#i know it doesn't seem like this from this post but i'm actually the world's largest river ward apologist

[should-be-sleeping]

Hi, hello, go fuck yourself. :)

First,

Secondly, by the 40's only 33% of farms even had electricity. What timeline are you from? Because it isn't this one. Farm equipment largely ran by man or horse power until the 50's and even the labor done by beast of burden required human labor. I never said by hand, that was a you embellishment. We still use man power in farming today even with all the advancements to technology and its prevalence. Hell, slave labor is still utilized today, what rock do you live beneath?

Third, I love that you genuinely think that working for actual mobsters is nonviolent, that's very... special. I figured the average reader could connect A to B and get the hint yet, here you are, acting like the hint is some big gotcha revelation you alone have uncovered with your massive throbbing intellect. But, what should I expect from a nazi apologist that got banned from reddit for spreading misinformation?

By the way, just for the record, the average age in which children join a gang today is still 12-14. Your bland experience is not universal. A story that seems wild to you is just someone else's Tuesday. It'll be okay though. Just remember: the world is a vast and varied place!

In conclusion, I'm sorry that you think skepticism alone makes you smart, but it doesn't. Wow, log off. Holy shit. Once again, please don't forget to go fuck yourself. I know I was trying to politely explain the linear passage of time earlier but I want to make it very clear that you're an unlikable person and I do not like you. I had to spell that out to be sure we're on the same page, because we definitely weren't when you took the time to write all that nonsense earlier that you're clearly unqualified to even think about in the privacy of your own thoughts let alone regurgitate out loud.

Imagine reading a post about hope and positive influence and deciding you need to refute it (incorrectly in every way) because you're such a miserable cavity of a person.

P.S. I'll save you the time of a reply by blocking you outright as you've more than proven you have nothing to add to any conversation above the 4th grade level, have the personality of a wet sack of rancid onions, and behaving Like This on purpose is clearly doing your mental health no favors, just fyi. Have the life you deserve.

P.P.S. Had I realized earlier they think Elon Musk is a genius, I could've saved time and just said: lmao. Alas.

Re: Hobbies

My grandfather was born during The Great Depression. He attended a  one-room school with all the kids in the neighborhood until his teacher deemed him a lost cause. As a problem child he was sent out back with the other misfits during school hours with a stack of comic books to entertain themselves – because they couldn’t read but could look at the pictures. He and the others taught themselves to read so that they could figure out what was going on in the panels. Daredevil and Batman are the only reason he knows how to read. After a fire destroyed his family’s home, he lived in a shack with his mother, father and five other siblings. Suffering third degree burns over more than half of her body during their escape from the blaze, he was removed from school to care for his mother and spent the next few years watching as she slowly died. One of her only comforts was in knowing that he had learned to read so he could make something of himself one day. After losing his wife, my grandfather’s father sold him and his sister to two different families a few counties over. Using the money from those transactions, he was able to keep the remainder of the family afloat. No one knows what became of my great aunt but my grandfather wound up on a farm where he was no longer allowed the luxury of reading, or anything really. My grandfather lived the next handful of years as a slave on a potato farm where he slept in a barn and was given nothing to eat but extra potatoes. If there were no extra potatoes, he did not eat. It is important to remember at this point in time, he was very much still a child. He should have been reading comic books, but instead he was working sixteen hours a day without pay. Finally he could take it no longer and ran away. He hopped into a train car and wound up in the city. By the tender age of twelve he was living in an abandoned building with all the other discarded children of that time period and rats the size of small dogs. He wound up in a gang, fighting for survival in a place that didn’t care enough about starving, suffering children to help them in any way. Sometimes he’d steal comics and read them to the other kids. He was doing things to survive that all his comic book heroes would have condemned him for and that realization, and some good luck, are what got him out of that situation he found himself in. He ran into one of his brothers by sheer accident and neither of them even realized it at the time. Two meetings later, the cat was out of the bag and my grandfather had an “in” to an honest job. He should have been starting high school but instead he was starting a factory job. At least it wasn’t stealing or robbing. At least he was being paid for his manual labor. His first paycheck he gave to the kids he used to run with so that for just one night they wouldn’t have to resort to violence. That is the last time he saw them. He doesn’t know what became of any of them. He met his future wife and through her more doors opened. Driven by this goal to not be The Bad Guy he excelled at all the odd jobs he wound up with and after a lot of heartache and strife, wound up wealthy. Money doesn’t make you exempt from tragedy however. He lost the love of his life before the age of thirty and had to raise their three small children as a single father. Introducing my uncle to comic books is what helped keep him around when, as a teenager, Depression threatened to take him from the world. While still grieving his best friend stole millions from their business leaving him in debt. He’s faced a lot of discrimination solely due to the color of his skin… but none of it has jaded him. If anything it has only, somehow, made him kinder. He is without a doubt the best human being I have ever personally met. He hires maids and maintenance people just to pay them, serves them lunch when they arrive and lets them hang out – just to give them a day off. At eighty he does all his own housework and lawn care. He walks the neighborhood’s dogs. Even though he isn’t rich anymore he still tips fifty percent when he eats out, even at fast food joints. He doesn’t have much time to volunteer but he gives so much of his money to charities and people he runs into on the street who just need something good to happen in their day to make it to the next. And he does all of this to make up for this brief period of time in his life when, as a literal child, he had to hurt people and do bad things to survive. He still lives his life in accordance to some super hero code he picked up as a child that taught himself to read behind a school that gave up on him. Reading matters. Having something unimportant to care about is important. Small things are actually huge. They make the difference. If my grandfather’s origin story has taught me anything it’s that when you’re at your lowest moment, there’s always that one thing that can help guide you through it. “It’s just a hobby” can save lives. Reading, television, art, dancing, gaming, writing, sports, knitting, collecting, singing, whatever gives you joy. Never feel foolish for caring deeply about something commonly viewed as frivolous or a waste of time. It’s not. I cannot stress that enough. It’s okay to like things and for those things to be important to your day to day life. It’s okay.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now don't throw tomatoes at me but I'm actually really excited to finally see malleus again— I've always loved malleus since we met him in the story, but I'm also sooo curious about what's gonna happen next,, I'm wondering the obvious thing, about whether or not we might get a parralel scenario like what happened with the KoD and silver will have to "slay" malleus or at least be the one to land a killing blow, but I also saw a really interesting post focusing on how magic is a manifestation of dreams and deep desires and imagination,,,, in that case, I may (VERY delusionally) hope that Yuu finally gets to be a major part of the story for once??? Even reading the novels, there HAS to be something bigger for yuu— while the idea of crowley simply being an incompetent airhead is fun and more comfortable, haven't you thought that meybe he pulled them into this world deliberately??

All to say, what if at some point, Yuu somehow manifests magic in a very dire moment ?? You know lol?? Agh idk. I just want yuu to finally make impactful choices but that IS too much to ask, as far as we can see for now,,, (but hey, that part leading up to ace getting is UM, and the convo between him and yuu,,, it *does* give one a sliver of hope, doesn't it? :') )

Don't worry, no tomato throwing here! 😅 I may not care for certain characters, but I’m not going to shame anyone that does. You’re free to think however you want about Malleus!

dbjsvsJcwhj My personal feelings about him aside, I am actually glad he’s finally relevant to the main story again. He’s missed out on so much of his own book OTL In the time he’s been gone, the fandom has been left to speculate about both his and Lilia’s potential death flags. I really doubt Twst will have the balls to kill off one of them, but it would be cool to at least see Silver delivering the final blow to knock some sense into (not necessarily kill) OB Malleus.

Yes, it’s true that Silver states in the recent update that magic was originally considered “a miracle borne of strong desires from the heart.” But 💦 I don’t think that means Yuu would randomly manifest magic in the final fight?? It feels more like a “let’s save the day with the power of friendship” to me, but I could of course be wrong.

