

Pairing: Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader

Summary: Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Warnings: 18+. DEAD DOVE: DNE. NONCONSENSUAL. I’m never ever beating the insane bitch allegations, I fear. Protector-turned-pervert-turned-unwilling-captor-kinda. Corruption kink. Daddy kink. Somnophilia. Misogyny. “It’s too big; it won’t fit” + Joel “I’ll make it fit” Miller. Captivity on both ends. Oral (f!receiving). Gunplay. Oversimplified first-time anal. Uno Reverse Drugging. Evil, inexperienced reader meets evil, feral, slutty Joel. Attempted murder x3. Russian Roulette…as foreplay?

Notes: Both characters SUCK. I condone nothing they do. Please do not take any of their behavior or language to reflect my own moral predilections. That is all 🚬😵‍💫

You were hardly shaking at all when he’d found you chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains.

He didn’t see that every day, that was for-fucking-sure.

Joel Miller barely got to see his share of happy, grinning girls on the cold and bitter frontier he inhabited. Ones that were tied to posts and clinging to life were even less common, so the sight of you there had almost frightened him at first. He’d approached you like one might advance upon a sleeping bear: with the utmost caution and a Winchester Model 70 levelled directly at your head.

He’d learned you were unarmed and defenseless in less than a second. He’d come to realize you were largely unconscious—and unclothed—even sooner than that.

He had been industrious in freeing your hands and feet from their restraints but never uttered a word as he did.

Even on the two-and-a-half mile trek back home, he hadn’t spoken once. You’d hung off his left shoulder like a pretty, frosted slab of meat, covered only with the sherpa blanket he’d secured around your neck, and dangled precariously down his back for the entire fifty minutes.

Your toes were two shades shy of onyx with frostbite.

Your limbs were hanging like lead over his chest.

A whisper of, ‘You’ll be fine, darlin’, I promise’ had just seemed ill-suited for the circumstances and his nature. In truth, Joel didn’t know if you’d be fine. You might die. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands one way or the other, but he never had liked burying bodies this time of year. He’d have to wait until April to break ground, at least.

Presently, he dropped your limp form to the floor of his cabin and hoped he wouldn’t be needing to bury anyone.

You sort of looked charming in the firelight.

He stomped off to the kitchen and began rifling for pans, preparing to defrost the icy stranger as best he could.

You didn’t die.

You didn’t wake for forty full hours, but you didn’t die.

When you stirred on the floor with warm sherpa around your shoulders and a rough calfskin rug under your ass, you thought you had died—maybe taken a pit stop in cowpoke purgatory while you were at it—but then you blinked. Breathed. Realized you were still very much inside your body and most likely still in Wyoming.

You sat up where you were and looked around.

“Da-a-d?”

You knew it was useless, calling for your father.

He had been dead almost eight months; you just wanted to double-check to make sure you were still on earth.

When dead dad didn’t answer, you tried someone else.

“Momma?”

Still no answer.

Figured, since she was among the ones that had left you chained outside in the first place. It’d been worth a shot.

You started to rise from your place, when a sharp pain in your side made you plop back down on the rug. You winced and lifted the blanket, then your old nightie.

A neat little taped-down bandage had your ribs encased in antiseptics and gauze. You frowned down at a stain in the centre, which looked to you an awful lot like blood. That circle of old fluids must’ve been twice the size of your fist and currently oozing tiny, fresh beads of blood from the strain you’d just exerted. You pursed your lips.

Least they could’ve done is kill me, not leave me here.

You’d take it up with your old would-be assassins another day, you were sure. Right now, you were parched, starving, in dire need of a piss, and reeling on the floor to grab hold of something sturdy to lift yourself. But you were as much a child then as you had ever been, swaying in place and clawing at air like someone who’d never kept their balance before. Or might’ve been drunk.

You rolled onto your good side and cast a sweeping look around the cabin. You smelled slow-cooked barbecue.

Thank fuck, you thought.

Now, if I were a juicy rack of ribs, where would I be?

The kitchen was dark and empty; the smell was coming from elsewhere. You craned your neck, tilted your chin, spotted a loft overhead but figured it wasn’t too likely to find someone grilling up there, so where the hell was it?

And who the hell was it, smoking meats and mending up strangers in the cold and lonely dead of winter like this?

You put a pin in that thought as you searched for a place to pee.

By the time you’d hobbled out of the bathroom, the smoky smell had grown even stronger. It was so pungent it bordered on vertiginous, invading every inch of the cabin with a force. Then it was leading you, teasing you by turns to venture outside. All you had on your feet were some oversized socks and two strips of medical tape.

Against your better judgment, you continued to hobble.

Out the door, down the steps, slowly, then following your nose and the first whiff of smoke you smelled to make it to the place you were almost certain you needed to be.

You trudged around a corner of the cabin’s exterior and stopped. Turned around. Cursed your own senses for being so stupid to miss the huge fucking shed spewing smoke out front—or was it the back?—and plodded on.

Your feet might have carried you a third of the way there before your powers of sight and sound eventually failed you again, and you missed another big something.

Big and beige and coated in snow—baring its teeth and snarling at the unfamiliar presence as soon as it saw you.

The next thing you knew, sixty-two pounds of Belgian Malinois had had you knocked to the ground in less than a second. You hardly understood what had hit you until it was barking and chomping away an inch from your face.

You fought hard and frantic to shove the ugly fucker off, but your bandaged hands were no match for its paws. The dog continued to tear at your blanket, nip at your ears, claw at your neck, and all around snuff out any sense of peace you might have acquired in the dozen-odd minutes since you’d first woken up. You screamed.

You yelled as loud as you could and felt yourself cower and sink lower into the snow as you fought.

Just when you tried to raise a knee—to kick the animal in the ribs or else protect your own—a sound broke out above the buzz.

A voice, clear as day:

“CUJO!”

The dog stalled on top of you a moment, just to be yanked off the next, and the closest thing afterward was a face—kinder than Cujo’s but not by very much.

It was a broad, bearded, pock-marked head with more soot to recommend itself than skin. Lips smeared with ash and grime and curved down in the single most decisive frown you’d seen in your life, the man looked to be beside himself seeing you tits up in the snow.

He gripped one arm of yours, then dropped it.

Picked a leg up, paused, then hauled you into a cradle carry as graceless as you’d ever felt it done before.

“Come!” he snapped, and it took you too long to realize that he was talking to the dog. You’d already wrapped your arms around his neck in abrupt complaisance.

He carried you back into the cabin and kicked the door open in front of you. He held you firm for a second, then, just as he had outside, changed course before you knew what to do and was shortly depositing you on the sofa.

You winced when your ass hit the cushion.

You started to sit, grab a pillow for your back or just bring your knees to your chest, when suddenly a palm was pressing flat on your front. Forcing you to lie down.

“Hey, hey!” you cried when the man started lifting the hem of your nightgown.

If he’d heard you at all, he didn’t show it. He just worked his thick, dirty fingers under the fabric and raised the white satin like he might the hood of a car. He frowned.

It was then that you noticed a blooming red splotch on your side, slowly overtaking the terra-cotta color of dried blood on the bandage and spreading out. Then a pain.

Instead of pushing the man’s hands away, you were holding them tight, wrestling that same touch which was trying to keep you from poking around the area now.

“Quit,” the man said, sedate as could be.

“Hurts,” was all you could think to tell him—and you guessed he’d already had that part down by the outpouring of blood. He shoved your hands off.

The brand new crimson hue had already soaked through the bandage. He pulled it off. You caught a glimpse of a wound that seemed to be weeping through its stitches—oozing pus and blood and a gore you could’ve gone your whole life without seeing. You would’ve liked to run a couple gentle, awed fingers over it, but as it was, your coarse and tight-lipped medic wouldn’t let you.

“Hold still,” he commanded.

“Heystopstopstop!” you implored him, feeling a streak of pain up your side as his calloused hands delved deeper.

At your latest flinch and plea, the man seemed to have had enough. Or just needed to angle your body in a different direction for easier access to the site. He gathered you back up in his arms and walked over to the kitchen, where he set you down again on the counter. Hands moved to your hips, briefly, to push you back on the surface and allow him to stand between your legs. Again, the man frowned as he peeled off your pyjamas.

Two warring fears of pain and overexposure fought like wild beasts in your brain for a second—you yelping and trying to cover your breasts in a hurry, then realizing how much it hurt to lift your arms that way when your ribs were dripping blood, then the man making the decision for you both as he pushed your hands behind your back and said a simple ‘Fuck’s sake’ to keep you pinned.

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it, and you let him continue, because you knew that you didn’t know shit about doing this yourself.

Joel must’ve fixed your dressings fourteen times before turning you loose. He’d had you perched atop his counter like goddamned Prisoner-of-War Barbie, all riddled with bumps, bruises, and lesions galore, looked your body up and down just once, and nearly grew sick at the sight.

He’d disgusted himself by feeling as aroused as he was.

Shortly thereafter, he’d toted you off—before the blood could rush down to his dick and start to swell—shrugged your gown over your torso, and stepped away. Simple.

Then you’d had to go and throw a wrench in his plans.

“What if I need to pee?” you’d said as soon as Joel started up the stairs with you in his arms again.

He had meant to drop you off on the bed in the loft, out of sight, but it seemed you were more concerned about the prospect of traversing the steps up and down for potty breaks. Joel had audibly huffed above you.

“I can leave a bucket.”

“Yu-uck.” The latter word had been given two syllables to show the full extent of your disgust, like a child might do.

And that was how you’d ended up here: snug in his bed on the ground floor, curled up in more layers of flannel and wool than you could count and staring blankly up at the man who was standing cold and aloof off to the side.

Your eyelids were growing heavy with sleep.

He figured they would be.

Joel picked up the glass that sat beside your empty one on the nightstand and drank, watching you all the while.

“D’you know my momma?” you asked, voice sounding extra small coming from the depths of your cocoon.

Joel finished his drink in four big gulps.

“Sure hope not,” he said once he’d set it back down.

By the sight of the scars he’d found littering your hands and back alone, Joel was able to surmise you’d come from a pretty rough, ragtag group. Maybe even Raiders. Knowing folks like that simply never struck one’s fancy, so he’d been honest. You might’ve argued, or laughed, if you hadn’t been nabbed so tightly in the grips of those first stages preceding sleep, so instead, you nodded.

“Figured,” you mumbled.

7:11, Joel read on the clock. You’d finished your drink at seven, or somewhere thereabouts. Judging by your size, it wouldn’t take long at all for the medicine to take effect.

‘Medicine,’ Joel thought, sounded a whole hell of a lot better than ‘drugs.’ One was meant to rehabilitate, rejuvenate, bring new life to your worn and weary bones. The other would just knock you cold and keep you there.

On second thought, those were definitely drugs Joel had just slipped in your water before giving it to you to drink.

As your eyes blinked from closed, to open, to closed, then open but slightly less open than the time before, and closed again, he felt a sick sense of accomplishment twist in his gut. If only his former-nurse friend could have seen what he was doing with those morphine sulfate tablets he’d traded for—he likely would’ve slapped Joel across the face. And Joel would’ve smiled all the same.

Yeah, okay, drugging the unsuspecting and defenseless female he’d just saved from death’s doorstep two days ago didn’t look great on paper, he would fully concede.

But this was all in good fun.

Great fun, even.

For him.

“Sick fuck,” Joel muttered as he started to undo his belt. The button and zip were taken apart just as fast, and with two steps, he was standing at your bedside—his bedside—and tugging his trousers down his legs. He took his cock in his hand and glanced over at the clock.

7:15.

He nudged your shoulder.

7:16.

Peeling layers of blanket away from your body.

7:17.

“Hey…honey?”

A lot more nothing from the girl sleeping in front of him. He shrugged his jeans to the floor, kicked them off at his feet, and moved onto the bed. You just looked so sweet.

Joel tried working around the fabric of his boxers but got impatient pretty quick. He hauled those off, too.

