#please game i spend HOURS every fucking day on you make me feel like i'm at least making progress PLEASE

[thingswhatareawesome]

at least i got blade to 80/80

[joecoolburrow]

Seduction Playbook

Joe Burrow x wife!reader

Joe is spending so much time on his film study, he's neglecting his horny wife (you). So you come up with a play of your own.

SMUT! Warnings: a tiny bit of angst, use of the word slut (affectionate), unprotected sex, p-i-v, and explicit sexual content. 18+ only MDNI

My masterlist

Half-asleep, you subconsciously reached over to Joe's side of the bed. Announce bubbled in you as you were met with only bed sheets. With one eye open, you peeked at the clock and saw it was 2:20 AM. Why the fuck wasn't your husband in bed yet?!

You decided to make him answer that question. Throwing on a bath robe and slippers, you begrudgingly got out of your warm sanctuary and stomped off in frustration.

Down the hall, a blue light emanated out of Joe’s office. You could hear muffled commentary from ESPN hosts as you marched toward the room.

Joe was sitting crisscross applesauce despite being in an ergonomic chair. He was hunched over a notebook, scribbling fervently, only glancing up at the screen every few moments. He didn’t notice you in the doorway.

“Ah hem” you cleared your throat, hoping to get his attention.

Nothing.

Hands on your hips and jaw clenched you called out to Joe, “I guess I’m sleeping alone tonight.”

He finally looked at you, but instead of an explanation or an apology, a little nod was the only acknowledgment you got.

“JOE!”

"I couldn’t sleep. I’m getting some important work done.” He spoke without looking up from his notebook.

“The tape will still be here in the morning.”

Joe ignored your words.

You were getting mad. It wasn't just tonight, Joe had been spending every evening and increasingly long hours of the night studying film. The season’s tough loses weighing heavily on him, as a leader of the team he felt responsible for finding a way to win. You love Joe’s work ethic and competitive drive, but lately it had consumed him. This wasn't healthy for him or your relationship.

You approached Joe. His eyes were puffy and his button lip was chapped like he’d been stress biting it again. But in his eyes were the same determined hunger you knew so well.

"Joe,” your voice softened as you knelt beside him, trying to be sympathetic to his pain.

He met your gaze but said nothing.

“I’m worried about you, babe. You know how important sleep is. Please come to bed.”

“I don’t feel tired.” Joe shrugged.

“You’ve been up since 6 AM, had a workout, practice all day, and you’ve been studying for at least 5 hours. You have to be tired.”

Joe wasn’t in the mood for reason. “I’m just not.”

You were unconvinced and Joe knew it. But, he didn't have a good argument, so he stayed quiet.

“I feel like I barely see you.” You pouted.

The whine in your voice was a little exaggerated, but the statement was true. You and Joe weren’t getting much quality and you missed your husband.

Joe gave you a half-hearted smile.

“I know, darling. I’ll make it up to you during the off season.”

Now you were exasperated. You dropped your head in your hands, tired physically and tired of this conversation.

“Joe-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Are you hungry? I can order us some delivery. That pizza place we tried a few weeks ago stays open late. We can have a little pizza date right here.”

He was trying. But holy fuck that was the least romantic thing he’d ever suggested. You looked at him, unsure if you were going to laugh or roll your eyes.

"A pizza date in your office? At 3 AM? Watching the Ravens and Bears game from 3 weeks ago?” You hoped when Joe heard it he'd understand why it was ridiculous.

“Ok, why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll be there in a couple hours?”

"A couple hours?!" You repeated.

Joe gestured at the screen and then to his notes. “I'm making progress! I have to keep going."

“You have to rest!”

“Y/n,” Joe’s voice was stern. “This is my job. You’ve always known how much it means to me. I told you there would be tough times when I had to focus more on the game than anything else. You said it’s one of the things you love about me.”

This time you stayed quiet. It was true. But it didn’t make this any easier.

Joe saw your pain. He took your hand and kissed it. You missed his touch, his affection.

“I love you. I'm sorry we haven't had a lot of time together lately. I’m going to finish soon and then I’ll come bed. I promise.” He said earnestly.

Too tired to keep arguing and seeing how it was only causing Joe more stress, you relented.

“Ok. I’ll be waiting for you in bed.”

Jos pulled you in for a kiss. It was supposed to be a chaste, goodbye kiss. But, you drew him in. Your lips were intoxicating. You swirled your finger over the short hairs on the back of his neck, sending chills down his spine. It was a silent plea for him to follow you.

While he still had an ounce of strength in him to resist, Joe pulled away.

You made your way out of the office, turning once to look back at Joe. He was already engrossed in his film study.

Your bed felt so big and so cold without him to share it with. Despite feeling tired, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Soon you accepted that sleep was a lost cause. You considered watching something on TV when you found yourself looking at the dresser. It gave you an idea. You sprang up and opened the bottom drawer, your favorite drawer.

It was where you kept your lingerie. Lace panties, plunging bras with little bows, thigh high stockings, and-one of Joe's personal favorites- a babydoll nightgown that wasn't quite long enough to cover your butt.

You changed into your sexist lingerie and went to the mirror to admire yourself. You felt very sexy. Your pulse was racing. You were getting hot just thinking about the look on Joe's face when you show up in the office this time. To finish the look, you put on a pair of strappy red stilettos that were tall enough to put you and Joe at equal height. You puckered her lips and applied a dark red shade of liquid lipstick.

'Show time!' you thought to yourself as you fixed your hair.

Your heels clapped against the floors as you made your way down the hall. This time Joe knew you were in the doorway though he still didn't look up.

"Give me one more hour." He said, face buried in his notebook.

You smirked. It wasn't going to be more than one minute. You walked in front of Joe's chair, blocking his view of the screen.

Joe looked up slowly, eyes widening as he realized how you were dressed (or undressed). He dropped his pencil.

Finally, you had his attention.

"I thought I could help you study." You said in her most sultry voice.

You sat on the edge of his desk and put one foot on the armrest of his chair to show off your leg.

Joe was struggling to maintain composure. "W-What are you doing?"

"Just waiting for you." You purred.

"I need to finish my film study."

"Go ahead." You folded your hands in your lap in feign innocence. Your arms were pushing her boobs together, making them a little more prominent.

Joe tittered. He looked you up and down, considering his options for a moment. Would he choose his stubborn pride and tell you to go back to bed? Or would he do the right thing and take you to bed?

You licked your lip and looked at him, confident he'd make the right choice.

"Damn it, Y/n."

Joe reached out to touch you. You intercepted his hand before he could and made him caress your cheek. Slowly, you moved his index finger across your bottom lip and slipped it into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around it. Joe no longer looked tired or stressed. The gleam in his eye was unmistakably of amusement.

