#hopefully i am not super wrong

[gemsofgreece]

Do you know much about Thracians and their worship of Ares?

I have scarce knowledge about the Thracians so I had to do some research about their religion and.... they did not worship Ares??? The Thracian religion had two deities, a female one (Bendis) and a male one (Zis) and then a demigod (Zalmoxis / Orpheus). These deities encompassed all the qualities traditionally associated with their sex, so Zis was a father god and he had multiple sides to him, he was celestial, chthonic, a hero, a hunter, a royal ancestor of humanity and a warrior. Warrior Zis took a wolf-like appearance and was riding a horse. He was often described in the Thracian language as "bestial".

There is something in ancient literature described as interpretatio graeca, which means that a load of info we have about ancient cultures come from the descriptions of the Greeks and not the other ancient cultures themselves. In this case, Herodotus wrote about the Thracian religion and it is believed his works are a prime example of interpretatio graeca as he was trying to make the foreign religion easily comprehensible to his contemporary Greeks. So, Herodotus would say things like "this is their Ares", "this is their Artemis" and so on. However, the structure of the Thracian mythology appears quite different from the Greek one, especially in its origins.

What could also perplex matters is that Greeks from their side considered the Thracians descendants of Ares, because they were renowned warrior people, but that doesn't mean Thracians worshipped the exact "Ares" Greeks had (and barely even worshipped).

This is an interesting difference. The warrior quality is given to the Thracian father god. Greeks reserve this role for the father god's son who was not all that worshipped either. While Greeks really admired good warriors either among themselves or in other nations, they did not acknowledge themselves as appreciative of the frenzy of war and this is even reflected on how often gods, even Zeus, appeared to dislike and avoid Ares. On the contrary, it is clear that Greeks considered Athena as their primary deity of war, since they viewed themselves as supporters of the defensive war or the war that is inescapable or fully justified or a war that is based on strategy and the evaluation of cost and benefits rather than the wild manly joy or sheer force that was associated with war in some ancient cultures. Furthermore, Ares is portrayed as a young, handsome and strong warrior who however has an unpleasant attitude and does not possess many heroic qualities. So the worship of warrior Zis and the, well, more lukewarm worship of Ares were different.

However, Greeks extensively moved and settled north and a few Thracians did move south (some became mercenaries in Greek armies) and at these points their myths were blending a lot. Usually there are significant differences in the various tellings but there is also a lot of overlap. After the Greco-Thracian interaction, it was often that Thracians would use Greek equivalent names to address the aspects of their gods more easily, so if they wanted to talk about the warrior Zis, they might have said, "Ares". But he was actually a different god.

[sweetescapeartist]

Why Gohan Wears Glasses 👓

°DBS: Super Hero Spoilers°

I didn't mention anything about Gohan's eyesight improving with SSJ forms in my post about how DB characters use ki to go beyond their physical limit because I was unsure if Gohan actually needed to wear glasses or if he was just trying to look smart. Turns out Gohan does in fact need glasses.

Because Super Saiyan transformations raise the bodies physical limit to a higher physicality, this would also mean that this allows for a character with impared vision to have better eyesight when they transform. And that is exactly what Piccolo finds out.

This explains why he dropped the Potara Earring in the Buu saga too. It was thrown too fast and he couldn't see it well. His Ultimate form does not physically transform him like his Super Saiyan forms do. It only increases his base power beyond physical limits with ki (because increasing ki is how all DB characters break their limits).

Gohan has to use ki to sense his opponents, because his eyes cannot follow fights well when he is not in a SSJ form.

Characters use ki to enhance their physical capabilities in order to see someone's super speed movements. Sometimes they get caught up in the battle & forget to use their ki to aid their vision. Then, they end rely on their own physical capabilities instead.

This is why fighters sometimes have trouble following battles at first until they use their ki to sense the movements.

Examples Of Better Vision Due To Higher Physical Limits:

On Namek, Vegeta was the only one able to see Goku's movements due to having a higher physical limit after recieving a zenkai boost.

When fighting 2nd Freeza, Vegeta was incapable of seeing Freeza's movements with his own eyes. (Krillin used ki to sense Freeza's movements & managed to move quick enough to save Dende.)

After Vegeta's physical limit was increased from another zenkai boost, he was the only one capable of seeing Final Form Freeza's movements. But, he soon learns that Freeza was holding back his true power & is overwhelmed.

These instances with Vegeta is what made me wonder if Gohan's vision increased with his Super Saiyan transformation.

Then, DBS: Super Hero gave me the confirmation that I needed.

With Zenkai boosts, the physical limit can only get so high for each individual Saiyan. For Gohan, he had reached his physical limit in the Buu saga and he still couldn't see well enough to catch the Potara Earring.

Then, we are shown that Gohan needs to wear glasses after the Buu saga.

