#ILL DIE 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[saetoshis]

ohh my gosh coloring bllk panels is so fun !

[cccotard]

purple ish saras

[dockaspbrak]

Smart part of brain: Your ability (curse) to ruminate is literally ruining your life!!! Inaction is action jfc

Stronger more pathetic part of my brain: what if i just think about if more

[dyk3pup]

mmm to have ur ler remind you during ur hysterical laughing fits and frantic pleading for mercy that you had not long ago begged to be tickled this hard, and coo at you “but you asked so nicely for me to tickle you like this…now you can’t take it? sounds like a you problem—!”

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[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.

[everymanpdf]

these will be my first holidays potentially completely alone which is ummm. hm. A little crazy-making

[moremaybank]

jj being your sexy nurse 😵‍💫 / hope you feel better. i’ve sick all day today myself so i feel for you

-͟͟͞☆ jj taking care of you while you're sick...

warnings oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering

author's note this one's for us, harley my love. i hope you're feeling better too ♡︎

jj masterlist

JJ re-enters into your bedroom, his naked chest on display and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He's been your caretaker over the past couple days, dropping everything to help you out and looking damn good while doing so. If you had to be sick and babied, you didn't mind the eye candy that came along with it.

Holding a cold, damp washcloth in his hands, JJ lays it on your forehead once he reaches you. You nearly moan at the cooling sensation, your eyes fluttering closed as you let it soothe you.

"How's my girl holdin' up?" He asks, stroking your cheek gently. "Feelin' any better?"

You groan, dragging it out. "No. I feel like I wanna die."

He chuckles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. "'M sorry, baby. There anythin' I can do?"

Your lips form into a pout. "Hold me?"

"Of course." JJ crawls into bed beside you, snuggling in close as his arm hooks over your waist. His thumb strokes the skin of your stomach over your (well, his) t-shirt. He kisses your shoulder, before nuzzling his way into the crook of your neck.

Your heart warms at his actions. The first day you started to feel ill, you warned him not to get too close. You didn't want him to catch whatever you had. There was no reason for you both to suffer. But he waved you off, saying that he wasn't going to go about his day knowing that you were in bed, moping and feeling like crap. He'd been waiting on you hand and foot, catering to your every need, big or small. This only made your love for him grow.

"Hey, baby?"

You turn toward him slightly. "Yeah?"

"I think I got a way to make you feel a lil' better. You mind if I try it out?" His hand ran down your waist to your hip, and then to your thigh where his fingers toyed with the flimsy hem of the t-shirt. Goosebumps rose onto your skin as he snuck his hand underneath the cotton material.

"Yeah, please."

JJ shuffled down the mattress, taking the blanket down with him as he situated himself between your legs. His palms spread your thighs, and he inched his face closer to your core. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your covered clit in a soothing manner. His thumb then replaced his lips, swirling circles onto you slowly, gently.

"I hate watching you like this, baby," he spoke, looking up at you. His free hand hooked around your right thigh, thick fingers massaging the plush flesh there. "Makes me so sad to see my girl in pain."

His lips dotted wet kisses on the inside of your thigh, before crossing over to repeat his actions on the other one. Your stomach flutters as he gets closer to your pussy, and you feel your arousal starting to seep through your panties.

JJ's mouth finds your cunt again, kissing and licking you softly over the thin fabric. You moan quietly, tilting your head downward to look at him. "J, please, baby."

"Shh," he coos, "you don't have to beg, babygirl. 'M gonna make you feel good, promise."

His hands leave your body for a moment, and he peels your underwear off and down your legs. He discards them, and settles between your thighs again. He brings his face to your now-bare pussy, licking through your folds. He swipes his tongue over your clit a few times, before bringing it between his lips. He sucks at it, humming against you as he sends vibrations through you.

"Oh, J," you breathe. Your fingers run through his soft hair, smoothing it away from his forehead as his skilled mouth works at you. "Feels so good."