His other hand journeyed up the your leg, feeling the firmness of your calf, the softness of your stocking, and finally, the smooth warmth of your upper thigh. You let out a little moan at the feeling of his big hand making it's way towards your panties.

You pulled his finger out of your mouth with a pop. You moved his hand down your chest and settled it on your breast.

Meanwhile on your leg, Joe's hand was inches away from your panties. He noticed there was a little shiny spot in the center, making him even more eager to get there.

As desperate as you were for him to get there, you wanted to tease him a bit more. You put your leg down and leaned your body back along the desk.

"I hate being in bed without you, Joe. It's so lonely." You whined. "You can't just leave me there, so needy."

Joe wanted to tease you right back. "I should've known a slut like you couldn't go too long without getting fucked by my big cock."

He got up. Standing over you, burning with desire. You were getting wetter and wetter. He spread your legs and stepped between them.

"I want you so bad, Joe." You gasped. "I need you."

He massaged your inner thighs and pushed up the your babydoll. He left a trail of hot kisses along your pelvis.

"I'll always give you what you need, baby." He whispered as he slid your panties off.

You ran your hands through Joe's velvety curls. He threw your legs over his broad shoulders. His hands snaked underneath you to unclasp your bra, then quickly pulled it off. He ran his hands over your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

"Please Joe." You begged.

One of his fingers swirled around your center, gathering your wet heat. He rubbed you gently, torturously slowly. You squirmed trying to get more friction.

"Mmm, you really are desperate for me."

There was no denying it even if you wanted to. You grabbed at Joe's sweatpants and urged him on. You could see how hard he was.

"I'll take care of that, darling." He said, batting your hand away. He undressed quickly and put his hands back on your sides. He leaned his body over yours. His mouth went for one of your breasts. First grazing his lips over the hardened peak, then giving it a slight tug with his teeth.

"Oh fuck, Joe!" You cried.

He sucked and teased your nipple, while sliding one hand back to your center. One finger entered you. You clenched around him and he pushed in another.

Your head was spinning when Joe suddenly pulled his fingers out and leaned up. You whined in protest, lustful eyes looking up to see him lick your arousal off his fingers.

"I told you, you make me so wet, Joe." You breathed.

"And I left you laying in bed, horny and lonely."

"Aching for you!" You added.

Joe shook his head as his finger danced over your clit.

"Begging for me?" He baited you.

"Yes! Please Joe. God, I need to feel you inside me. I need you to fuck me, please!!!"

He kissed your neck.

"With pleasure." He hummed against your skin.

Joe positioned himself and slowly pushed inside you. You inhaled sharply. He was so big, no matter how many times he fucked you, you still needed to adjust.

Before moving, Joe kissed your lips, deeply, lovingly, giving you time to stretch. Then, his dick retreated and slammed back into you. You yelped in pleasure.

"You like that?" Joe whispered in your ear.

You couldn't answer. You threw your head back in ecstasy as he thrust into you again and again.

Joe held you in place with one hand on your hip. The other used his long fingers to delicately work your clit till you were a writhing mess underneath him.

"You feel so good, baby." Joe praised. "I missed your perfect, tight little pussy."

Joe soon brought you to a trembling, quivering, orgasm.

"That's right, cum all over my cock." He encouraged.

Your back arched off the desk and tears formed in the corners of your eyes. You cried out Joe's name as you came down from your high.

Your pulsating walls took Joe to his delight. He came right after with a throaty moan.

As you each caught your breath, your eyes met.

Joe blushed, he typically got shy after sex. You smiled as your legs melted off his shoulder. You pulled him into a kiss. 

"You were right." Joe admitted. "I needed that."

"So did I."

"I'm sorry for the way I've been. I won't leave you alone in bed anymore. And I'm going to make more time for us to spend together. You're the most important thing to me, not football."

You appreciated the effort. As you wiped a sweaty curl off his forehead you reminded him, "I understand it's really important to you. I know you won't be satisfied until you win."

Joe smiled. "I'm pretty satisfied right now."

You giggled as he pulled you to sit up.

"I'm ready to go to bed now." Joe said.

"Took you long enough."

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

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

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

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

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

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

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can too!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You 

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

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

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

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

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

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

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

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

Next Chapter

[astrasng]

touchstarved txt ౨ৎ

→ summary: every human being needs someones touch.

→ warning: mainly fluff, little cursing.

→ a/n: this is the first post of my valentines week special. so, happy valentines week to everyone ♡ make sure to treat yourself to something delicious and stay hydrated! ♡

here's the masterlist to the event ^^

enjoy!♡

──── ⋆˚࿔ soobin

soobin who doesn't remember the last time someone touched him like this. not because they had to, (because of fitting or anything relatable to his work) but because they wanted to out of love. the feeling of someone's love with a simple touch almost makes him cry out, melting into your touch the first time you hold him. his whole body going slack against yours as he lets himself relax in your arms. he furrows his eyebrows slightly when he feels you swiping your fingers through his hair, only saying a small please continue as he snuggles into your neck more feeling your warm soft touch. "no one ever held me like this before"

──── ⋆˚࿔ yeonjun

when he started his idol career, he didn't think he'd find true love. always focusing on his dreams, on his members and family. love wasn't the first thing on his mind, but when you came into the picture everything changed. he craved for your attention of every hour of the day,texting you constantly to know you are doing fine and happy. somewhere in his mind and heart, it calmed him to know you are safe. when his schedule let him, he spent every time of his with you, always having an arm around you or his hands caressing yours in his palm. yeonjun usually carefully chooses the people he lets in his personal space, and you are one of them. it was rare to see him act so boldly or affectionate in public, but whenever you feel his hands swiping the hair out of your face of fixing something on your dress always makes you blush uncontrollably. you often think he just put an arm around me and my knees are already giving out i'm so pathetic but in all truthness this is your boyfriend's little game. "i just wanted to see you crave my touch as bad as i do with yours."

──── ⋆˚࿔ beomgyu

he spends almost every free time of his hovering around you. not stalker like, but rather like a curious friend. because he is your friend, and it nearly kills him. he wants you to notice him, to give him a fucking chance, and when you do he basically disappears for days. showing up with a smile days after,saying that he was preparing for your first date and when you see what he has been doing you feel guilt building up on you for not dating him sooner. beomgyu craves your love and touch like its a drug, finding every excuse to touch you. either pulling out a chair for you and touch the base of your back slightly to secure you sit down safely, or teasingly pulling on your hair whenever he has the chance. if he's really down bad for you, he even pulls your hand into his lap and examines your lifeline. "this definately says I'll be in your life for forever"

──── ⋆˚࿔ taehyun

taehyun mostly looks forward to nights.he knows you are home waiting for him, already done with work and busying yourself until he's done at the company. his heart beats the closer he gets to his apartment, because he already knows what is going to go down. he practically feels your hug already, your arms wrapped around him to pull him further into your shared home. he loves cuddling with you on the couch or on your bed, his face smushed against your chest to slowly lulling him into a deep sleep. his heart gives up mid-day when he suddenly remembers how you feel in his arms, wanting nothing more but to go home sooner and be with you. it's like his body psysically craves for you, melting into you the minute his body hits the bed yet again after a long day. there are nights when you have to wait for him so long that you eventually fall asleep, but taehyun always wraps his arms around you to feel like he's home again. "I'm home baby" he then murmurs like you can hear him in your sleep.