I understand being frustrated that Yuu’s participation in the main story seems to fluctuate a lot, with most of their activity being books 3, 4, and segments of 1, 6, and 7. That’s not much, especially considering how long books 6 and 7 are. Sometimes (even in events) it feels like Yuu is barely there, as most dialogue options don’t involve different reactions from the characters. Even Yuu's quest to find a way home is barely addressed or taken seriously until early in book 7. Yuu hasn't gotten "real" development unless you count them realizing their Disney dreams are prophetic in book 5, taking the initiative to save Grim in book 6, and that dialogue option about them being worried they're not contributing + the related convo with Ace in book 7. All very short moments in the grand scheme of things. And honestly, I think that makes sense for the kind of character Yuu is. A blank slate, a self-insert, an outsider that's easy to exposit information to, someone with which to view the story, characters, and world through. Yuu is primarily there to be the POV character, the lenses, the camera that we see Twst through. They're not really meant to be a traditional "main character". It's possible that Twst gives them a slightly bigger role at the very end (especially with what went down in the dream in book 7), but I doubt it will be a huge triumphant moment where they and they alone save the day or deal the final blow in a crazy act of self-sacrifice. Twst has always been a story that puts the NRC boys first, while Yuu is the observer.

I've noticed that the complaint of Yuu not doing a lot in the story comes mainly from English speaking fans?? And I guess that makes sense, given how western culture tends to emphasize independence and standing out. They want Yuu to reflect that. They want to be the ones to make a difference. I don't even remember ever seeing these same comments from the Japanese speaking fans; it's definitely a less common sentiment for them. The Japanese fans seem pretty content with Yuu being an observer and taking on more of a minor or supporting role. Again, this fits in with what I understand of many eastern cultures. They're demurer, not wanting to stand out too much from the crowd and instead prioritizing group harmony. Very interesting cultural difference to note!

It's a common theory (with many variants) that Crowley intentionally summoned Yuu to Twisted Wonderland for his own nefarious motives. People found him pretty sus right away due to how he seems to not put in any real time or effort into investigating a way to send Yuu home. Plus, there's that ominous opening monologue of his to consider. However, I don't think he summoned Yuu because of their (potential) great magical capabilities. The Mirror of Darkness tells us that it doesn't sense a shred of magic in Yuu, and Leona smells zero magic on them (though that could be because it hasn't technically manifested yet, as some fans claim).

The idea is that Yuu is supposed to be plain. They are supposed to be magicless. Why? To humble the NRC students and to show them that asserting yourself violently or with great magical power ISN'T the way to go. To show them value in strategizing (which Yuu does in the prologue by helping Grim aim at the ghosts), of camaraderie. What does it say about the story's themes if Yuu, the person who is supposed to be showing them the worth of mundane things, is suddenly... "secretly ultra-strong, actually/“just like you guys” (even if it's only a temporary hope-fueled magic)? It might contradict what has already been set up. It also breaks the self-insert appeal of Yuu, since developing magic would also mean Yuu would later have to further develop things like proficiency in magic, best/worst subjects, and an unique magic/signature spell... meaning Yuu HAS to become better "defined", thus losing their blank slate nature. This would surely upset some fans who deeply project onto Yuu, have a Yuusona, etc.

Yuu can still make an impact on the characters and the world--and they have, judging by how much closer the boys are with each other--without having to be The Most Special One or like everyone else. I think it undermines what Yuu has already managed to achieve to say that they haven't made an impactful choice at ANY point in the main story when I believe they definitely have. Yuu made the choice to sign the contract with Azul. Yuu made the choice to approach Malleus. Yuu made the choice to go against Crowley's orders and go retrieve Grim from S.T.Y.X. Yuu made the choice to get Leona’s help with the contracts. Yuu made the choice to stand with Adeuce against Riddle in book 1. Yuu made the choice to let the VDC/SDC tribe train at Ramshackle. Yuu has done a lot, and all without needing to seize the spotlight or to do anything big and flashy. I don't think Yuu needs to be big and flashy. There is pride to be had in simplicity and being humble too. There is pride in representing the 90% of humans in Twisted Wonderland that are ordinary and without magic.

(An aside: so if Yuu wasn’t able to manifest magic in many other extreme instances, does that mean their desire to save Grim in book 6 wasn’t “enough”? That their desire to save Ramshackle, their one and only home in this world, wasn’t “enough”? It implies that Yuu didn’t wish hard enough for these other things they clearly care about and want.)

I think a good way to give Yuu a decent role while staying true to their design as a blank slate would be for Twst to really lean into the whole "beast tamer" aspect that was introduced all the way back in the prologue. This would work well with their deep connection to Grim as well. Assuming that Grim ends up being the final OB... We could easily have the NRC students and staff on the ropes, Malleus at his wit's end after exhausting himself with his own OB, a rampaging Grim about to end it all. And then... one lone figure shakily rises from the rubble and confronts Grim. One human. Magicless, defenseless. A human lost in an unfamiliar world, a human who believes they're useless and don't contribute much. A human who is always in need of being protected by others. But not anymore. This time, it's Yuu's turn to protect what they love--their friends, this world they've come to love, Grim. Ace and Deuce yelling at Yuu to not be stupid, to get back--but Yuu just advances, calling out to Grim and begging him to stop. And maybe it's Yuu's wish that rallies everyone and/or gets OB Grim to hesitate. That's when they can strike. Is that corny? Yeah. Does it sound like the ending to a Disney film? Sure. But it still grants Yuu, a magicless human that is supposed to be there to teach everyone about friendship, cooperation, and humility, their big moment to shine. The best of both worlds, I'd say.

[alacants]

Ok you might not be interested in this but you seem to be the tennisblr discourse person and your takes are so great so feel free not to answer haha - but I feel like this fandom collectively is sleeping on the potential of Novak/Carlos? Something about this Fedal baby appearing when all Novak's real rivals are gone who is openly affectionate with Nole like neither of them were. & the pain of Carlos losing matches he's expected to win very publicly to him all the time & getting criticised for falling for Novak's "mind games" (lol) but still not making any effort to stay away from him. And all the titan/titanito stuff IDK it compels me

kdlfjakldjf idk if i would describe my niche in the ecosystem in such maximal terms but. flattery will get you everywhere.

most importantly, you are RIGHT. there is massive potential here, in both their on-court history and their off-court dynamic. in fact there's so much material that i'm struggling to shape my thoughts into a coherent answer SORRY IN ADVANCE. ← need to stop acting like this isn't the norm.

ok first of all. rpf aside, this rivalry is fascinating because carlos alcaraz is doing more than anyone else around to validate novak's current day stature as a tennis player. and novak's at the stage of his career where you start to think about your legacy not just in the wider world but within tennis—how will you be remembered and talked about by those who inherit the sport from you. 

roger federer is the very, very obvious measuring stick. take this video (obligatory zverev & kyrgios warning). in a vacuum you'd never know who barely played half these guys versus who was out there making mincemeat of them on the regular while also holding every record known to man. such minced meat that those achievements aren't necessarily seen as a success for you so much as a referendum on them. 

and then along comes carlos alcaraz. and for reasons fair or unfair, tennis fans are so hungry for his arrival. they want to a new star, they want to see him dominate, and they want it to look exciting. and some tennis fans, in particular, would love to see novak djokovic get washed. 

which at first is what looks like is gonna happen. carlos wins his first wimbledon final at novak's expense. the emperor's been toppled, ding dong the witch is dead—and then cincinnati. then wimbledon again, and not even close, he's really for real dead, this time it's gonna take—and then the olympics. which is the first major final loss carlos has ever experienced, tears and all. and then the australian open, where carlos has set his sights loudly and uncompromisingly on the title and the career slam and the record. only guess what. not yet. 

and now novak is indisputably part of carlos' narrative, an active agent in a living breathing rivalry with a flesh-and-blood player instead of ghosts and record books. everyone says carlos alcaraz is the real thing. and that means that so, still, is novak. 