JJ slides a finger into your entrance, letting it knead your walls as he continues his movements on your sensitive bud. You grow more wet as he works at you, your toes curling when you felt him slip another finger inside you. He pulls back from you, giving you a small yet triumphant smile.

"How's it goin' up there?" His fingers curl upward and he watches your eyes roll back as your head slumps against your pillow.

"Good, just— shit, keep going," you plead. "Put your mouth on me again, please."

"Whatever you want, princess."

JJ uses his tongue to flick at your clit rapidly, before he starts to suck at it again. He grins against your core when your hips start to gyrate and grind on his mouth. One hand then pushes your shirt up over your tits, and his fingers pinch and roll one of your nipples between them. He moves onto the other one, careful not to leave it out.

You feel your high starting to crest, and your hand clasps over the one JJ has on your breast. You give it a squeeze, letting him know that you're getting close. Sweat beads on your skin, and soon, you're clamping down on his fingers as your body convulses against the mattress. Your thighs squish JJ's head. He doesn't fall back, his hands and mouth unrelenting as you start to cum.

"Yes," you gasp, "yesyesyes. Please don't stop. Don't fucking stop, J."

He doesn't, letting you ride out your high as the waves overwhelm you. Once he feels you start to calm down, he draws back but keeps fingering you slowly. "I think it's safe to say that you're feeling better."

"Be quiet and do that again."

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @pankowperfection @taintedxkisses @mvybanks @softherveauxs @rafesveryrealgf @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @sya-skies @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @jeyusosgirl @urbestieboo @l1lactheflower @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17

[mouwrites]

Hi I was wondering if you could do roxie richter x fem!reader headcanons please

She has no fanfics at all 😭😭

I sure can!!

Scott Pilgrim - Dating Roxie Richter Headcanons

Gay panic. That’s all she felt the first time she saw you

The next thing she felt was the overwhelming urge to go speak to you

She approaches with an air of complete confidence, cleverly masking the gay panic that is still very much present in her mind

She literally has to restrain herself from jumping up and yelling “YIPPEE” when you respond well to her flirting

She’s only partly successful; she still has to pump her fist and go “YEAH” when you agree to a date

Leading up to the date, she’s secretly riddled with anxiety

She’d never let it show, but ever since Ramona she’s had doubts about herself

She doesn’t think that anyone would want to date her :(

So she’s all the more baffled when the date goes well (you guys went roller skating) and you imply you’d like another

You guys go to the roller rink for a lot of your dates

Even if you’re bad at skating, Roxie just loves to show off and hold your hand while wheeling along

Actually, if you’re bad at skating, that’s even better in her eyes; she gets to hold both your hands to steady you

And you might even trip and fall, which means she can swoop in to catch you 😵‍💫

She’s very touchy, and that only amplifies when you’re officially dating

She’s always got a hand on your waist, your thigh, or around your shoulder

She prefers any one of those to hand holding, but she’ll hold your hand as a last resort

If you’re uncomfortable with PDA, she tries to dial it back, but it’s hard for her

Physical affection is just her love language, and she wants to show you how much she cares ALL THE TIME

Because she cares for you all the time ;)

Though she’s super generous in giving affection, she will explode if you give literally any back

And by “explode” I mean she’ll jump up, run around, giggle like a madwoman, etc, etc…

As mentioned before, she can’t believe that anyone would want to date her, so she goes nuts at the mere notion that she’s wrong

Cuddling is a must; she prefers to be the big spoon, but she’s cool with whatever

She smells like chalk and a little sweat

She’s very sporty and refuses to take showers unless she “needs” one (her standards on what necessitates a shower are outrageous)

But she will shower if you ask

She’ll literally salute you like “YES MA’AM”

On that note, she’ll pretty much do anything you ask, just like that

You hold high power over her… be careful with how you use it

You once dared her to jump down a flight of 12 stairs as a joke and you literally had to hold her back while she was screaming “NO BALLS, ILL DO IT, LET ME GO”

You are her impulse instigator as well as her impulse controller

Basically you guys are ride or die; even if you’re not as crazy as Roxie, you’ll have to reassure her that you’re just as devoted to her (but you do it in your own way :) )

She does need a lot of reassurance, so whether you try to jump down flights of stairs or you just hold her and tell her you love her, you’ll need to do it often

And she’ll melt every time <3

Thank you for this request!! I was glad to give Roxie some much needed attention 😤 And thanks for reading, take care doves!!