──── ⋆˚࿔ hueningkai

kai,someone who always puts his focus on his work suddenly gets annoyed when his balance is wavered. to the point he can't even go to practice without thinking of you, your face suddenly appearing in his mind in the middle of rehearsals. touchstarved kai, who thinks he can get you out of his mind if he works out enough, but this isn't the case. because the minute he sees you again he has to have your hands on him, missing your touch and the way you melt into his body when hugging him. he's just so madly in love. "i needed to remember how your hug feels like" says in a whisper as you basically feel him crush your bones.

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[pdflayn]

Ride Me (954)

Max Verstappen x Reader !

Wherein: It's reader’s day off and a non-race week for Max. Max spends his day streaming and playing with his friends and reader spends her time waiting patiently for Max. But he was taking too long. Warnings: thigh riding bcs thick thighs save lives especially if it's max verstappen’s. praise kink. not sure if there's more.

It was a long day— it's been 2 hours since Max has been streaming with his friends, playing on the simulator non-stop, barely giving you attention. Yes, it's been a long day. You've been bored since the moment you woke up because it was your day off, you had nothing to do and nothing to make you occupied even if Max is there. You've been contemplating on disturbing him but you couldn't do it, the least you've been doing is giving him snacks like a toddler busy playing and all he ever says is ‘thank you’ not even giving you a kiss. You ruffled your hair in frustration and just decided to watch a movie instead, hoping it can cure your boredom. But you were doomed, every scene just kept reminding you of him. You were beyond needy, you're craving for his touch. You've been neglected half of the day and you’ve had enough.

You marched your way to Max’s streaming room, taking a peak and seeing him focused on his game, hearing a few curses from time to time. You even contemplated if you're really going to get inside and get what you want or let him enjoy his time with his friends for a while. But you shaked those thoughts and took a step inside. Max was wearing headphones so he didn't really notice that someone came in until he saw the chat going crazy with comments saying that you were inside the room, you even saw comments where they say you look so pretty which made you blush and smile as you went closer to Max’s gaming chair.

“Hi baby, you okay?” he asked, still focused on his game. You sneak your arms on his neck and place a kiss on his cheek before nodding. He continued on playing and you kept giving him small kisses on his face. You saw the chat going crazy with what you're doing and of course, Max sees them as well. You know how possessive Max can be when it comes to you. “Stop,” he whispers quietly enough so it can't be heard in the stream as he places a hand to block his mic but loud enough for you to hear. You only responded with a chuckle.

“Turn off your camera if you don't want them to see me,” you paused for a bit as you traced a finger on the compression shirt that he was wearing. “if you don't want them to see what we're going to do.” You finished your sentence as you placed another kiss on his cheek. He panicked and immediately turned off his stream when you straddled his lap. “Damn it, woman. Congratulations, you'll be on the headlines soon enough.” Max smirks as he finally gives in. You see, that's the thing, he would always give you what you want. You don't even need to beg for it, but there are times he makes you beg of course. And this is one of those times.

“If you wanted me to fuck you so bad, you could've just told me. No need to put on a show, baby.” He says as he holds your hips, guiding you to grind on his half-hard cock. You bit your lip as you felt a shiver down your spine. The friction between the clothed parts of yours and Max just made you even more needy to his touch. Max places one hand on your nape as he forced you closer, crashing his lips to yours, kissing you feverishly. Your tongues fought for dominance but Max would always win, he is achampion after all. “Max, I need you.. Please.” You whimper in between kisses, making Max smirk. “My baby is so needy. I'm sorry for not giving you and your pretty pussy enough attention today.”

You only hummed as a response, still moving your hips on his now hard cock. You can feel him under his sweatpants, pretty sure soon enough he can feel how wet you are as well. “God, you're so wet already.” Max whispers as he sneaked a hand inside your shorts. You can feel his fingers flipping through your wet folds. His then snaps the waistband of your shorts, asking permission to remove them along with your panties. He slowly took them of, rubbing your thighs from time to time. Teasing the shit out of you.

He placed a kiss on your ear. “Ride my thighs, baby. Make a mess like you always do.” You moaned at his request. Oh how you love to ride those thick thighs of his. It was your favorite thing to do to past time even before.

You fixed your position on his thigh. You naked cunt starting to soak his pants as you start to move your hips back and forth. You moaned as Max held your hips to go faster. “Feeling good baby? You're already so messed up, I haven't even started yet.” You gripped on his shoulder for support as you felt something build up in your stomach. You were reaching your high, your thighs starting to quiver as you clench on nothing. “You're so pretty, baby. You look so perfect.” He says as he kisses you. “Come on baby, let go. Cum on my thighs. Make a fucking mess.”

“Max.. Fuck.. Please..” You tried to form words but most were inaudible as you reached your high just by riding his thigh. “Ah fuck!” you screamed as you felt a wave of pleasure flowing through you. Max showers you with wet and sloppy kisses on your neck as he helps you ride your climax.

“Let's hope my PR team won't be as furious as they were with the car sex extravaganza from before.”

[nameless-jamie]

hi babes! i’m obsessed with jamie x pa reader oh my god its amazing! 🩵 would love to read jamie sabotaging pa’s dates like, everytime she says shes going out with someone he comes up with something urgent for her to do just to spend time with her and also him being jealous of them lolll💕 feel free to change anything and thank you🫶🏼

Not on Accident

FINALLY THE CLIMAX

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, kissing

A/N: I hope you like it and thank you for the request, It was such a good idea that I made it into the climax of their tension-filled relationship.

Y/N had been Jamie Tartt’s personal assistant long enough to recognize when he was full of shit.

And right now? He was positively overflowing with it.

The week went by as normal as it gets with Jamie, Y/N was coordinating his schedule, making sure he showed up to sponsorship meetings, and handling his existential crises when he decided his hair wasn’t quite right before the game.

It was Saturday and usually Saturday nights Y/N had her day off. Her Saturday night plans had been set for over a week. She had even mentioned them to Jamie in passing while reviewing his schedule, barely expecting him to register the information. But, to her surprise, he had—oh, he absolutely had.