(meanwhile, in the space of 12 months jannik sinner happened. but i can't get into that or this post will REALLY get out of control.)

that's on court. where carlos plays not like rafa but like roger, and there's no way novak doesn't see that. ("spanish never die" notwithstanding.) off court, it's like falling into a mirrorverse. carlos isn't just willing to share the spotlight he's eager to have company. he is singlehandedly trying to yank the player he's identified as his closest peer up there on the same level with him well before anyone else gets it. and he thinks novak is one of the greats.

like yeah man WHAT IF time-traveling roger federer actually loved you. here's round two with a certified tennis genius who doesn't resent you and everything you represent and does laugh at your jokes and respect your achievements and speak in glowing terms about how you play tennis. it's gotta feel good, right?

and yet. not good enough to stop novak from doing what he has to do to win.

there's something similar yet very finely distinct about novak and carlos as top players and people persons. i'm boiling it down to, for novak it's being friends won't stop my talent and for carlos it's my talent shouldn't stop us from being friends. (i would say that's also roger coded, except imo roger's initial take, in the mid-00s, was that his talent very well MIGHT stop you from being friends and that's okay, he doesn't hold it against you. <3) in both cases, the feelings are genuine, and so is the confidence. 

novak's always wanted to be liked. he's the funny guy, he wants to make people laugh, he wants to be friends, but he is absolutely and totally unwilling to compromise the things that might make it easier to keep those friends. given a choice, he will always choose being the best. and if someone, or someones—especially someones—doesn't like him, well. for better or worse, he's learned to feed on it. this is no different. friendship and respect and affection and praise are not going to stop novak from using every tool at his disposal to win. every bit of understanding he's gained about his opponent as a person and a player. 

(my take on this is not actually negative by the way. if you're a professional athlete it's your responsibility to use those tools and to play the person as well as the player. also coming to the mind games sport and complaining about the mind games is like going to the circus and complaining about the clowns.)

i think that ao qf moment was so telling—the moment carlos was faux-limping and looking over at novak's bench with this sort of injured confusion like, why are you doing this to me. betrayed dog vibes to the max. the comments afterward as well. the tear was very real, but the reaction says a lot. like welcome to the novak djokovic experience kid! bff phrased it as "the phenomenon of accepting novak djokovic's overtures of friendship and inadvertently letting him into your psyche just enough for him to fuck with you the next time you play. he should talk to rafa about it." this isn't the only interpretation, but it sure is a tasty one.

and yet. carlos is demonstrably a lover not a hater. i would bet anything that—especially with the injury details out there—it's not going to change anything even if, like, IT SHOULD. there is this bit in anon's fic one is silver and the other gold, which is one of my favorite carlos & novak dynamics: Carlos wants to hate him. It would be easier; everything would be easier if he could hate all the people he's supposed to, for "proper competitive mindset" or whatever. But as usual, he just doesn't have it in him.

idk i think there is a ton of fascinating stuff to dig into wrt regret and cycles and second chances and novak's impending mortality and the nature of genius. i do think it's ultimately doomed but it's still really interesting. 

(or alternatively i mean. maybe the impending mortality DOES make the difference. maybe novak does get out of the time loop! like, i am most personally compelled by all of the above with the invisible presence of andy murray haunting the narrative BUT there is a pretty funny romcom alternative with novak's friend (!!!) and coach andy murray immediately clocking what's up and being like nole please don't get your heart broken by a twenty-one year old, which, HEY novak's been around the block a few times he's not gonna do something stupid… <- he is absolutely gonna do something stupid.)

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[hiding-under-the-willow]

obsessed with ancient/stone age human culture (would have gone on to study it if life hadnt gotten in the way) and so your ghosts au bdubs has me chomping at the bit. what a brilliant and wonderful choice. i dont have a lot of coherent thoughts rn but i love love love the tags in the og post of your recent fanart of him and i hope to see more of him and i love to turn him around in my brain. & wanted to tell you that.

i also think sometimes about how long he spent alone in death before any of the other ghosts joined him and oh, my goodness. how, uh,, how do you think he's doing?

Ghosts AU Bdubs is so interesting to me bc I came in at the beginning mostly just basing him on the portrayal of Robin from the show, which I knew wasn't entirely historically accurate in the first place so I would probably want to go more in depth with him at some point, but I just hadn't taken the time to do the research necessary to actually go through with that development, and then this semester half of my classes these last few weeks have been discussing Paleolithic and Neolithic people and art and something just snapped in my brain and I was like. Ah. Okay. The potential there is crazy actually. So there'll definitely be more of him!! I'm like half using him as an excuse to explore the stuff I learned in my classes more in depth and half using the fact that I learned about this stuff in my classes as an excuse to finally go through and develop him the way I wanted. Symbiotic relationship or whatever.

Also yeah, that long ass gap of time where he was the only ghost around certainly has been bouncing around in my head a bit. I don't have. completely coherent thoughts about it at the moment. I certainly think he might've coped in similar ways to the way Robin does in the show, getting attached to the people living on the property, spending a lot of his time learning from them and talking to them even if they don't realize he's there. I think he probably would've been a much more serious figure in life, and also in the early days of his afterlife (I mean not completely, it's still Bdubs we're talking about lol, but still), that spending all that time alone might've unraveled him a bit. I feel like it's hard to get a definitive grip on like. Who he is. Some days he's kind of obsessive and neurotic, in everyone's business, easily worked up, other days he seems perfectly content to ignore the happenings of the house, just do his own thing out on the property. I feel like most of the other ghosts wouldn't know much about his life, or even his early afterlife, he doesn't talk about it much and when he does it's always some crazy one-off anecdote that doesn't let you in on much of what was actually happening at the time. I think, like Robin in the show, he probably has his moments of like complex emotional or social intelligence that seem kind of out of nowhere from an outside perspective until you think about how long he's been around to have observed and learned about the world, about people.

[skydigiblogs]

Digimon and Nostalgia

i have a habit of just kind of passing by in the tags sometimes even when i'm quiet, and i'm realizing i don't know how much i've talked about the thought behind why we decided to revisit digimon last february from start to finish.

okay so fair warning, this is gonna be rambly and a little bit semi-incoherent because i feel like absolute dogshit today but the brain worms on the subject aren't leaving me alone to rest.

i am putting it under a read more for all our sanity

so there's this category of post i always see in the tags that seems to come from a place of either not engaging with enough digimon media or not engaging with the media.

that first one is a bit easier to explain. sometimes people will talk about things they want to see in the digimon franchise, and it's kind of clear that they have a very narrow scope of what they've actually seen from it.

i'm trying to think of an example that doesn't put recent posts i've seen on blast lmao (because that's not the point of this post), but also i think some of the points brought up by this post by @starwardking (pardon the tag) highlight the complexity of the first kind of issue, because it both is and isn't the kind of problem that can be fixed by just finding the right digimon media.

when i saw this post, my first instinct was to point to series like savers and appmon, where a majority of the plot takes place in the human world and allows for a lot of mundane shenanigans. i also think a bit about the earlier episodes of tamers.

(i think to some extent ghost game has a bit of domestic life shit going on, but seeing as it is also a horror anime, part of it is about the dissonance between "Normal for Digimon" and "Normal for Humans." but you also get episodes about little hideaways digimon live in in the human world so they can drink tea and share snacks. you also have digimon that just hang out in libraries and shit like that.)

at the same time, this is also an issue i think that isn't fixed by finding the right digimon media. the comparison to pokemon is what makes me consider this, specifically because of something like pokemon amie. it may have just been a minigame, but it's also something that, especially in the video games, i don't think we have a clear parallel to. i do agree that it would be nice to enjoy a bit of domestic fluff with your digimon!

but then i also recognize that i myself have also skipped over games where i could tell there would be some of that. i couldn't finish survive because it has elements i just can't handle either playing or watching. what i do remember in survive is that you have quite a few scenes early on in the school that are about resource management (figuring out how to digimon survive, as it were). this is done while you're also chatting with your human and digimon friends.

which i think segues better into the second kind of issue, being that sometimes i see these posts and they come from an angle where it seems someone hasn't exactly made an effort to engage with digimon as it is. there's a phenomenal video essay by deep dive on youtube, actually, that talks about this with regards to ghost game.

on the most abstract level, are you trying to be cognizant of your biases going into a piece of art when you take it in? what experiences make it difficult to engage with the text in a way that it wants you to engage? can you even see what the text is trying to say, even if it's ineffectual?