Soon, his beefy, bare, and surprisingly tan legs were bracketing your hips as he stroked himself above you. His eyes roamed the lax and tranquil features undeniably characteristic of sleep, and he pumped himself faster. Really, there was no need for theatrics or enhancements now—he was already hard as three tonnes of steel—but Joel would be lying if he said he didn’t like the build-up.

You were no longer in danger of dying, thanks to him. You were slowly but surely on the mend, no thanks to Cujo at all, but many thanks to him, Joel Miller, the man who had pried you off of that post, pulled you out of your chains, ushered warmth back into your limbs, and stitched up your side out of the goodness of his heart.

Any objective onlooker could see that you’d availed yourself of his medical attention and aid without ever asking, so why should he request access to you now? This was the way of the world these days, anyway. Sex was no longer so much a question as it was an answer in most scenarios—a mere transaction, wherein the physically weaker of two parties was forced to capitulate. Not within the four unsullied walls of Jackson and a few other pockets of homestead communities here and there, but on the whole, absolutely. Jackson was down the road a ways away and sufficiently far enough from Joel’s cabin for him to be disentangled from their rules. What mattered now was obtaining what he was owed.

Still, the man hesitated a half-second longer above you. He jerked his cock even faster and felt his stomach start to clench. Was that? No—nerves were fucking juvenile. Getting close to cumming from just the sight of you alone was for chumps. Joel Miller was no chump.

He lifted your nightie and lowered the head of his cock to rest between your folds. Then he shifted his knees so that he could rub himself gently against your warmth.

Joel Miller was a monster, but he was no brute. He also understood female anatomy well enough to know that, well…wetter was better. He started moving his hips.

You exhaled through your nose. Nothing major; you probably hadn’t even felt him long enough to whine.

Joel planted a hand beside your head—a preemptive warning.

“There…” He liked to talk as though you could hear him. Like you might be semi-conscious and dimly aware of what he was doing to you then, “Right there…ah, baby.”

He never did catch your name.

That was no matter. So long as you stayed put and made a nice, wet, pretty little hole for him to fuck, you would be fine. By the feel of your folds alone, he could tell you’d be a fun thing to use. Soft and snug and plied with drugs, you could do, and be, anything he damn well needed.

Or maybe nothing at all, he thought without humor.

Joel brushed your cheek with the knuckles of his free hand and watched you turn away, making a face. He snagged your chin and tilted it back to him, sharply, before gliding those fingers down your chest, then your tummy, then your hips, then dipping between your legs. He found your clit and pressed it with a deliberate touch.

“Hey,” Joel whispered, again, as though you might hear, “You’re gonna stay still and let me do this.”

Your nose scrunched in response, thighs clamping together. Joel pried them apart with one push and continued sliding his cock back and forth. He grunted.

“Gonna let me take what’s mine, hear?”

You didn’t hear much of anything, he suspected, but he asked the question all the same. At least now your legs were staying open and he could rut himself gently into that space without having to keep them spread. A first, gentle ‘mmph’ sounded from your lips, and he was glad. He kept thumbing that spot he knew you would like and rubbing along the seam of your cunt with his erection.

Then Joel felt a weight on his shoulders. Remorse? No. Anxiety? Perhaps. This felt more like a fog, though, seizing his muscles and seeping gently between the grooves of his brain. He gave his head a fierce shake.

“Hold still,” he said, more to himself; you hadn’t moved.

Joel fisted the base of his cock and angled the tip toward your entrance, caring much less whether you were ready or not now that his desires had grown stronger.

He was met with resistance on trying to push in. He dug his fingers in the pillow beneath your head and scowled.

“Quit…clenchin’…like that. Ain’t…fair to me,” he huffed.

He was one to talk.

Now, he’d been with a staggering number of women, experiences ranging all across the spectrum, but even the tightest, most untouched pieces of ass he’d ever tapped had given way more than this. Your walls were unyielding, refusing to give him entry. Joel cursed and rutted his hips in a rough, entirely unsuccessful, thrust.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed, one hand fumbling mindlessly for something to hold. Joel seized it.

“Not lettin’ you off that easy, darlin’, I—”

“Fuck,” you breathed, followed by a low whimper.

Joel froze. Had you heard him? Felt him just now?

Something about the uncertainty laden in those questions sent his mind into overdrive, heart beating a wild cadence in his chest. He realized then that his mouth had gone dry, his vision was skewed just slightly on the outskirts. And his cock was throbbing.

“Ya like that?” Joel seethed, not thinking, still rubbing, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

“Uh-huh.” Softly.

You little slut. He knew it all along.

Whatever it was that kept your body from being coupled with his was almost immaterial to him now. Joel’s mind was swimming with desire, cock dragging in desperate, fitful bursts between your legs, never penetrating but still wringing massive jolts of pleasure from that place.

With the way he was feeling now, Joel could cum from just fucking your thighs. And that was alright.

You were moaning underneath him. Even…smiling?

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty.”

Joel had never called a girl pretty before and meant it. But he hardly knew how else to describe you now with how good and sweet and fine you were making him feel. A strange warmth sank into his chest, making it harder to breathe, and then he was panting above you, as if he were really inside that dripping wet spot. He was close.

“Such a pretty…sweet…fuckin’ thing for me.”

That red, raging, leaky cock of his was almost a blur between your legs, he was thrusting against you so fast. Joel thought for one frightening second that it might be his skull that would explode instead, so high was that pressure between his ears, but his fears were promptly put to rest as the first rope of cum came stuttering out. Then another. Then another. Then another.

By the time he finished, he could’ve sworn he’d left a hundred spurts on your tummy. When Joel glanced down and saw a sea of opaque, sticky white, he groaned.

Then he fell. Fully collapsed at your side with his brain in a tizzy of wild, heady feelings and sank into himself.

He hadn’t even fucked you, and he felt like he had.

He lifted a hand to wipe away his spend, but he couldn’t.

He would get to it in the morning, before you stirred, he thought. He thought. He didn’t have the chance to think much longer at all, as darkness started hedging him in.

He slept.

It was 7:57 when he woke.

The man had no real way of knowing that, though, seeing as he was greeted with a nickel-plated revolver between his teeth the second he opened his eyes.

You were straddling his torso, gun pinched between two calm, bandaged hands. You frowned when he jumped.

“WH—” he started.

“Shut up.”

“ST—”

“I said shut,” you cocked the gun, holding it tighter, then shoving it even further inside his mouth, “the fuck. up.”

The man obeyed.

‘Joel M.’—you’d read the name etched on the butt of his pistol before picking it up some twenty minutes ago.

“Pretty fuckin’ thing,” you mocked the man’s Texan drawl as you wiggled the barrel even deeper along his tongue, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

The man’s eyes widened.

How dumb did he think you were?

Offering a semi-clear liquid that should’ve been water; he hadn’t even waited for the morphine tablet to fully dissolve before handing it over to you. Fucking idiot.

You were more disturbed by the fact he’d thought you stupid enough not to notice than him actually trying to drug you. The latter was almost to be expected from predatory, execrable men like him, but the insult to your intelligence? Unacceptable. You’d remedied that affront fairly quickly, though, swapping his glass with yours the second he hadn’t been looking, then nestling into his bed and playing pretend for what had felt like an eternity.

You’d been awake the whole time the man touched you, not knowing what the hell was going on but feeling like you had to stay still. Let him finish. Out of fear, at first, then curiosity, then some strange and unfamiliar sensation that you couldn’t quite describe as anything but a pleasurable itch between your legs. You let the man continue, hearing him grunt and groan and swear up a storm before he shot something hot all over your tummy. By the end of it all, you knew it was wrong, and you knew it was dirty—though you weren’t sure exactly what it was that he had done—but you wanted to learn more.

Which was probably why you hadn’t just shot the old pervert right between his eyes the second he’d stirred.

You shifted atop this ‘Joel M.’ and frowned once more.

“Why’d you stop?”

Gun still wedged in his mouth, Joel’s voice sounded garbled as he spoke, “Wha-agh-at?”

You retracted the metal just long enough to pose the question again. When you had, he still looked stunned.

“Answer me,” you barked, and feeling your patience lapse, got straight to pistol-whipping the motherfucker upside his half-grey head, “You DUMB, or somethin’?”

The man sputtered again.

“No, no— I don’t— dunno what you mean.”

He sounded dumb. You would need to spell this out.

“Why did you stop rubbing me like that?”

If anything, the clarification only seemed to baffle him further. He opened his taut, bearded mouth, then closed it, then eyed you up and down with a look that said he was considering something. Then he stared at one spot.

You glanced down at it too.

“And what is this, anyway?” you asked, swiping one finger at the mostly dried moisture on your stomach, “Why’d you spit this stuff up all over me, huh?!”

“I ain’t—”

You raised the gun as if to hit him again. He jolted back.

“I didn’t mean— shit. Shit, I just…came on you, ‘s’all.”

“Came?”

The word hung in the air like a grenade, waiting. Mr. M was already bracing himself for the impact, it seemed.

“Came?!”

That bracing served him well, because in the next second you were lifting the weapon even higher and eyeing him with the most pointed, putrid look of disdain. You’d never been one for letting grenades go untouched.

“Ejaculated!” Joel hissed, lifting a hand to shield himself, “Felt— felt so good I just couldn’t stop and I-I-I came.”

You paused.

Came. Felt good. Couldn’t stop.

You had felt good when he’d rubbed you. You had not wanted him to stop. But then he had. And you were mad. You’d never been touched that way in your life, and now you were feeling fifteen hundred emotions at once.

Were you supposed to ‘come,’ too? Why did he stop?

“Why didn’t you let me…ejaculate, too?” The words felt foreign and strange on your tongue.

For the first time, you saw one side of Joel’s lips twitch. Evidently fighting the urge to turn them into a smile.

“Girls don’t really…do that,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Why? Ain’t ever had your pussy rubbed on by a man?”

You shortly landed the blow you’d been holding over his head, splitting the skin along his brow with one hit from the butt of his gun. Joel jumped again, then moaned.

“Crazy bitch!”

“Creepy fuck.”

Your eyes narrowed with loathing, unable to comprehend how a man so vile had just made you feel so good. Your stomach was twisting in knots while Joel rubbed his forehead, pawing helplessly at the gash you’d just left.

“I saved your life,” he grumbled, low, “You owed me.”

“Did I?”

Abruptly, and without really thinking, you were sinking the muzzle of the gun into the spot you’d just cut, mouth kicking up in a smile at the sounds of pain it elicited.

“Did I, Joel?” you cooed.

“How the— the fuck do you know my name?”

Momentarily, you yanked the revolver from his face and tilted it to show him his name carved into the bottom.

“What’s the ‘M’ stand for? ‘Molester’?”

“Means ‘mind’ your fucking business,” he spat.

You probably would’ve hit him again had it not seemed as though he were trying to sit up just then. You slid swiftly from his frame—just to take a step off the bed, gun still pointed at his head. Then you backed away.

One by one, rapidly, you unloaded the bullets from the cylinder, maintaining a safe distance from the man all the while. You watched him blink and try to get some thing from his eyes, but he didn’t seem keen to move.

You left just one live round inside. You made a point to spin the cylinder and, again, aim it straight at his head.

The man was blinking even harder. Rubbing now, too.

“I feel…” Joel murmured.

“Drugged?” you returned, “Yeah, that must suck.”

A set of wide, irate, and horrified eyes met yours. His mouth hung open in a stupid look of shock. Trying to piece the last bits of this fucked up jigsaw puzzle together and growing angrier by the second.

“You fuckin’—”

Joel’s words were cut short by the weight of your body barreling back over his. Graceless, you imagined, but still nothing close to something you cared about now. You planted your knees on either side of his ribs and grazed the tip of the six-shooter down the length of his nose.

“Tell me,” you said, “How’d you make it feel so good?”

Your hips twisted for effect, jostling the man’s own parts beneath yours and clearly causing some effect in him. The muscles in his jaw jumped up as he gritted his teeth.