"—and Friday you have to do this little interview with our new sponsor..."

"Yeah, will do that, love. What are ya up to this weekend?"

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Chilling, cooking and cleaning...oh and Saturday night I actually have a date with this guy."

"Huh. Hmmm...well have fun then."

At the time, he had simply hummed with a short response, not saying much further. She had chalked it up to him not caring. Why would he care? He was Jamie Tartt. He had models in his DMs and a different woman on his arm at every event.

Meanwhile, Y/N was just his PA. Why would she care? Pfff no, she doesn't. They only kissed like once, on accident, and flirted all the time. Oh, and kissed that one time when they pretended to be a couple, also they've slept in one bed...Fuck, ok maybe she does care.

Anyway, she had gone about her week, fully expecting to follow through with her plans. A date. It wasn’t anything serious, just dinner with a guy she had met through a mutual friend. Ryan was nice enough—handsome in a conventional way, good job, well-dressed, not arrogant, and also a little boring.

Most importantly, though, he was not Jamie Tartt.

Because Jamie Tartt was not an option. Jamie Tartt, who made her heart miss a beat every time he touched her or called her love... Jamie Tartt who was also her cocky slightly arrogant boss, was not an option!

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

But then—just as she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, slipping into a dress that made her feel genuinely attractive for once, and fastening the delicate clasp of her necklace—her phone rang.

She sighed at the sight of Jamie’s name flashing on the screen.

Of course.

Jamie did not respect business hours, nor did he care that it was a Saturday night. Jamie Tartt needed 24/7 care.

Still, she answered. She always did.

“Jamie, if this is about your dry cleaning again, I swear to—”

“Nah, nah, it’s an emergency,” he cut in, his voice decidedly not panicked for someone claiming to have an emergency.

That alone made her suspicious.

She narrowed her eyes. “An emergency, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

"On the day I told you I'm going out—with a man..."

Silence again.

She blinked. “Are you going to elaborate or should I hang up?”

Jamie exhaled sharply. “I’d rather not do it over the phone. Can you come over?”

Y/N checked the time. “Jamie, I told you I have plans.”

A beat of silence. Then—“Yeah, I know. Cancel ‘em. Please, it's urgent. Really.”

She scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t serious, Y/N.”

She hesitated, gnawing on her lip. Jamie was dramatic, but he wasn’t outright cruel. He used her first name too, instead of babe or love, might really be urgent... If he was truly in trouble if something was really wrong—what kind of assistant would she be if she ignored him?

A terrible one, that’s what.

And Ryan probably wouldn't mind rescheduling. He is too nice to mind.

With a sigh, she grabbed her bag. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

She just had to make one awkward phone call with Ryan now...

"Y/N, hi!"

"Hi Ryan, look I have to tell you something..."

"You have to cancel, don't you?"

"Ugh...yeah, actually yes. I'm so sorry Ryan, it's a work thing."

"That's okay, you work for Jamie Tartt, right? Uhm....Do you maybe like think you could get me an autograph, I'm a fan of him and all that."

Ok, that kinda gave Y/N the ick...She couldn't even explain why.

"Huh, yeah I'll ask him. Let's see when we both find the time to meet up again. See ya!"

Jamie had been pacing his living room when he heard the knock.

He swung the door open, the words “took you long enough” ready on his tongue—only to forget how to speak entirely when he saw her.

Fuck. That fucking dress. She was gonna wear that...FOR HER DATE?!

He had expected her to look nice—she always looked nice—but this? This was different.

She was stunning.

Hair done, lips glossy, dress distractingly well-fitted. Black and short.

His stomach twisted. Why the fuck was she trying to look this good for him? Was is something serious?

Y/N gave him a pointed look arms crossed in front of her chest making her boobs more prominent. “Well? What’s the emergency?”

Jamie blinked, very much struggling to remember his own bullshit excuse.

Shit.

“Uh…”

She uncrossed her arms, waiting. “Jamie Tartt.”

“Right. The emergency.” He cleared his throat, stepping aside so she could come in. “Yeah, so—uh—I think my… thermostat’s broken?”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Are you fucking serious? Do I look like a fucking handyman? You are unbelievable.”

Jamie winced. “Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds—”

“No, Jamie. There is no way you just made me cancel my date because you’re too lazy to Google ‘how to adjust thermostat settings. I'm not your fucking butler.”

Jamie had the decency to at least look guilty.

“I just—I dunno, it’s like, well cold in ‘ere, and I thought—”

“Oh my god.” She turned on her heel. “I’m leaving.”

“Oi, wait—”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” She marched toward the door. “I cannot believe I fell for that again—”

His hand wrapped gently around her wrist before she could reach the doorknob. “C’mon, just—stay for a bit, yeah? You already canceled, might as well help me now.”

She should have walked away. She should have told him to call an actual handyman and gone on her boring date, with average Ryan.

But Jamie was looking at her like she was the only person in the world.

Like maybe—just maybe—he had needed her here tonight.

And that was so fucking unfair.

She sighed. “You’re an absolute idiot. I really fucking hate you.”

His lips quirked up. “An absolute fit idiot, though.”

She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched in betrayal.

Yup, Jamie took that as a win.

A bottle of wine later, Y/N was curled up on Jamie’s small couch, the thermostat now warming up the place (it was fucking off, not broken). Y/n had her heels kicked off, her dress still clinging to her in all the right places, riding up her thighs slightly.

And Jamie had not stopped staring at her all night.

She caught him looking more than once, but instead of calling him out, she simply lifted a brow. “Something on my face, Tartt?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Nah. Just thinkin’.”

“About?”

His gaze flickered over her, lingering. “What a shit date you missed out on. Lucky girl.”

Y/N huffed a laugh. “You arrogant prick! You don’t even know him.”

“Don’t need to.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on her. “Bet he wouldn’t ‘ave made you laugh like I do.”

Her breath hitched.

Jamie noticed.

She scoffed, attempting to regain control. “Bit full of yourself, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “You love it, Y/N.”

Her first name again. She refused to answer.

Instead, she looked down at her glass, swirling the remaining wine before saying—so quietly he barely heard—

“I didn’t think I could have you.”

Jamie’s heart stopped.

For a moment, he wondered if he had imagined it.

He sat up straighter. “What?”

Y/N exhaled, staring at the rim of her glass. “You never seemed like the type to—” She paused. “I just figured you didn’t see me that way. I mean I'm your assistant and—”

Jamie wanted to laugh.

Not at her—but at the sheer fucking absurdity of her words.

Instead, he reached out, his fingers tilting her chin up just enough to make her look at him.

“Babe.” His voice was soft. Rough around the edges. Honest. “I ‘aven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since the day you started workin’ for me. Fuck we've kissed twice already and I've taken both of those kisses seriously. No accidents. I've wanted you since day one.”