(divider by saradika)

[twistedastrology]

- Venus & Hedonism -

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

i got 5hrs of sleep and i genuinely feel like i got hit by a fucking semi and my eyes are burning and i need my brain to turn on so im BACK

i dipped for a minute bc i found out in human design im a manifestor type so i naturally have energetic ups and downs and that explained my whole life so i wasnt abt to force myself to post- ill maybe do a post abt human design and astrology at some point but im still very much a beginner in the human design sphere of things- ANYWAY

so everyone loves venus, right- everyone views it as the planet of love and beauty and joy and all these fun things- but what if i told u it's secretly just as dark a planet as like.. any other......

and im gonna go out on an even wilder note and right off the bat tell u that i think venus is secretly the malefic planet, not saturn or mars

allow me to explain 👍

venus has several deity equivalents in different pantheons, and the first one u'll think of is aphrodite- im gonna go the egyptian route tho so get aphrodite outta ur head real quick-

in the egyptian pantheon, venus has 2 equivalents, Isis and Hathor

im personally gonna focus on Hathor bc i think she fits venus way better than isis does- (fun fact: when the greeks came into contact with Hathor’s cult, they immediately equated her to aphrodite so we're on the right track 🫡)

hathor was the egyptian cow goddess of all sorts of venus themes: dance, music, sexual love, pleasure, all that fun stuff

and u'll notice i specified "cow" goddess, which i think is funny bc venus rules taurus, the bull.

her name also specifically meant "house of horus" and she kinda had like 2 personalities- one was as a goddess of heavenly charm, and the other, "eye of re", was a goddess of destruction, so she had a duality to her bc egyptians loved that stuff i fear

so if we take this interpretation and slap it on top of venus as a planet, u can already kinda see what im sayin here

all the fun venus themes like dancin, fuckin and havin fun, can also be taken into excess

so let's look at the signs venus rules real quick

taurus is a very sedentary, hedonistic sign in general. and we all know the beef i got with earth signs, so u know how i said excess taurus placements (Excess huh. 🤨 Interesting.) in a chart are very difficult to counteract and can lead to a life of a lack of saturn themes (drive, willpower, motivation, etc)

this interpretation of venus makes that make even more sense.

taurus is essentially the lower octave of venus, it's the base instinct of pleasure, the urge to feel good no matter what- whereas libra is the higher octave of venus, it's more sensible and cognitive of what it feels, Wants to feel, and how it would impact themselves and others.

dude someone on reddit- i hate reddit so much- But someone on reddit asked me some questions when i was testing out this theory right and they asked me "so how do u explain Saturn's exaltation in libra" bc i said that venus is the opposite of saturn (we'll get there in a sec dw)

and i literally told them "it's not 👍" n here ill put the screenshot of what i said for u bc my mercury was working better that day 😵‍💫

saturn in aries and venus in libra is slay as fuck because saturn is exalted, and venus is aware of its desires and destructive tendencies, so saturn can actually balance venus out with relative ease.

venus is the opposite of saturn bc they are literally just. The Opposite. saturn wants to balance the soul vs the ego, right, and wants us to understand that eventually the ego will die when we do- whereas venus just wants to feed into the ego because it feels good.

also ya ill make another post abt libra vs gemini at some point if my manifestor energy keeps up but if it aint then im gonna dip for a minute again 😭😭😭

What the fuck was i saying oh shit dude my mercury is ASS rn-

OK so saturn and venus are opposites, and venus is hedonistic as hell- so what does venus reveal in a chart then??