“You know damn well, slut,” Joel griped.

Without another thought, you squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The man’s whole body lurched underneath you. Trembling with the realization that you’d left just one lone bullet for him—and he didn’t know which chamber.

As far as foreplay went, Russian Roulette was probably a first, even for a man as wanton and depraved as Joel. You smiled sweetly and made another gyration with your lower half, which prompted him to grip you. Tight.

“What? Ya want me to fuck you, is that it?” he growled.

“I thought it wouldn’t fit.”

“I’ll make it fit.”

“How?”

Try as you might to conceal it, your gaze likely betrayed a hint of sincerity as you made that last inquiry. Joel’s eyes flickered between yours, searching for something there, and just when those glossy brown irises had found it, they stopped. Blinked. He shook his head, incredulous.

“My mind ain’t…right,” he said, slowly, “But I— I know you know what I mean by that, sweet pea.”

Something in your tummy fluttered at the sound. You gripped the pistol tighter to get rid of the feeling.

“I don’t,” you answered.

Again, Joel was stumped. For the first time, though, there appeared to be some sympathy behind his eyes. Or stupidity. Or just a shit ton of morphine coursing through his veins as he tried to make sense of this situation.

As if to confirm an idea in his drug-addled brain, he lowered a hand between your legs and hovered there a second. He watched you; you watched back but didn’t move.

Then slowly, almost clinically, Joel slipped two fingers underneath you and found a soft, pulsing warmth—far wetter than the last time he’d touched down there. When he pulled his hand away, both fingers and half of his palm were glistening with a fluid. You let out a startled cry at the sight of it and nearly dropped your gun.

“What is that?!”

Joel looked to you, equally awed—for different reasons.

“What do you mean?”

“Why’s it all…sticky?”

You couldn’t even try to hide your horror at the thought of that weird, syrupy stuff leaking out of you. It was strange enough feeling it come out of a freak like Joel, but from your own body? He had to be fucking joking.

“It’s normal.”

“Like hell it is— you— STOP!” The last fragment of your sentence was swallowed by a scream, leaping back when Joel moved his fingers toward your face.

“What? You’ve never seen this?” He sounded like he was teasing. You could shoot him for how smug he sounded.

In very small amounts, you’d seen stuff. Blood every month. Bits and pieces of bodily secretions that, to you, had always seemed gross. But never this. Never big, sticky globs of…whatever the fuck this was. You continued to back away on the bed, gun still tipped toward Joel but now trying to put some distance between your bodies. You didn’t know how else to act.

You did know you wanted to scream when Joel stuck his fingers in his mouth. Bile might’ve jumped in your throat.

He sucked the dew clean off the digits, then wriggled them to show what he’d done. You felt the urge to vomit.

“That came from— from— why are you eating it?!”

Joel grinned. Big.

You weren’t sure why, but he looked psyched to be alive in that moment, and not just because of the narcotics.

Before you knew what was happening, he’d pushed you flat on your back, hips pinned underneath his hands as he moved over your body. He didn’t even try for the gun.

“And here I was thinkin’ you were just fuckin’ with me,” he chuckled, palms sliding under your nightdress. When you felt the residuum of wetness from his spit and your slick stuck together on his fingers, you wanted to squeal.

But you didn’t. You tried propping yourself up on elbows until Joel was sliding your one and only article of clothing over your head, then beckoning you down on the bed in front of him. You watched his gaze flit down to your side.

“Still hurt?” he murmured, tracing over the bandage.

You shook your head no, though it did, a little. At the moment, it seemed the pain was the furthest thing from your mind as you saw Joel slide down your body and try to take up residence between your thighs—with his face planted right there. You kicked his shoulder in protest.

“Quit!” you cried, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“You quit,” Joel returned, yanking them back.

Then you felt you had no choice but to brandish the gun, taking the thing between two palms while you pointed it again—as if he needed the reminder.

“Fine. Why don’t you keep that thing aimed at my head while I give you some?” he muttered. The subsequent ‘See if I give a shit’ was silent.

“Give me some what?”

“Head.”

Head. You’d never heard something phrased that way. Joel’s head was down there, sure, practically grinning from ear to ear as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, but certainly he didn’t mean to do a thing as drastic and dirty as—

“JOEL!”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled by your thighs.

You tried to shy away, but he held you down.

“Joel, I— I pee out of there,” you hissed, “Why the fuck would you wanna put your mouth on that?”

As if your groans of disgust and vehement attempts to get away weren’t enough to deter him, you watched Joel’s tongue dart between his lips and down to yours. The sick fuck was actually licking your folds, tracing the tip across that warm, sticky place and moaning into your skin. Holding you tighter when you pleaded for him to stop. Then, with the hand that wasn’t prying your legs apart, he reached down and started stroking his cock.

Again, it felt dirty and wrong. Beyond the fact that this man was a perfect stranger and easily decades your senior, you were repulsed by the sight of his lips and his tongue and his spit mixing up in that messy, wet place you still didn’t quite understand yourself. You didn’t know much about your body, but it had never once occurred to you to be kissed down there. Joel was roaming every contour and crevice with his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he liked it.

“I hate it,” you whined, feebly.

You knew you could’ve easily blown the man’s brains out, but some small part of you was still plagued by curiosity. ‘Hate’ was just the first word that came to mind when you were faced with something that made you scared.

“It’s weird,” you tried again. This time pressing the gun to the top of his bobbing head while you grit your teeth, “And wrong.”

At that, Joel stopped.

His eyes flickered to yours, all glass-like and hooded.

“Why? Practically lickin’ ya clean here,” he said, starting to grin to himself as his words came slightly slurred, “There’s nothin’ wrong about this, sweet pea.”

You felt something flutter between you. He felt it, too.

“Like when I call ya that? ‘Sweet pea’?” he said, pausing to flick his tongue over the spot that had just stirred at his words. He watched you fight back a whimper.

“No,” you choked. You pinched your eyes shut, unsure whether it was pleasure or pure revulsion overtaking you—or both.

Suddenly, you felt Joel’s hand smooth over your thigh, still warm from when he’d been stroking himself below. He placed an affectionate kiss to your belly and grinned.

“Is that what this is? Feel guilty about feelin’ this good?” he murmured, “Think it’s…dirty, what we’re doin’?”

At length, and just barely visible to him, you nodded.

“It is dirty,” you corrected him quietly.

Then you saw that stupid pseudo-sympathetic smirk tug at the corners of his lips, and just when you thought he might nudge his way back up your body—to do what, you weren’t sure—he sank between your legs. This time, he made sure to hold your gaze as he re-assumed the position. His palm continued to rub at your thigh, as if to distract you from the rough brush of his stubble or the fact that his mouth was hovering so dangerously close.

“Sweet pea,” he rasped, “Ain’t nothin’ dirty about this.”

As if to punctuate his words, Joel dragged his lips down your slit to press a kiss to your centre, eyes never leaving yours.

“Not here…”

He pointed with his tongue, moving it deftly between your folds. You gripped the sheets, trying to ignore the pleasure that the simple act wrought through your body.

“Not here.”

He kissed your clit. You squeezed even tighter.

“Not on my tongue, on my fingers, anywhere, y’hear?”

You were about to answer—maybe tell him he was supremely full of shit, then flash the gun in his face—when Joel shifted onto his knees on the bed. He moved slowly and as calm as he ever had, motions languid while his mind was likely steeped in the morphine by now. He snagged one of your ankles. He slid his hand up the back of your calf and tugged you down to the edge of the bed. Then he stood up, right between your legs. The warmth radiating from his bare lower half was immediate, almost suffocating from where you lay. You didn’t like it at all.

You refused to meet his gaze, grip tightening on the gun.

“Joel…”

When that warmth at your front shifted inward, though, you hardly had a say in what your reflexes did or didn’t do. You jumped when you felt the head of his dick slip past your pulsing core, closer to the other hole below it.

“Not here, either,” Joel continued, grin still evident from his tone.

Before you could even think to ask what he meant to do ‘here,’ Joel moved one of your legs up, tilting your hips, and pushed ahead with just the tip of his cock. Not breaching it fully, but nudging—prodding at that hole.

For the first time, you let out a moan.

You hastily clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle it.

“Aw, honey,” Joel murmured, “Did that feel good?”

His words reeked of condescension. You scowled at the ceiling.

“No.”

You felt him push a little further—this time making the head of his dick notch into that tight ring of muscles.

No, the word rang through your skull once more. Your curiosity was shortly supplanted by disgust—how the fuck could you let this creepy old man, this stranger, press into you like that? Talk to you like you were dumb? You seized hold of Joel’s pistol with both hands and aimed directly for his chest.

“Stop doing that,” you growled. When the man’s grip on your leg only tightened and you couldn’t writhe away, you lifted the other and tried kicking him in the gut. Of course, Joel caught your foot midair, and it never landed.

“Just givin’ ya options, darlin’,” he said, easy-going. Not seeming to care about the firearm pointed his way.

Fuck it.

You squeezed the trigger again.

Empty chamber.

If Joel flinched, you didn’t see it. He did, however, knock the gun right out of your hand the next second, sending it tumbling with an unceremonious thump on the bed behind you. You tried to leap back for it, but your arm was quickly pinned. Joel cocked one silver-flecked brow.

“You done?” he asked, almost bored.

Your last—and only—leverage taken away from you, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger. And desperation.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you cried, trying to squirm away.

Joel didn’t move his cock, but he did hold you still. Blinking with indifference and a fair bit of drug-induced dissociation, it seemed, from the far-away look in his eyes. He pushed both of your legs so they were folded up to your chest, and ignored your whimpers when he did. At length, he pulled out just enough to smear some of your wetness down to the hole he was trying to fuck.

“You want this,” he countered gently.

“I DON’T!”

Joel continued as though he hadn’t heard you, and moments later, you sensed another slick something pooling against you. From your position beneath him, you could see a bead of spit slip from Joel’s mouth and stretch into a thin, glistening string all the way down to the space between your thighs. You watched him rub the saliva in with his fingers, almost meticulous as he did it.

Then he eased his hips forward an inch, wedging himself back in your ass. He groaned when he felt resistance—and a sharp clench of your muscles.

“I can teach ya…show ya everything…there is to know.”

His words somehow made it out through ragged breaths. That broad, tan chest was heaving with every labored pull of his lungs, and you could tell he was feeling good.

You might’ve been able to say the same for yourself, were your mind not singly occupied by the desire to escape. Still at war with yourself, wondering how it would feel or what you might see that first time, all the while despising the man who seemed hell-bent on forcing it.

He might’ve saved your life, but there was no fucking way he’d get to use you like that and stay breathing.

You were raised better than that.

You could do better than anything this man had to offer.

You resolved to kill him as soon as the drugs knocked him out—just like you’d had planned from the second you woke up on the floor of his cabin that afternoon.

Of course being chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains for some well-meaning stranger to find you had always been part of your mother’s—and the rest of the Raiders’—grand plan. Having this stupid, horny sap take you into his home with the hope of claiming you as his own was just the icing on top.

Now you had a reason to kill Joel and steal all his shit.

At present, he fed another inch of himself inside you and grinned when you let out a startled cry.

“Atta girl,” he said, smirking, “Feelin’ okay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Will do.”

Then, as if to prove a point, he bottomed out, sheathing his cock to the hilt in spite of your cries. Your hands fisted the sheets, and you tried to pull off. It didn’t work.

In fact, all it accomplished was giving Joel more room to thrust back into you. And pull out. And shove back in. The snap of his hips was like cruel and excruciating clockwork, completely unhindered by your words or your gestures or your pleas to stop fucking doing that Joel, it fucking hurts! If anything, the sounds of your censure only got him harder, and with it, made it that much easier to fuck you rougher. His eyes shone with pride.

“What’s’at, sweet pea?” he hummed, strokes coming into a steady pace.

“It’s too…big…doesn’t fit,” you whimpered.

In response, Joel glanced down to see the spot where your bodies were joined. He pushed even deeper.