this is also why i wanted to tie this in with the reason i decided to make a blog to track my revisiting of all the different series.

nostalgia is killer, and not in a good way.

one of the things we regularly do with media we enjoy enough to praise is revisit it. if it's been over a year since i've watched something and i am trying to hype it up to someone, i want to not rely on my own memory, but also the text of that individual piece of art.

the second form of this issue comes about when an individual has an Idea about digimon, and they post with a very firm stance on what digimon is or is not. it's a retreading i think of the same reason anyone is willing to not consider appmon part of the digimon franchise (despite the "digimon universe" title).

again: what are your biases coming into a piece of art? do you have certain ideas about what digimon is supposed to look like? do you refuse to give other digimon media a fair chance because of it?

this form is more likely to get me to just block someone so i don't have to keep scrolling past them in the tags tbh. there's a mixture of "it was better in the old days" combined with a blatant lack of media literacy when "attempting" to engage with newer digimon media. you see this in a lot of franchises, to be fair, but it is always frustrating.

like i could also be biased because of my own background, being that i have an english degree, but there's something so... disappointing, i suppose, to the latter form of this criticism. if you're going to have a take, i want to see you articulate it. it's not a school assignment, sure, but what in god's name is making you come to that take?

i think the most painful series to see this with for me are savers and appmon, if only because i did rewatch them to better understand why i love them (and also what i really hate about them!).

savers especially is a show i watched because i was interested in seeing if the "MIB but if the aliens were Digimon" series could handle making any statement about the nature of law enforcement! and surprise surprise, it fucking did!

people probably feel the same way any time i post about frontier, which is a series i've been vocal about my dislike about (though i respect anyone willing to try to make frontiers better through their own art and writing). it's been a struggle to rewatch that series, but i also don't want to make strong judgments with firm backing because i know i have not seen it in years, nor have i seen the original sub.

i don't think i have a nice clean conclusion for this. it's an observation i keep having, and i don't think there's any particular solution for someone like me who just wants people to try a little harder to pick apart the things they like. i want people to understand how stories tick, and the things they both explicitly and implicitly say. it's the english teacher in me, i guess.

[lilmissnatcat24]

it's so interesting to see the differences in how the LIs in cyberpunk 2077 treat male v vs female v, because in other videos games if you choose not to romance someone their character for the most part stays exactly the same. but in cyberpunk when you choose to romance any one of these people it's just such a vastly different experience.

judy

male v: hey, that's really cool of you for not seeking active revenge against me and my friend for playing a role in your very imminent death. best of luck, maybe we'll hang out soon.

female v: marry me oh my god marry me right now here's the key to my apartment my ring size is a 7 you know that joke about lesbians and uhauls? well i'm not fucking kidding.

river

male v: thank you for all of your help with my family. man, i haven't had a friend in a really long time. let's toast to that, buddy.

female v: i am insatiably horny at your very existence. i had the hardest raging boner when you saved my nephew's life. it's so hot how you're actually a criminal. and that i'm a cop. i mean... that's illegal, right? let's fuck next to a room with children sleeping inside.

panam

female v: i'm so thankful i met you, you showed me that i can find a friend outside of the group i self-imploded inside of. i'll do anything in my power to help you try to save your life. when all this is done, do you want to join my gang?

male v: i don't even like you that much. don't touch me. ((if you leave i'm killing everyone in the aldecados and then myself))

kerry

female v: hey, is johnny watching this? yes? good. let's commit acts of terrorism.

male v: hey, is johnny watching this? yes? good. let's commit acts of terrorism (this is how i do foreplay)

[seafoam-taide]

Weird having an actual favorite band and knowing it. I don't really have many favorites it is hard to understand my feelings and even harder to pinpoint a 'better and more' feeling about one specific thing. But I know all of their songs, I listen to them all in a big playlist and never get bored, I am always happy to hear any song by them, I have every song's lyrics memorized, like ... they are my unequivocal favorite. There is nothing like it. Yes, I can get really into other songs, there are probably singular songs I can say I like more than any one song by this band. But I guess having a favorite is like what people say about getting married. I'm not explaining myself on that one actually I do have a point there that's an actual metaphor but I've decided explaining it is a bad use of my time. It's one of those artists that are popular enough and artsy enough that they can crop up as fic titles occasionally and no matter the lyric or song it comes from I can always tell immediately. I don't remember what the point of this post was I'm deep in my panic phase and it's 4 am and I was just sitting there singing I Have Made Mistakes to myself bc I can just do that, the whole song, and because it is very funny to go I have made mistakes I have made mistakes and I will continue to make them while in the middle of freaking the fuck out about existing or something. Bc you know yeah im one spoon away from setting the ends of my hair in fire because if I'm kindling for a little while at least I'll feel of use ????????? Yeah this post for sure had a point and it's devolved.

[coolspacequips]

Have been reading this sci-fi romance and like UGH u ever really wish a book was just at least a little better??? There's stuff in this that's interesting but also a lot about it that's so... Juvenile and kinda undercooked lol...... But it's so hard finding good romance bc for a lot of romance readers this is enough, except even then not really since they prolly didn't fuck nasty enough in this book for the ppl that just need the merest pretense to read smut (which is fine if that's what u like there's just an oversaturation of this, esp when you can have a light plot/heavy smut story with slightly better writing and internal world building without having to explain and describe the 'boring' parts 😅)

[starscreamingg]

Looking back on Detroit become human in the wake of the ai craze is like. The most morbidly funny thing to me One of these days I have to write something on how the story of that game just gets HORRIFYING when you view it through a (more) modern lens. Man

[aurorasgate]

mutual masturbation with caleb

caleb x fem!reader this is pure filth y'all and the first time i'm writing for this man who can't seem to get out of my brain🫠🩷

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! masturbation obvi, post when he comes back, a tiny bit of voyeurisms but its not on purpose, praise kink, cute teasing and pet names, he'd kiss you if he weren't a little romantic for you but that doesn't stop him from cumming on you <3 its true love okay, i don't think anything else but please let me know if i missed something!

the key to your place sits in his palm, warm from his skin, guiding him like it’s tied to a tether thats other end could only possibly be with you. the person he wants to be with the most in the world. it’s small and light, especially in a hand as large as his, but it holds the weight of so much more.

hope. a promise and want all consuming and built over years together and what feels like even longer apart.

caleb knows you just got home, the pinging notification of your late arrival after work came on his phone the same minute he stepped off the train from skyhaven to linkon. he had decided to not let you know he’s coming by but didn’t waste a single moment hurrying to the store for ingredients to cook you something delicious and make his way to your apartment so he’s not late.

there’s something blooming in his chest as he slides the key into the lock without knocking, warm and familiar despite the thought that you might not be happy to see him sitting unwelcomingly at the bottom of his stomach and this being the first time he’s ever used the key you gave him.

you’ve been reaching out more, sounding happier because of him, asking when you’ll be together next, and he doesn’t want this distance between you any longer. he wants to see you, every breathing moment he wants you right next to him, and is looking forward to your surprised and smiling face upon his arrival.

your apartment is quieter, darker, than he expected when he opens the door and closes it with a soft click behind him. he knows you’re home and yet, the only thing to greet him is the blue lights of your kitchen appliances displaying the late hour. with quiet movements, he sets down the paper bag full of ingredients on the kitchen counter, leaves his keys next to it, and takes in your space; the items around him sitting in shadow that are all reminders of you, the sweet scent of you lingering in the air, the doors down the small hallway without light shining through them, except for your bedroom.

a low light filters through the bottom and slight crack in the not quite closed door, like only your nightstand lamp is on, and if he listens carefully, he can hear the muffled and small rustling sounds of movements. he doesn’t call out to you or say a word as he makes his way towards your bedroom. perhaps it’s out of habit, an old childhood one where he’d enjoy keeping quiet, hidden, until you were within arms reach and surprising you, giving you a bit of a jumpscare, so he could see your face contort with a cute pout once you realized it was him. or maybe it’s for other reasons, ones hard to put a name to when he hadn’t really let himself before but that are anything but foreign to him.

before he can decide what he’ll do, finally say something so you know he’s here or knock on the frame or just swing it open and ask accusingly, teasingly, what you’re doing, all of his movements and brain function come to a complete halt an inch away from the threshold of your bedroom when he hears you. 

lewd squelching sounds, rhythmic and fast, chasing after something, fills his ears and is accompanied rather than drowned out by the way you call his name in a way he’d only ever heard in his most sinful of dreams. 