This is kinda cool & funny to me because Gohan is so strong, yet he still needs to wear glasses lol.

Another likely reason that Gohan needs to wear glasses is because impared vision can be hereditary. Ox King has impared vision & so does his grandson.

[sometimes-stufful]

Hey guys. It's been um *checks watch* like 5 or 6 years since I've used this blog. How's everybody doing? Sorry for the unannounced hiatus all that time ago.

I don't know if this blog will become active again. However there is a good chance that it might! I'm starting to create a plot for the blog's characters (because I still love them dearly), so hopefully I can create that and get this show up and running again. I've also been updating everyone's refs. So even if I don't come back to posting here officially, I think I'm going to at least upload those. I also have some new characters in the works that I may post refs for if I don't go thru with returning/making this blog more plot-centric.

I really do want to return to sometimes-stufful. However I'm an adult now (I'm literally about to turn 25 in 10 days, holy shit), and the past few years have been rough as hell on my mental health. I've lost a lot, and am just starting to heal from everything that's gone down. And I work full time, and have a datemate now, so finding the chance to draw is difficult. But this blog helped me on my art journey before. And I'd love to use it as an excuse to draw more, which is the main thing that pulling me back into the pokemon ask community. Another thing that's been pulling me back is the strong af urge to create content for my characters. Because I still love them so very much. I think about them so often that I want to put them in Situations and share it all with you. Although first I wanna get better at drawing humans lol (its relevant I swear). But I could get back into the swing of drawing some 'mons if I really set myself out to.

Let's see how it all goes. I'll keep you all updated. For those of you who have stuck around waiting so long, thank you. I hope to join you in this community again soon.

In the meantime, here's where you can find me and my artwork:

Main blog Toyhouse Artfight

[astrxealis]

sorry (not really) guys if you see me return to my obsessed w final fantasy (all), ivalice ffxiv voicelines, bloodborne era rn

[manygreetingsfriend]

.

[adozentothedawn]

[benbamboozled]

PLEASE, DC…I AM BEGGING YOU…

YOU DON’T NEED TO HAVE AN EVIL VOLCANO TO HAVE HIGH STAKES STORIES.

OR 500 EVIL BATMANS…BATMAN BUT WHAT IF HE WAS MATTER EATER LAD AND EVIL NOW OR WHATEVER THE FUCK.

PLEASE TRUST THAT THE CHARACTERS YOU’VE CREATED CAN CARRY STORIES.

THE CHARACTERS ARE WHY PEOPLE KEEP COMING BACK.

“STAKES” ARE RELATIVE AND WHAT ARE USUALLY CONSIDERED “SMALL” STAKES CAN BE HIGH WITHIN THE EMOTIONAL PARAMETERS OF THE STORY.

[vagueiish]

yknow, if i weren't a weenie, i'd use my apparent invisibility/the apparent reality that nobody cares and nobody would notice if i were to just....disappear...

and i'd do something fun with it. commit a murder or high-value theft or some shit and then ride off into the night with no consequences

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pussy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[inkskinned]

i love when words fit right. seize was always supposed to be that word, and so was jester. tuesday isn't quite right but thursday should be thursday, that's a good word for it. daisy has the perfect shape to it, almost like you're laughing when you say it; and tulip is correct most of the time. while keynote is fun to say, it's super wrong - i think they have to change the label for that one. but fox is spot-on.

most words are just, like, good enough, even if what they are describing is lovely. the night sky is a fine term for it but it isn't perfect the way november is the correct term for that month.

it's not just in english because in spanish the phrase eso si que es is correct, it should be that. sometimes other languages are also better than the english words, like how blue is sloped too far downwards but azul is perfect and hangs in the air like glitter. while butterfly is sweet, i think probably papillion is more correct, although for some butterflies féileacán is much better. year is fine but bliain is better. sometimes multiple languages got it right though, like how jueves and Πέμπτη are also the right names for thursday. maybe we as a species are just really good at naming thursdays.

and if we were really bored and had a moment and a picnic to split we could all sit down for a moment and sort out all the words that exist and find all the perfect words in every language. i would show you that while i like the word tree (it makes you smile to say it), i think arbor is correct. you could teach me from your language what words fit the right way, and that would be very exciting (exciting is not correct, it's just fine).

i think probably this is what was happening at the tower of babel, before the languages all got shifted across the world and smudged by the hand of god. by the way, hand isn't quite right, but i do like that the word god is only 3 letters, and that it is shaped like it is reflecting into itself, and that it kind of makes your mouth move into an echoing chapel when you cluck it. but the word god could also fit really well with a coathanger, and i can't explain that. i think donut has (weirdly) the same shape as a toothbrush, but we really got bagel right and i am really grateful for that.

grateful is close, but not like thunder. hopefully one day i am going to figure out how to shape the way i love my friends into a little ceramic (ceramic is very good, almost perfect) pot and when they hold it they can feel the weight of my care for them. they can put a plant in there. maybe a daisy.