... ur hedonistic tendencies... 🫡

no but fr Ok so- venus in ur chart, house placement and sign placement, reveals what you have a tendency to indulge in to a detrimental extent- it's literally- U know how everyone points at neptune and goes "🫵 addiction."

that's not rly neptune!!! that's venus!!!!

neptune can explain Why u went to the addiction or the harmful habit, venus explains What the addiction is.

so ill use myself and my mom for example bc we both have venus in aries-

venus in aries u would Think has an addiction of sexual activity or sumn bc of the mars influence but NO!!!! we've TALKED ABT MARS actually wait no i dont think i did a full mars post on here yet- Wait didnt i do the aries one... did i... or was that just a newsletter... Ok ill find whatever im thinkin of after i finish this and ill put a link at the end- ANYWAY

bear with me gang 💔💔💔

so venus in aries is Actually an addiction of planning. u might feel like u have to plan for or research EVERYTHING before u do it, u are allergic to coming unprepared- and this can be extremely detrimental bc interestingly enough, it puts a halt on the mars energy and you get so caught up in research and planning that you either dont do the thing, or you take FOREVER to get around to it

it's fr mental masturbation- kinda awful term but that's what it is 🫡

i am definitely guilty of this but my mom is more guilty i fear- she put off writing a newsletter for 6 months bc she kept feeling like she had to research the topic Thoroughly first 😵‍💫

i yapped much more thoroughly about this in the newsletter i just wrote on it, so if u wanna see what i wrote for ur venus sign here u go and i hope it checks out but if it aint that's my bad 😕

i personally have some venus in cancer tendencies as well, which i wrote as needing to feel unbridled, and that's definitely bc im a cancer rising so maybe check ur rising sign too!

But ya so venus is weird... But like kinda cool- n like i said i genuinely went way more in depth in the newsletter like this is so ass in comparison but i needed something to make my brain wake the fuck up... like that one korn song... so yknow 😵‍💫

my bad for my absence im a manifestor u gotta be nice to me ☹️💔

and for further reading:

newsletter abt aries and mars

my post abt saturn (explaining why i think it's exalted in aries)

my beef with earth signs

ok thank u im gonna go get food now im so hungry and im STILL tired 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[saetoshis]

thinking about noel noa and how when he fucks you from behind, he’s so tall that he can just curl over you and kiss you - or even lean down to your ear to tell you just how much he loves your pussy as he fucks into you hard enough to shake the bed

[simpjaes]

Did you see Jake’s kitty fang piercings..I’m feeling faint 😵‍💫

i did!!! believe me, i am studying these concept pics like im doing a college final rn, could write essay's on that man's face.

esp when they glue lil spikes to his lips. ill die for him.

[dockaspbrak]

Immortality seems so cruel youd have to be extremely callous or extremely positive and adaptive to deal with that

[just-call-mefr1es]

pls just infodump on your tbp aus. any one of them. i don’t care which, i will literally take any au material you give me and ill eat it WHOLE.

wait omg???!?!? fr??? eeeeee tysmmm>_< 💗💗💗

i will never turn down a chance to talk abt my thg x tbp au>:333

where do i even begin? (SPOILERS FOR THE HUNGER GAMES)

intro/74th games

so first off, districts and year/age they won. finney, gwen, robin n donna r all in 12 with finney n robin winning 74th games at 16. bruce is in 1 winning the 65th at 14. billy in 6 winning 72nd at 15. vance in 7 winning 66th at 15 and (my newest change) griffij in 10, winning the 73rd at 12. he used to be in 4, then 11, before i switched it to 10 cus im just thar indecisive. ph and the gr@bber twkes the place of president $now (yes i have to censor both their names)