“Yeah?” he said when you yelped, “I think it fits just fine.”

Motherfucker, you wanted to wail, but then your neck craned sideways—your mouth trying to find purchase in anything you might grit between your teeth—and the only thing that escaped your throat was a sob. You tried burying your face in the comforter, only for Joel to yank it back.

Cupping your chin and pinching both your cheeks in a single, punishing squeeze as he continued to fuck you, “What’s the matter, darlin’? Too much?”

You groaned and clenched your jaw, head jerking away.

Per usual, Joel was undeterred. Even smiled.

“My pretty girl need somethin’a bite, huh?” he hummed.

He probably knew you wouldn’t nod, so he went ahead and decided to oblige that one need he saw anyway. Snagging your nightie, Joel raised a hand to your face and proceeded to push the fabric inside your mouth.

Just as he started to lift his hips to deliver another thrust, he had to stop. A sudden, sharp ‘FUCK!’ left his mouth, then a groan, and his hand retreated fast.

You’d bitten him.

You were grinning just a little, and you’d bitten him.

Joel promptly slapped you across the face. If you weren’t so fucking amused by the sight of his bright red fingers, you just might’ve winced. Instead, the smile stayed on your lips, the slap barely registered, and, to your utmost disbelief, something else had just then started to form.

Pleasure, in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuckin’—” Joel snarled.

“Shit,” you finished, eyes rolling back.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was rutting into you relentlessly. That brief hand bite detour had only stoked the flames of his hatred—and arousal—and now he was practically splitting you in half with the force of his thrusts. He slapped you once more for good measure.

“Oh, that you fuckin’ like?” he seethed, cheeks flushed, “Can’t get off with my…tongue on your cunt, but a slap— and my cock buried deep in your ass gets the job done?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered softly. Mindlessly.

Really, there were no two people more fucked up than you in this moment, you thought. Joel growing harder with each desperate objection of yours, you going all soft and hot and bothered the second he slapped your face and fucked you rougher, and together, the two of you letting out grunts and moans of pleasure while the bed shook like an earthquake just shy of a 9.5 on the Richter scale. Were you not already planning to slit the man’s throat after all of this was over, you just might’ve wanted to marry this Joel M for how wonderfully he fucked you.

You let him know as much when you seized his forearms.

Bouncing into his thrusts, you bit your lip and finally met his gaze. Joel’s eyes were trained in somewhat of a daze, pupils all but swallowing his irises as he fucked you.

“Like being daddy’s little cocksleeve, huh?”

Only the sentence was slurred so bad you could scarcely make out half the words. You nodded just the same.

“Like it when he fucks you in the ass?” Joel panted.

You nodded again.

That pleasure in your belly had worked its way up to a full swell—and whatever it was, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it now. You gripped Joel’s arms even harder as his chest swayed into you, then sank further and further until your fronts were pressed flush to each other and your ankles were hooked tight around his back.

It almost felt intimate. That coarse, weathered, sweat-coated face spattered with patches of grey seemed to you nearly handsome as his lips hung limply in an ‘o.’

Joel’s cock dragged back and forth between your walls at this new, snug angle, and moans fell out of you both.

“Baby.” His voice was hoarse. Strained.

You couldn’t quite make sense of the expression above you, but there was an unmistakable, muted desperation lurking somewhere beneath it. Joel rutted into you quicker, balls leaving rapid smacks against your ass with every thrust. His hair was disheveled, and his hands were making fists in the sheets on either side of your head.

“Joel—”

“Jus’ lemme use you.”

Words so low they were barely audible as he panted.

“But—”

“Daddy’s…almost done, sweet pea. Just take it.”

You were surprised he’d had it within himself to be so soft. A peculiar sort of haze hung over his face, the pace of his hips picked up even more, and suddenly those plush pink lips were hovering a mere hair’s breadth away from yours. Mumbling. Rambling on and on about how wet you were, how perfect you fit him, how nice and sweet and tight your body felt as he fucked you stupid.

That sensation in your own stomach grew even stronger.

Unsure of what to do, you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Joel, I…I feel funny,” you whispered.

Joel hummed. Didn’t slow.

“I know.”

He knew?

“What’s it—ah, fuck.” Your words broke off in a whimper.

Instead of proffering a verbal response, Joel just slipped a touch between your bodies—thumbing sloppily between your folds to earn a couple more high-pitched moans. Your legs tightened around his middle.

“Joel, s-stop!”

It felt so good it almost hurt. He didn’t stop.

“S’just an orgasm, baby,” Joel panted, “You’re okay.”

And, in spite of his own impending climax and the effect of the drugs likely reaching a fever pitch inside him, Joel managed to slide his other hand beneath the back of your head. Cradled you to him while he fucked you into the bed and made you come unraveled with his touch. You tried to writhe away, but he was used to the drill by now—he just fucked you harder and rubbed you faster.

Whatever he wanted would come soon. You doubted there was anything you could do to stop it, but you tried.

Without thinking, you grabbed hold of the damp locks of hair at the nape of his neck and yanked on them hard.

“Joel, I can’t— I can’t,” you keened.

The hand at the back of your head held you firm.

“You can,” Joel returned, tough but surprisingly calm, “Give it to daddy, ‘s’all ya gotta do.”

What exactly ‘it’ was was still unclear. You just knew you felt good and warm and full—about ready to burst. When you felt tempted to give his hair another tug, Joel’s eyes met yours, and they were soft. Insistent, still, but soft.

Dilated as all hell and probably swimming in clouds of a delirious, bleary haze, but always soft. Almost tender.

“Be a good girl and give it to daddy,” Joel slurred, slow, “C’mon, sweet pea…cum for daddy, please.”

For the first time in that short, rough, utterly deranged time you had known this man, he was begging you. Pleading with you, now, as his body grew overwrought with pleasure and just needed release. You needed it, too, not even knowing how you would get it, but the force of his thrusts, the warmth of his body, the look in those warm, bare, powerless eyes—you fucking loved whatever it was that could make a man like that so weak.

You had to strike while the iron was hot. You slid back.

Joel didn’t notice, too focused on your face and the feel of your body to see when you’d reached for the gun.

Just as you took hold of it, a jolt of pleasure tore through you. Your heels dug into his back, and you nearly lost control of the pistol. Joel groaned in your mouth, begged you once again to cum all over this cock, make a fuckin’ mess of it, baby, please, and you could only whine, grip the metal tighter, and raise it slowly to the side of his head while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The peak of your pleasure had come into view. You felt it.

You nudged the muzzle through those soft, slick, salt-and-pepper shaded tufts of hair near the edge of his temple right when the first throes of euphoria seized you.

“FUCK!”

You squeezed the trigger.

#NEED DARK!JOEL TO TAKE ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE AND FREAK ME IN WAYS UNIVERSALLY CONDEMNED BY POSTMODERN FEMINISM #IT'S SOOOOO BAD Y'ALL #this might be too niche but i hope at least one person enjoys LOL #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dark!joel

[honestlywynter]

Stop Obsessing Over The Void And Subliminals (kinda rude rant)

as a person who started interest in the loa in late 2020 discovering subliminals. LOA is simple, idk why it took me 4 years to understand. manifesting is easy.

if you have struggles with manifesting. don't panic imma help you from being like me 😜.

1. Realize you are in control

Stop STOP and i mean fucking STOP. Giving the void and subliminals so much fucking power and bitching about it " OH MY GOSH i didnt enter the void wtf am i gonna doooo 😪 " or " THE SUBLIMINAL SAID 5 Seconds and it would work where is my SP? "

like gorl u sound desperate as fuckkkkk lol

but heres how we change this. first the problem is YOU. why the fuck you depending on some tool? thats like me depending on my feet to make my decisions and getting mad when my feet dont say shit back to me. LOL

but no you just need to strengthen your self concept. you can do this BYYYYY

- repeating affirmations during the day

- changing your thoughts

- Rampages

- &&&& Drumroll pleaaaaseeeee .... 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Sleep affirmations. they slip into your consciousness at night :)....At the end i will link my FAVORITE VIDEOS, for the self concept.

2. MANIFEST

oh shit you thought this was gon be long huh? no bookie its just two things. better your self concept and start manifesting. NOW i am gonna some tips.

stop giving the 3d power when you make the 3d...

EXAMPLE:

you start your day saying " oh i have my ideal body im soooo freaking happy i finally did it, like i been x pounds for everrr and i love my body "

and then the second you look in the mirror you like " damn bruh i wish i had my ideal body "

cause like why tf did you just ruin your fucking manifestation, why did you fucking react????

When you look in that mirror this is what they mean by " old story ".

Instead, look in the mirror and close your eyes and imagine your ideal body, or just deny it. " who the fuck is that in the mirror, gorll ik thats not me cause i got my ideal body ive had it since 1823 "

ALSO

dont let your thoughts rule u, u rule them. if you are in public and think " omg they looking at me cause think im big" NO dont do that...

instead say

" Girl they looking at me bc i got my ideal body, and i been had it since a baby in da tummy ahh"

exactly change that mindset. thats it. all you have to do is catch yourself, improve your thoughts and your self concept will be thru the mf roof. So den you can manifest in a snap of a fingerrr. period thats the magic 🪄 sauce bookie. also dont say will say have cause you already have it bookie bear ;)

im open for questions and i am open to telling what ive manifested WITHOUT some dumb ass void or subliminal lol.

heres the video; BTW LOOK AT HER PAGE SHE HAS MUCH MORE.

#manifesting #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loa success #void #void state #void success #the void #the void state #manifesation #manifest method #void method #void meditation #void motivation #manifest #meditation #instant manifestation #Youtube

[ghouljams]

King!Konig absolutely railing his darling till she can’t think after the assassination attempts, stab wound be damned (it probably only makes him more horny let’s be honest) is all I’m dreaming about this morning

He is a nasty man tha I unfortunately want 😔

What do you think he's calling her for??

You're led to the king's private drawing room, something small, comfortable, official off the throne room. The court physician is speaking as politely and hurriedly as you've ever heard a person, to a man that dwarfs him in every possible way even seated. You enter the room and König stands, ignoring what you assume is his physician's advice as well as the man himself. Your eyes dart to the blood soaking his shirt, the torn fabric that may as well be torn skin the way it bleeds. Your eyes are forced lower by the strain of König's pants, the bastard is hard.

"On your knees," He commands as you take a breathless step into the room. Your eyes snap to his, that dark malevolent gaze chills you, but it's not for you. You turn your attention to the physician, and see König tips his head curiously as you start to regain your composure.

"Get me some gauze," You order, moving to inspect the herbs laid out on the low table.

"I-" the physician looks nervously between you and your imposing patient.

"Now!" You snap at him. Above you König nods. You turn your attention to König, his eyes crinkle at the sides, smiling even under his chainmail hood. You narrow your eyes, and grit your teeth against the swell in your heart, "Lay down."

"Du bist herrisch, das gefällt mir." König's teeth flash through the tight chain, but he settles onto the couch all the same. The physician hands you a bundle of clean cloth as you drop herbs into the hot water bath a servant is placing on the table. "Everyone out," König bellows, as you dip the cloth into the makeshift tea. There's a scramble for the exit, and a grunt of pain as König strips his shirt off.

"Pants too," You tell him without looking up from your work. He doesn't argue, and you're quickly maneuvered onto his lap. König looks far too pleased with himself as you shift to find a comfortable position.

"You'll never get it in like that Liebling," He hums, gripping your skirt and ripping it up the middle. You press the soaked cloth against his wound in retaliation and he tips his head back with a hiss. You can feel his cock twitching under you, and just as quickly as you stanch the bleed he's lifting your hips and holding his cock against your entrance.

"König," You warn, ducking your head as your face heats, you wish he didn't have such an affect on you.

"I fucked you this morning liebchen, you'll be fine." He pushes into you and your fingers curl tighter into the cloth. You whine, feeling ever fat inch of his cock stretching you out, filling you full. It burns, just at the edge of too much, each lubricious inch of skin against your walls forcing you to make room for him. He scrapes against something deep and achingly tender and your back arches, your head tipped back as you swear.