[gender-euphowrya]

huge dev update my grandma is gonna see a psychologist

[mars-ipan]

the way that menstrual hormones and an anxiety disorder can combine is so fucking vile and cruel

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Rules

Summary: Joel wants you pregnant. And you want to have Joel's baby. And not even a big council meeting would stop the two of you from getting what you wanted.

Pairing: Raider!Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Rating: E

Warnings: Raider!Joel who has his own little community, smut (public sex, unprotected sex), massive breeding kink, dirty talk, established relationship (kind of), unspecified age gap (around 15 years prob), massive exhibition kink, someone dies because he looks at reader for too long, so guns and death, mentions of drugs, Joel picks reader up and carries her away but this is fiction so Joel has super powers to carry anyone he likes anywhere because I say so

A/N: three fics, four days. I am going to hibernate into my horny jail now. Boop!

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It was getting dark and he still wasn’t back.

He told you he had the council meeting today, but you were running out of time. Every minute getting you farer away from the window you needed him to hopefully grant him his biggest wish. 

Making him a Dad. 

According to your calculations your fertile window for the month was closing and you needed him. 

Joel and you found each other almost a year after the outbreak. You, alone since you fled your college on outbreak day, stumbling towards the abandoned Ikea store in search of just something to drink or eat, Joel stepping in front of you before you could even reach the door, his hand wrapping around your neck, making you look at him as he questioned what you were doing. 

Even years later you felt like he was sent to you from a higher power to safe you. 

To feed you. 

To own you. 

To fuck you. 

You became his wife, not even a month after joining his little group, that now was bigger than ever before, people living in all the abandoned department stores around, living under his protection. 

You were his only wife, even though he allowed all his men to have as many wives as they pleased. 

He was pretty possessive about you, and you over him. Sure, you couldn’t actually do anything against him taking another wife if he wanted to, but he assured you from the beginning that he was a one wife kind of husband. 

And he demanded the same in return, not that you had a problem with that.

Joel was known to be a fair but ruthless leader. He had no time for bullshit and he didn’t give second chances. 

The power he wielded had become one of your biggest turn ons, fascinated how with a flick of his fingers, his men would dispose of every problem, every person he did not trust. 

There weren’t many rules around here. 

Listen to everything Joel says.

And don’t look at you the wrong way.

Something that you had to admit was hard when he was fucking you out in the open hallway. 

Most of his men knew not to look at you too long, no matter if it was in passing or when Joel was fucking you in front of them. 

You would look too, but you weren’t the one who would lose their cock or life for it. 

Glancing at the clock you knew your fertile window was closing. He had fucked you twice today already, but you didn’t want to waste more time. 

Standing up from the bed you took your clothes including your underwear off, grabbing a wrap dress he had found for you years before, wrapping it around your body. Pulling on some high heels he loved to see you in, looking at yourself in the mirror you gave yourself a small smirk, before you opened the door, waiting for your assigned guard of the day to step away from the door, before you started to walk towards where you knew Joel held his meetings. 

„This is becoming a real fucking problem. A problem I pay you for to get rid off. What the fuck is taking so long?“ Joel hissed, his jaw twitching as he sat at the edge of the table, legs wide spread, a glass of whiskey in his right hand. 

He had been stuck in this room with twenty of his men and nothing was going according to plan. 

It was moment like this he really missed Tess. She’d have this shit done weeks ago.

„More clickers than we planned for. We hope we’ll be done by the end of tomorrow,“ Sam, one of the men who had been with his group the longest assured, and Joel sipped on his drink. 

„I want the whole building cleared by the end of the week. Then I want you to extend the outer wall around it. We need more fucking space so we can extend the drug lab. Frank is expecting a new drop by the end of the month in exchange for more ammunition,“ he reminded them. 

„I’ll take care of it personally,“ Tommy said, who was sitting to his right, looking at him and Joel gave him a quick nod. 

„There are to many fucking assholes trying to get into this settlement. Too many to handle. Might be time to stop for a while,“ one of his other advisors spoke up but Joel wasn’t listening to anything after that, cause he heard the familiar clicking of your heels before the door opened and you walked in. 

A vision in purple silk, giving him a big smile as you walked into the room, the men around him staggering to their feet to show you their respect. 

„Please, don’t let me interrupt you. In fact, ignore my presence at all,“ you hummed, giving Tommy a quick peck to his cheek before you turned away from the table and straddled Joel’s lap, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. 

The conversation behind him opened up again, Tommy taking over while Joel stared at you. 

You made quick work of releasing the bow that held your dress together, letting the fabric part, his hungry eyes all over your naked body. One of his hands cupped one of your tits and you smiled at him. 