“c - caleb~”

no - this couldn’t compare. it was so much better than he had been able to imagine and almost too good to be true. and when it comes again, more desperate, full of heat and wanting need, he’s reaching for the door before he can decide whether he actually should or not.

you don’t hear the opening of your door with your pleasure and thoughts of caleb getting the better of you. all you can focus on is the way your fingers don’t quite reach deep enough and the image of calebs hands, so much bigger, stronger, than your own, being able to touch and pleasure the depths of your warmth and find the perfect spot inside you over and over again. you don’t doubt he’d be wonderful at it.

it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him like this and it certainly won’t be the last. especially now that you swear he’s within arms reach in a way you thought you’d never have the chance to try for after.. well, you don’t want to think about that now. and you don’t. can’t possibly when you finally open your eyes and, through your hazy, lust filled vision, see him standing at the entrance of your bedroom.

your brain takes several moments to catch up, not quite sure if you were actually seeing him or just a mirage that you had conjured up more times than you’d like to count but when your eyes meet the lavender fields of his own, see them darkening into something more akin to most stunning of amethyst, and he says your name in a tone you had never heard from before, you know he’s there for real. having witnessed you touching yourself and no doubt having heard you calling out for him as you did.

there’s no notice of your displeasure at the loss of fullness between your legs when mortification is a living thing inside of you, washing over every nerve and inch of skin and has you sputtering out incoherent words as your hands tug at the shirt you had lifted just above your breasts and your legs shut with a clap of your thighs and the stickiness that had built up trying to get yourself off. “oh my fucking - caleb - i - when did - i’m - you - i just -” 

the step he takes closer to you, drawing your eyes from his handsome darkened features to the impressive bulge straining in his jeans, stops your words. you aren’t quite sure if your silence is better or worse than your string of explanations, questions, excuses, you couldn’t even form fully but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“you don’t have to stop on my account,” he finally says, his tone heady and teasing all at once. he thinks you look astonishingly stunning like this, the heat of your cheeks radiating through the entire room, your lips parted but no words coming out, your legs shyly pressed together and your peaked nipples showing through the thin fabric of your shirt that hardly covers you up. he keeps a painful distance between you despite it all and how badly he wants to touch you right now. he can’t overstep. can’t do anything that might make the progress you had made together thus far since reuniting come crumbling down at his feet. “i can leave if you-”

“no!” you’re quick to reply, your voice far more desperate than you would have preferred and you half expect caleb to comment on it but he only stares at you, like he might never let you leave this room, the tension between you building and building until you think you can’t take it anymore and force yourself to continue, to say what lays in your heart. “don’t go.. unless you want to. i - i’m sorry..”

he chuckles, soft and with no judgment. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” he’s more than honored to be the one you think of when touching yourself, would have loathed for it to be anyone but him. caleb starts to close the distance between you, slow and giving you the chance to change your mind but he hopes, prays, you don’t. for so long he’s dreamed of you like this. at the edge of your bed, he stands and watches his fingers running along the cotton of your sheets before they’re on the arch of your foot, traveling up to your ankle in a chaste movement that’s comforting and electrifying. “i don’t want to go.”

you feel far too shy, still so full of embarrassment and mortification he found you like this, to speak the words out loud that you want him, for him to touch you, be with you in a way you never had before, and are beyond thankful and breathless when he takes the lead and says the words himself.

calebs eyes meet yours, making it feel like your heart may leap right out of your chest with all the emotions behind his gaze that you could get lost in and the way his breaths fall heavy and hot in the space around. “let me help you.”

it’s not a question but you nod in acknowledgement anyway and try to swallow your shame. you never need to feel that way with him; not back then and not now. spreading your legs slowly, your arms cradled to your chest, his touch remains on your ankle but his eyes drop to watch your movements and your own are just as shameless, taking in the hardness of his cock and the way it seems to twitch in his jeans at the sight of you. 

“have you ever touched someone like this caleb?” you don’t know why you ask. time and time again he’s told you he wouldn’t get a girlfriend, hasn’t had a girlfriend, and if the answer was yes - you could already feel the lick of jealousy traveling up your spine. 

his hand not on your leg reaches for your face, gentle and firm in the way he forces you to look at him with his grip on your chin. “what do you think?” he looks and sounds unbelievably serious, like he’s hurt you’d even ask and truthfully, he is. there has never been anyone but you and there never will be anyone but you in his eyes. cradled in his arms. in his bed. on his cock.

worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, he keeps his hold on your chin but you need to look anywhere but the violet eyes staring back at you. it’s too much and not enough. not nearly what you need but enough to swallow you whole. instead of replying, you spread your legs farther, focusing on his fingers still lingering on your ankle and how badly you want them to touch other places of you. “caleb..” is all you can bring yourself to reply but it’s answer enough for him.

his hands leave you in order to make quick work of his shoes before he’s crawling his way between your legs, fully clothed, completely hard, and having to remind himself to breathe rather than take you in every possible way he could right here and now. though he can’t say it’s helping when every lung full of air is laced with your scent and your arousal. but he hasn’t even ever kissed you before and regardless of how badly- so fucking badly - he wants you, you deserve something so much more than sharing your first kiss together like this. he simply won’t have it.

with your thighs resting on his, helping keep you spread open, he sits on his knees to reach your face and kiss your forehead, tender and lingering and full of love. your face is so warm under his lips and against your burning skin, he whispers with a smile, “go on pretty girl. i said i’d help.”

as he pulls his lips away, your hand still stained with your essence finds its way back between your legs. how much you’re truly enjoying having caleb here is evident in the wetness you find there, so much more than before when it had only been you and your imagination to get you through it. you gather your slick on the tips of your fingers with a swipe along your folds, starting from your little hole and moving up to your clit that you graze softly with your nail and let out a small sound in response. 

caleb doesn’t touch you, not yet, and instead watches through heavy lidded eyes at the way your fingers sink into your cunt, slow and tentative, the way you take them in and the jolt of pleasure that resounds through the rest of you at the pleasure of it; how your chest lifts slightly off the bed as you try to take in breaths through it, your legs trembling against his own in time with the wet sounds of your fingers going in and out and your other hand that reaches for him in a silent plea.  

but it’s for more than him to finally touch you and you know you’ll have to say it aloud for him to do it but he did say he’d help you and this would absolutely do the trick.  “will you.. will you touch yourself too?”

“yeah? you’d like that pipsqueak?”

“don’t call me that when we’re like this,” you chide, not nearly as serious as you wish you were but it’s just not something you can muster right now. not when you can’t even look up at him. a fact he knows all too well by the way he chuckles low in response. “please caleb.. want to see you feel good too.”

“seeing you like this makes me feel good,” he replies, dreamy and far away but it’s followed by the sound of his belt being undone and the zipper of his jeans. you can’t help but stare at his movements, watching as he pulls himself free of his boxers just enough to grasp the base of his cock and good god he’s big. you had assumed considering all of him is, that this would be no exception but seeing his cock and the way it looks in his hold is something else entirely. “do you always think about me when you’re touching yourself sweetheart?”

