#maycore

[umnitsa]

I can't stop crying as I read @drchucktingle's Lucky Day. I've seen myself so much in this book, it feels like a deep investigation on my own personal existential dread.

I feel inside of me there are two wolves, one is Vera, one is Layne, but now I think they may be friends? And whatever I feed them they share? Anyway, I'm just in the middle of the book, and I think I'll finish it today.

[mistressemmedi]

There's too many new faces following me so I gotta hit the streets with some rent lowering gunshots but 1) I spend way too much time blogging about men driving around in circles 2) fuck TERFS 3) free palestine.

You can soft block me if the former is an issue - protect your peace, totally respect that ✌🏻 If the latter two are a problem, go fuck yourself and I wish you nothing but explosive diarrhea for the rest of your days.

[waykeeper-girl]

A video.

[seasonsbloom]

i’m like if a writer never wrote anything

[bunclip]

mini sanrio baos 💭☀️

[louvelylouis]

[umnitsa]

Dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs.

A/N: Ok, so. One pic made the rounds in one of the discord servers I frequent and it made me wild, I won't lie (it was a pic/meme with aged Pedro Pascal). Highly inspired by @toxicanonymity's GILF!Joel (mine is a bit of a perv, but this isn't really a dark fic). It was also inspired by @atticrissfinch's MMITB (I wish I had a fraction of her talent for dirty talk, but I'm not even a native speaker of English, so I do what I can). Now you go read them both, I ASSURE YOU it'll be a good time. Huge thanks for all the people that cheered me on with this: Toxi, @romanarose, @beefrobeefcal, @gwendibleywrites, I love you all. (I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, honestly, although part of me wants to get to the sex scene. xD)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, dirty talk. That's it <3

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

It wasn’t a bad job.

Sarah wanted to hire you to take care of her father, Joel. He wasn’t that old, but years of hard work in construction gave him some mobility issues. Sarah worried he spent too time alone, and that he could fall, get hurt and trapped without help because of his pride (which seemed to be a real possibility, considering Joel didn’t want to lose his independence in any way).

You were supposed to get the night shift, which was nice. The night shift was calm, except when it wasn’t. Sarah assured you she talked to her father, she wanted to introduce you to him, before you started working.

You prepared for war, if the man was as stubborn and grumpy as his daughter described.

Sarah introduced you and the old man looked at you over his glasses.

“You sure this pretty thing can lift me off the floor?” He asked, a crooked smirk stretching his lips. You considered answering him, but he raised his face defiantly and winked.

He was teasing his daughter.

You chuckled, to Joel’s delight. Sarah hired you on the spot.

***

Joel was grumpy most of the time. You could understand. Getting older was specially hard on some people. Losing their independence seemed to be a horrifying blow.

You admired the family pictures displayed on the walls and the bookshelves. They showed a younger Joel, large and proud, wearing tight tshirts that showed his big arms.

He didn’t change much, to be honest. His hair now was completely silver, as his beard. The wrinkles didn’t spoil his roguish smile. He was on his seventies, but looked younger, somehow. You blamed his brown eyes.

***

“You know what I miss most about my youth?” He said softly one day, entering the living room. You were looking at his pictures. He slowly moved by your side and placed a hand over your back, rubbing gentle circles. “All the pussy.”

You turned to him, astonished at his boldness. He smirked, then shrugged. You felt your face getting warm and a different, slick, syrupy warmth pooling on your lower belly. He licked his lips and sighed.

“It was easy to get pussy with those looks.” He pointed at one picture of himself and smiled proudly. “Didn’t fuck as much as I wanted, or as much as I could. Tried to be a good dad. Don’t regret anything, but... Oh boy, I miss it.” He looked you up and down, his smile turning appreciative.

“Thought old pervs like you liked tiny thin teenagers.” You scoffed.

“Only dumbasses want those.” Joel chuckled, his hand sliding lower on your back. “I like them older. Like you. With those eyes, like you know and did everything under the sun.” Joel hums, closing his eyes. “Get them cockdumb and they cry so sweetly… Mmmm, the surprise in their wide eyes...” He licks his lips, watching your reaction. You laugh, trying to hide your own arousal.

“Well, Joel, I think the preference is because they are supposed to be tight.” You said firmly, standing your ground. You refused to look shocked, and you saw no reason to scold him, at least not yet. Maybe it was your pussy talking.

Joel leaned over you slowly; you stayed very still. His warm breath tickled your ear.

“After a certain size, honey, everything feels tight.” He said softly, grabbing his half hard cock through his pants. You looked down and gasped, noticing the girth of his bulge inside his huge hand. Joel stepped back, smiling proudly, and moved into the house, dragging his feet. “Lemme know if you want a ride, sweetheart. Them blue pills are easy to get.” He turned and winked at you.

[umnitsa]

I need a cuddle from a ficcional character, that may become a cuddle fuck to comfort me and distract me from my neuroatypical exhaustion.

So, some comfort images with some of my favorites because I need the comfort myself ❤️

HUGS, HUGS, HUGS

Alexei would be a sweetheart, smothering you. His body over yours was an almost suffocating presence restraining even the expansion of your chest as you breathe. He's warm and smells of sweat and power. He nuzzles your ear, humming a song. His hands move over you, squeezing your flesh, and his lips brush right under your earlobe, peppering your skin in pleasantly prickly kisses. You know you'll stay in bed for a long while but you don't wanna move anyway.

"Better now?"

Tommy pulls you against his body, and it's like crashing against a warm soft wall, but a wall nonetheless. The impact is followed by his arms wrapping around you, crushing you against his chest. He smells like the rosemary oil he uses on his hair and a fresh, cold morning. You feel his mustache tickle you as he kisses your hairline. It makes you giggle, and that makes him chuckle in response.

"There, baby. You can relax now."

Hopper watches you walk into the living room, observing your body language. When you walk close to the recliner, he grabs your wrist and pulls you over him, manhandling you into straddling his thighs. He leans back and pulls you with him, large palms over your back, patting rhythmically. He smells like cigarettes, cheap cologne, salsa, coffee and safety. Once you settle, his embrace tightens. He breathes slowly and deeply, until your body melts over his. He cocks his head so he can keep watching the TV, as if nothing is happening, as if he isn't paying attention to your reactions, as if he isn't comforting you and caring for you. He kisses your forehead as the tv whispers something.

"Hmmm."

Joel raises his eyes from the papers on his desk the moment you step at the door. He folds his reading glasses and stands up, a resigned sigh escaping his lips as he stands up and his body complains. His hands cover your shoulders and he squeezes tightly as he looks into your eyes, reading your expression carefully. He pulls you ever so gently against him, one hand burying itself on your hair, fingernails scratching the back of your head ever so slightly as he directs you to rest your cheek against his chest, your face partially hidden under his arm. His other hand moves over your waist, and it's only after the hug is completely that he squeezes you, nuzzling the top of your head. He smells like pencil shavings and a bonfire.

"Shhhh."

My particular bonus under the cut 🤣😍

Santa beckons you to the sofa with a hand movement and a pat on his thigh. You frown and he chuckles, patting this thigh a second time. When you hesitate he pulls your hand and makes you sit on his lap. You curl around him, your nose against his neck, as one of his arms supports your back. He smells like cookies, alcohol and leather, like a little bit of sadness, some regrets and a lot of hope. His free hand pats your hip, rubs your thigh, then pats you again, as he rocks your body, as if you're a baby. You pull back to look at him and he is looking right down at you, smiling. He kisses your forehead and slides one thumb over your eyebrow, then goes back to pat your hip and thighs.

"You're never too old to sit on my lap, you know..."