„Whatcha up to baby girl?“ He asked, already hardening in his pants. 

„Need you to cum in my wet little pussy again. Need you to fuck it deep inside of me so I can give you your baby,“ you leaned in, nibbling at his earlobe. He groaned as he tilted his head, his eyes closing for a moment as you kissed up his neck, his hands now both under your dress palming your ass roughly. 

When his eyes opened he found one of his newer men, Tom, looking at you, his eyes widening for a moment when he saw Joel had caught him, looking away quickly. 

„First strike,“ Joel’s voice boomed and you moaned before you kissed him, your hands in his hair, Joel’s eyes on Tom who had had the nerve to look at his wife. At you. 

Everyone knew the rules.

They look at you for too long, they die. He had lost a lot of men that way, but he didn’t fucking care. 

Your fingers were working on his zipper when the conversation in the room picked up again, one of the other men talking about the greenhouse and what shit they needed in the future. 

Boring. 

Joel grunted when your fingers wrapped around his cock, helping you pull his pants down a little so you could pull him out of his pants and he leaned down, sucking at you tits. 

„You gonna fight our kid for my milk huh,“ you teased and he bit into your nipple, making you moan. 

„Gotta get you pregnant first, baby girl,“ he sucked a bruised just above your right tit while you pumped his cock in your fist. 

„You gonna make me shoot all my men if you tease me like that one day,“ he grunted, bringing one hand between your legs, three fingers slipping inside of you with ease, a smirk coming to his lips. 

„My dirty little whore,“ he whispered against your ear and you gasped, your back arching against him, your dress falling down your shoulders, exposing your naked back to the room. 

Not that you cared. 

You loved when he fucked you in front of other people.

„Put your little pussy on this cock, baby girl,“ the fingers that had just been inside of you pushing into your mouth as you lifted your ass so you could line his cock up, sinking down on him slowly. 

„Fuck baby,“ you moaned and he leaned back in his seat, both of his hands now on your ass as he looked up at you. 

„Make yourself cum on this cock and I’ll fuck your ass later,“ he said and you whimpered as you began to ride him. Moving your hips on top of him, your hands on the armrests of his chair for leverage. He slapped your ass, hard, and you cried out. 

He watched you satisfied as you fucked yourself on his cock, before his eyes found someone behind you. 

„Don’t bother Elijah, his wife is super fucking pregnant. Find me tomorrow morning, and I’ll go,“ Joel said, still clearly listening to the conversation happening in front of him. You clenched around him and he looked at you again. 

„You get so fucking wet for me like this. Maybe I should always let you fuck me in my meetings. Would make them a whole of a lot more enjoyable,“ he hummed at you and you smiled. 

„You’d loose all your men within a week,“ you grinned, turning your head to look at Tommy. 

„Except Tommy,“ you hummed and the man looked at you, giving you a wink. 

„Tommy is family. He can look all he wants,“ Joel said and you winked back at Tommy before you focused back on Joel and began to bounce on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin and you moans filling the room. Joel played with your tits, pinching your nipple as you clenched around him. He pulled you against his chest, fucking up into you, his mouth against your ear. 

„Cum for me and I’ll fuck you on the table. And I’ll let everyone look when I put a fucking baby into your belly,“ he whispered and you moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you, only realising that he had picked you up and sat you down on the table, when he had pushed your back down against the cold surface and began to drill his cock into you. 

„Watch how I fuck my slutty little wife full of my fucking cum,“ he grunted out with every thrust and you stretched your arms over your head, your tits moving with every hard thrust of Joel’s cock into you. 

„Joel,“ you moaned, crying out when he slapped your clit. 

„Gonna fuck you so full, you’ll be dripping all the way back to our rooms,“ he groaned, his eyes on you. 

„Shit baby,“ you whined and he groaned. 

„Watch,“ he grunted and you looked down, his cock pumping into you, your cum all over his cock, fucking you so hard the table was moving over the floor. 

„Shit,“ he moaned, his thrusts getting sloppier until he twitched and filled you with his cum, pumping it deeply into you. 

Still out of breath you gave him a dozy smile that he mirrored, before his eyes darkened, his gun in his hand the next moment, raising it up to shoot someone behind you. 

„Inform Tom’s family that he won’t be back,“ he said to no one in particular before he reached for you, helping you sit up. Apparently Tom had in fact not stopped looking at you before Joel gave his permission to look. 

He pulled the fabric of your dress back over your shoulders, his softening cock still inside of you, before he picked you up. 

„Meeting is dismissed,“ he called over his shoulder, before he carried you back towards your rooms. 

Where he fucked you once more to make sure it would finally take. 

[a-very-tired-jew]

You're not as informed as you think, and age does play a factor.

