#literally the thought of this makes me cry

[roastedoatmilk]

Arcane Women Strap Hcs

characters: sevika, vi, caitlyn, mel, ambessa

A/N barely proofread sorry, also my first time writing for arcane please be kind 🙈 i hope y’all enjoy lmk your thoughts :)

Sevika

first things first she has a dark purple strap i’m talking almost the same color that shimmer is and boy does she know how to use it

whenever she pulls the strap out be prepared to not be able to walk the next day

she prefers to fuck you in missionary but if she had to choose a different position it would be fucking you from the bottom, she just loves to be able to see your face while she pleasures you

her strap game is DIABOLICAL, she always makes sure to hit that spot inside you that makes you let out a squeal and causes your toes to curl

honestly she could just cum from fucking you alone but if you feel up to it once she’s done with you she loves when you eat her out after

“that’s it baby, you’re taking me so well just a little more”

Vi

vi screams black strap to me like it just makes sense

she prefers to fuck you slow and DEEP, i’m talking girly lifts your hips off the bed and grips them so hard that you can feel bruises form

shes so cocky about it too like she knows she’s good

vi’s another one that could cum from pleasuring you alone and 9/10 times she does, however the one time she doesn’t she will literally sit on your face once you’re well enough to take care of her

“that feel good pretty girl ? yeah i know it does, you’re always so good for me”

Caitlyn

dark blue strap sorry yall i don’t make the rules

caitlyn loves when you’re on top and she’s fucking you from below

she revels in the sight of you falling apart above her while she’s gripping your hips guiding you

she’s 100% a brat tamer and you can’t tell me any different

“oh darling is it too much ? you shouldn’t have behaved like that if you didn’t want me to fuck you like this”

Mel

HEAR YE HEAR YE she has a gold strap idc idc

mel also likes it when you’re on top however she prefers to gently guide your movements while she praises you

don’t let that mislead you tho shes a HUGE tease

she can and will make you edge yourself until you’re literally crying begging her to let you cum

“ my love you look so beautiful when you ask nicely like that, go ahead and take what you need”

Ambessa

ruby red strap that’s all imma say

the cruelest of the bunch, she’s not afraid to leave you dry while she takes what she needs

another brat tamer yall you love to see it

she doesn’t make love she FUCKS, be prepared to constantly be buying new headboards

she makes you suck on her strap NEXTTTTT

“sweet girl did you think i’m finished with you ? no no we aren’t done until you can’t remember anything but my name”

[mikkomacko]

Different anon! but uhhh might we get a scene of reader and Nico with the stache? 👀🫣 love this little world so much, thank you!

“Up.”

“What?”

“Budge up.”

Nico smacks at the back of your thighs, palming your bare skin as urges you to slide up his body. You falter, awkwardly slumped against his pushing hands as you blink down at him in confusion.

He widens his eyes expectantly.

“Uh, what?”

He rolls his eyes, licking at his swollen lips you’ve bitten red. Then he’s pushing at you again.

“Sit on my face.”

Like it’s no big deal, something casual you two do all the time. Which, it’s not like you haven’t done it before, multiple times, but you were literally two seconds away from sinking onto his leaking cock when he stopped you.

It’s just little abrupt.

When you don’t move he puffs out a sigh, squeezing at the fleshy part of your thighs. “Put the mustache to good use,” he urges, amusement sparkling in those dark eyes of his.

“Nico you don’t need a mustache to make that face a good seat.”

If he’s caught off guard by your words he doesn’t show it. Though you suppose he’s used to hearing things like that from you. Licking his lips, he motions for you to get a move on. And who are you to deny him twice?

Pausing, you press your naked chest to his again, capturing his mouth in a wet kiss. He palms at your ass, moaning softly. He doesn’t let you forget the plan however, biting at your lip and shoving your hips up his torso until you’re folded awkwardly.

Forced to pull back, you sit up straight and rise to your knees. You can hear the way his breath hitches as you shuffle up onto the pillows, knees on either side of his face.

“Fuck me,” he sighs heavily, breath hot and sticky when it reaches your pussy. Whatever witty remark was on your tongue gets bitten back when he tugs you down until you’re sitting flat on his tongue.

Instinctively, you rock into his face, chills running up your spine when his tongue dips into your walls, wet and prodding. His nose tickles your clit, just light enough to have you desperate for a little more. More than you don’t even have to ask for because-

Oh, oh that stupid mustache is doing it all for him.

You’re used to the feeling of his usual beard, how it’s scratchy and warm on your thighs. Rough where his fingers and mouth are always so soft.

But you’re not used to this. That feeling all concentrated in one spot, teasing at your clit each time you shift on Nico’s tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, one hand latching onto the headboard and the other finding Nico’s hair, splayed out on the pillows. He hums his approval, the sound purring perfectly against your hole.

Daring, you peer down at Nico. He’s already watching you, the only part of his face that’s really visible being his eyes. They’re blown out and dark, a beautiful contrast to his skin and the white pillows below him. They’re also unyielding, thick lashes barely fluttering when you experimentally grind into his tongue and mustache.

Encouraging, Nico wraps his thick arms around your thighs, hands pawing and grabbing at your ass. Then he’s pushing you, guiding you into riding his face.

You don’t need to be told twice.

Unashamedly, you rock back onto his tongue and then shift forward into the rough scratch of his facial hair. Nico’s hands are strong, blunt nails digging into your skin as he guides you into using his face to get off.

It’s so hot, he’s so hot and that damned Movember mustache does more than you’d thought it would. It doesn’t take long for you to get lost in the feeling of Nico’s mouth, head tilted back towards the ceiling.

“Nico,” you cry, tightening your hold on his hair and grinding down on him. He doubles his efforts, his mouth and hands feeling like they’re everywhere as the hot coil in your belly tightens and tightens until it snaps.

You cum hard on Nico’s tongue, slumping forward into the headboard as blood roars in your ears and your muscles tighten and twitch. Distinctly, you hear Nico make some sort of noise of approval, the sound boarding on a whimper.

He eases up, softly and gently prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible. Large hands rub at your thighs, soft and soothing before they’re nudging you up. Numbly, you rise to your knees and then Nico’s kissing at the inside of your thighs, the coarse hair of his mustache scratchy and tingling on your skin.

“God you’re beautiful,” he mutters between kisses, and you blink your eyes open, panting as you look down at him.

Fuck he’s beautiful, you think in response. Dark eyes and messy hair, lips and nose red and damp. He looks absolutely filthy, and yet his hands and lips are touching you so sweetly, his eyes watching you with so much love.

“Ok,” you agree, quietly. “The mustache can stay for a bit.”

You feel his smirk on your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Oh my God. I don't think I'll ever recover.