so, id just like to say that donna takes the role of madge in this au, but dw she doesnt die befause i dont want her to, same goes with gwen i just cant😵‍💫🤕 but that doesnt mean i cant make them suffer !! thsts for later tho, cus gwen gets her name picked in the reaping at fourteen (im checking my notes for this), finney obviously volunteers for her, and you may be asking how he’s able to do that. well, finneys trans, which means hes stil technically legible for the girls part of the reaping thing, so boom. he goes into the hunger games. so does robin!! theyre still besties in this point in time so when they both go to the games together theyre all sad and stuff. they still hace to go thru the love act thing, which obviously gets awkward between them because,,, thats your best bro, bro. so yeah they totally dont get crushes on each other whaaa… so they pull the berry technique from the og hunger games thing and there you go! they both win yipee. so obvs pres. sh@w (thars his name in the au) gets PISSED and arranges the quarter quell to reap victors for the tributes (in my au it WAS rigged lol). and thats how our og ghost gang meet up!!

backgrounds

first off, a lil bit of backstories.

bruce n vance knew each other from the 66th victory party thing (because those exist) and at first vance did NOT like bruce becus he thought he was just a fake little capitol doll who’s full of himself, then the two started developing some more and hey theyre gay now! but uh oh! the capitols not homophobic they just dont like cross district relationships so bruce n vance have to be quiet bout that. i love brance so much. just thought id say that.

also, billy’s a spy!! im pretty sure i drew something about that wayyy back then but im saying it again. hes a spy for district 13, and their plans for rebellion and the shit like that. they recruited him to be a spy because in his games he did a lil anti capitol act which was enough to spark controversy but not enough for president sh@w to kill his family (*cough* WHAR HAPPENED TO VANCE *cough cough*) and 13 saw that and was like ‘hey this kid could really help us!’ and boom hes recruited. president sh@w was suspicious as SHIT of him and used the quarter quell to pick his name out of thst bowl and put hik into the arena.

griffij is the youngest victor in hunger games history ever, winning at twelve (yeah ikr). he kinds just waiter his games out and gecause he was from a poor district, and wirh how young he was, the other tributes sorta just forgot about him/didnt think he was a threat to remember if he actually died or not(just like in the movie how nobody knew him ;) see im super good with this) until the ‘last’ tribute was celebrating his victory and griffin jumpscared him and barbaque skewered him to death (stabby). oh and his district partner blew up right infront of him before the game started. lolz. so that happened:P

now soley bruce! hes definitely the most privileged one out of the gang because of his district, but that doesnt mean he cant suffer!🎉🎉 so, from the start, bruce was immediately a capitol hit, since he was charming, handsome and athletic. he won his games pretty easily, at fourteen i wrote down?yep fourteen! so he won his games, and the captiol people started to really like him, wanting to see more of him and such. pres sh@w was 100% part of that crowd and well, made a deal with him. at 16, bruce had to make a decision. sell your soul for the hollywood dream capitol audinence or everyone he loves dies. i think irs obvious which option he picked.

and heres where vance comes in! vance was also a pretty big hit when he won his games a year after bruce at 15, since he was strong, aggressive, and simp material ig. so, president sh@w gave him the same choice as bruce: become a capitol slave or everyone you love dies. vance, being vance, told pres sh@w to fuck off and that he would kill hom before he could lay a finger on his family. well, that onviously didnt end well. andddd now we’re at the 75th games!

3rd quarter quell

pres sh@w rigged it so that billy and vance would get in (he hated those two so much) he didnt need to rig it any more for robin n finney, and griffin and bruce just got in there. fun fact! griffin didnt actually get his name reaped for the 75th, he volunteered becuase the man that did get reaped had kids and griffin was like ‘awh they deserve to have a father figure’ (cause he doesnt have one /frfr) so he was like ‘i volunterer!!’ his mama was devastated.

now theyre in the capitol! finney and robin r both having crisis since they both want each other to live, griffin knows hes gonna die and is terrified, vance knows hes gonna die and doesnt give two shits, bruce promised his family hed make it out so hes trying to convince himself hes not gonna die, billy got instructions from 13 to evacuate as much peeps as he coukd to 13 so hes stressed about that. as you can see, theyre all SO mentally stbale! 💞