You lean your weight onto his wound and he bucks up into you, filling you in one good thrust, hitting you so deep in your stomach you can't do anything but gasp. König murmurs some distant praise as you try to get your bearings, try being the operative word. The way he holds you down against his hips, forces you to put your weight either onto his cock or onto his wound, a vicious seesaw of pleasuring yourself, of pain-pleasuring him, makes you shiver, makes you beg for more. You're kept in place as König fucks into you, shallow but devastating, angling your hips so he hits exactly where he wants.

You squeeze your eyes shut, panting out moans and feeling an agonizing warmth churn in the pit of your stomach. A pressure that doesn't stop building, only lessons when he allows you a break, when he diverts your focus back to tending to his wound. You lean against your hands, attempting to get away from some of the pleasure he thrusts into you. You feel the squish of fabric, the flex of his muscles, hear the low groan of your king.

"Harder meine engel, or you'll never stop the bleeding," He sounds pleased with himself, breathless and excited. The new angle lets you feel the tight drag of him in and out, your cunt clenching to try and keep him where you want, while the rest of you aches and trembles. He's right, you know he's right, but you hardly have the mental fortitude to push as hard as you need to. Not with him moving you like a toy, hitting everything perfectly so that stars burst behind your closed eyes.

König's hand grasps the back of your neck and pulls you down tight against his chest. Your fingers press hard against the cloth, your body keeping pressure on as König growls, and plants his feet on the couch to fuck you harder. You shake against him, breathless punched out moans dripping from your lips, every muscle tensed until they aren't. Something drips between your legs, watery and slick, forced out by König's thick cock. It only eases the slide of his cock, lets you feel how absolutely destroyed you are for him.

"Giving orders like a queen, look at you now," König grunts, "coming on my cock like a whore." You nod, rub your cheek against his shoulder, lave your tongue against the taut lines of his throat. You can feel his chain mail draping over your forehead, your cheek. "This time-" König mumbles to himself, thrusting hard into you and stilling, "this time."

You feel the flood of heat as he spills into you. You whine, clenching around his cock as he breathes through his orgasm, fucking you with shallow thrusts as you milk him for every drop. His hips buck short, jerking with oversensitivity as he settles you back onto his lap. You swallow, try to get your head on as you tip it back to look at his covered face, his closed eyes, you rise and fall with his steady breaths.

"Does it hurt?" You fret, attempting to sit up enough to check his incredibly recent stab wound.

"Your pussy? No, it's very warm actually."

You could smack him, but he's already injured enough. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny." He opens his eyes to smile at you and stops, making a soft pained noise. "Oh, liebling," He coos, switching his grip to swipe his thumb against your cheek, "don't cry, I'm alright."

Are you crying? You reach a damp, bloody hand to check, though it doesn't do more than smear the crimson over your cheek. You can feel the tightness in your throat, the sting in your eyes, even without seeing the tears. You pout at König, at the concern, at the interest, in his eyes. You hadn't even realized you were upset enough to cry.

"I'm fine," You tell him, wiping your cheek with your shoulder and refocusing on your work, "Don't look at me."

You're not surprised when he doesn't follow that order.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #König x oc #könig x f!reader #f!reader #oc: liebling #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 fanfic #medieval au

[highvern]

Baby Blues

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, domestic!au

Warnings: gross tooth rotting fluff, dad!gyu mom!reader.

Length: ~500

Note: Drunk Goggles couple is back! for a moment! I'm in a bit of a slump and needed something easy and they're so near and dear to my heart. I saw a tiktok of a baby refusing to say dada and i couldn't let it go. threw in some speech development bc im annoying (babies use their lips to say M and B sounds and their tongues to say D which is a skill they develop later)

also GIRL DAD MINGYU SUPREMACY

read more here

“Say da-da.”

“Mama!”

“Your daughter hates me.” Mingyu huffs, head falling to the kitchen table with a thunk. 

Hana delights in her fathers dramatics, squealing her joy while yogurt goes flying. Her chubby fists clap against the plastic table of her high chair and little legs kick out. Mingyu smiles through the pain, never able to truly be annoyed with his favorite person in the world.

Mingyu had been trying to get her to say dada for the better part of an hour. So far each request was either answered with "mama", bubble noises, or unintelligible baby gibberish. You'd simply watched the entire thing unfold from behind your coffee cup, smirking into the rim at Mingyu's desperation.

“Our daughter doesn’t hate you." You say, rolling your eyes. "She’s a baby.”

“No, she hates me. Watch. Say dada, Hana.”

Hana doesn’t pause before shrieking, “Mama!”

“See!” He argues, arms out towards the babbling baby like she's torturing him on purpose.

“She just loves her mama, don’t you Hana?” You coo at her, stroking the top of her head covered in wispy hair as you wipe the mess of drool and her breakfast away.

“Ggggh!”

“Daddy is silly, isn’t he?”

“Bfffff.” Hana spits, ungracefully wiggling in her seat.

Eyes wide, you agree with her ramblings. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Mingyu pouts.

“We would never!” You give Hana a cartoonish wink that sends her into a fit.

Returning to the sink with dirty dishes, you listen to your husband try desperately to get Hana to say the words he’s been begging to hear since she called you mama for the first time a week ago. Hana humors him, pure sunshine under Mingyu’s constant attention; giggling at his crestfallen face every time like its new.

Deciding to take mercy, you approach Hana’s chair and lift her into your arms. “Gyu watch this. Hana, where’s baba? Baba?” You ask, pointing one of her pudgy fists directly at Mingyu.

“Bah…Bah?”

“She—she said—I’m baba!” Mingyu repeats dumbstruck, staring at your smiling face.  “LETS GO!” He whoops, rising to bolt around the kitchen. Jumping around the room like he won the lottery, fists punching the air in victory. 

It’s the same way he reacted when he found the positive test waiting for him on the bathroom counter almost a year ago. Unfiltered, unadulterated joy. Except there were far more tears when he found out he was going to be a dad, a broken lamp, and a broken couch.

Now, he grins like a mad man, chest puffed in pride that his daughter finally recognized him. As if it was ever a question despite Hana being a spitting image of Mingyu except for her nose which clearly comes from your gene pool. How she screams when he gets home from work and immediately picks her up for smothering kisses like he’d been gone more than a couple hours. Or when you’re all curled up on the couch and she falls asleep on his chest, her mouth open wide as she snores just like the man holding her. And the times all the boys visit to coo over their niece, bribing her with funny faces and silly voices to let them carry her, but the only person she reaches her little arms for his Mingyu.

Hana is Mingyu’s mini me, attached to his hip since her first day. But she's already learning how to get the best of him, no doubt a skill she inherited from you.

You and your daughter cackle in unison as Mingyu sweeps you both into a bear hug, alternating kisses between your lips and Hana’s almost bald head. 

“My girls,” he says with a squeeze, content seeping into his words.

“Mama!”

There's a sigh of resignation, and a nod of his head. “We’ll work on it.”

#svthub #kim mingyu #mingyu fics #mingyu drabbles #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #dghe couple #🫡 highvern

[000total]

Why do most ppl think that when an object moves its a ghost or the devil.um??? What if it's ur guardian angel?!?!?!?!? 🙄🙄🙄

#saw a video on youtube where a baby was sleeping in its crib and on the baby monitored it showed the teddy bear moving #people were saying it was creepy but like um 🙄🙄 das an angel over there #im feeling extra chatty today

[simonrillleyyysss]

Ignore this if you want, but what about~

dom!könig x innocent!reader. Where he gets so sick of all the teddies in the way he decided to make her hump her favorite teddy!

omg.

cw: mean!kö,gentle slapping,petnames,controlled orgasm, teddy fucking, orgasm denial, afab reader, reader is called princess,minors dni

always annoying, the teddies.

trying to cuddle? big bear wedged between könig and you—causing him to huff and try to yank it away; earning a sharp cry from you as you protested and sat on it.

he’d pleaded and begged many times for them to move—No.

‘please, prinzessin.. i do not see why you need so many of them.. it’s simply one i want to move.’

‘i can’t! they’ll feel left out, it’s not fair.’

‘..they cannot feel emotion,Ist dir das klar?’

könig confirmed, furrowing his brows in question, twirling your hair around his finger.

‘i know, but it’s the idea of it.’

he usually just nodded and accepted the fact they wouldn’t move, secretly shifting them in the middle of your powernaps or floortime, starfished on the fluffy pink carpet—unaware he was shoving your teddies over.

always annoying.

your hands desperately trying to unloop his belt, huffing as he slapped your cheek softly as a warning, pushing you back and manhandling you to lay on your stomach, arching your hips up.

he shifted—sinking onto a teddy with a grumble.

‘i’ve had enough, schatz.’

‘what?’

‘knees, now.’

the large figure commanded, watching you scramble to your knees, watching him lift the bunny plushie—hands groping at your panties as he slid them off, placing the stuffie between your thighs.

‘kö..? please.’

‘you asked for this.’

‘not me.’

‘i had asked you to move them various times, did i not?’

with a hum, he placed his large hands on your hips, slowly guiding you back and forth along the soft fur of the bunny.

‘no-oh!nono..not minnie..’

you pleaded, hands digging into the headboard infront of you, listening to it creak with every thrust of your hips, sensitive button of your clit grinding against it with soft mews falling from your lips.

‘that’s it, hure.’

‘kökö..feels so—so good!’

you blubbered, biting your bottom lip tentatively as your hips increased in speed, his own hands moving away as he watched you fuck yourself on the teddy, palming himself through his cargos.

‘please—please touch me..’

‘no.’

you cried out as he refused, shaking your head as you quickly continued to hump minnie, mouth agape as you babbled and begged, not sure what for. hands sliding down to grasp at its head, rocking it back and forth along your slick cunny.

‘can i cum?’

‘no.’

‘pl—eeeassee!’

with a broken string of moans, your hand moved to grope at your breasts, thumbs running over the soft buds as the bed creaked beneath your weight and power of your thrusts.

“pleaseletmecum..need to..needtocumpleasepleasepleeAasee!’

with a gentle slap to your ass, he watched your eyes flutter back—hips trembling as the knot in the stomach began to snap, quickly yanking the plushie away.

‘no-no! please! könig!’

‘you’ll cum when i let you cum.’

#könig x y/n #könig x you #könig smut #könig modern warfare #könig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig x reader smut #könig #könig cod fluff

[henneseyhoe]

Milk Marie

Unique x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: unprotected seggs(wrap before you tap!), dirty talk, after care, soft(ish)!Unique, pussy whipped!Unique, kinda short, das it(I think)

SUMMARY: Unique figures if he can’t get over her, he’ll get under her instead.

✮Prompt✮

✮✮✮✮

Girl, I want everything that come with you. Even if you got stretch marks and even two children. I can’t blame you, girl.

It seemed like he always ended back up here. Right here. In this bed. With this woman. Wrapped up in her sheets with his hands touching all the parts only the luckiest of men got the pleasure of even seeing. He swore they were meant to be, and she almost thought so too. He treated her so well, like the beauty she was, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

They had known each other since the sandbox, his mother always offering to watch her while her mother was at work and since that first time they met, they were connected at the hip.

No matter if they fell out and swore to stop fuckin’ with each other, they always ended right back together. No matter how many times she attempted to leave, he’d just find her again.

He hoped by the last time she left he’d be too tired of her bullshit to follow after her, but he was more resilient than he thought, and withdrawals are a muthafucka. Now he knows how the people he serves feel.

That first taste he had of her? It was like a babies first lick of sugar, addiction waiting to happen. The first time he came was like floating in outer space with no destination or desire to be anywhere else. And as ironic as it was, she looked innocent on her knees for him.

Her mouth worked its way down on him until the tip of her nose touched his stomach and her eyes began to water, her throat capturing his entire length. With no problem, she bobbed her head up and down on him, her mouth so sloppy that spit escaped from her lips and trailed down to his balls, making him shudder.