Thank you for writing this story, thank you for doing it so flawlessly, thank you for this Joel who is the man of my dreams (I know, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he’s so damn perfect it hurts), thank you for reader who doesn't look like me (physically definitely not, she seems like the most beautiful woman in the world while I'm a walking disaster lol) but at the same time intimately yes (and he could call me freckles too, which makes me literally DIE, I don't know why I haven't said it yet) and I want to hug her every second and tell her that she is the best, simply thank you.

Spoiler under the cut 😭

You made me cry for a hat. A COWBOY HAT.

And then I lost it completely at Future Days, I recognized it at the first line and my heart skipped a beat. And I cried even more when he agreed to make love to her even though it's something he never thought he would do. I should quote the entire chapter because it's just perfect, there's not a word out of place, it's like a beautiful song that touches all the right chords of the soul.

I’m so in love with this story it’s gettin ridiculous 🫠

Edit: I forgot to mention Tess, OMG she’s so amazing ♥️

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything 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. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

[httyd-art-requests]

Heya! I wasn't sure if this was a legal request since it wasnt listed in your bio, but it is an official httyd video game

I'd love to see the goofy guy Patch from dawn of new riders! Chimeragons really made one appearance, became way too op, and then disappeared into obscurity. But look at the guy...he so ugly and goofy I love him

Your art is gorgeous btw!

( @yuendelahoya )

So funny story. I watched a playthrough of this game when it first came out in 2019, and it's been on my wish list ever since (mostly because of the flight mechanics lol) And now that I found these asks in my inbox again, I checked the Nintendo Store just in case, and it had a 55% discount??? So I got the game and spent the last 2 days playing it and now I'm a changed man (as of posting this, the discount lasts for 2 more days!)

Dragon #125 - MLM Patch (and Scribbler)

I hope they're doing well, wherever they are...

More thoughts and spoilers for the game under the cut!

I made Patch MLM colored instead of some other random Chimeragon, because the game has shown us that he can change colors with every rebirth, which I think is pretty neat :) It also explains why neither Scribbler nor Eir recognize Patch, even after he grows to be a Broadwing and then a Titanwing- if he changes his colors every time he hatches again, then yeah, no wonder they believed there's more than one Chimeragon

I knew what the big twist was going to be at the end because of the playthrough, but MAN does this game not hold its punches. The writers really asked "How can we elevate the Best Friends Forever thing to a whole new level?" and then made Scribbler witness the death and rebirth of his best friend, and now I have to draw these guys with literal tears in my eyes 👍

The sentiment that their friendship literally transcends life and death is so meaningful to me. Patch will continue to die and resurrect, and Scribbler will be there every time to welcome him and forge their bond all over again. The mystery of Scribbler's past, his involvement with Grimmel, and the open ending leave so much room for speculation and theorizing and it's just so incredibly up my alley, it's like it was made in a lab for me lol

This game ended up being a lot darker than I was expecting, but it was honestly so refreshing. The mechanics are simple enough for younger kids to learn, and the artstyle is very evidently targeted at kids as well, but some of the dialogue and the entire theme of death and inevitable loss feels surprisingly mature in contrast. They make you go to Vanaheim and hold a burial for Patch before he resurrects, literally what other kids' game does that?? /pos

Anyways play this game, it's a short and sweet little self-contained adventure, which accomplishes the one task it set out to accomplish: making me cry, specifically

[em-ontv]

Hi I’m the anon who sent you the idea for “sing a song for me” and it’s literally so perfect I can’t wait to read the second part. I might cry a little I’m not even lying this was a dream I had and I was like huh wow that would make a cool fanfic but I can’t write at all. And you made it even better than I could’ve imagined thank you so much 🥰

Sing a song for me. (2/2)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Warnings: injuries/scars, comfort/intimacy (non-explicit), language, no use of y/n, Butcher being Butcher, probably ooc Ben (I made him a bit too gentle, we don't need more trauma), not proof-read

A/n: hello, anon! I'm so glad you liked part 1, this is the long due part 2 I promised. Hope you like it <3 sorry for taking so long to write this :'(

Read part 1 here

Word count: 2.4k

The inside of the van was cramped and smelled faintly of oil and sweat. The seats were worn, the leather cracked from use. The night outside was dense, you saw just enough stars to remind yourself that while you were locked away, there was a whole other world out there beyond your cell.

You sat beside Ben, who kept casting glances your way as if he was afraid you'd shatter. But you couldn't blame him... you must have looked terrible. The bruises, the exhaustion, the haunted look in your eyes. You didn't even bother to look at yourself in the reflection of the window on your way into the van. It felt like too much—like you couldn't handle what Vought had done to you. Not yet.

The ride was mostly silent until Butcher finally spoke.

"Alright, love, here's the deal." he said, breaking the silence. His eyes looked over you, his expression calculating. "We need to know now. Are you in, or do we drop you somewhere nice and safe to rot? We're taking down Homelander. It's not a bloody game."

Hughie shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. You stared back at Butcher, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to form words, but your head was spinning.

You knew what he was asking, but it felt too much to make that decision right now. You just wanted to rest—a bed, a moment to breathe without fear clawing at your throat.

"Alright, back the fuck off." Ben's voice snapped, breaking through the haze of your thoughts. The tension in the van spiked, and for a second, it looked like he was ready to lunge across the seat at Butcher and knock all of his teeth out. "Can't you see she's been through enough? She doesn't need your bullshit right now."

Butcher's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he met Ben's glare. "We don't have time for second-guessing, mate. It's a very simple question."

Butcher turned his gaze back to you. "You can help us take down Homelander, the bastard who’s got half the world wrapped around his fuckin' finger, or we can take you back home. But no guarantees, yeah? Vought knows about you. They’ll come for you. Eventually."

You swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over your throat, your mind spinning. Home? That word didn't even feel real. Could that place—that cell—even be worthy of being called something like home?

But then again, if you didn't help, could you ever be safe again? For once in a very long time, the choice was yours, but both paths seemed like a death end.

"She needs time." Ben said, his jaw tensing, quietly observing you as if he knew what you were thinking. The hand that he rested on your back made you flinch slightly, causing him to retract it, his fingers curling into a fist.

Your gaze faltered, your eyes dropping to the ground before you managed to look back at Butcher.

A sharp huff escaped Butcher, his patience worn out. “Time's not a luxury we've got. This ain't a charity." He turned toward you, his tone biting. "Again, you can go back to your cozy little cell, I suppose. Vought’ll just find a new use for you.”

"For fuck's sake, she just got out of an shithole." Ben snapped, his voice simmering with anger. "Give her some fuckin' time."

For a moment, Butcher looked like he might argue with some witty comeback, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the road. "Fine. But time's ticking."