(their ages in the 3qq: finney, robin r 17, billy is 18, bruce n vance r 24 and griffs 14:P)

practivijg for the games, griffin watched thru all the tapes for the games for each of the tributes (like how they did in og hunger games yk) snd was amazed at vance for vancecing out ig. so while theyre in the practicing place thing (i forgort what its called😿) griffiin tries to talk to vance and stuff to see if they can ally together despite literally everyone telling him theres no use in doing it (after the famiky death incident, everyoje just all agreed to ignore hik and shit). griffin didnt care shit, and tried to twlk tk vance, but he got too scared:( butttt they managed to ally in the actual arena! how? ill tell you later

speaking of allies, billy was instructed by 13 to gather all the tributes that would be useful in their plans of reblelloon which obvs included finney. but, billy obvs knew that finney wouldnt go anywhere without robin (he asked himself if he (finney) would ally with him , and finney responded with exaxtlu that) so yay now theyre all teamed. then billy thought, hey, if bruce joined us, the crowd would totes join in the rebellion, since, yk bruce is the capitol’s golden boy; now theyre all allies since brucey agreed. honestly, bruce knew that if he wanted to win, he shouldnt team, because he has trouble hurting people (“how did he win his games then?”- THROUFH GUILT AND BREAKING HIS MORALS.) but he couldnt resist. plus, he thought the three were so cute (not in a sus way🤬) and, just to mention, when bruce n vance shared their last dance (cus the capitol threw em a lil party b4 the arena) they agreed not to meet each other because they knew they would be forced ro kill each other if they did and they didnt want that😕

[ let me go ooc for a sec, ik katniss being mockingjay was caused by rue- without rue there is no mockingjay, so in order for finney to become the symbol of rebellion, i need a rue, which i DONT have. this is actually a hole in the au which ive relly needed to patch up for some time but never brainee enough to do it so sorrs bout that😿 jus prtend finney did shit to become the symbol of rebellion for now until i actually find something💔⛓️]

so, in the arena, they do their thing and boom. group 1 (billy and others) head into the forest thing (cus the arenas r the same from og hg to this au) and so do vance n griffin. griffin thought it would be a wonderful idea whatsoever to surprise vance with an attack so that they could ally cus he thought thst if he ‘proved hijself’ vance would want to ally with him. so, with a crusty ass rake thingy, he surprise attacked him (hes actuallys not so bad at combat ngl). vance, knwoing shit about what the fuck griffin’s thinking process is, assumed it was just your usoal hg ambush and instantly fought back, despite not caring for death (hes still competitive, okay), which resulted in him harming griffin pretty bad. before vance could finish him off, he noticed griffin for the first time. like- how young he was, blah blah blah, and also got a deja vu at how similar he looked to his sister, who, if you remember 70 paragraphs ago, fuckin died. so vance gets all mushy and guilt piles up and hes like ‘oh shit i needa help this kid’ and boom. theyre allies now. okay, you see this is the part where hopperstagg (non biological) brother bonding happens, okay? OKAY???

then, rhey run into billy’s gang, bruce and vance see each other and are like ‘oh shit’ but theres no getting out because now griffin wants to join billys group cus he n billy became friends during his victors tour thing so yeah. now theyre allied together<33

andd thats how that shit happens! they all have this lil bonding time, enough for them to start really caring about each other and want each other to survive and shit, so yippee. but if you thought it ended there, oh no, buddy i have expanded upon this au farther thwn the universe okay. so ik ive mentioned this in another post, billy gets vance in on the lil spy from 13 thing and they both agree to try to get them all to safety. but, unfortunately, theyre too late and- oh shit are we in district 13 now?!?!???

yep. its mockingjay time.

how rhe hell are we in district 13 now???