She took her hand and began spreading the spit around his heavy sack, massaging as she felt him throb in her mouth, the taste of precum already being prevalent on her tongue. He occupies his hands and digs his fingers into the couch cushions, knowing that she would stop and he’d be fucked if he reached for her freshly done silk press that was wrapped in a silk scarf, secure for those rough times.

Flashes of white appeared behind his eyes like stars as that familiar pull in the bottom of his stomach appeared once again, a warm sense of feeling covering his body as he came down her throat for the first time in months since he found out where she had been hiding. Which just ended up being her childhood home in the city over.

It took unique all but a mere few seconds to recover before he was pulling her up from her knees and into his strong hold, giving her that kiss of death before he got to doing his own damage. As he stood from the couch with no care about the jeans and belt still around his thighs, their tongues danced together in sync. Unique could taste every bit of both of them on her tongue, but he was never one to fuss about kissing after head if it was with her. He welcomed it if anything.

Tossing her body onto the bed, he takes a second to admire how the room hadn’t changed one bit since she became an adult. A doll house sat in the corner with dolls still inside, a memory of the last time she had played with them. Teddy bears that had eventually fallen off the bed when she was sat. Pink walls with brown, white, and gold for the future. A color pallet reminding him of something else in particular.

✮✮✮✮

“Nique~” She moaned sweetly, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her as the man above her pushed his hips onto her ass, his piece sinking into her ever so slowly. The stretch was always the same, the thickness of him leaving a burning sensation at her entrance the more he pushed into her, but it only stayed for a few seconds as she adjusted to his size, which was nothing average.

The thrusts were sensual and loving until he leans up off of her and pulls out just a bit further than usual, giving her the room to pull her ass up in the air and put a perfect arch in her back. She began bouncing herself back onto him, gaining speed and momentum as he meets her ass with his hips.

“Oh fuck..” He groans quietly.

His eyes were trained on the motions of her soft skin jiggling with every collide of their bodies. His thrusts only got harder from there, segments of moans falling from the girls lips. He didn’t even have to tell her how wet she was, the squelching sounds erupting from where they connected told her all she needed to know.

Switching the angle of his thrusts, he places one knee onto the bed and leans into her, his hands placed in the middle of her back just to make sure she wouldn’t be able to run from the lethal position. And running, she did not do, couldn’t do because of how he was holding her. Suddenly the bed dipped under them both with the strong force of his thrust making her collapse on her stomach, leaving the girl breathless after calling out to the highest one she worshipped.

“You feel that, baby? I’m in it?” He asks with his breathing unsteady, his balls tightening and her toes curling.

“Yes, Nique!”

She was in shambles trying to keep up with him. She could feel the tip of his dick pressing against her g spot, constantly slamming into it like a button, like he’d get some kind of prize if he pushed it correctly. He fucked her so hard, sweet compliments being the only things that contradicted the rough strokes. She could hear the belt buckle of his pants jingling around his ankles, remembering that they had barely been undressed fully before Unique got impatient and just shoved his pants down and her nightgown up before pushing her to her knees.

As Unique continued on with damn near breaking this girls childhood bed, he thought to himself. This was the pussy that niggas killed for. The type pussy that’d have you bussing back to back without a second thought about a condom. This was the pussy he thought about on those lonely nights when she was mad at him, when he had to take matters into his own hands and desperately jerk himself off, his mouth agape and muscles flexing as he cums all over his stomach to the beautiful thought that was her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whimpers. At this point she could feel him poking at her stomach and being pressed against the mattress helped nothing. He would probably fuck her through the cushion if he could.

“Uh-huh. Cum on this dick, Princess. Lemme feel you wet this dick up, show me how good I make this pussy feel” He spoke, punching nothing but a thick 9 inch pole into her spine. The man gave her no choice but to scream and give him exactly what he wanted, which was her release.

✮✮✮✮

Between her thighs were messy and wet, coated with a layer of white cream that was from both of them. Unique gently wiped her down with a wet towel, careful not to swipe over her sensitive clit too fast or harsh.

“Shhh—“ She hissed, her thighs almost closing in on his hand. Unique’s eyes flickered from her core up to her expression. “My bad” He simply apologized before tossing away the dirty rag in a hamper next to the bed. Laying next to her on his back, he sighs. “you gon’ learn to stop running from what you love”

She smiles, turning her head to look at the side of his face, getting a view of that nearly perfect profile. “Who says I love you, Unique?”

He smirks. “I don’t need a second opinion on a fact”

And the cycle continues…

✮✮✮✮

Woke up and remembered I forgot the taglist chile! LMFAO(some tags aren’t showing up, dk why!)

🏷️ @thatone-girly @notapradagurl7 @swavydadon @miyahmaraj @planetblaque @msinterlude @milkiboo @bloodripleygal @stevelacyballs @naj-ay444 @blackelysian @shaolyninferno

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #black reader #masterlist #black!fem!reader #black!oc #black actors #joey bada$$ × black!reader #joey badass fic #joey bada$$ fic #joey badass smut #joey badass #raising kanan smut #raising kanan #unique x reader #unique smut #smut masterlist #black writer #smutty #smut #henneseyhoe

[chiara-klara-claire]

funny ways to say “in the middle of nowhere”

Collected funny ones under this post + contributions to this one (my selection). Most involve ass(holes), have god/the devil, (nonsense) names of villages…

🇩🇪German: in the ass of the world/ the pasture- am Arsch der Welt/der Weide; where Fox and Hare bid each other good night - Wo sich Fuchs und Hase Gute Nacht sagen (old-fashioned), where the dead dog lays - Da liegt der tote Hund, in Buxtehude/ (Kuh)kaff, in der Pampa, in Timbuktu

🇮🇹Italian: in assland - in culonia/culandia, in the wolves’ ass - in culo ai lupi, in the ass of the word - in culo al mondo; 🇫🇷 French in the asshole of the world - dans le trou du cul du monde

🇨🇿Czech: Where foxes bid good night to one another - Kde si lišky dávají dobrou noc

🇩🇰Danish: where the crows turn around - Hvor kragerne vender on Lars diarrheas field/on the field of Lars Shitpants - På lars tyndskids mark

🇳🇴Norwegian: far damn from violence - langt pokker i vold, “huttaheiti” (gibberish)

🇸🇪Swedish: out (there) in the spinach - ute i spenaten,“tjotaheiti” (see above, maybe originally from Tahiti)

🇪🇸in Spain: in the fifth hell/pine tree - En el quinto infierno/pino, where Christ lost the sandal/hat/lighter - Donde Cristo perdió la alpargata/gorra/mechero;

🇲🇽 Mexico: Where the devil farts - Donde el diablo se echa un pedo, and sometimes someone answers: “Y nadie lo escucha” And no one hears

🇹🇼in Taiwan: where birds don't lay eggs and dogs don't shit - 鳥不生蛋狗不拉屎的地方 

🇵🇱Polish - where crows turn around -  Gdzie wrony zawracają, where dogs bark from their ass - gdzie psy dupami szczekają 🐶; Where the devil says goodnight - Gdzie diabeł mówi dobranoc, where (black) pepper grows - gdzie pieprz rośnie, (mostly in the context of running as far away as possible or chasing someone away)

🇦🇺Australia: woop woop or "in the middle of woop woop' 🇳🇿 NZ: wop wops

🇻🇳Vietnamese: holy forests, poisonous waters - rừng thiêng nước độc / where mountain passes are windy/cloudy and winds swirl in vortexes - đèo heo hút gió or đèo mây hút gió (rarely used)

🇨🇦🇫🇷 Québéc: Saint clin clin des meuhs meuhs (actual village name…)

🇸🇦 Arabic (Saudi dialect): in the castle of wadren في مقلاع وادرين (an old castle in the middle of desert)

🇮🇱 in Israel: Israel: at the end of the world, take a turn left - סוף העולם שמאלה

🇫🇮Finnish: behind God’s back - jumalan selän takana, in the devil’s ass - helvetin perseessä;

🇬🇷 Greek: at the devil’s horn - Στου διαόλου το κέρατο;

🇧🇬 Bulgarian: on the ass of geography - На гъза на географията

🇮🇸 Icelandic Out in an asshole - úti í rassgati;

🇧🇷 in Brazil: in cock’s house - na casa do caralho;

🇦🇷 in Argentina: in the pussy of the parrot- en la concha de la lora 🦜;

🇪🇪 Estonian: in the bear's ass - karuperses 🐻

🇺🇸 USA: bumfuck Egypt

🇧🇪 in Belgium (Dutch): in a farmer’s asscrack - in een boerengat

🇺🇦 Ukrainian: in the devil's swamps в чорта на кулічках,  where the crow won't carry bones куди ворон кісток не заносить

#langblr #language blog #idioms #funny idioms #foreign languages #language facts #my selection #my fav is the german one <33333 #polyglot #have had this in the drafts for more than a year i guess #mine #my lists

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Jail Time

JK Rowling: hello children Rowling: you know if labor takess over, they're going to force you to ressspect transss people? Barker: didn't keir starmer just literally throw them under the bus Rowling: Rowling: shut up Rowling: sstop ruining thiss for me!

Rowling: asss i wass sssaying Rowling: itss been reported in the reputable presssss Rowling: that labor isss totally going to do this Rowling: and who are you going to believe? Rowling: ssensssationalissst british tabloidsss or your lyin' eyesss?

Rowling: let me tell you Rowling: if they try to make me resspect a transss perssson Rowling: i would rather go to jail! Rowling: i will go to my execution assss if it wasss my wedding!! Rowling: i am a fearless truth teller!!!!

Rowling: i will go to jail! Rowling: i'll enjoy it! it'll be fun! Rowling: i'll work in the prissson library! Rowling: maybe ferment sssome ketchup behind a radiator! Rowling: maybe get real in the exercise yard Rowling: and a big sswasstika prissson faccce tat

Rowling: they're going to sssend me to prissson!! for misgendering!!! thisss isss going to happen! Mark my wordsss! Rowling: alsssso antifa issss going to murder all the sssmall busssinessss owners tomorrow, i read it on the internet

Rowling: watch, you'll be cowed by my sssolemn and dignified bearing assss they lead me to the gallowsss Rowling: jusst you watch! Poe: King: Koontz: Lovecraft: Barker: Barker: why do you come here anyway Rowling: I HAVE A SSSTOKER!!! I HAVE THE RIGHT!

Rowling: wow, the left hass finally lossst me! [turning a big dial that says "fascism" while looking over her shoulder at the audience for approval]

Barker: like seriously where are you getting this Rowling: i get all my newsss on the transss menace from the mosssst reputable sssource Rowling: the sssinfest webcomic Elon Musk: [rising from bushes] eeeey did someone-a say sinfest?

Musk: itsa me, Elon Musk! Musk: i love-a da sinfest! mama mia! itsa like-a mama's marinara [chef's kiss] Musk: i justa get backa from shadow banning da account data make-a funna da sinfest Musk: itta too cutting and incisive!   Musk: it musta be destroyed!

Musk: eeeeey jk rowling Musk: we hava so much in common Musk: we shoulda hang out Rowling: what do we have in common? Musk: well-a Musk: i da richest man in the world, you da richest woman Musk: we botha hate da jews and trans Musk: anna we botha very divorced!

Rowling: hmmm Rowling: how do you feel about free ssspeech Musk: i thinka people shoulda be free to praise me! Rowling: oh my god Rowling: we're like two peasss in a pod!

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #jk rowling #edgar allan poe #hp lovecraft #clive barker #stephen king #dean koontz #elon musk

[rebelliousstories]

Out and About

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Child!Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @that-teen2003

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 858

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

A vault suit sticks out like a sore thumb in the desert of the Wasteland. It was so bright, and blue, and very impractical for the harsh reality of the terrain. That is why when he saw it, Cooper’s interest was peaked. That and the cowboy hat the person sported much like his own. Because it was not even a fully grown human wearing the offending garment; it was a child.