She swallowed hard.

Jamie’s gaze flickered to her lips. “Say the word, and I’ll prove it.”

A pause.

Then—

“Prove it.”

And just like that, Jamie Tartt closed the space between them, kissing her like he had been waiting his whole fucking life for this moment.

Y/N melted against him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer because fuck, this was inevitable, wasn’t it?

Jamie pulled back just enough to smirk against her lips. “Told you that date of yours would’ve been shit.”

Y/N laughed, shoving his shoulder.

"By the way my 'date' asked for your autograph when I stood him up..."

Jamie smirked and caught her wrist—like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

"I'll just send you back to him with my marks all over your neck. Better than a dumb autograph, yeah baby? Bit more of a personal message from Jamie Tartt."

And for once, Y/N let herself go, she grabbed him by his neck and they fell back on the couch, their mouths never letting go of one another...this time not on accident.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Issa Party

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Requested by: my boo @hoodharlow 💕

Liked by jackharlow, druski2funny, urbanwyatt, normani, saweetie, taylorrooks, claybornharlow, and 2,372,947 others

y/ninsta: hi :)

saweetie: long time, no see. where you been at bitch?! jessicakelce: I second that because your ass just disappeared off the face of the earth traviskelce: jess? you literally saw her less than twenty four hours ago jessicakelce: well it feels like longer! urbanwyatt: she got them apple bottom jeans! quiiso: boots with the fur! yungskylark: the whole club was looking at herrrrr! y/ninsta: I've been around lol normani: jackharlow didn't get you pregnant again yet? jackharlow: normani working on it y/ninsta: normani I think absolutely the fuck NOT blancahood: oohh yellow is your color mamas 😍 saweetie: snapback game goes CRAZY theestallion: triplets WHERE?! jackandy/naremyparents: the queen has graced us with her presence urbandjack25: I could just eat her UP jackharlow: urbandjack25 YOU GET ME y/ninsta: lmaooooo 😭

Liked by jackharlow, blancahood, brandisimmons, yungskylark, traviskelce, saweetie, and 3,180,771 others

y/ninsta: now I know yall have heard about magic city, but what about latto city?

jackharlow: sooo you giving out lap dances or nah? y/ninsta: jackharlow for you and only you. got something real special too 😜 dualipa: y/ninsta what about me? pretty please with a cherry on top? jackandy/nupdates: oh lord here we go jackharlow: dualipa you are literally the pest that doesn't go away and y/ninsta does it involve clothes?

y/ninsta: jackharlow of course it doesn't, don't ask silly questions!

saweetie: lemme get a couple of stacks to throw at you sza: me too, I support this vision druski2funny: latto city sound like you have a fish fry going on in the back for customers lilnasx: druski2funny your dusty ass would say something like that urbanwyatt: fry mine extra hard please! softtcurse: and don't forget the hot sauce! normani: but we know that's too spicy for jackharlow cozane: my man probably thinks ketchup is spicy jackharlow: now why the hell do yall always come for me on this damn app and I can literally never be at peace? dualipa: jackharlow you brought it on yourself y/ninsta: druski2funny I got fish plate dinners, chicken plate dinners, you name it and I probably got it blancahood: I always forget how good she can cook jaysontatum: imma have to slide down there so I can get a plate y/ninsta: jayson! I didn't forget what you did! jaysontatum: I thought all was forgiven?! I gave him back! jackharlow: not them fighting over me like I'm a piece of meat y/ninsta: jackharlow but you so cute bae, I can't help it 😍 claybornharlow: y/ninsta I mean he's okay...... jackharlow: claybornharlow don't you muthafuckin start claybornharlow: jackharlow 😉 jackharlow: y/ninsta I'll make sure to leave enough room for dessert y/ninsta: jackharlow I didn't make any? jackharlow: y/ninsta I know you didn't y/ninsta: jackharlow smush, I don't get it lilnasx: y/ninsta YOU ARE THE DESSERT MA'AM y/ninsta: lilnasx oh that makes sense lol

Liked by jackharlow, saweetie, brandisimmons, urbanwyatt, sza, quiiso, shloob_, and 1,273,997 others

y/ninsta: late night runs and spending time with my favorite person in the entire world is absolutely priceless 🥹💕

Likeeee this man is EVERYTHING to me

jackharlow: 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈 y/ninsta: jackharlow stop acting like I don't tell you this every day lmao jackharlow: y/ninsta but I never get tired of hearing it saweetie: here they mushy asses go blancahood: I love yall, but yall make me sick at the same time lmao jessicakelce: blancahood I see no lies lol urbanwyatt: I literally called it when we were younger that they would be married yungskylark: jackharlow would be lowkey drooling while staring at y/ninsta jackharlow: yungskylark I WOULD NOT! quiiso: and spoil the hell out of her and wonder why her ass acts the way she does now lol jackandy/naremyparents: these two make my heart flutter, true love really does exist y/ninsta: jackandy/naremyparents ehhh I tolerate him jackharlow: y/ninsta oh? so you were just tolerating me earlier as I rearranged your guts and had you damn near ready to scream the safe word? do I have that correct? saweetie: OH druski2funny: what's the safe word?!?! theestallion: yall some nasty ass muthafuckas sza: theestallion??? please shut the hell up because I KNOW your ass isn't talking about someone being nasty lmao lilnasx: hold on, where are yall kids?!?! jackharlow: lilnasx they're around here somewhere lmao y/ninsta: jackharlow lmaooo they gave you a run for your money today jackharlow: y/ninsta nah I only got 2 now, autumn belongs to you and only you y/ninsta: she wasn't even that bad! jackharlow: y/ninsta speak for yourself. I don't even drink anymore, but that child had me wanting to take all the shots in the world y/ninsta: 😭😭😭😭

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, dualipa, brandisimmons, generationnow, jackandy/naremyparents, theshaderoom, and 4,183,949 others

y/ninsta: I told Saweetie, "get the balloons, we gone throw her a surprise" 😜

jackharlow: imma need you to bring your ass here NEOW druski2funny: aye! run me my wing stop discount! urbanwyatt: druski2funny bruh... the latto meal is only 20 something dollars lilnasx: druski2funny if you broke just say that smh y/ninsta: druski2funny not you asking me for another discount over top of the one I just gave you and jackharlow BEHAVE jackharlow: y/ninsta how can I behave when my wife looks like this? EXPLAIN y/ninsta: jackharlow lmaoooo you are a hot ass mess claybornharlow: produced by little baby 🥰 y/ninsta: claybornharlow nothing but magic happens when those Harlow's hit the studio jackharlow: y/ninsta I'm just tryna hit your guts, but I get it y/ninsta: JACKMAN, PLEASE quiiso: I swear you cannot take his ass anywhere when it comes to her jackharlow: y/ninsta what? what I say? blancahood: jackharlow and this is why you have three children jackharlow: blancahood I dropped them off at my parent's house so they're their problem maggieharlow: jackharlow and I will make you come and get them normani: oh lord smh jackharlow: maggieharlow next week? lilnasx: lmaoooo not him saying next week y/ninsta: jackharlow what am I going to do with you?! jackharlow: y/ninsta nothing because you're stuck with me 🥰