This is going to ruffle some feathers, but it needs to be said. You're not as informed on the I/P Conflict and the history of the region as you think, and age plays a major factor. Hell, you're not as informed on a lot of topics as you think. I want you to think about what you were doing 5 years ago. Were you still running around on the playground? Were you making dioramas for a science class? Were you in high school worried about being a first year? Were you just starting to pick out colleges or deciding to even go? Did you ever call a teacher by their first name? Now, there is a line that we hear thrown about that people don't fully mature till they're 25. While this is bupkis and misrepresents the research, it is true that the brain does not stop developing till sometime in the mid to late 20s. In fact, the brains of undergraduates age 18-22 and their respective thought patterns more closely resemble high schoolers than they do mid 20s and above. So what does this mean in the course of the I/P conflict? For one thing, this is your first incident. Your first I/P war. Those of us in our 30s and above have seen a good number of them at this point. I even remember when the use of child suicide bombers became a standard method for Hamas and other terrorist groups during the Second Intifada. As such, many of us are used to the manipulation that we see in this particular region. We're used to seeing antisemitism be dismissed and well intentioned people be manipulated. Many of us are just tired because you're going through the same shit we did at your age and we look back and go "oh, we were severely misinformed". Because this is your first, you're super passionate about it, but that passion can be manipulated. Second, you're not as smart or well informed as you think you are. This has to do with the age and maturation thing mentioned above. While 25 is an arbitrary number, there are some milestones that happen by then. By 25 you have had enough life experience to really start piecing together your education, your life experiences, your world experiences, and your respective beliefs into a coherent way of approaching topics. Hopefully by that age you're less likely to have the emotional outburst in response to a subject (think about the stereotypical slamming the door teenager behavior, many of us did that and we cringe thinking about it) and more likely to approach something in a levelheaded and informed manner. Unfortunately there is some research that shows evidence that Gen Z and Millenials are susceptible to propaganda and misinformation, with the former exhibiting behavior akin to Boomers. So keep that in mind that none of us are safe for misinformation, but some generations are worse than others. Now, who am I to say this to you? Some of you are quite mad right at the moment. Some of you have strived to be seen as well informed young adults or to be taken seriously, and in some cases you are. However...

I'm in my 30s and I have been teaching at the college level for a decade and some change now. By no means am I an expert, but I have enough experience to say something. The ages I teach are 18+, meaning I've had students that are typical fresh high school grads and students that are in their 50s. Myself and my colleagues have heard repeatedly from students the "I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing" line to only watch that 18-22 y.o. student fail miserably or come crying to us later. I have personally watched students go through the stages of grief as they realized in my classes that their pet science activism is not what they thought, but they've wrapped so much of their identity around it. You're still learning, and thinking you know more just because you read something online is an issue. You're also still growing and developing as a person. Recognize that you can be manipulated. Recognize that you can be wrong. Recognize your own inherent biases. Then do better.

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt if you’re still doing it:

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.”

Please

Hello! I'm afraid this one might not have come out quite as seriously as the others (might be channeling all my Serious Angst Energy into my ongoing fic at the moment), but hopefully it's enjoyable, anyway??

[No warnings except maybe some unkind self-directed internal dialogue from Steve]

-

“Y’know,” Eddie drawls, looking Steve up and down where he’s standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light of the front hall, “correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look especially busy.”

Steve, caught out in a lie, clearly having been sitting around at home in his sweats when he’d specifically told Eddie that he couldn’t come over tonight because he was busy, does the only thing he can think of: he keeps lying.

“I am,” he says.

“Uh huh.” The way Eddie draws the hum of his agreement out says that he doesn’t believe Steve in the slightest. “And what, if I may ask, are you busy with, dressed in loungewear and sitting at home?”

Scrambling, Steve reaches for the first excuse that comes to mind, something he’d heard his mother say to someone over the phone years ago, when he was still a kid and she’d still made excuses to get out of social engagements and stay home with him.

“I’m washing my hair.”

Eddie bites down on a laugh so quickly and so visibly, Steve is surprised his teeth don’t go right through his lip.

“Are you?” Eddie asks, voice gone high and tight with mirth.

“Yep,” Steve answers.

“Well, damn, I don’t know why you didn’t invite me along to help,” Eddie says, grinning at Steve. “I feel like I’ve proven my skill in that arena before.”

Steve stares at Eddie, mouth working, feeling slow and useless and out of ideas. “Uh…”

With a sigh, Eddie lets his smile drop. “Look, can I come inside?”

The jig is up, so Steve just nods and steps aside to let Eddie in.

“What are you even doing here?” Steve asks as he leads the way back to the living room, where he’d been sitting on the couch and moping.

“Steve, I knew you weren’t busy tonight. You’re kind of a terrible liar,” Eddie says.

And that isn’t strictly true; Steve is a great liar – as long as he doesn’t feel guilty about it. He’s never been good at lying to people he loves.