so, assuminf you know everything about the huhger games, they obvs get finney out, but were too late for robin, bruce n griffin. i explained all this in that separate post i menetioned, but if u didnt see it (i dont blame u if u didnts) basicslly they didnt rip their capitol tracking devices things out of their arms when they had time, but billy did get finney’s so yay! now, theyre all in a depresed era because theyre safe while the rest of the gang isnt, and is instead being tortured by yours truly, the capitol!! how exciting frfr

since they also bombed 12, following the timesline of og hunger games, finneys family survives (i dont think ive mentioned this but their mom died a kong time ago, their dad was abusive but is working on getting better after thr 74th games/trauma happening. just like og hunger games, just like og black phone) and meets up in 13. so with donna becauee im not oetting girlie die🤬🤬 then seeing all that, billy gets big brain idea to round up all the victors families that they can and let them stah in district 13, and with enough convincing, they do! they go to district 1 for bruce’s family, and everyone else’s. vsnce didnt come along with them (billy finney, gwen and some district 13 soldier dudes) and stayed in 13, and tood everyoje to skip his district. finney, who didnt know his family was dead went anyways and found out abt his damilys death the hard way. fun fact! i wrote a fict abt this!! jus click on the link in my pinned post, ignore the fic that the link sends u to and check out ky works😅 its kinda old but canon in my au nonethless

so thats that, and just got to let yall know, gwen and amy got along super well upon first meeting and uh. lesbian. theyre canon in this au btw😋 now more angst! 13 is finally able to get the other half of the old basement boys gang out of the capitol and into 13. stuff followed regular hg canon, bruce and vance can finally kiss cus they coukdnt do that before (capitols always watching,,,,,,,) and robin hates finneys guts now! wait robin what-

thars right, folks! capitol brainwashing go brr and now robin thinks everyone around him is a mutt! how awesome! i also tried incorporating the boys’ movie scars and stuff into this au, so bruce got an eye scar from his games, vance, billy and finney too, but robin n griffin got their ‘movie scars’ from the capitol’s torturing, so once griffy came back, voice go bye bye:3 OH! cant leafe out the fact that bruce and vance then got MARRIED!!!!! YAY!!!!!

time time time skip,, the boys r in the capitol, and ready to kill pres. sh@w! finally! oj the trip, robin starts to get more and more understanding about finney and starts to not hate him, also getting some of his memories restored! in the au, he wasnt entirely converted into hating finney like how peeta was in hg, he was just giving in to the capitol after a bunch of fighting against them; he just reallu wanted sll the suffering to end:( anygays theyre all sneacking around, bruce gets to beat the shit out of people (as he deserves, king) and bada bing bada boom, pres. sh@w’s dead, everyone dances on his grave, panem becomes an actual good country or something, robin gets better and him and finney kiss and shit abd boom. end of au. uh.

shit that was a LOT of yapping😭 im so sorry bout the whole ass college essay length of au lor- thats how you know ive been developing this au for a while lmao. anygays i do hope that made sense and that you enjoyed it, and if u have questions, feel free to ask:3 thanks again anon for letting me ramble!!

[itoshi-s]

HAHSKAKAKA rin… likes to… ahem. shove two fingers in your mouth while hes fingering you, just so he can say “yeah? like being stuffed on both ends baby?” ill die i had this thought and i feel like i am legally obligated to send it to u

OHHHH MY TBSHSOSOJZBZ GOD AKSNAK MOSHI. ?!?/!/?!@_@ 12 DEAD 192 INJURED JANSKA I AM YELLJGNF SJSK

YES HES HE DOES THAT 😵‍💫😵‍💫 gives your head a bit of a shove too and looks down at u SOOOOO intense it has u babbling. spit pooling at the corners of your mouth as you slobber all over his fingers :( cause yeah, yeah you like it. there’s nothing better than the feeling of all of him, all at once, all inside of you :( he groans n breathes quick as you answer, all muffled and wet and the sensation of you giving his fingers a sloppy suck seems to get straight into his pants — it’s as if he can truly feel your warm mouth and heavy tongue all on his cock instead. ALSO !!!! 🤕🤕 pushes down on your tongue until you open up wider for him,, spits right down into your mouth and nearly cums in his pants when you choke on it a lil </3 urges his fingers even further down your throat to make sure you don’t let any of it spill. NGHHSHSHSJSJ I AM GOING RABIDS AJSNKALANSNA WHAT THE FUUUCK JSHSK

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

jjk chapter 253 spoilers under the cut !!