The rest of the drive was quiet. You leaned back in your seat, your eyelids heavy, letting your eyes close for just a moment, the noise faded into the background as you let exhaustion win over.

––––

When you reached the destination, Ben helped you out of the van, his movements cautious, his hand warm and solid on your lower back as he guided you inside. The "safe house" was as secure as it was miserable, but right now, that didn't matter. It was shelter, and it was enough.

The others dispersed, Butcher grumbling quietly under his breath as he stalked off to another room, Frenchie and Kimiko greeted you with a wave before leaving too.

Ben, though, lingered by your side, his hand hovering near yours, gently brushing against it for a second, but he didn't dare to reach for you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough but oddly gentle, his gaze never leaving your face. It wasn't something you expected to hear from him—after seeing his quite violent display in the lab, but here he was, looking at you with more concern than anyone else ever had.

You nodded, a small smile curling on your lips, swallowing thickly. "I'm... yeah. Just... tired," you were almost embarrassed by how weak you sounded, but he didn't judge, a faint understanding in his expression.

Hours passed in a tired blur. You had settled into a room, a worn-out bed, but it was better than nothing. Everyone retreated to their own corners of the place for what little rest they could find. You sank into the mattress, your eyes drifting shut almost instantly.

––––

It was sometime past midnight when Ben jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to his skin, running a shaky hand over his face. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight outside filtering through the window. He sat up, his heart pounding, the remnants of the dream clinging to him.

Images flashed through his mind—memories of Vought, of his own time in their hands, of the time when he was betrayed, taken away, being tested on, and then frozen for decades. His breathing was ragged, the familiar surge of anger clawing its way to the surface, but something else broke through.

His thoughts drifted to you.

Without really thinking, he got up, slipping out of his room and down the hallway, to the room where you slept. His steps were slow, cautious, not wanting to disturb you.

He hesitated at the doorway to your room, his breath catching when he saw you lying there, on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

In the dim light, your features were softened, the lines of worry and pain absent. You looked peaceful, your breathing slow and steady, and it eased something in him, his shoulders sagging as the tension slipped away.

Ben took a step into the room, but the floor creaked under his weight, and your eyes snapped open, sitting up on the bed, startled.

"...m'sorry," he whispered, his voice soft but hoarse, like something was bothering him. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"It’s okay," you murmured, your breathing becoming steady. Your eyes flickered over his face, the lingering pain in his expression catching you off-guard.

You knew that something was wrong, you'd seen that look before, in patients who had been through a lot, in people who had lost themselves along the way.

He hesitated, glancing away, as if embarrassed by his own vulnerability. He looked like he might turn and go back to his own room—but his uneven breathing made him pause. The sight of you was comforting, and that kind look in your eyes made him move closer instead of backing away.

He took a few careful steps closer, almost unsure. "Just wanted to… make sure you were alright," he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart still pounding, but not from fear this time, it was something warm. "I’m okay. Just… hard to sleep sometimes."

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. He sank down to one knee, then both, kneeling beside your bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him and his slow breaths. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy but comforting.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand, resting it gently against the side of his head, your thumb brushing over his temple. His eyes widened, a brief moment of shock crossing his face.

"What are you—?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the touch almost made him wince in pain from how gentle it was. It was like your fingers brushed against some soft spot inside of him, he almost melted.

"It's okay... trust me," you started, trying to reassure him. His eyes met yours, the initial tension easing. He didn't pull away, but instead leaned into your touch in a quiet surrender. "My powers, they'll help," you added softly.

At your voice, his eyes fluttered shut, his expression softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. The walls he had built around himself crumbled bit by bit the more he felt your touch.

You hesitated, then began to hum—a soft, gentle melody, barely audible but enough to fill the silence. It felt strange, using your powers willingly again, but different this time... it brought you back to the bittersweet memories of your time before Vought. The tune was simple, soothing, a song you’d sung so many times before. Not destructive, but safe, warm.

As the notes drifted through the air, you felt Ben’s body relax under your touch. His breathing slowed, each exhale deeper, more even, and his hand reached up, covering yours as he pressed your palm closer to his face, silently grounding himself in the warmth of it.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a gentle touch, and he felt something he thought he lost... peace. A kind of comfort that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Or something that he thought he'd given up for good, back in the old days, or maybe he'd never had it to begin with.

When your humming finally faded, he stayed there, his hand still covering yours, his eyes still closed. For a second, you thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his tone laced with a sadness that made your heart ache. "You don't understand what I've... the things that I did."

You shook your head, your hand instinctively wanting to fall from the side of his face but he only held you closer with a conflict—whether he wanted to push you away or pull you into his arms and not let go.

"All I know is that I would've been stuck in that lab if it weren't for you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "A favor for a favor. I think that's fair."

"Well, it wasn't entirely my choice to break you out," he muttered, that blunt tone of his slipping through, as if it was his last attempt to pull away before sinking too deep.

A soft scoff escaped your lips. "Whatever it was, at least I'm not stuck there anymore."

Slowly, you pulled him up onto the bed beside you, and he let you, his movements careful like he was afraid he might shatter the moment. You shifted, settling so that you were facing him, the blanket fell from your shoulders to pool around your waist, leaving the bruises and scars on your arms exposed under the dim light.

Ben’s gaze traveled over each mark, each scar, but there was no horror in his expression, no pity—only reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing over a bruise on your shoulder, gentle and careful, as if touching something precious.

"They did this to you," he murmured, a hardness in his voice. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew too well.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "They're fading." you said, looking away for a moment, as if you didn't want to acknowledge the scars.

Without a word, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the bruise on your shoulder, a feather-light kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ben...?" you asked hesitantly. The small tremble in your voice made him stop, a flash of worry crossed his face, his teeth biting at his lower lip. He thought he might have overstepped.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered, pulling back. He feared that he had ruined whatever small trust that had begun to form between you.

But your fingers threaded through his hair, hand pressing to the back of his head to bring him closer again. "Stop apologizing," you breathed softly.

His eyes met yours and a small smile threatened to curl up on his lips, a mutual understanding settled between the two of you before his head dipped down to the crook of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing an old scar, then he kissed another, and another, his mouth trailing over each scar, each bruise, as if he was trying to erase the pain they held. It felt like an apology, like he was mending you.

His touch was careful, almost reverent, and you felt the warmth of each kiss seep into your skin, soothing the ache that lay beneath. You closed your eyes, letting the gentleness of his touch wash over you.

You felt your chest restricting, your breath becoming shallow, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been so taken care of. It was overwhelming, but you didn't want him to stop.

Ben’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but the way he touched you was anything but. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had slipped down your cheek without you even noticing. Then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to your forehead, a kiss so soft, so full of warmth that it made your chest warm and ache at the same time.