They sit down; Steve shoves the magazines he’d been pretending he would actually be able to focus on out of the way (more proof of his pathetic attempt at a lie), and Eddie—ever blunt, ever direct—jumps right in.

“So I kind of feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

Steve winces. “Not avoiding you, I’ve just been… limiting my time with you.”

Eddie looks stricken, and Steve would like to die, actually. Why did he phrase it that way?

“Did… I do something, or say something, or, like–”

“No!” Steve rushes to reassure him. “No, no, not at all, it’s nothing you did, you’re amazing, it’s not you, it’s…”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “It’s not me, it’s you?”

“I mean…” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of, yeah.”

For a long moment, Eddie sits, brows furrowed, staring at Steve. Steve fights the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m trying super hard to figure out what’s going on right now, but I’m kind of coming up blank,” Eddie finally admits. “Are we… Are we breaking up?”

“No!” Steve blurts again, reaching this time for Eddie’s hands, as if he can keep Eddie from realizing what a goddamn idiot he is and leaving if he just holds on tightly enough. “Shit, no, that’s – I’m completely fucking this up, that’s the opposite of what I want to happen, that’s why I’ve been limiting my time with you.”

Though Eddie’s hands have turned in Steve’s grip, automatically holding onto him, he stares at Steve as though he’s lost his mind, which is fair. “Okay,” Eddie says slowly, “I admit you have a little more experience with relationships than I do, but isn’t the point to spend as much time as possible with the person you’re dating? Because you like them?”

“It’s… Usually, I guess, yeah.” Steve shrugs, suddenly wishing maybe that he hadn’t taken Eddie’s hands, because now he can’t get away, can’t duck out from under those dark, searching eyes. He settles for staring down at their joined hands as he speaks. “It’s just – I can be… kind of a lot? I like someone and I just kind of slam my foot on the gas and don’t look back and that’s too much, I know, so I’ve been trying not to, like, overwhelm you, because I really, really don’t want you to get sick of me, and–”

“Who the hell told you that?” Eddie cuts in sharply.

Steve’s eyes snap back up, finding Eddie looking so thoroughly offended that he’s not sure what to make of it. “Told me what?”

“That you’re too much,” Eddie presses, his hands going tighter around Steve’s.

“Uh,” Steve says, uncertain of what kind of answer Eddie’s looking for. The fact that Steve goes all-in too quickly is just common knowledge; the fact that it overwhelms and annoys people is kind of a general consensus.

Eddie shakes his head. “Never mind, it doesn’t even matter. Don’t listen to them. Don’t you ever listen to them,” he says, low and intense. “You’re not going to overwhelm me, Steve. I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you, but the only way I’m gonna know for sure is if I get to have you around as often as possible for as long as you can stand me.”

The words, for a moment, don’t make any sense. No one has ever wanted Steve around that much; no one’s ever met him where he is in terms of hunger for companionship.

“You… want me around that often?” he asks, eyes flicking from Eddie’s face to their hands and back again.

“I want you around all the goddamn time. I want you when I wake up and when I go to sleep and when I’m having breakfast and when I’m doing shit around the house and when I’m playing a show and when I’m watching TV,” Eddie rattles off. “I’m not even exaggerating, it’s honestly kind of a problem.”

“A problem?” Steve asks, brows coming together in concern.

“It’s a problem because you’ve been limiting your time, thinking that I’m going to get tired of you.” Eddie disentangles their hands and reaches up to cup Steve’s jaw, palms soft and a little sweaty from their combined grip, but gentle—almost reverent—against his skin. “Sweetheart, I am never going to get tired of you.”

From anyone else, that would be hard to believe, but the way Eddie looks at him, dead-on and so fucking sincere, Steve can’t help but take the promise in with a hopeful flutter in his chest. He leans forward, pressing his mouth to Eddie’s, keeping the kiss chaste and slow before he pulls back to murmur, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Eddie answers immediately. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”

He tugs Steve forward after that, pushing and pulling him until he’s managed to lay out across the length of the couch and has situated Steve over him, lying on his chest like a weighted blanket. He sighs and wraps his arms around Steve, like he still wants to pull him closer.

“Perfect,” he says.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, balancing his chin Eddie’s sternum so he can smile up at him.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Now I just have to figure out how to keep you this close all the time.”

“Might be kinda tough,” Steve says, fighting to keep his smile from growing to ridiculous proportions.

“Eh.” Eddie shrugs, ducking down to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m willing to take the time to figure it out.”

And somehow, Steve thinks that might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him.

[burrow-ix]

Sun-Kissed

Ted’s pool party turned out to be a lot more fun than you thought it would be…👀

Warnings: Joe looking like a beach babe, emphasize the BABE; smut; fingering if you squint; that freaking chain; etc.