The Ghoul looked around as the small being was wandering the rough terrain with cautious eyes. Surely this child was not alone. But it just kept exploring as if it had done it its entire life. He kept a safe distance as he followed the child, just hoping that this belonged to someone nearby. But no one ever came. No mom, no dad, no authority of any kind came to collect this child.

It was currently climbing inside of an old house when Cooper noticed how fast the sun was setting. There would be horrible things coming for that child in the dark of the night. He heard a crash, and immediately drew his gun before running inside the decrepit house. What he saw shocked him. There this little child was, nursing a small fire with a can of cram in its hands that it was eating.

In the firelight, Howard noticed that this small child was a girl, probably no older than six. It reminded him of his little Janey that remained as vivid as ever in his memory two hundred years later. Without consciousness, he began to move closer by did not see the empty can that was right in front of him. He accidentally kicked the object, sending it flying and clanging about the home which startled the child. She let out a yelp, and held her food closer to her chest as she stared at the new person with fear in her eyes. Cooper held out a hand to calm her down, and placed his gun back on his hip. She moved closer to see who the new man was.

“Whoa.” She breathed out and nearly dropped her food. There was no fear left in her eyes after comprehending The Ghoul before her. Suddenly, she was up on her feet and ran straight to the man who was utterly confused. Even with him crouched, she only came up to his chest. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around him.

“It’s you! It’s you,” came her exclamation. Her voice trailed off as she settled but Cooper was stiff as a board. Pulling the child away, he looked at her closer. She was thin and sunburnt from surviving the Wasteland but her teeth looked good still.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, little one?” Cooper’s hairless brow furrowed as he knelt down to be on her level.

“You’re Cooper Howard. You’re da sheriff from T.V.” Her toothy grin showed. There were a couple missing, but she did not seem to care. Taking off her hat, she passed it to the man with all the innocence only a child cold have.

“Can you sign dis, please?”

That one ask broke him inside. He felt his heart shattering. It had been so long since someone had asked him to do that; he had completely forgotten the feeling. This little child had thawed his blackened heart in a matter of seconds.

“Where you from darlin’? Why you out here all by yourself lonesome and not with your momma?” Cooper chose to avoid her question, knowing that he did not have any instrument to sign the hat. The child, whose name was still a mystery, looked down at her feet that were kicking around sand before she answered.

“My mommy was behind me, den she wasn’t. She told me to run, so I did cause Mommy said I have to listen to her widout question here. I don’t know where she is.” Again, The Ghoul felt his heart break. Chances were, that woman was long dead and chose to spare her child the same fate. It seemed to have worked, but the could not have been out of the vaults long.

“Well, little one. What’s your name? Seein’ as you know mine,” said Cooper. He tried to smile kindly and not scare off the child, although she seems to not be the slightest bit afraid. She supplied her name, and took a much needed bite of food.

“Can I stay with you? It’s scary up here alone.” Even without those puppy eyes she was giving, Cooper already knew his answer. He nodded and walked over to the fire once more. Sitting with his back to the wall, Howard added some more tinder to the fire and was shoved slightly. The girl had moved his arm so that she was curled up against his side, with her head on his chest. Her can of food was empty and discarded as she drifted off to sleep.

Muscle memory kicked in. Cooper checked her breathing, and looked around for any potential threats lurking. With his gun at the ready, he slipped into a light sleep with a little girl on his chest once more.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader

[emjayewrites]

Lights Out...And We're Off! (1/?)(Lewis Hamilton/Black!OC!)

SYNOPSIS: Lewis Hamilton finds himself drawn to an unexpected rival: a fiercely talented female driver ambassador/reserve driver representing Aston Martin. They soon form an unlikely bond, bound together by their shared love for racing and the unspoken chemistry that crackles between them. But as they navigate the twists and turns of their budding romance, they must confront the challenges that come with their paths in the sport.

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, mild sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the racing world, significant age gap (twelve years age difference), mentions of online bullying/doxxing, media rumors. RATED M (18+)

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aisha Bell-Okafor (faceclaim is Naomi Schiff)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @nikki01234 @yeea-nah @sirlew44 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @marzzrambles @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @mitruscity @burberryfilms @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @jasmindaughteroftheworld @laptiteantillaise @purplelewlew @motheroffae

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Few things changed in order to make the story flow better. This chapter is short because I don’t want to reveal too much! Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Anyways, enjoy! Dividers by @inklore!

CHAPTER One: Da First, Not the Last

"...and in an exciting turn of events, Aston Martin Aramco Cognizant F1 Team has announced W Series and F1 Academy driver, Aisha Bell-Okafor as their new driver ambassador and reserve driver. Aisha will be Aston Martin's first female driver ambassador in over seven years as well as the first Black female reserve driver in F1 history!"

Aisha could feel the intensity of their stares as she walked through the paddock, her pace quickening with each step. Even though she had always dreamt of becoming a professional driver, the sudden fame and attention was overwhelming. She had always been an introvert, preferring to let her driving skills do the talking, but now she was thrust into the spotlight, with everyone wanting a story, a quote, a photo.

Ever since the news broke that she would be Aston Martin's first female driver ambassador in seven years, and also a reserve driver for the team, Aisha couldn't escape the constant barrage of attention.

At first, she had been exhilarated by the idea of breaking barriers and making history. But as the reality set in, she couldn't help but feel the weight of expectations bearing down on her. If she messed up in any way, it would reflect not just on her, but on all women in the sport. And if she did well, it would only increase the pressure on her to perform even better.

Aisha felt like a goldfish in a piranha tank, constantly being scrutinized and judged. And now, with the added responsibility of potentially being the first woman in over fifty years to drive in a Grand Prix, she felt even more trapped. The thought sent shivers down her spine. But she knew she couldn't back down now. She had worked too hard to get to this point, and she couldn't let her fears hold her back.

Racing was her escape, her passion, her purpose. The F1 Academy was where she honed her skills, pushing herself to the limit on the track, always striving for perfection. After back-to-back wins in the W Series, Aisha was signed to drive for Mercedes AMG-Petronas in F1 Academy, and she did very well, so much so that she was soon offered to join Aston Martin. Part of her role as the driver ambassador involved various media appearances and other marketing duties, which was the main reason why Aisha had been invited to attend the Monaco Grand Prix as Aston Martin's VIP guest. It was her first time attending a Grand Prix as a driver ambassador for a team, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement.

The Monaco Grand Prix was known as one of the most challenging circuits in Formula One. The narrow streets, tight corners, and unforgiving barriers made it a demanding race for even the most experienced drivers. As she made her way to Aston Martin's hospitality area, Aisha was greeted by a swarm of media members, all wanting to ask her questions and take photos of her.

"Let's give her some space, thank you!" grumbled Aston Martin's Team Principal, Mike Krack.

"Aisha! Aisha! Are you going to compete in a Grand Prix this season?!" one reporter yelled.

"What does it feel like being the first Black woman in Formula One?!" another reporter called.

"Move aside, for Christ's sake! If she's racing in a Grand Prix, you'll be the first to know!" Mike exclaimed angrily as he escorted Aisha into the team's motorhome. He led her upstairs to a small dining area and gestured for her to take a seat.

Once they were both settled, they shared a meaningful look before Mike spoke up.

"How are you? Is the hotel nice?" he asked.

"It's amazing, very comfortable," Aisha replied with a smile, causing Mike to do the same.

"I apologize for that chaos outside. We didn't expect such a crowd," he said before signaling for a waitress. "I'll have my usual coffee with two creams and no sugar, and avocado toast. Aisha, what would you like?"

She winced slightly at his mispronunciation of her name. "It's pronounced Aisha, like I-ee-shah, not Ay-shah."

Mike's face turned red almost instantly. "Sorry about that, Aisha."

"Yes," she confirmed before turning her attention to the waitress and ordering an oat latte, parfait, and butter croissant with strawberry jam on the side.

"So, how are you feeling about your first Grand Prix as a driver ambassador?"

Aisha's smile widened at the question. "I'm excited and honored to be here representing Aston Martin."

"And we're happy to have you here," Mike replied. "You've been doing great so far as our driver ambassador, and we hope to see more of your skills on display in future races."

"Thank you for believing in me and giving me this opportunity," Aisha said gratefully.

"You earned it, Aisha. Your talent speaks for itself," Mike replied confidently. “You’ll spend most of your time here doing media. As you can see, everyone wants to speak to you so we will have you in a conference with other drivers in about an hour. A person from the communications team will escort you over and give you the rest of your schedule. Any questions so far?”

Aisha shook her head, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement for the upcoming conference. She couldn't believe she was about to sit among some of the top drivers in Formula One. “Nope.”

After they finished their breakfast, Aisha followed Mike back downstairs where she was introduced to one of the team's communications officers, Jenna.

"Hi Aisha, it's nice to meet you," Jenna said with a warm smile. "I'll be your point of contact for today. Are you ready for the press conference?"

Aisha took a deep breath and nodded confidently. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Great! Let's head over to the media center then," Jenna said as she led Aisha out of the motorhome and towards the bustling media center. As they walked, Jenna briefed Aisha on what to expect during the conference and gave her tips on how to handle difficult questions from reporters.

Once they arrived at the media center, Aisha was greeted by even more reporters eagerly waiting for her arrival. She made her way to take a seat at the far end of the couch, next to teammate Lance Stroll. The moderator began introducing each driver in attendance, starting off with Lewis Hamilton then Charles LeClerc, Lando Norris, Valtteri Bottas, Lance Stroll, and finally Aisha.

"And joining us today, making her Formula One debut, please welcome Aisha Bell-Okafor. She will be representing Aston Martin as their driver ambassador and the first female reserve driver. Aisha, how does it feel to make history?"

"It's an incredible feeling," Aisha replied, trying to keep her nerves at bay. "I'm honored to be representing Aston Martin and grateful for this opportunity. I’m literally starstruck right now. So happy to be around some of my favorite drivers and to be on this platform."

Lewis couldn't tear his gaze away from Aisha as she spoke. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her confidence radiated like a steady flame in the midst of a whirlwind. There was a magnetic energy about her that drew him in, a fire that burned brightly within her soul. He had always kept a close eye on the rising stars in F1, and Aisha's name had been on his radar for quite some time. Just like everyone else, he was shocked that Aston Martin announced her as their reserve driver, and to be honest, it took them long enough.

His passion for diversity in motorsports, particularly in Formula One, was evident to anyone who knew him. Seeing someone who looked like him and shared a similar background succeed in the sport was a sight he loved. And it didn't hurt that she was stunningly beautiful; her hair styled in perfect curls and her makeup highlighting her deep brown eyes and full lips. But what caught his attention the most was her skin, a mahogany tone that perfectly complimented her tiffany green team suit. Despite being on rival teams, there was no denying her talent and attractiveness.

The moderator continued, looking impressed. "You've had quite the journey to get here, from karting to junior leagues. Can you tell us a bit about your experience?"

Aisha smiled, feeling more at ease as she began to talk about her journey in motorsports. "It's been a long road for sure. I started karting when I was just 8 years old, and it quickly became my passion. My parents were very supportive, and they sacrificed so much for me to pursue this dream. My father’s British, so we moved from California to England in order for me to race. I went through the ranks in junior leagues, making my way into W Series and then F1 Academy."

"And you've also been quite vocal about your desire to break barriers and increase diversity in Formula One. Can you tell us more about that?" the moderator asked.

"Yes, it's something that's very important to me,” Aisha said. “I’m sure Lewis feels the same way. We’re the only minorities in F1. Growing up, there weren't many racers who looked like me or came from similar backgrounds. Being a woman of color in this sport is still rare, but I hope to inspire other young girls and boys who may not feel represented in motorsports.”

Lewis nodded in agreement, his admiration for Aisha growing even more. "Absolutely," he chimed in. "Diversity is key to the growth and success of any sport, and Formula One is no exception. I've been fortunate enough to have a platform and use my voice to advocate for diversity and equality within the sport. I’m also very excited to race with Aisha; I’m genuinely excited to see her behind the wheel, like it’s giving me goosebumps to finally see a woman race at this level.”