“always..” you admit, trying to match the rhythm of your fingers to the pace he begins to set for himself, and it’s absolutely the truth. even when you thought it might be wrong to think of him like this, you couldn’t help yourself or the way your brain and pussy always ran towards thoughts of him and him alone. “do you? think about me when you touch yourself, i mean..”

finally, after what feels like so long, he touches you, using his hand that can feel you without pain to press his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves that’s your clit. you’re so unbelievably soft, he thinks, so perfect. how could ever think of anyone else? “every. single. time.” he punctuates each word with more and more pressure in the little swirls and attention he gives your clit, all the while gripping himself tighter.

the warmth of his hand joins yours as you both explore and touch between your legs. it’s hard to believe he’s never done this before when every single touch he gives you is so far beyond what you had ever been able to give yourself and you only think it’s more true when his long fingers glide down the back of your hand and one of them joins two of yours that fills your dripping cunt. he slides it in slow, as if taking in every millisecond of it for himself just as much as it for you, and lets his palm press against the back of your hand so every move you make it as one.

“ah! caleb!” you cry out at the welcomed stretch, so blissed out and hungry for more. your free hand grabs a hold of his arm that works himself in slow pumps, up and down the length of his cock, collecting the pearly beads of precum leaking from his slit.  you’re surprised to find it warm despite what you know lies beneath but you don’t let it stop you from your fingers digging into his skin, enough to hurt, make sure he feels it, feels you.

he groans at how tightly you hold onto him and the way you greedily accept his finger with your own, every sweet and full in and out mention of them making you more full than you’d ever been but somehow you don’t think it’s enough as his cock would be.  it takes no time at all for him to find and follow where you curl them into the perfect spot inside of you, making you see stars of purples and white. 

“you’re such a good girl..” he praises with the same low tone, completely intoxicated with your noises and the sounds that join them in a sweet and filthy melody of your dripping pussy and his aching cock. “you can take another, can’t you?”

nodding, you attempt to add an emphasis to how badly you want more by unlatching your hand from his arm and running your fingers along the head of his dick. it’s hard to steady your movements with the way your body sways with each thrust of fingers in and out of you, the pace caleb helps you set that rocks your body almost soothingly, but the feeling of you in anyway, no matter how, is enough to drive caleb wild. he doesn’t waste a moment sliding another one of his long and lithe fingers into you, taking full control of yours, pressing them against your velvety walls and setting a punishing pace that you will not be able to keep for long. 

“caleb - wait -”

“keep your legs spread,” he tells you when you attempt to voice how quickly your orgasm is coming to you and bring your legs together to help calm yourself down but like the good girl he knows you are, his good girl, they shakily open back up at his words.

“won’t last like this..” you try to tell him but you don’t know if the words actually leave your lips when the pressure below your belly won’t stop building at an alarming rate and is spurred on by how he looks between your legs. his eyes are hidden underneath the ends of soft locks but you know he’s looking at you, watching the way his fingers get lost in the soft silk of your pussy, and you’re utterly captivated by the way his arms flex underneath his shirt as he gets you both where you want to be and his hand wrapped around his cock, growing more and more erratic in its movements. it has you aching to have him inside of you. 

it’s not something you’ll get the change to voice, however. not when he looks into your eyes, presses his fingers knuckles deep and then deeper, forcing your own to go with his, and the words he speaks are more of a command than a request, with a lilt of the voice you heard him use when being the commander of the fleet, leaving no room or choice but for your body to obey. “cum for me beautiful.”

you do. breaking around his fingers like you never have on your own before. it’s overwhelming, enough to have tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a pleasuring cry you had never made before slipping uncontrollably out of your lips in the form of his name, and your walls clenching and pulsing so hard around both of your fingers. through every rack of pleasure coursing through your body, caleb only adds to it, already knowing the perfect spot to keep hitting inside of you in order to let you ride out every last moment of your high and when you think maybe it’s over, it only gets prolonged when you hear the deep moan of your name caleb lets out above you and feel the warmth of his release on your vulva, how it coats you in his plentiful cum and drips from your cunt onto the sheets below you before he’s even finished.

you aren’t sure how long you stay like that, both of you fighting for breath and letting the last bits of your orgasms wash over you, but after some time when all that's left is the mess between your legs and the truth of what you’ve just done together still a warming hum in your limbs, caleb is careful, thoughtful, as he helps to guide your fingers out of your entrance, soothing you with a soft hum when the overstimulation of it makes you shutter. 

“feelin’ better?” he asks, the aftershock of pleasure still clinging to his vocal cords.

“mhm - much.” your own voice is not any better but you don’t care or worry. not when it feels so good, so right, to have him here with you, seeing you like this. despite your past embarrassment about it only minutes ago, which can’t hold a candle to this between you, it brings you back to how you ended up here in the first place. you’re certain he wasn’t here before and that you didn’t have plans, not that it’s a complaint though. “no offense caleb but what are you doing here?”

you see him smirk as he gets off of your bed, tucking his dick back into his pants with ease before looking at you as if you hung the moon and stars yourself, just for him. “making you dinner, of course.” he says it so matter of factly, like he wasn’t just knuckles deep inside you, as he leans over the edge of the bed to scoop you into his embrace, one strong arm at your back and one under your legs, uncaring of the mess dripping from your pussy. “after we get you cleaned up that is.”

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[riizebabie444]

𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 ♥️

hey all, sorry for not posting for so long, here is one of the requested pac's. this reading is about the attractive and sexy things about you that you don't realise. there are two parts, general and from your person's pov. hope you enjoy!

picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image.

be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment or guidance only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

♥️ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

pile one

in general, the sexy things you do without knowing are represented by eight of pentacles, eight of wands rv and death. with two eights here, i'm seeing your body type could be a major cause of your sexiness. it could be your chest or your booty, maybe you have curves or an obvious hourglass or pear figure. there are definitely parts of your body that people notice and find sexy. it could also be your eyes too, your eyes are sensual without you realising.

i think you have an air of mystery around you, you are private and don't like to show everything to the world in the way some other people do. it could be your body, your style, your business, even your plans for the weekend. but this privacy you have for yourself makes you seem like an enigma to others. people find the mystery sexy because then you leave it up to them to think what you are really like. mystery is just sexy anyway, so it doesn't need a lot of explaining.

furthermore, i see you being labelled as "hard to get" some may joke about you playing hard to get. maybe you're not even playing, you're just plainly not interested but others will still thank that way, that you are not easy. maybe you do it on purpose, maybe you don't i get i a mix here. but overall, others think it is hard work to get close to you whether romantically, sexually or platonically. you intimidate others with your no bullshit attitude and they find that attractive. what is rare is sought after. so many people will think you are "sexier" because there is a limited number of people you will allow your time and energy towards.

for your person, what they find sexy about you is your brightness and optimism. it is weird to describe traits like that in a "sexy" way however, i do see this. the person you are thinking of finds it so attractive how bright you are, how so many people look towards you when you don't realise. like you're nonchalant or unbothered by the attention. your confidence is also so sexy, your bravery in standing for what you believe and finding success chasing your dreams. you don't let things stand in your way.

this person really loves your back, they find it so sexy. i think you may actually be insecure about your back or just think it is not sexy, but trust me your person loves your back so much. they love your arms. they love when you are topless. they love when you wear dresses and skirts. they love when you love down at them, they get really turned on. i also think if you wear cute, coquette frilly and lace style of clothes/details on your clothes, they find it sexy. like cute lingerie or clothes in general. even floral, they find it so hot even though it's just your style preference. if not, then they want you to wear more of it because it is so sexy to them.

pile two

i think sometimes the clothes you wear and the way you hold yourself is sexy to others. it might be normal to you, you just wear what you want to wear. but some people might find it a little sexy even if you don't intend it that way. and the way you carry yourself, i see a lot of confidence here. good posture, the way you sit, particularly the way you lean down is very sexy. like say you dropped something and bent down to get it, it is quite sexy if someone saw it they wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the image. i'm seeing bending down and your hair falling or moving in that direction, like something out of a movie. but then when you fix your hair after standing back up, that is also sexy.

i think your hands are also sexy which you might not realise. people might like seeing you hold something because there is something about the way you hold things, your hands and fingers look so graceful and sexy. i see you might also be a bit clumsy, i'm seeing stars in your eyes or little stars spinning around your head. you could be a clumsy person, doing or saying silly things. in a way, this is sexy to others because they see you as a cute little, bright eyed, starry eyed thing. i get a hint of corruption here, people find it so sexy because you seem innocent and sweet but they're having different thoughts.