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, taylorrooks, generationnow, hollywoodunlocked, saweetie, and 2,382,941 others

y/ninsta: the face your husband makes when he had asked you if you wanted Starbucks and you said no, but now twenty minutes later you want some and are trying to steal his lmao he is so sick of me 😭😭

blancahood: he had better given you some of his too otherwise I'm sending panchito jackharlow: blancahood why the fuck are you so got damn violent? of course I shared it with her because SHE GAVE ME NO CHOICE. she was literally perched in my lap until I gave her some. traviskelce: jackharlow happy wife, happy life. just smile and nod and swipe your credit card jessicakelce: traviskelce ooh I taught you well, babe! blancahood: jackharlow me and panchito stay ready for when you step a toe outta line urbanwyatt: lmaoooo and y/ninsta kept eyeing jackharlow's drink until finally she was like 'babe, can I have some?' and jack of course was like 'now didn't I just ask your spoiled ass if you wanted one?' 😭😭 saweetie: urbanwyatt lmaoooo sounds just like them jackharlow: AND SHE DRANK 75% OF IT AND IS GOING TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I'M CRAZY TALKING ABOUT BABY WHY DID YOU DRINK IT ALL FROM ME? sza: and at that point, jackharlow chose violence lmaoooo y/ninsta: jackharlow I love you smushhhhhh jackharlow: y/ninsta you about to buy me another one when we land y/ninsta: jackharlow or you can face fuck me, your choice yungskylark: every day we stray further and further away from our savior smh jackharlow: y/ninsta OH, well don't mind if I do 😏😏😏😏 jessicakelce: just nasty as all hell smh urbanwyatt: pregnancy announcement in 3...2....1.... y/ninsta: URBAN HENRY DON'T YOU DARE WISH THAT UPON ME urbanwyatt: y/ninsta it is literally only a matter of time lmao druski2funny: I give her 24 hours y/ninsta: druski2funny and that's why your ass can't even afford my meal at wing stop smh druski2funny: y/ninsta I got your baby daddy to pay for it 🥰 y/ninsta: druski2funny 🙄🙄🙄

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

[fairvstairs]

HOTD SPOILERS!!!

I often think about the adult foxes life, especially the mundane things they do. Does Nicky watch Heartbreak High? Does Allison love Renee Rapp (and Renee Walker)? Does Kevin read sports romance?

I think about Aaron and Andrew, bonding over Game of Thrones (if you could call arguing about the characters that) and waiting every week for a new episode of House of the Dragon. I think about Neil shit talking the show (he thinks the directors are obsessed with r*pe scenes and can you really blame him?) only for him to stop in his tracks when Andrew is watching it in their living room because damn, they are riding freaking dragons.

("They look alike" "They're uncle and niece" "Oh, they are holding hands so I thought they were a couple" "They are." "What the fuck are you watching!?") (someone please get the reference)

I think about Aaron watching the season 1 finale, feeling sad because of Lucerys but also because he knows he's gonna hardly hear from his brother until season 2 drops. I think about him watching Helaena choose between her twins and knowing that his mother would have saved him. Him watching two twins at the opposite sides of a war fight each other, one killing the other and then himself. Aaron looking at his phone for hours because this time, Andrew didn't text him.

"Andrew would do it," he thinks "he would kill me if I wanted to hurt Neil but then he would punish himself."

And Aaron doesn't like Neil, he is annoying, he brings trouble everywhere he goes and he has a smart mouth. He doesn't like him, period. But he would never try to hurt him. Not when this is the happiest he has seen his brother. Not when he is the reason there was supposed to be a text waiting for him.

"What happened?"

Suddenly Andrew's voice is talking in his ear.

"What?"

"You don't like talking on the phone and yet you called me so, what happened?"

"I called you?"

A beat.

"Are you drunk? Where is Katelyn?"

"What!? No, no I'm not drunk. She is at work- why didn't you text me?"

The words come out before he even has a chance to think.

"The new episode came out, you always text me and now you didn't, why?"

"We are on our way to the airport, we had an away game. I haven't watched it yet. I'll text you when I do."

"Oh, alright then."

And Andrew is a bit confused by this interaction until he actually watches the episode. The dragons are cool, the actors amazing and he recognizes amazing fashion choices when he sees them, but truth is he doesn't really like how the show handles some topics. He is never gonna say it out loud though. He is Andrew, he does what he wants. He's watching the show because he wants to, no one is making him do it.

But, of course, Neil notices. He sees how the blonde doesn't look directly at an assault scene, how he mutes the TV during the little boy's murder because the noises are too real, how he shakes his head at Helaena's (if that's her name) reaction, how he reaches out his hand for Neil to hold, how he spends the rest of the day in silence. Most importantly he notices how, at the end of the day, when they are in bed, in each other's arms, Andrew takes a deep breath and picks up his phone to text his brother. Aaron immediately responds.

This is my first time posting something and English is not my first language so please be kind. I saw the new HOTD episode and I couldn't help but think about the Minyard twins, I had to get this idea out of my head. I think the show would be a little triggering for Andrew but that he would overall enjoy it, I don't think he would pass up an opportunity to "bond" with Aaron but I also don't think he would do anything he doesn't want to do. Anyway, these characters don't belong to me so these are not their canon personalities!

[cosmos-dot-semicolon]

Waiter! One negative review/opinion about Hollow Knight please! :)

(I enjoyed Hollow Knight, but I can't help but begrudge it for the hand in the annoying way soulslike games influenced the culture a while back (I'll never forgive what they did to my beautiful indie gem Tunic >:( ). Also the story (specifically how it was delivered) absolutely sucked. Interested to see if our negative thoughts line up.)

Oh boy. I didn't realise how much rage I've held over this game despite having played it like… 5 years ago? Jesus. This came out much longer and more expletive-ridden than I'd expected. Another Across the Spiderverse-level rant it is...

So people would not like me for this if I was a public figure. But I did not finish Hollow Knight. In fact I barely made it past like, the Mantis Lords? I was gonna check percentages, but I've not got it installed, and I'm not downloading 7GB of a game I won't play given the speed of my current internet connection. So most of this is going to be about my experience with the early game.