Also this is like probs my first official time writing smut so hopefully it doesn’t bore you or make you cringe, if it does, I am so sorry :*)

Also, thanks to @balanceingrace for the encouragement❤️

Part Two is Here!

You and Joe arrive at Ted’s house for the pool party he was having for Memorial Day weekend. A lot of Joe’s teammates and their girlfriends and wives were going to be there as well, so you talked Joe into going so he could be social for once.

You sit down in-between Joe Bachie’s girlfriend, Holly and Sam’s girlfriend, Jess on the edge of the pool along with a couple of the other girls.

“That hair driving Joe nuts yet?” Holly asks and you giggle.

“Not yet anyway. He does mess with it constantly but I honestly think he likes it. We’ll see how he feels about it in July and August when its borderline 100 degrees during practice” you give her a smug look and she laughs.

“What do you think about it?” Jess smirks.

“I like it. It’s different. We were together for almost a year when he grew it out super long the first time and I didn’t mind it then but I’m curious to see what he’d look like with it now. That man has aged like fine wine so I’m excited to see some flow” you bite your lip and the girls giggle.

“You talkin’ shit?” Joe asks from behind you, standing over you.

“About you? Of course” you smile back at him and he just shakes his head as he hands you a cold bottle of water.

When you looks back at your man, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander.

Joe had come back from playing basketball with some of the guys, his button up shirt all the way unbuttoned, showing his tan, sweaty, toned chest and torso. His chest being your weakness. His hair that has gotten longer over the past couple months and you were becoming feral over this new style he was trying. His hair was more blonde than usual, all thanks to the sun. The dirty blonde becoming low lights while the blonde really shown through. His Cartier sunglasses sitting nicely on his nose and cheekbones along with his chain around his neck that glittered in the sun, the rays bring out the jewels perfectly. Good God, you thought, if he just bent me over right now-.

“Damn, when did you turn into a slut?” You dip down your sunglasses at him, trying to joke with him instead of pouncing on him like a freaking tiger.

“A long time ago. When I started dating you” he dips his sunglasses down, copying you and shooting you a wink, which just made you even more hot. He’s such a jerk.

“Jesus” you mutter under your breath. This was too much stimulation for you, and you was afraid that if you looked at him any longer that you would

1) do or say something that no one else around should experience in public or 2) melt; which you were already doing.

“Well you need to quit because all of your ‘girlies’ can’t handle all of this” you motions to the heavenly being that was him. You couldn’t even handle all of that.

“Oh this is just for you, pretty girl. No one else to impress but you” he looks smugly at you, that famous smirk making its way onto his perfect lips.

And…it was done. That did you in.

You turn back around, facing the pool. You look over at Holly who knew what you were thinking.

“I’ll cover for you, get ya some” she smirks and nods her head towards the house.

“Thank you” you whisper to her before climbing out of the pool and facing back towards Joe. He chuckles lowly and you place your hand on his lower back, turning him around and pushing him nonchalantly into the house.

“Something wrong?” Joe asks you sarcastically, knowing the effect he has on you. Knowing your weaknesses that easily make you all hot and bothered for him.

You push him down the hallway and into the guest room and shutting the door behind you, locking it without even looking, just watching your man stare at you with eyes that were once bright blue, now dark as the depths of the ocean. And you were about to go for a dive.

“You” you tell him plainly. You make your way toward him, your hands finding their way to his bare, broad chest and your eyes looking up at him through your lashes.

“You are what’s wrong…but so right” you whisper.

In seconds, his strong hands grab your cheeks and his lips are on yours. Hard, unyielding, but loving and passionate. He couldn’t get enough of you and that damn berry chapstick you wore all the time. Your lips have never tasted any different.

His hands slide into your hair, gripping onto your long locks, slightly tugging which makes you moan against his mouth, causing his lips to curve up into a small smile.

Joe wasn’t one for PDA, but you get him in a room by yourselves, he was on you in less than a minute. Believe it or not, the man was handsy. But you didn’t mind the feeling of his strong, veiny hands on you, touching you, holding you. It was ecstasy.

His hands grip your hips as yours slide up his chest, to his shoulders, around his neck and into his dirty blonde hair that was now longer, easier to pull. He moans against your lips, spinning you around and letting you fall against the mattress, him going to pull his shirt off but you stop him.

“No. You better leave that on or so help me god-“

“Okay then” he chuckles, “can I take my shorts off or do I have to leave those on too?”

“Off, smart ass” you roll your eyes as you reach for his shorts, unbuttoning them and shoving them down his legs.

“These too?” He asks smugly, snapping the band of his boxer briefs against this skin.

“Joseph, I swear to god-“

“Okay, I’m done” he laughs, leaning down to reattach his lips to yours.