i see others may think you'd make a good mother or parent in general. you are seen as wife material. not the type to have a casual fling with. someone to settle down with. this is sexy because they think of having a family, how you would be as a mother. because of this, you might attract people who have breeding kinks. this message is random but yeah, the people who think you'd make a good wife and mother (or father/parent) would find you sexy because they want to breed you.

for your person, who you are thinking of, they will love your shoulders and collarbone. like i'm seeing someone kissing their a lot. they would love when you wear strapless tops or dresses. they also find it sexy when you wear gloves. the way you style your hair is sexy. again, i see when you hold things in your hand, with your person you might be holding something more particular if you get my drift, they find it sexy.

this is an odd one to look out for but i'm seeing that they find it sexy when you are emotional and crying. definitely be careful for people who are just trying to manipulate you, but i'm seeing this in a way that they like when you cry during sexy times or when you have emotional sex. for this person, emotions are a big turn on so sometimes even when you're being genuine with emotions, they can get excited by it because it is somehow sexy to them.

pile three

hey pile three. the sexy things you do without realising are represented by the hermit, justice and two of cups rv. with the hermit, i see that you have a sort of lone wolf vibe. you may have lots of friends or maybe not a lot but either way you look confident even when you are by yourself. people look at you and see that you don't need to be surrounded by people to feel confident. they think you are confident without people. you don't need anyone else to fill your inner life because you make it rich enough already. i think you also take things at your own pace, you don't conform to things easily. i'm seeing a scenario where most people are easily influenced by things they see in the internet on tiktok, but you are not so influenced. you won't follow trends for the sake of following trends but rather you'll follow things if they suit you. so people would think it is attractive because in an age where everyone thinks the same because we all consume the same, you stand out and can think for yourself. a lone wolf and smart is how i'm seeing you and it is attractive to others.

with justice, it is similar to what i previously said, you are strong in your beliefs and the things you follow. you don't believe things just because others believe it. you have your convictions. you are truthful and upright in your own regard. you judge others fairly. i think some may think you are a bit stuck up in this sense, because you stand out from fitting in with others. but i see that some still find this sexy, even those who don't like it. like, i see them thinking "i wish i was like pile three" or "i want to be with someone like pile three" but at the same time they will say "pile three is judgemental and stuck up". but still people find this attractive. there is nothing sexier than a person who knows themselves and believes themselves.

lastly, the things you don't realise are sexy, i see you personal style. i think when you wear formal attire or you dress up for an occasion, people love it! they find it so surprising and sexy for some reason. dressed smart but flashy. also, wearing high contrast colours or outfits with contrasting components makes you look sexy. in terms of your style, when you pair two colours together, it looks really good and others will think positively of your style. honestly i think again the way you are out of sync with others makes you unknowingly sexy. it's giving hot aquarius vibes, don't conform to society, doesn't think like everyone else. i also see that your shoulders and even collarbone, as well as your forearms are the physical parts fo you that people would find sexy.

for your person, what they find sexy is represented by three of wands, queen of swords rv and the artist. the way you are in control of your life and your future makes others feel proud but also scared of you, if that makes sense. and it makes them more attracted to you. for example, they would think you can sustain yourself without them and it scares them because they don't want to be without you but at the same time your power and confidence is sexy. also, your passions to travel and learn continuously comes up.

okay i'm seeing that you may have a no bullshit attitude, however, sometimes it can come off as a lack of empathy for others. whether true or not, what your person finds sexy is how you are the opposite with them. how you can trust and be soft with them and how you will confront your flaws and work on yourself as a part of your journey. and i think it is perceived as sexy because not a lot of people can do this honestly. and even when you do, it is difficult but you don't sugarcoat it. the power and the confidence and the creativity you have makes them so attracted to you and you would never think that they find it an appealing aspect of yourself.

pile four

i'm going to start with your persons perspective pile four because i'm relly excited by what they have to say. you are literally marriage material to them, or at least "i want to spend the rest of my life with them" and they find it so darn sext pile four! they love the joy and victory you bring into their life, as well as the simplicities, the domesticity. they see a beautiful and bright future with you. and i also lowkey see like the sweet forbidden fruit, so maybe you and this person aren't supposed to be together or you don't expect it and it makes the connection a bit more tense but exciting. it brings that spiciness, they aren't suppose to have you but they still want you and believe you will have a future together and that's hot to them.

i see you hands, when you're holding something long if you get my drift. your person would love it if when you giving them some hand action, it goes both ways but i'm mainly seeing the hand holding a stick so you're either playing with them or yourself. again, goes both ways. it could also be just holding random things, they find your hands so pretty so you could be holding the tv remote and they'll think it's sexy. you mind is stimulating also, you and your person could be people who need intellectual stimulation rather than physical and visual alone. your mind is like a maze they want to get lost in, they get turned on by your witty remarks and banter especially when flirting, they just want to kiss your face off.

and lastly, i see that your peaceful aura is so attractive to them. one wouldn't think calm and cosy vibes is a sexy thing to to your person and many others, peace and comfort is a turn on. you stay away from drama. like sure, everyone loves a bit of drama but i mean this in the sense that you aren't actively involved in drama, nor the cause of it, and can easily distance yourself from drama caused by other people. they love seeing you overcome things, and this makes you attractive to them because it furthers the agenda that you are the person they want to spend their future with, someone who is peaceful and warm.

now for the things in general that you do not realise are sexy. i see hands again. so not only your person, but others in general find that you have pretty nice hands. when you're holding things. i'm seeing the curve of your hand or your arm, the same and size can be a turn on for some. it could also represent the way you create opportunities for yourself. i see that you also look or act rich. whether you are rich or not doesn't matter, just the way you hold yourself, like you come from a good background. definitely a desirable feature that makes you sexier.

i think some of you may have had a glow up or your looks significantly changed. could also just be something as simple as your clothing style or hair colour that changed. this change in your appearance makes you sexier. it may not seem much to you, like say you just changed your hair colour. but others, especially the opposite sex or desired sex, find you more sexy after the change. i think you may not go out a lot, like hanging out with friends or attending parties. maybe it is not you thing. but when you do go out, everyone is excited to see you. like, you are rare to others, so people find it mysterious and kind of cherished. it makes you more desired. you may think "oh im so lonely and boring" but others are like "when will pile four hang out with us? i really want to see them" and lastly, i see the trust you have in yourself and the world or god, you seem so content and peaceful pile four and it makes you so sexy and desirable.

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[linddzz]

PLEASE tell us more about Jayvik being unhealthy about each other, this needs to be talked about more for... scientific reasons (borderline toxic codependency my beloved)

They're honestly such a fun mix of being adorable silly little nerds who could have so many cute domestic scenes, but there is ALSO that Weird About Each Other vibe lurking over them like a sword of codependent damocles, and it's why I'm SO GLAD I waited to see how Season2 played out before I started writing fic with the intent to post it. Romantic, platonic, the shit they do for/because of each other is WILD no matter what flavor their love takes. You see BITS of it in Season one from Jayce when he ousts Heimerdinger, which is done entirely because Jayce believes the Hexcore can save Viktor from his terminal illness and Heimerdinger is in the way of that. Remember that before Viktor gets his prognosis, Jayce was the one proposing Hextech be shut down due to Jinx stealing a gemstone.

There's nothing that has happened to make Jayce less likely to be concerned about the possible danger of Hextech, and the moment where he asks for Hextech to be suspended shows that he's more likely to believe Heimerdinger's cautions. BUT...that goes out the window with no hesitation when he believes it could save Viktor.