"You're safe," he whispered. "You're still here, and I'm with you." It wasn't much, but it was the most reassurance anyone could get out of him.

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he sighed, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his gaze soft and unguarded in a way you hadn't seen before.

Slowly, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you as you settled your forehead against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

After a long silence, you spoke, your quiet voice breaking the quiet. "Hey... Ben?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice a murmur against your hair.

"I'll help you take down Homelander."

[velvetvexations]

I'm censoring this URL because the OP is eighteen. Do not seek the post out and do not harass anyone. Teens are often wrong about things. It's fine. It's radfem bullshit but it's fine.

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

Let me be clear: The idea that t4t was invented by trans women for use betwixt themselves, and that "TME" people "gentrified it," is (a) holy fucking shit racist as fuck and (b)

takes a deep breath

WRONG INCORRECT UNTRUE EASILY VERIFIABLY FALSE

The OP is eighteen. That means that we did not do anything. They were not born when It came about on Craigslist and was being used by all trans people from the very start. I don't think they know what Craigslist is and probably more than half the people reblogging it don't either.

TME people fucking gentrified it? Are you fucking kidding me? Are these people tossing that post back and forth just fully playing pretend in fucking Tarabithia, what world do they live in where this combination of syllables makes sense and doesn't cause them to wither up in shame for even having the thought, much less vocalizing it?

Ohhhh but what really gets me is the assertion this was done because being with "TME" people meant there was a high chance you could be "socially (or even physically) murdered."

No.

No, OP. If you were any kind of trans person in pretty much any time and place before the 2010s, and a relationship with a non-trans person went poorly, there was a very high chance you would be dead. There's no "or even" about it. That is what fucking happened. Your ex didn't go crying to your mutual friends telling them about how you hogged the blankets. Your non-trans ex would proceed to ACTUALLY FOR REAL MURDER you, assuming they even waited for the relationship to go sour and didn't just kill you the second you walked through the door like they were always planning to do.

That's how it was when I was growing up, denied transitioning but longing so achingly to be a girl in spite of the horror and misery that seemed to plague us. So I have a problem with the obsession with sOcIaL mUrDeR that keeps getting tossed around these days, because of how degrading it is not only to how bad things still are with death after death after death, but how it disrespects what we came out of. But to directly act like soooocial murrrrrder was the big scary thing trans women feared back then? That's heinous. That's sickening. The social consequences all trans people were deathly afraid of back then was being outed as trans and then being fucking stabbed within twenty-four hours.

Even in spite of the election and what's coming next, how good we have it would be nigh-incomprehensible to the first trans men and women and non-binary people to be brave enough to advertise themselves as t4t to strangers. Like, I need everyone to understand that. They could not have wrapped their fucking heads around it. It'd be like explaining a circuit board to a Mesopotamian. One could show them a video of the Blue's Clues episode about queer people and it'd just register to them as migraine inducing static.

We're in such a better place than we were. And this is what people do with it.

Make up bullshit reasons to be angry at their siblings and imply they also didn't get murdered for being trans on a regular basis, or that even just trans women cared about an irritating buzzword, even as cishetpatriarchal fascism is empowered and determined to drag us back to the the horrific dark age that scholars refer to as Literally All of Human History Up Until Now.

Amazing.

Why do I even try. Like, with anything. Why do I get out of bed in the morning. I could have stayed in bed all day listening to rain sounds.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on that.

[coffeebooksrain18]

I've gotten asks before why I don't like Daemrya or why I don't reblog stuff about them as I'm a Daemon lover and I sine I just saw a post saying you can't love Daemon without loving Daemyra I thought I'd explain my thoughts.

the main reason, I never felt it. It felt too forced to truly be real. it felt like the showrunners and writers were trying to make me like them together instead of letting me do that on my own which made me feel like hey didn't even feel it.

secondly, I have and always will see it as a political marriage. Do I think they care about each other? yes. Do I think they lust for each other? yes. But do I think they are in love? no. Rhaenyra literally had to dangle the crown an throne in front of Daemon for him to even agree to marry her.

and to the people saying "he slept with her the night of Laena's funeral." I say this. we know Daemon's way of mourning is fucking, fighting and drinking, its not sitting somewhere and crying. so to have Rhaenyra pretty much throw herself at him, why should he pay for a whore when she is so willing? now I'm not calling Rhaenyra a whore only stating what I think went through Daemon's mind.

third and final reason, I don't like Rhaenyra, never have never will, like seriously in the first episode I thought she was a ok character I didn't care about her and that has slowly turned into a hate. so why should I ship one of my favorite characters with one I hate? that doesn't make sense.

yet again, I never felt it, I never felt like they even really cared about each other more than what the other could give them let alone loved each other. so to me, that's not a power couple, that's not a couple I want to root for. so I don't root for them.

I do ship Alicent x Daemon and I definitely ship Laena x Daemon but other than that I don't like or care for other ships for him. I get the people who do like Daemyra I just don't get why they care so much that I don't.

[mackmp3]

☕how the writers delt with river song

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY DID MY GIRL SO DIRTY there are so many. good river song moments. and there are so manythat make me want to tear a strip off steven moffat like every goddamn episode with her they have to make some obnoxious sex joke or some Honey Im Home type shit & i understand this is like. A Moffat Theme & i dont always hate it but goddddd its so reductive like there is so much!!!! that could be done with her character !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is overshadowed by haha what if she was sexy like STOPPPPPPPPPPPP.

like silence in the library was a really good character lead in & i like her!!! as a character !!!! even the overly flirtatiousness unfortunately that would work on me but even aside from that. she is a good character let down but the sheer pull-it-out-of-your-ass writing of her backstory. like?? she could regenerate cos she was conceived in the tardis okay thats really cool much weirder stuff has happened when it comes to tardises & making babies but then WE SeE THIS FOR LIKE. ONE OR TWO EPISODES BEFORE THEYRE LIKE WHOOPS THAT DOESNT WORK ACTUALLY COS SHE'S DEAD UHHH SHE BETTER UHMM IDK SAVE TH E DOCTOR OR SOMETHING WHATEVER> COS HER ENTIRE LIFE HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND HIM. HASHTAG MARRIAGE AMIRITE like even the fact that her entire life was shaped around him isnt a Bad Idea it just feels like no one considered the tragic impies (implications) of this, & simultaneously doing amy so dirty in the process as well like??? she loses baby mels & then discovers she was her (never previously mentioned) childhood friend but then she uhhhh dies & turns into this woman you already know and them????? barely eveer mention it again???? holy shit?????????????????????? amy & river is a freaking horror story but one that the writers seem imcapable of dealing with because sOMEONE is too busy making obnoxious jokes about married life