My main problem with Hollow Knight is its snail-like pacing. This is immediately obvious from the movement, but extends much further than that throughout the game. My initial impressions of Hollow Knight were 'Why the fuck don't I have a dash' and, 'Why do I walk that slow?', which is never good for a game whose main mechanic is based around movement.

People recommended this if you enjoyed Celeste back in the day, and I cannot fathom why. Celeste is fast-paced, encourages you the moment you find something new, and lets you finetune every movement you make from the very beginning. It's got a lot tighter of a control system, whereas the closest movement system to HK's early game I can think of is literally POPTROPICA. You move in either really floaty arcs or tiny little curves, with it being hard to make small adjustments once you've started something. You walk through long corridors in search of nothing in particular. Your main rewards are piles of secret coins which you can barely spend.

While there's nothing hard enough in early game for your shit movement and poverty to be an issue, there really should be. This isn't a game where you're asked to manage something with a lot of momentum, or something like Braid where your slowness is in service of another game mechanic. You never really have to manage your money -- you'll get enough to buy things later anyways.

The game's just Like That. Nothing's difficult, it's all just designed to have a million long corridors and arbitrary upgrades in your way. Like:

Why are the shop items that expensive.

Why do I have to manually unlock the Tube just to have a basic teleport function?

Why make me trek all the way back to my ghost just to smack it in the face twice for my items before going back to business as usual?

Why is the map marker a badge and not a permanent upgrade.

Why are the lifts so fucking slow.

There is nothing interesting about most of these corridors.

It shouldn't take me hours to find 2 easy bosses that I then beat in 5 minutes.

After the umpteenth time you experience one of these many inconveniences, you can start hearing the devs of this game speaking directly in your mind: 'Ooooooooh, isn't this so mysterioussssss? It's a slow burn experienceeeeee. Aren't you just soaking in the atmosphere of a long destroyed world as a lonely traveller arriving after the fact?? What could happen next…. oooooooh!.' And you really want to sit them down and force them to play Upgrade Complete, just to see if they'll start treating it as something that should go in the fucking Louvre. And you wonder if all the games that do this have developers that genuinely believe this, or if some of the richer ones just do it to get your Steam refund money.

Anyways. Regardless of the devs' intentions, Hollow Knight feels targeted towards a very specific type of gamer: someone with hundreds of hours to invest in trawling through all the corners of a gloomy fantasy world. And because that's not me, all of this just comes off as pretentious: the bad sort of pretentious that doesn't say anything and is just smug. The design assumes you're an idiot who can't handle progressing things at your own speed, and believes it's a genius for withholding basic quality of life features that every other game has adopted for good reason.

And speaking of the art, it's boring as sin. It's handdrawn and has a somewhat monochrome colour palette, and that's all I can really say about it. This shouldn't blow your mind unless your only interaction with the visual arts is mainstream movies and Games Industry videogames. Even in terms of workload on a tiny team, StP did far more with a single artist. The Henry Stickmin Collection is a feature-length movie animated by one fucking guy. Many small games go the handdrawn route and also have a lot of work to do thanks to that.

…well, actually, there is another thing I can say about the aesthetics from a game design perspective. The palette being so uniform is a problem if you're trying to make out an enemy from one of the many similarly coloured and shaped elements of the scenery, and that's bullshit. This isn't unique to Hollow Knight, but it's pretty emblematic of how the game just doesn't really care for any QoL features at all.

This isn't a criticism, but just to swat at a Hornet's nest. Hollow Knight's character designs are way closer to Hazbin Hotel's than most people on this hellsite are willing to admit. Vivziepop's freaky Burton-esque weirdoes may burn my eyes out, but that's better than Hollow Knight's super-serious block-monochrome mask guys and blobs with not a single ounce of joy in their designs.

I think the title music is legitimately moving, if that's anything. I don't remember the rest of the OST.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the story, as someone who's finished and actually cared about it. Not a single one of these characters meant anything to me. Even those like the map guy that were supposed to be charming felt like he had 90's Nintendo level writing at best. I do not give a shit about the kingdom and I do not feel moved by any of its ruins. I think the Radiance is cool.

Anyways yeah Hollow Knight sucks unless you're a very particular type of gamer, in which case it's like crack to you. Which is fair: the human brain loves crack, and this won't destroy your life.

It's like one of those anime that only 'gets good' after 30 hours, but that's literal this time. I'm convinced this only made a splash because people were out of other recent games in this genre and because the average person who likes these types of games only perceives art as the latest $80 video game.

[threadsun]

Ok, Sydney was robbed of a proper corruption ending so I'm here to write him one

We're actually going to keep the part where his original story "ends" You two make it to the prayer room get high and...fuck? weirdly hump each other while you're crazy stupid high? Who's to say, but that happens, ok? But after a while something just doesn't sit right with Sydney. Sure it felt like you two had sex but he's still a virgin, aside from any bruises you two might have left on each other there's no real way to tell if that all really happened or not. Not to mention how fucking sick of the church he's getting

He's been told all his life that people like you are evil sinners who will never reach haven, but those nights spent with you are haven! You are his haven, why should the church's opinion matter to him anymore? He's found salvation between your thighs and he'd rather die before letting go

He tells you his new plan while you two are in the library, just like last time. He tells you he's done with the church, he's going to revoke his vows tonight with you by his side, and after he does you're going to deflower him, properly this time. No tricks, no incense, no prayer room. Just the two of you fucking till dawn

Now, he could just leave the church quietly but he wants it to be a spectacle. He wants to see the shock and horror on those priests faces when he spits out the name of his god. and he does, oh fuck does he ever. With you by his side Sydney calls for a surprise sermon, making sure everyone in the temple is watching as he grabs you by the collar and makes out with you. No more having to keep his lips to your cheek, no more hiding, no more fear!

He tells them all that he won't be coming back to the temple after today, so he might as well leave them with a bang. He pulls a list from his pocket and reads off every sinful act he's seen within the temple with places, dates, and names. He leaves you two's sins for last, letting you tell them all about your nights spent in the prayer room. The last words Sydney speaks to them are used to clear your name, sure you were to one who temped him but if he hadn't wanted sin in the first place neither of you would be here right now

Everyone is too shocked to even stop you two from leaving, the both of you strutting down to Elk street. You both make your way to the porn shop, inside waits a rose petal trail to a blow up mattress. Sydney says it's the best he could do on such short notice, or he tries to any way, it's hard to make out what he's saying with his tongue down your throat. You to have sex that night, real sober sex, and you finally get to deflower him

After that night Sydney's schedule changes quite a bit. Seeing as he doesn't go to church any more he spends his after school hours at the porn shop everyday. Just because he's no longer a man of faith doesn't mean he's any less of a hard worker. He pours his heart and soul into making new and exciting toys for the lovely little sinners of this town, making sure to give them all a little test drive on you, of course

If you're in any sex work he also asks you for new ideas or needs in the market that haven't been met yet. He takes every cretic and suggestion from you seriously, even the ones you meant as a joke (Something something balloon dildo, that anon still haunts my nightmares) but he makes all of them work great!