And that's the main thread of their devotion to each other, the willingness to put each other before anyone and anything else, including each others wishes. Jayce is at first the most obvious one when he jumps right to breaking his promise to destroy the hexcore so he can save Viktor's life with it. Yeah, he didn't know that it killed Sky at this point, so the betrayal does not seem as dire to him as it would to Viktor at this point, BUT...considering everything else they do, I think knowing about Sky would maybe add like...thirty seconds to Jayce's decision making process. Shooting Viktor isn't just an act to save the world, though that does weigh on him. It's part of saving Viktor from himself, and only done because VIKTOR told him to. It, at first, seems like Jayce is the one with this more unhealthy devotion, where he's willing to put Viktor above everything else, including Viktor's wishes. Viktor is the one who leaves with the goal to pursue ways to actually help people, after all. He is, in that moment, able to put their dream over Jayce. BUT...this moment is Viktor's version of Jayce asking for hextech to be suspended. The snapping point for Jayce was the threat of Viktor dying, remember. (Also Viktor is ready to take Jayce back the SECOND Jayce shows back up. I would bet good money that a solid six-ish months of hearing NOTHING from Jayce spooked him right out of that assertion that their paths had fully diverged lmao) Then we get that phenomenal reveal that Viktor is knowingly dooming timelines, knowingly setting them on a path towards calamity and mutually assured destruction again and again, all with the goal of stopping himself from ending Jayce in a way that keeps their fates connected. Even if that means risking Jayce getting destroyed by him again and again when it doesn't work. And yaknow. Great story. EXCELLENT Literary Romance right there. Definitely not aspirational for real life in the slightest lmaooo

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Lando reminds Max how he said he'll let Lando marry Y/n once he wins his first race

yn_verstappen My boy got his first win ❤️❤️so proud of you my love

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landonorris I think I fulfill the criteria for you know what @/maxverstappen1 do you remember what you said?

↳maxverstappen1 I refuse to remember

landonorris cmon I'd do it anyway

maxverstappen1 It was a JOKE

landonorris well I'm very serious about this

username1 What is Lando talking about?

↳username2 I think under some previous post Max said he'll let Lando marry his sister if he wins because it seemed so unrealistic but now oh well 💀

carlossainz55 As a friend of the both of you I can't wait

↳yn_verstappen Wait for what exactly? 👀

landonorris you know what 👀

yn_verstappen Nahhhh I know it was just a joke

landonorris yeah yeah, a joke, totally

username3 I AM CONFUSED

username2 I think Y/n thinks it wasn't for real😭

username4 Y/n blessing our eyes with the video on third slide 😏

↳yn_verstappen As a fangirl myself, I know what a fangirl desires 😌

username5 But fr fr Y/n would be so lucky if Lando actually proposed now

↳username6 I don't think he is being serious, they're still young and all

username7 And why would he try to outshine his first win with a proposal??

username8 So is the wedding happening or not?!

↳username9 It MUST happen now

josverstappen7 Impressive 👏

↳yn_verstappen Ik dacht dat ik je geblokkeerd had lol

username3 "I THOUGHT I BLOCKED YOU" LMAO

↳username10 Hey Jos, is Max on his way to the gas station yet?

username11 He's still walking from the circuit back to the hotel lmao

landonorris It's a win-win situation

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yn_verstappen Max still can't believe you did it lmao

↳landonorris he was the one who gave me the idea!

maxverstappen1 IT WAS A JOKE

landonorris doesn't change the fact that it gave me the idea

username1 Max gonna hate himself for the rest of his life lol he trapped himself with Lando as brother in law

↳username2 Poor Maxie 🤣

yn_verstappen Poor Maxie indeed lmao

carlossainz55 Did Y/n take these photos?

↳landonorris of course she did

↳yn_verstappen Yessir I did

georgerussell63 Why's the ring so small? 🤣

↳yn_verstappen Well I love it regardless

georgerussell63 He's just won a race, should try a bit harder, not sure if that impresses Max

maxverstappen1 Remind me, where's your ring for Carmen? 🤔

username3 Max casually shutting George up lmao

↳yn_verstappen He loves his brother in law after all🥹

username4 I love how Max pretends to not like Lando, but when George try to say something he's defending

↳username5 That's real sibling energy

carlossainz55 Congrats to the both of you! 💪

↳landonorris during one weekend I did two things no one expected me to do

username6 No but that's a valid point Max got, cuz how long have Y/n and Lando been together? A YEAR AND HE ALREADY PROPOSED

↳username7 meanwhile Carmen still waiting for her ring after years

username8 Max ain't getting rid of Lando after this

↳yn_verstappen I think he doesn't mind it 😅

username9 Jos getting another son to train

↳username10 Jos pls turn Lando into a world champion

username9 Possibly without the abuse part?

yn_verstappen Not possible I think lol

josverstappen7 Take good care of her

↳yn_verstappen Better than you did 😐

↳username11 Jos tryna make a comeback into Y/n's life lmao

username12 Suddenly he even follows Lando?

username11 Thankfully Lando doesn't follow him back

maxverstappen1 To clear up the accusations - I will not hate myself for giving him the idea, I enjoy having Lando in the family

↳yn_verstappen They know, Maxie 😭 they're just joking around

username13 Imagine Max, Lando and Y/n together in the same room with Jos 💀

↳username2 I meannn Y/n does a pretty good job avoiding her father, I don't think she wants Lando to meet him

username1 Man's extremely rich, are we surprised?

username2 Trying to impress Max lmao first the win, now this

username3 Well it's understandable that they want privacy on such day

username4 I NEED TO KNOW IF JOS WILL BE THERE

↳username2 Knowing Y/n she won't invite him

username4 As 👏 she 👏 should 👏

username5 Little Lando Norris is the last person from the grid that I expected to get married now

↳username1 Or ever lol

username6 I hope after they are married and have kids Jos will stay away from them

↳username7 Yeah I don't think Y/n would want Jos to be involved in the kids' life after how abusive he was towards Max

username8 Abusive 💀 if it wasn't for Jos Max wouldn't be a world champion

username7 What about Lewis who didn't have an abusive parent?

username9 I'm really hoping to see Y/n keep her last name so their kids can have the last name of a world champion

↳username2 Lando still has a chance 😭 if not this season, then he still has a lot of time

↳username10 Maybe "no kids before Lando's first championship" is their second rule lmao

yn_norstappen Better than I've ever dreamed of 💓 thank you everyone for being there for us and celebrating our love together 💓 and thank you to my amazing husband for making me his wife

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username1 norstappen in the username 😭 I love her she's iconic

landonorris thank you to my beautiful wife for existing

↳username2 I think we know who he can thank for this 💀

maxverstappen1 It was better than I expected

↳landonorris supportive as always❤️

↳yn_norstappen Chill Maxie we all know you're happy for us

georgerussell63 It was such a beautiful wedding

↳yn_norstappen You should take notes, maybe you'll need it one day

carlossainz55 I cried and I'm proud of it

↳yn_norstappen I had no idea you'd be so touched!

carlossainz55 I guess it was just very heartwarming to see Lando get married, especially when you're the one he's getting married to

yn_norstappen Thank you 🥹🫶 I also cried a lot and I'm crying again reading all these kind comments

↳username3 Lando also cried! It was funny to see that after he said he's just not the kinda guy to cry during touching moments like this

username4 Yeahhhh I was surprised he didn't cry after his first win like 🥹aren't u happy pookie⁉️

yn_norstappen If you like to see Lando crying, wait for a video of our wedding day!!

↳landonorris that was kinda cute!

charles_leclerc Your first win, your first wife, what's next?😂

↳yn_norstappen FIRST and LAST wife

landonorris obviously baby

username3 New gossip alert, he said "obviously baby" without a comma ("obviously, baby") so what if he's actually replying to Charles' question saying next is their first baby? 😭

oscarpiastri So happy to have been with you on such important day

↳landonorris cheesy osc

↳yn_norstappen Thank you Oscar

mclaren Cheers to the newlyweds 🥂 (and to many more wins of Lando's)

↳oscarpiastri But tbh such a shame there was no orange theme

landonorris the baby shower will be black and orange

oscarpiastri You're already planning I see

landonorris it's a bit obvious innit

yn_norstappen LANDO

yn_norstappen We're NOT having a baby YET

landonorris after the first world champion title✍️got it baby

josverstappen7 Shame I couldn't be there with you, but happy regardless

↳yn_norstappen You COULDN'T? I didn't invite you

↳username2 nahhh Jos is tryna make it seem like he couldn't make it but we all know he just wasn't invited lmao