a lot of thsi is specific to the General Vibes of the eleven era stuff as well which was in general so so weird about women & while its not like twelve or any of teh other doctors are expemt from this eleven is a massive dick to people quite a bit & a lot of this falls on river b/c he is seemingly (iirc i havent seen some of this stuff for a while though it Haunts Me) almost careless? with her? like a sort of 'welllllll she's here now so it was all okay in the end :)' sort of attitude ignoring that she went through A Fuckton Of Stuff before she was even a concious human(mostly??) being

even the husbands of river song is tragically guilty of some of that stuff like. she's seen some wild shit & she should have known it was twelve wayyyyyy way way quicker. like i understand why she didnt for plot reasons but she is in fact very intellegent like. she's allowed to show that. unfortunatley sometimes women cant be smart & have their boobs out at that same time I GUESSSSSSSSS

also the nine & river audios from earlier this year? i really like archipelago i listened to that a couple of times & i thought it was really powerful but AGAIN the writers make river So Fucking Obsessed With Romance like. you'd let it go by that point. nine had literally just proved he's the most aro guy in the universe (good for him) and shes stillllllll flirting at him. which. imo she wouldnt do anymore because, shock horror, she does actually like him as a person & values his company and you would think you would be friends wit hthe guy YOU ARE GONG TO MARRY OR WHATEVER. NOT THAT THEIR MARRIAGE WAS PARTICULARLY ROMANTIC EITHERIM GONNA BE SO REAL. obviously sex is important to her & good for her but yikes. it doesnt need to be mentioned so often.

like its the whole 'inherent tragedy of waiting for a time traveller' stuff which i do eat up every time meeting her in silence of the library & knowong that there is so much more there - VERY COMPELLING !! really good character intro augahagaauuaajaaajahhahahahhhh but nooooo her Entire Fucking Goddman Life has to revolve around being manipulated & The Doctor AS WELL AS !! the completely uncalled for ohhhh im a PSYCHOPATH ( <- unfounded & demonstrably untrue lowkey this is saneism right. thats an ableism there yes? ) thing they alllwaysssss have her say like well!! shes not !! theres 'youre talking about commiting a murder'/'no im not, i'm actually commiting a murder' which i like & is funny & she would say that and then theres teh vauge oooohhhhh im so Freaky & I Have A Gun or whatevr like augsugsaihuahahaouoauauoouauoauoauoauuo

also twelve & river had freaky t4t bi4bi aroallo sex after the end of husbands of river song but no actual dw writer is enlightened enough to see that because they have to flatten her into The Doctors Wife & she would have had a far better dynamic with 12 than with 11 (not that i'm biased) i wish they got more time togetherrrrrrrrrrr also you should listen to the bekdel test (diary of river song audio with missy)

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

just finished watching under the red hood and oh boy i have some thoughts.

warning: spoilers for utrh the movie obviously, a very long and not particularly coherent rant, i have not read the comic yet because i heard jason gets treated even worse in it but i’ll probably get around to it soon

first of all, i didn’t realize how violent it was, especially considering it’s a kids show. not only that but how callously jason just kills people. like i was aware but i kind of assumed that he did it when it was necessary. but sometimes he kills people when he could just incapacitate them. i think it adds another layer of complexity to his character, like i see why he’s an anti-hero bordering on villain to some people and not just a misunderstood hero.

not that i don’t stand by his points about killing the joker, but i do understand why bruce wasn’t exactly eager to welcome him back with open arms (i still think he could be a better father though).

ON THE SUBJECT OF BRUCE AS A FATHER. it physically pains me to hear him never acknowledge jason as his son. jason’s always his soldier, his partner, his fault. thank god jason never heard the shit bruce said because i would rage if i were him. you can’t call somebody your partner if you don’t see them as your equal. and how could jason be his equal? he was a child. at best he is his son. at worst he is his ward. either way, no child wants to hear that they’re a mistake. not their death, not the way they were raised or trained. just their whole existence. like thanks bruce, you really know how to make amends with your children.

and on that topic, there’s this theme of like oh was jason always destined to be a criminal? like was there truly nothing bruce could’ve done to stop him? it literally broke my heart when jason said maybe he was always the monster under the mask, like to hear him give up on himself like that made me want to cry. i hate this idea of this life being his fate. especially since bruce was like oh yeah he was stealing my car tires, he was raised to be a criminal and all that. i don’t think the writers meant it in that way but for a billionaire who also breaks the law to say that a child who grew up poor was always meant to be a criminal rubs me the wrong way. like i don’t think he has the moral high ground to say some of the things he says because jason did make a point when he talked about how joker has killed way too many people for batman to let him go.

anyways, do i think murder is wrong and what jason did was reprehensible? yes, although the becoming crime lord thing to control it in gotham was very smart. but is it so bad that he couldn’t have just come home? gotten therapy and had a semi normal life again? gotten to kill the joker as a little treat? no. he was like, what, 18 or 19 during the movie? and also traumatized and in desperate need of therapy? i’m not excusing his actions but when you grow up fighting these violent criminals and also being tortured and killed by one, it certainly blurs the lines. so i understand, and i think there is still redemption for him.

and the real villain of the story is the gotham criminal justice system for never doing anything about crime alley or keeping people like the joker from breaking out of arkham every week.

[hopelessdelusional]

matt sturniolo x influencer! reader

reader is grunge! a singer! and on social media (this is very niche i apologize) i will be building this AU more so stay tuned!

｡･:*˚:✧

hey so i’ve hyper fixated onto an CIS. STRAIGHT. WHITE. BOY. someone put me down i cannot do this anymore please this is a cry for help needs to euthanize me-

｡･:*˚:✧

enjoy ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^)

join the taglist

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ homebase

to start, you have been close friends with jake for a long time, and thru him you met tara and johnny before meeting the triplets

jake pretty much always has you in his videos, so much so whenever you aren't in a video the fans have started to request for your presence on videos that don't have you in them

you're not all that active on social media, only posting random covers of your favorite songs on your youtube channel and random tiktoks

in jake's videos you are always making him laugh, and out of the two you're more calm with a dry sense of humor

'...do you like it?"

"yeah because me immediately spitting it out and chugging my drink after eating it obviously shows how much i love this fucking candy"

OR

"hey jake did you want to get dinner tonight-"

"..."