He quickly rids himself of his underwear, also quickly pulling your shorts and your blue bikini bottoms down all in one go and throwing them on the floor. He reaches behind your neck, his fingers sending chills down your spine as he pulls one the strings to your top loose, causing the tie to come undone.

He kisses down your neck, latching onto the place under your ear that makes you weak. He’s careful to not leave a mark, knowing you’d have his ass for having to walk back out to his teammates and their girls with a bright purple and red mark on your neck.

He makes his way down the column of your neck, you becoming a moaning mess, wanting him to be inside you already. He eventually arrives to your chest where he grabs onto the cloth of your matching blue bikini top with his teeth and pulling it down to expose your “perfect” breasts; his words.

“I’m obsessed with you” he says lowly, looking up at you through those blonde lashes and instantly latches onto your right nipple.

“Mmm” you moan, holding onto the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as he swirls his incredible tongue around the bud.

He knew the other one was getting jealous so he moved over to your left breast, giving it the same amount of attention as the right. Joe was neither a boob or a butt guy; he was both. If he had to choose between your boobs or your butt, he would surely die.

Joe pulls away from your chest and looks into your eyes. He takes his index and middle finger and brings it to his mouth, licking them and bring them down to your core. You gasp as they brush your clit, him slowly circling it just to get you more worked up than you already were.

He drags them down to your entrance, teasing you as he feels the mess you’ve already made of yourself.

“Just wanted to make sure you were ready for me” he smirks.

“Always ready for you” you whine as he pulls his fingers away and brings them back up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them.

“I know” he smiles.

He spits into his hand and brings it down to his dick who was also always ready for you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around him, slowly pumping him.

“O-oh shit” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

You pick up the pace, a bead of precum appearing on his tip, he was starting to become a moaning mess. You take your thumb and slide it over his tip and let go of him to bring your thumb to your mouth. Slipping it into your mouth, you swirl around it, tasting him to which he watches you intently.

“I need to feel you, now” he says, his voice low and raspy. He lines himself up with your entrance before slowly, almost painfully pushing himself in.

“God” you moan out, your breath hitching in your throat as he hit your cervix. You’ll never get used to him, it’s always a pleasant surprise.

“You feel insane, baby” he groans, his head dipping down to your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. Your hands still in his hair, obsessed with gripping onto and pulling on his now longer blonde curls.

He pulls out and pushes all the way back in again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Joe starts to pick up the pace, the sound of skin smacking skin making the experience oh-so-much better and intense.

“Look at me” he breathes out, his face hovering over yours, that chain gently hitting your chin as he continues to thrust into you. Oh, that could make you come undone right then and there. God bless that freaking chain.

“You are so pretty, Jesus-“ he hisses, starting to fully pound into you, repeatedly hitting that soft spot inside of you, making your eyes roll back once again.

“Joe, I’m gonna-“ your eyes screwing shut as your hands go under the back of his shirt, gripping onto his muscular back.

“Let go, baby, let go” he grunts, his dick spasming against your walls as they clinch around him. He brings his lips back down to yours as you come undone, whimpering into his mouth as he continues to thrust into you, the oversensitivity starting to kick in.

With a couple more sporadic thrusts, moaning your name against your lips, he lets go, coating your walls.

He pulls out of you gently, both of you whimpering at the sensitive feeling. He lies down next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“So the unbuttoned shirt is officially approved?” Joe asks, looking over at you and you giggle.

“10 stamps of approval” you smile at him and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Cool” he smiles back at you before leaning over to you and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“We should probably go back out there before they start to get suspicious” Joe sits up and pulls his underwear and shorts up his long legs and sets your bikini bottoms and shorts on the bed next to you.

“Joe, they’re not stupid, they know damn well what we came in here to do” you scoff and he laughs.

“Well, I’m going to blame it on you if they ask” He helps you stand up.

“Go right ahead and see what happens, you jerk” you narrow your eyes at him as you tie your bikini top strings back.

“Go pee. You can threaten me later, pretty girl” he winks and gives your ass a healthy smack as you make your way to the bathroom.

“It’s not threatening, it’s promising, JB” you tell him, patting his chest.

“Also,” you stop in the doorway, “you should wear that all of the time”

You smirk at him as he smiles at you.

“Oh I will wear it everyday if I get the exact same reaction I did today” he nods.

“Good” you wink and shut the door behind you.

After getting yourself cleaned up and fixing your sex hair, you walk back outside to where Joe was already sitting with the guys, chatting away.

You walk over to Joe and sit yourself on his thick thighs, your favorite seat to sit on, other than his face. Joe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, once again, sending a chill down your back. You shoot him a loaded look over your shoulder and he smiles up at you, those blue eyes glistening behind his sunglasses.

“Love you” he mouths to you and you blush.

“Love you” you mouth back and turn your attention back to the guys.

One of these days, he will be the death you. But hey, that would be a great way to go out.