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS CHAPTER…….. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 one of my favs in a while i think IT WAS SO SO GOODDDDDD

FIRST OF ALL. GOJO CRUMBS 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞 I CRIED I SOBBED I STARTED WRITHING ON THE FLOOR IN AGONY……. OUR SWEETIE………

HE’S SOOOO CUTE…. :(((( blindfolded gojo is my favorite ever he’s SO baby…….. i miss him sm it hurts i almost teared up seeing this panel that isn’t normal human behavior 😔😔 ”don’tcha think?” SIR PLS STOPPP…….. :((((( silly little goose…… i need to kiss him all over his pretty face just to hear him giggle (doctors surround me w syringes from all sides)

ok but gojo aside (come home baby the cats miss u 💔) MAKI????????? MY GODDESS?? i ADORE the fight between her and sukuna …. she looks completely feral i’m so enamored <333 wild raccoon coded <3333

and also…… the dynamic between these two……. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 maki being the only one since gojo who sukuna seems to be taking seriously/having genuine fun with???? (all the parallels between maki and gojo have been KILLING me i’m so glad akutami agrees w me that she’s his daughter ever <3) LIKE THAT’S SOOO SICK??? maki nation getting fed silly rn

”at its core, sorcery is all skin and flesh (…) that body of yours is all marrow and bone” BANGER ASS LINE EXCUSE ME??????????? AKUTAMI??????

but it’s also soooooo interesting isn’t it….. sukuna has always had a very specific view of sorcery and how it should be, and maki’s very existence completely goes against that ideal while simultaneously acting as a genuine threat to him… i think it’s so . insanely cool that he essentially views her as an alternative to sorcery?? and it forces him to revert back to the sorcery that he favours, just to prove that it’s superior (which is why he uses black flash for the first time!! at least that’s my read of it rn)…. IT’S JUST SO GOODDDD I’M EATING IT UP‼️‼️‼️

also sidenote kinda but but but . the sukuna theories…. abt him eating his twin……… if those are true then the sukuna/maki parallels are even MORE insane bc she had to sacrifice her own twin for the sake of survival/power but would undoubtedly choose mai over her newfound strenght every single time :(( while sukuna willingly chose strenght over companionship….. yeahhhh they make me ill

what else is there to say ……. kusakabe was there. PHDJDHDJF NO BUT WDYMMMM HE’S THE STRONGEST GRADE 1 SORCERER…… SINCE WHEN 😭😭😭 ??????

jokes aside i think it makes sense considering kusakabe just so happens to Know abt a bunch of stuff he shouldn’t know abt + somehow keeps surviving ???? but i still think it’s so funny how everyone is hyping him up while he’s like . I Am Not The Strongest 💀💀 he’s so funny actually…..

….. this is smth my fuckass brother said that unfortunately made a lot of sense + made me go completely insane but. maybe the reason kusakabe keeps trying to run away is bc he wants to stay alive for his sister….. :((( bc he needs to take care of her/doesn’t want to die and leave her alone the way her son did. sob. T_T that would be kind of a genius move on akutami’s part bc it changes his comedic moments to very heartwarming ones…. i’m actually rlly excited to see where this fight goes wahhhh

anyway back to gojo .

HE’S LITERALLY SOOOO BABY I CAN’T STAND HIM …. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i don’t think akutami will ever truly understand how perfect this design is . like. there isn’t a single other character who perfectly manages to strike the balance between cute and handsome the way blindfolded gojo does . i’m sorry but it’s true. this is what the ideal male form looks like