"why the fuck is johnny in a baby costume."

in tara's videos you and her literally talk for HOURS and the way tara could make four separate videos from one recorded hang out is ridiculous

with Carrington the two of you easily match each other's energy, always giggling in the back of videos

you've also done singing collabs with jake and johnny! there are a couple of songs that just have your background vocals and then others with actual verses

you haven't released any songs though due to stress and anxiety, feeling too pressured to write the

"perfect" song so you settle with being a feature

besides that you really just mind your business with college, your job, and hanging out with friends

tara was actually the one who introduced you to nick

and through nick….you met matt

.・。.・✭・.・✫・゜・。.

matt who was excited to meet nick’s new friend who he was talking abt nonstop

“hey guys! yn is here!”

nick swings the door wide open, smiling widely as he stomps in the house. you follow in quickly, nervous to meet nick’s brothers. your friendship with nick came naturally, having many things to connect with. that being said, you weren’t sure if you could create a relationship with his brothers as easily as you did with him.

fiddling with your clothes you wave politely at the boys, surprised to see both of them walk up to you and hug you. granted it was swift hugs, but it immediately created a softer environment, causing you to relax immensely.

matt who immediately noticed how you looked uncomfortable and took the first step to hug you

“i like your outfit,” matt said after chris broke away from you. he gave you a small smile, making you smile in return. before you could respond however, chris started talking to the group.

nick had already decided on having dinner at home, so you settled in leaning on the kitchen island watching nick and chris argue over what to make for dinner. matt walks over to you, putting his hands in his pockets.

“don’t worry i could never replace you guys,” you tease, when you see him across from you. he giggles in reaponse, his eyes never leaving your face.

“cool tattoos,” he points out which surprised you. looking down at your arm, you smiled admiring the work you’ve gotten done over the years.

“thank you! you also have some gnarly tats.”

matt smiled at you, flexing his arm a little bit to show off his whole sleeve.

“is that the only place you have tattoos?” you question, suddenly curious about his body art. matt nodded, then looked at you with a small smile.

“does that mean you have more?” the question made you laugh because he seemed almost shy asking you, so when you nodded enthusiastically and started to give him a quick tour all over your body. lifting your shirt up was funny for you, because you could tell matt wanted to be thoughtful and not look but when you reassured him he hesitated at first but eventually awed at them. his reactions were so lively, making you appreciate how focused and compassionate. he praised you for your own ideas and for the tattoos that meant something, and still thought your random and silly tattoos were interesting.

after you finished showing him you were practically gleaming, it had been a while since you had been able to speak so much of the tattoos that littered your body. every single one of them had meant so much to you and being able to share that with someone; especially someone as excited and appreciative as you are.

“you’re really cool, i can see why nick enjoys hanging out with you so much.”

you and matt were sitting down in the living room now, leaving chris and nick to prepare dinner for the evening. talking came easily after the tour of your tattoos, matt showing you his and the conversation flowed better than you dreamed it to be.

you chuckled at matt’s comment, finding his eye contact was making you squirmish in your seat.

“nick is so much cooler than me, but i don’t mind i really enjoy being friends with him. plus now i have two new friends so that’s a bonus.”

matt laughed at your response, running a hand through his hair now avoiding eye contact with you.

“yeah, i’m grateful nick brought you around.”

matt who couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the rest of the evening, which did not go unnoticed by his brothers

“don’t steal my new best friend from me matt!” nick yelled out dramatically after yn left, making matt shake his head.

“you should let matt have their number,” chris mumbled, still focused on the game he was playing. nick gasped dramatically before agreeing, making the boys laugh with how quickly he switched up his emotions.

“just don’t steal them!” nick threatened, but matt was already too excited to text you to listen.

matt who got your number and could not stop texting you, and he especially couldn’t stop smiling every time you texted him back

“matt i need backup,” chris said frantically, his eyes glued to the computer and fingers moving at the speed of light on the controllers. when matt doesn’t respond, chris huffs and repeats himself.

“matt seriously dude where the fuck are you?!”

matt finishes up typing and looks up, oblivious to the game that they were losing.

“oh shit,” he mumbled, putting his phone down and picking his controller back up.

“you weren’t even playing?” chris yelled out, frustrated with their status. nick pipes up from the bed, suddenly curious. he peaks his head over and sees matt’s phone light up, watching matt immediately lose his focus to look at his phone. matt straightens up, wanting to reach for his phone before chris cursed loudly, drawing his attention away from the text. nick squints, thankful that he was wearing his glasses and sees the name on his phone to his disbelief. yn sent a text, then another one, and then another one. his jaw dropped, and his gasp was so loud it startled his brothers.

“nick! oh my god,” chris started to laugh when his fear settled down. nick still had his mouth wide open, only causing chris to laugh harder.

“you’re gonna catch flies kid,” matt snickered. nick slowly turned his head to matt, mouth still open, in a very dramatic motion.

“yn? you stole my best friend?”

matt froze, a slow blush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. chris eyed his brothers from his peripheral vision, jaw also dropping.

“that’s why you’ve been so preoccupied? damn my boy has a crush,” chris started to chuckle, causing nick to scream and matt to drop his controller covering his face in embarrassment.

matt who gets jealous whenever you and nick go out like he wants to hang out with u too :(

matt who finally gets the nerve to ask you to hang out with him, after nick decides he’s had enough of matt complaining about how “you never invite me-or chris!” (he has to add the chris part to not sound too obvious)

matt stood nervously at the door, fiddling with his keys in his hands. he finally knocked, immediately hearing rummaging around behind the door. matt couldn’t help but smile, wondering what you were doing right now. were you just as nervous to hang out with him one on one?

suddenly, the door swings wide open, and you’re in the doorway smilingly widely.

“hey! come in!”

matt who had so much fun hanging out with you.

the two of you went to antiques and thrift stores, grabbed some dinner and went back to your place to spend the rest of the evening together. the two of you got along so well he ended up staying until 12AM because you wanted to finish watching the show you started, not that matt was complaining. he was tempted to ask to stay over (and you were tempted to ask him to stay over) but he didn’t want things to be awkward. so he left late into the night, after you gave him a tackling hug, asking to hang out again soon

matt who started to call you every night, and although you two texted all day you never ran out of things to talk about.

matt who is really starting to fall for you

.・。.・✭・.・✫・゜・。.

k bye ily🩶

[thegirlwiththewriting]

Personal vent

Tw I guess

I just need to get this off my chest because it's suffocating me, and everything’s just too much. Also if no one sees this it's okay too cause I just need to write this down I guess, no matter if smone sees it or not.

A year ago my best friend and me fell apart, and she was literally my everything. She never even once lost patience with me and appreciated everything | did. Ofc sometimes she made mistakes, but these were all little nonsenses, I could have ignored. That time I had no idea from life and was just so ungrateful for everything and straight up a shitty horrible person. I said and did so many things that must have hurt her more than I can think off. And then at the end I blamed all the shit on her and why nothing was working in my life. All the time after, I was convinced it was her who ruined everything and why we fell apart, and didn't miss her a bit.

But after that I went through so much shit that made me realize so much things and made me a whole different person.( well I wouldn’t wish it anyone, but for me everything was deserved tbh) Half a year later I was startina to rearet everthing and tried to reach out again. Surprise, ofc I fucked up again, this time not with my cruel behavior, but just idk, I was scared I guess.