The moderator cleared his throat before continuing with another question. "Speaking of racing, Aisha, as a reserve driver for Aston Martin, you'll have opportunities to test drive the car during race weekends. How do you plan on making an impact with your limited track time?"

Aisha's smile widened as she thought about all the possibilities that lay ahead of her. "I'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity with Aston Martin," she began. "I plan on making the most of every moment I have on track by working closely with my team and learning as much as I can from my fellow drivers. Of course, I would love to compete full-time one day," she admitted with a small shrug. "But right now, I'm focused on putting in my best effort whenever called upon by the team."

“I would totally have you drive at any moment,” Lance gushed, causing the reporters and moderator to chuckle. “No, seriously. If the need arises, I’d be so happy to have Aisha take my seat.”

"Thank you, Lance," she said sincerely. "That means a lot coming from you."

As the press conference continued, Lewis found himself listening intently to Aisha's answers and admiring her poise and confidence. He also noticed how easily she connected with the other drivers, laughing and joking with them like they had been friends for years.

After the conference ended and the drivers all dispersed for their various engagements, Lewis made his way over to where Aisha was surrounded by reporters asking for interviews and photos. He waited patiently until they all left before approaching her with a smile.

"Hey Aisha, I just wanted to say congratulations on making your debut. It's well deserved."

Aisha's eyes widened in surprise as she turned to face him. "Thank you so much, Lewis! Coming from you, that means a lot."

"It's no problem at all," Lewis replied with sincerity. "I've been following your career for some time now and I'm excited to see what you can do behind the wheel."

"Thank you," Aisha repeated, her cheeks warming with a light flush. "I've been a huge fan since forever. You’re amazing. I mean, you’re the GOAT.”

“Thanks,” Lewis chuckled, feeling a bit flattered by Aisha's words. "And if you ever need any advice or tips, don't hesitate to ask,” he replied with a wink.

"Thank you, Lewis," Aisha replied gratefully. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

They chatted for a few more minutes before Jenna came over to remind Aisha of her schedule for the rest of the day.

“Sorry to intrude, but we have to head back,” Jenna said.

“Oh, yeah, thanks Jenna.” Aisha turned back to face Lewis. “I guess I’ll see you around? This weekend is going to be busy for the both of us but—”

"Hand me your phone," he commanded playfully. Aisha couldn't help but hand over her phone and watch him enter his number. "I’m putting in my number. Text me whenever you're free and we can grab lunch or something."

Aisha laughed nervously, feeling a tingle run down her spine. "Yeah...that sounds great."

"What's wrong?" he asked, staring into her eyes with his charming gaze.

Their eyes locked for a moment and Aisha couldn't help but appreciate how handsome he was up close. She had seen pictures, but in person he was even more striking.

"Is it normal for you to be this forward? Just casually ordering me to take down your number?"

"Only for special people," he replied, flashing her a boyish grin. "I'm serious about that lunch though...or dinner. Whatever you want, I'll make time for you."

"Mmhmm," Aisha managed to say as she watched him leave, taking in how good he looked in his Mercedes team suit.

Now that’s a man, Savannah, she thought appreciatively.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she joined Jenna and they made their way back to the team's motorhome.

"We have a lot of media commitments and sponsor events scheduled for you," Jenna reminded her.

Aisha's excitement about her debut was slightly dampened by the thought of her packed schedule. She knew that along with the thrill of racing came a heavy load of responsibilities off the track.

"I understand," she replied with a small sigh. "I'll do my best to keep up with everything."

Jenna gave her a sympathetic smile before handing over a detailed schedule for the day. Aisha quickly scanned through it and saw that she had interviews lined up with various media outlets, including big names like BBC and Sky Sports.

"Don't worry about a thing," Jenna reassured her. "I'll be right there beside you, making sure you don't miss anything."

Feeling grateful for Jenna's support, Aisha headed off to attend her first interview with BBC.

The rest of the day flew by for Aisha as she navigated through a series of interviews and events. By the end, she was exhausted but also exhilarated by all that had transpired. As she returned to her hotel room that evening, she flopped onto the bed with a sigh of relief. Rolling onto her stomach, she scrolled through her phone in search of Lewis's contact information. She went back and forth, typing out messages and then deleting them before finally settling on something to send:

Aisha: So you make time for me?

A few seconds passed before his reply:

Lewis: Of course 😉 How was your day?

Aisha: Tiring. Dinner tomorrow then?

Lewis: We can do that. Tell me where you want to go & we’ll go

Aisha: I’ll keep you updated. Goodnight, Lewis

Lewis: Goodnight, gorgeous

TO BE CONTINUED……

#emjayewrites #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton #formula one x oc #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction

[minervamagicka]

[SSO Conversion] TS4 Dressage Saddle

At last! It is nigh! Includes 3 different saddles in 2 different polycounts (~13 swatches), with 1 saddlepad overlay (~14 swatches) that is universal to them all. Full LODs & maps.

If you post anything involving this saddle to tumblr & tag me in it, I'll be reblogging!

Important info, additional previews, TOU and download below the cut!

By myself & Schrodcat @ DA 🖤

Choosing a Version

First things first; in the download folder there are two different .rar files to choose from. One is labelled Highpoly and the other is labelled Maxispoly. YOU MUST CHOOSE ONE. THEY WILL OVERRIDE EACHOTHER IF YOU INSTALL BOTH HIGHPOLY AND MAXISPOLY TOGETHER.

The Highpoly version of the saddles is the original mesh resolution from Star Stable Online (which is surprisingly high-quality). However, taking into account the 3D pad and whether there are stirrups or not, it pushes the saddle very far out of EA's expected polycount range (the LOD0 on the Highpoly w/ stirrups clocks in at ~6,044 polys) which is why we have labelled this version as Highpoly. We offer it primarily for simmers who plan to be taking screenshots vs actually playing the game for extended periods of time, or for those with stronger PCs.

The Maxispoly version of the saddle is a decimated version of the mesh intended to be more in-line with Maxis polycounts, and therefore be more performance-friendly. It's about 50% less dense in polys than the Highpoly counterpart (LOD0 on the Maxis w/ stirrups clocks in at ~3,021 polys), however it is still higher-poly than the EA saddles, but again this is because it includes additional mesh details like a 3D saddlepad and/or stirrups, just bear that in mind. This version is for simmers who might have weaker PCs or intend to primarily play the game with the saddles.

Once you've chosen between Highpoly and Maxispoly for your saddle, you'll want to grab the saddlepad overlay .package. This saddlepad (it is found in blankets in CAS) acts like an accessory overlay you'd see for Human content, where it will replace the saddlepad texture on your saddle. You can use the saddlepad overlay without the saddle, but it's not exactly designed for that, as it's designed to match the UVs of the 3D saddlepad. It's unlikely it would fit the EA saddle or any other saddles as just as a flat 2D texture.

All the parts included have custom thumbnails, with the EA fit version having a special identifier.

That concludes all the required reading. Please note that the Realistic Fit of the saddles is not going to line up with EA riding animations and may stretch horribly on them, too. This is because it was rigged and weighted specifically for pose makers. It should look fine when posing. If you want a saddle to fit the EA animations, then the EA Fit version is precisely that, and is meant for gameplay exclusively. The saddlepad overlays are cross-compatible between the Realistic Fit and EA Fit saddles, & any custom saddlepads made by other creators, provided they're intended to fit the UVs, will also be cross-compatible!

Custom Saddlepad Resources (CC Creators Only)

Disclaimer: If you're not a CC Creator you can skip this section and move on to the TOU & download!

If you're interested in making your own saddlepad overlays, I highly recommend cloning the saddlepad overlay included in this download as a starting point. This saddlepad/blanket actually has a "mesh" attached to it (it's just the part of the horse GEOM where the saddlepad texture is) to allow for full normal maps, allowing for better-detail in your saddlepads. Otherwise, you can clone the EA saddlepads and just replace the diffuses with ones you make to fit this saddle, it just won't have that extra jazz.

Anyways, included the folder is a .psd file which is meant to help streamline making saddlepads to fit this mesh (and any future Dressage Saddle meshes/swatches) - There's a guide in the .psd but in general, just keep your textures within the mask/provided guide UVs in the .psd and you'll be golden!

Terms of Use

Credit/link to me AND Schrodcat AND note it is a conversion from SSO if you intend to edit, replicate or otherwise use this .package, meshes & textures as a base for your own derivative work. Additionally, at this time, we both ask you do not backport this model or its' textures to TS3.

Do not sell or post behind a paywall, even a timed one. This tumblr is anti-paywall to the extreme. This includes any content that might be created under Rule One. Do not do this. I will think you are an asshole. I have had issues with this in the past and my tolerance for it is absolutely zero. Additionally this asset is exported from a copyrighted game with the intention of it being used transformatively for derivative fanworks; it may be actually illegal to profit from it!

Do not reupload. If you let me know if there's an issue with SFS, I'll reupload it myself. Please link to this post or to the .package on SFS when sharing.

Credits: SSO for the base mesh & textures; Schrodcat with fitting the meshes & testing/screenshots, me for putting it all together into one diabolical package.

Download [SFS]

☕ Buy me a coffee!

☕ Buy SchrodCat a coffee!

#ts4 #ts4 horses #ts4cc #ts4 cc #ts4 horse ranch #ts4 horse cc #sims 4 #sims 4 cc

[marvelfanfics1]

Ooooooh, little!reader stressing over finals and daddy!John B. trying to gently coax her into little!space to get her to calm down🥺

I have been stressing so much over my finals and I need this to happen to me🥺

You got this sweetheart!!! But I hope you're okay and don't overdo yourself 🫂🫶🏻

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"This is so stupid!" You groan for what feels like the hundredth time already.

The finals are getting closer, meaning you were spending every possible second learning and re-reading all your notes over and over again. Books and paper sheets scattered around on the living room floor at the Chateau and you are sitting directly in the middle of it all.

John B walks in after just finishing his surf session and sighs, seeing you rub exasperated hands over your face.

"Hey there, champ. How's it going?" He asks, standing beside you and scratching your scalp to soothe you.

"Bad. I just don't understand this!" You whine waving a sheet of paper up in his face.

"What about taking a little break, hm?" He suggests and you shake your head.

"I can't." You say while grabbing one of the books again not seeing John B roll his eyes.

It had been going on like this for days and he understands where you're coming from and really tries to support you but he also noticed that you haven't been little the last days 'to not get distracted' which concerns him because he knows your mood could only get worse the longer you keep pushing the headspace away.

"Have you eaten anything yet? Or drank some water?" He suddenly asks, crouching down beside you. He brushes your hair to the side and the way you shrink back in yourself let's him know anything he needs. "C'mon, just a tiny break."

"Da- JB, please. I'm fine, 'kay?" Your small slip didn't go unnoticed by him.

He smirks, his hand going down to rub your back. He's almost through the barricade that you built up in your head, you just need a little push. "Don't you want to cuddle for a little, bun?"

You pout at him using the nickname he only uses when you're little. It's not fair. It's like a switch being turned off, finally being able to forget about all the stress.

Tears of relief start building up in your eyes and John B coos at you, gently taking the heavy book from your hands and laying it aside before he scoops you up into his arms.

"Thereee we go. No need to cry, I'm here now." He shushes you, carrying you to his bedroom knowing you will feel more comfortable there.

He sits down against the headboard with you curled up on his lap, your head resting against his chest as he starts rocking you. "All that fuss and just needed daddy to come and save you, huh?" He chuckles, reaching over to grab your bunny stuffie, placing it in your arms before wrapping both his arms around you tightly.

You just snuggle more into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the constant rocking. John B looks down and smiles at the sight, he'll just make you something to eat after your much needed nap.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

#little!reader #little reader #daddy!john b thoughts #daddy!john b drabble