Now I suddenly found one of our old chats again. I deleted everything but seems like I forgot this one. And it hurts so fcking bad. I was so ungrateful for everything, and said the most horrible things ever.

The whole last year made me change so so so much, and I can't believe what a shitty person I was back then. I just wish our friendship back, the way we would text until late at night, or how we would go on walks with her dog and then stay at her place and cuddle up while watching Ghibli movies. although I know everything was my fault.

Not in a hundred lifetimes I could make up for everything I did and said, and that's what haunts me so bad. The most I can do for her is to never contact her again, and just idk. But I hate this old self, and I just can't live with the fact that I hurt her so so fucking bad, and probably lots of other people that time too, just because I couldn't appreciate anything, and wasn’t satisfied with myself.

I was clean for months but yesterday I sh myself again, and all the feeling and thoughts I thought left behind me r coming back . It's just, if I wouldn't be here it would be so much better for her and all the people I hurt.

And I don't deserve everything and the remaining people I have rn anyways. I feel like the only way I could make up for all the stuff I did and said is to make sure I'll never do it again, by just disappearing from this world.

I know I would never ever do what l've done back then now, since I know so much more, and I won't hurt anyone in any way ever.

But just the thought of what l've done, and idk but for some reason I could do it again, it makes me despise myself. I don't deserve the people I have rn, and the new friends I made. I don't deserve anything rn. I wish I could think otherwise, but my mind is telling me that the only way to make up and protect the people around me, is to go. Because who says the ungrateful cruel person isn't still somewhere? What if someday I do smth shitty again and hurt too many people?

I‘m falling apart, and idk how to handle anything. And besides all that I’m feeling not rlly good right now generally, and with this weight added now I’m falling apart. I feel like crying 24/7, idk and my mind is just being too loud.

And the most egoistic thing is, all I want is someone to hold me and tell me everything's okay. Also when I know it's not. Also when it's me who hurt eveyone.

[gublersg1rl]

There's no shame in being a sex worker if that's what someone wants to be

Cw: fanfic talk at the end (my problem with sw in fanfic), rape, human trafficking, slight talk of pedophilia, and personal experiences.

We shouldn’t encourage people to be sex workers, sex work is usually a last resort and not a choice. The sex work industry is full of human trafficking, sexual assault, rape, and even kidnapping. I’m not shaming sex workers for their job, but I do not think sex work should exist for the safety of women. I’ve literally met a girl who got kidnapped and forced into sex work.

For online sex work jobs of course I don’t shame women who chose to do these jobs but I do acknowledge that they’re incredibly harmful. Porn can make men see women as objects which is so harmful because once there is that disconnect, it allows men to have gruesome thoughts about women as well as act on them. It’s also why if you take 10 seconds to look through any Instagram reel you will see disgustingly sexual comments even on reels of children. When I was 17 I used to go on tiktok live a lot, every time I went on I got sexually harassed. I have countless dms of men asking to cum on my face, to wait until they have their tissue, to hold still they’re almost done, to count down for them, etc etc time and time again. I told them I was not 18. It made me feel like shit. After I would cry in my bed and reread the messages and think of the comments. I soon stopped going live but to say that’s not the impact of porn and online sex work making men feel as if women owe them sex would just be a little insane to me.

Sex work belittles women down to their bodies. Their sexuality is no longer their own but men’s. Of course I support sex workers but I do not support sex work. If you don’t support child labor does that mean you hate the children forced into it?? No obviously not that’s crazy.

My problem with people writing sex work in fanfic is because *most* of the time they make the sex worker this promiscuous, bold, bombshell character who pursues the other character. Which is just so insensitive to the thousands of women who get traumatized every single day because of this job. You’re romanticizing this job that is a last resort to so many women. At least this is what I see in the Spencer Reid fanfic community.

[requiemism]

maybe its just because jinx is bpd (or, at least, HEAVILY coded as such) and i have a mood disorder but i truly cannot help but be bewildered by the lack of understanding and empathy towards her character both in the show and in the fandom. shes essentially a broken, manipulated, desperate child- even if shes "grown" now, shes so severely traumatized i sincerely doubt her brain developed properly and she certainly didnt and doesnt have the help required to become a well adjusted stable individual. i dont say this to take away her agency or infantilize her- her actions ARE her choice, and she DOES understand what she is doing. however, despite this, a majority of what shes done has NEVER been in a moment of rational thinking. she only did what she did as powder due to desperation; she threw the bag in the water because she was cornered, she accidentally caused the deaths she did because she didnt understand the tech she had and she was desperate to save her family. everything she does after as jinx is largely due to silcos manipulation, being severely disordered, traumatized, and abandoned, and literally every single person in her life telling her all shes good for is destruction and causing pain. she spends almost her ENTIRE life being told by EVERYONE but the person actively manipulating her that she is incompetent, annoying, destructive and batshit. OBVIOUSLY SHES NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL. OBVIOUSLY SHES GOING TO LOSE IT WHEN THE O N E PERSON SHE HAS LEFT FUCKING DIES BECAUSE SHE ACCIDENTALLY SHOT HIM DURING A PTSD DRIVEN BREAKDOWN CAUSED BY HER GODDAMN SISTER. O B V I O U S L Y SHES GOING TO DO SOMETHING RASH AND IMPULSIVE IN HER MANIC, BROKEN STATE. because now, she has nothing left. she has nothing to lose. shes a jinx, and she ruins everything that she touches, and maybe, just maybe, she can use that to honor her fathers lifelong goal. obviously this goes horribly and backfires on everyone, putting a target on the entire undercitys back, but she ABSOLUTELY wasnt thinking about that when she bombed the goddamn capitol mid breakdown. in season 2, after making this impulsive (and frankly idiotic but thats neither here nor there) decision she lays low, avoiding causing any damage unless necessary (although it IS overkill whenever she does harm people, thats what shes been taught is normal. she literally grew up in the undercity where people are murdered and mugged on a daily basis.) and using every opportunity to scourge her own existence. she VERY clearly hates herself for what shes done, and she certainly doesnt seem to be proud of any of it. i think this is best displayed in the discussion she has with isha when they first meet. when vi and the enforcer squad come after her, shes literally minding her business, making a GIFT for the woman who has repeatedly hurt her because "it was something (she) could fix." she cant even shoot vi when shes actively gassing her, literally CRYING at the thought. the only reason she actively begins attempting to kill her and caitlyn is because THEY'RE DOING THE SAME DAMN THING, and once again she very clearly cant bring herself to do so to vi. even in s1, during the tea party scene, its pretty evident that she doesnt intend to kill vi in my opinion? to make matters worse, when vi tries to kill HER, she practically BEGS her to do it.

i understand that jinx is objectively NOT a good person!!! she has literally killed tens of maybe hundreds of people and yes, she did kill caitlyns mom (although very honestly i could care less about that ngl caitlyn is absolutely a good character but i dont like her as a person for reasons largely unrelated to jinx 😓). she literally builds bombs and guns and whatever the fuck for fun. she enjoys watching people be beaten and killed. but i think the absolute lack of any empathy or understanding towards her a lot of people exhibit is a little ridiculous and it infuriates me to no end 😭 thank you for coming to my autistic ted talk!!!!

[paverics]

I went and found every single (I think) wlw movie or tv show listed on tubi. there are….lots, and probably still some that I missed. so join me as I list them

eva + candela, twin flame, blood beach betrayal, killer body count, lowlifes, three, kiss me, walk with me, adan, lip service, I can’t think straight, girl trash all night long, the affair, the sweetest kiss, my days of mercy, my first girl crush, good kisser, a song of a girl, flunk, anatomy of a love seen, my new girl crush, concerto for abigail, who am I now?, snapshots, stuff, a place we go to, her side of the bed, t11 incomplete, lockdown lovers, nina, claire of the moon, my last girl crush, looking for her, my normal, a flower box for rosie, girls like magic, me myself and her, august at twenty two, writing kim, the feels, the light touch, all about e, girl place, ellie and abbie and ellie's dead aunt, cry folx, wynonna earp vengence, but I’m a cheerleader, liberty’s secret, castaways, the miseducation of cameron post, sister my sister, you me her, professor Marston and the wonder women, clementine, boy meets girl, the secrets, princess cyd, the chambermaid Lynn, Christmas with love, waiting amber, the truth about Jane, moonlit winter, dawn her dad and the tractor, the last conception, losing chase, turned out, x, twisted marriage therapist, love augmented, trifecta, alliance, wish, the adored, the white book, orange blossoms, more than friends, the guest house, an unexpected love, palitan, you will be mine, between us, elena undone, a perfect ending, the girl king, seeking dolly parton, carmilla, seventeen, liz in september, the space between words,

for the record, most of these….are really bad. some of them are even downright fucking horrendous. but there’s lots of them. and they’re free. i said it before and i’ll say it again, tubi has the biggest range of wlw options i’ve ever seen. so in no particular order here are the ones I have seen and personally recommend:

dating amber: the ultimate mlm and wlw solidarity movie. gay irish teams beard each other. it’s a coming of age self discovery style movie

the truth about jane: very classic wlw movie. this probably saved lives and I mean that in the most genuine “representation matters” kind of way

boy meets girl: bisexual love triangle movies piss me off because usually there’s a clear choice, like one is an obvious piece of shit and the other is an angel but they still make ~the choice~ a big deal. — this one isn’t like that. I genuinely like all 3 of them, which is nice. the wlw part doesn’t really go anywhere on either side because they both end with men, but it’s a nice movie regardless

clementine: plot is bad. script is bad. sydney sweeney kisses a woman. 10/10

professor marston and the wonder women: guy who made wonder woman was a little freak and his two female partners continued living together and raising their kids after his death allegedly as partners but some have since come out and denied that they were in an intimate relationship

the miseducation of cameron post: gay conversion therapy but you can’t stop gay thoughts. good but depressing as hell

castaways: if you can ignore the vocal fry and the fact that this kind of has 2 separate movie plots jammed into one for some reason (apocalypse vs stranded on a desert island) then it’s actually pretty enjoyable. the first 50 minutes or so is sweet and romantic but then a man rocks up and quite literally ruins the safety, tranquility and most importantly the vibes

liberty’s secret: I’ll give you $5 if you can guess what secret liberty is keeping. full disclosure, this movie is a musical. I didn’t realise this when I first saw it and it took me longer than you’d think before I clocked it. after the third musical number, I got suspicious, and then I nearly pissed my pants laughing. preacher’s daughter goes on a political tour for republican party but the republican pr manager is a lesbian democrat. is it good? no. I only put in this section because of how much I enjoyed myself laughing at it being musical

but I’m a cheerleader: i don’t need to say anything. absolute classic. 10/10 no notes

wynonna earp vengence: i actually haven’t seen this and I stopped watching when xavier left. that’s right, baby. I wanted the straights only. I loved them and it hurt when my boy left. it’s probably ok though. I don’t know. people like it

all about e: it’s silly. it’s harmless. it’s kinda funny. there are bad movies in that list above and yes this is one of them, but it could have been worse

looking for her: it’s a christmas movie. gag, I know. this one isn’t that bad though. if my memory is right, it’s a fake dating christmas lesbian movie that ends happily. it’s fine

who am I now?: if good luck babe were a movie, I guess. almost drove me insane because the actors look familiar in ways I can’t explain but their imbd page is empty. anyway, whatever. sometimes you don’t know who you are and that’s fine but then by the time you figure it out, it’s too late. that’s fine too. life is a journey

girl trash all night long: this is the second musical on the list but shut up. I will physically fight any person with a bad thing to say about this. there’s a weirdly high number of actors who were also in the l word, for some reason? I don’t know why. anyway mandy Musgrave and Gabrielle christian were in the fucking trenches for lesbians and bisexuals before your faves ever were, before you were born, they were throwing bricks at stonewall babe. if you head south of nowhere then you arrive at thank you very much for your service ladies. I will put respect on your names even if nobody else does

I can’t think straight: another classic. I haven’t seen it for a long time but I remember it being more political than I originally remembered, but I was basically a kid when I watched it for the first time. most of the women in this movie are awful, whereas the men are wonderful, which is an unexpected turn.

lip service: once upon a time, the british tried to make our own version of the l word. it was somehow even worse. I’m only putting it on this list because I remember being 14 and sneaking it on the tv late at night when my parents were out. it only lasted 12 episodes in total before they binned it

kiss me: technically it’s not incest but if you have to start a sentence like that then it’s not going great. they’re adults. their parents are about to get married. they fall in love. I don’t know why one couldn’t have been like….a cousin’s neighbour instead

lowlifes: “i’d rather eat pussy than people,” says the girl who does both. is this movie good? no but also yes. it has my favourite line out of any movie ever and the whole coming out scene dialogue is just so great. does someone die? don’t ask me that again. it’s fun, it’s violent, it’s camp, it’s twisty and the acting is better than you’d expect it to be

If tubi has a million fans, I am one of them

If tubi has no fans, I am dead

If the world is against tubi, I am against the world

[pinklavenderdoll]

[spearxwind]

Happy 10th birthday to Cercerion!

OUGHHH UR RIGHT CERCIE IS 10 YEARS OLD NOW !!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOY BELOVEDEST DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HIS WHOLE LIFE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!