His favorite toys to test are vibes because to get a good idea of how long their battery life lasts and how good the vibrations are he makes sure to wear them all day, he even measures their orgasms per minute, he's very through. He loves the ones with remote controls the most because then he can give them to you to fiddle with during class

I haven't played too much of the game so if there's any questions I left unanswered feel free to let me know and I'll make an addendum. Also yes, I've been trapped in your walls for sometime now. Let me out, please? I'll give you forehead kisses, and uh...cookies?

👀 OH I LOVE THAT!!! Sydney deserves to make out with you in front of the entire church and then leave for good >:3c And him putting all that work ethic into the store and testing toys and !!!!! it's all so good!!!!

Enticing me with forehead kisses and cookies.... you drive a hard bargain, but okay. You're allowed out of the walls :3c

[kaija-rayne-author]

Dragon Age Veilguard 5.1 in review series

Spoilers for Dragon Age Veilguard

Obligatory disclaimer, if you've read it already you can just skip to the cut.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm on media blackout while I play this, so I'm only getting second-hand info on how awful it is right now in the DA Fandom. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Before playing on day 5. 22 hours in, 20 playtime.

Part 4 here.

I just want to call it now in case they reveal it, but I'm highly suspicious that they're going the oh so predictable route of Illario being the crow traitor. Honestly feels juvenile and pathetic and maybe I'm wrong, but... I don't honestly think I am.

I managed to fix my game last night. (At least, it loaded properly last night.)

The fix for it is apparently to verify your files from whatever game service you're using (assuming you're using one).

I went ahead and switched it from my hdd partition to ssd. That's something that apparently can help, too. We'll see.

But might I point out that it's kinda shitty to release a game that seems to require being run from ssd? Not every computer has them. I'm just lucky I do. Gamers tend to be either wealthy enough to afford decent gaming rigs, or so poor they don't have two cents to rub together. (Like me.) It would be really nice if game devs would remember that.

I'm curious to see how it'll run now. If that fixes the glitches I keep running into.

I'm upset by how the US election seems to be going, and my lungs are hurting a lot today (do not recommend a pulmonary embolism, sheesh) so I'll probably spend a lot of the day on the game today as an escape. At least, if it doesn't piss me off, bore me to death, or make me feel like cleaning the washroom with my tongue would be a better option.

Oh! I found the cheese yesterday. At least they kept that bit of DA tradition.

5.2 section here.

[birdinprogrammingsocks]

You're so fucking cute.

You can spend hours on end in create-a-sim or doing act one of Baldur's Gate for the 50th time without having finished the game even once, sitting right next to me while I do the exact same, on my own save file, and talk to me about all the little things you discover.

You're so fucking cute when you crack the most "inside jokes" I've ever heard. Sometimes you quote a really silly line from a bad movie, sometimes it's song lyrics, sometimes you spontaneously just do it when nothing else has been said in an hour just to break the silence.

You're so fucking cute when you're anxious or angry. Of course it hurts to see you hurt but this is a thing too. You already always wear your emotions on your skin, and to see and feel your body physically react to stress is priceless, almost as priceless as feeling the muscles relax again the moment I lay a hand on your pretty little head.

You're so fucking cute when you hump my leg for like 20 minutes every morning. You're so puppy it hurts my head trying to conceptualize it. To know my puppy boy loves me and trusts me enough to do that makes me feel like I actually matter

You're so fucking cute when you're all sleepy but still horny. When bedtime comes, your eyes start to dart, knowing I might just be in the mood to take you when you fall asleep. Knowing you trusted me enough and wanted me to have sex with you while you're asleep after all you've been through is a level of trust I wouldn't think possible if you didn't expand my mind.

You're so fucking cute when you look at me. Giving me the 'fuck me' eyes while I'm rambling about some game youve never played just because you know it makes me feel loved. Or maybe, just maybe, the beauty you see in me is real.

Wrote this very high, but my beautiful boy, I'm so happy I get to be yours and I want it to keep being that way for as long as you'll have me . Please be my puppy toy spouse one day.

[tobiasdrake]

Gonna crack the secret of the d6 faller!

They're having me do choices again to narrow this down. Kinda feels like cheating to guess at what the item was when I saw it at the crime scene already.

Weird that he'd jump or get pushed while holding a die, then care about the value on the die. Is that the game? Leap from the roof and then if you live, you win the value shown on the die? Or something?

Whatever the reason, the value on the die was supremely important to him. Enough to spend his final moments of consciousness/life validating it.

His words changed because he was reading a different value each time he fell.

The fact that he wasn't reading the side facing up can explain our "Three/Two except circumstances didn't change" conundrum, I think. If he was only reading the surface he could most legibly see from his angle, then something did change.

Fubuki had lifted him up into her arms, rather than leaving him lying on the ground. So when he read "Three", he was probably reading the side facing him. But when he read "Two", he was likely reading the top.

Then "One" happened because landing on top of the taxicab completely changed the rolling of the die.

That makes sense. So maybe we aren't dealing with probabilistic reshuffling after all.

*unyielding fury*

Don't you fucking condescend to Fubuki when she's right, you little shit-rodent. Who even invited you to Team Alarm Clock anyway!? Don't you have some some criminals to fucking TRY AND MARRY!?

THANK YOU. Can we ditch the hormonal clown show? He's not contributing anything of value to this party.

There you go. That's better, now you're keeping up. You keep at it and one day you might be as clever as Fubuki!

That's a valid question. But like I said above, I think the answer lies in the angle the man was at. The nature of a die is such that it will display a different number depending on what angle you're looking at it from.

Y'all, the other option was "Because it was my most luckiest day". You have no idea how much self-restraint it took for me not to select that.

But Desuhiko fucking talked down to me when I was right so I'm not giving him the satisfaction of something he can jump on. He needs to go read a book about respecting women's opinions or something. Matter of fact, that might help him with a lot of things.

I'm so mad.

Thus, angles changed everything! We can continue to trust our rewind powers without fear that we may be triggering some overcomplicated timey-wimey nonsense every time we turn the clock back.

Thank you. You're forgiven for being a prick. Learn from this experience and try to grow as a person. ^_^

The number on the die. He must've... extremely vertically rolled the die on purpose, right? If he cared so much about the value, I mean.

I don't think we're going to answer this question while sitting around the hotel cafeteria. We should move this conversation to the crime scene. I can grab a pot of coffee to go. Don't worry, I do it all the time.

Okay. But. How, though? I am not following that train of logic.

._. I still need practice to one day become as clever as Fubuki.

Okay so the number doesn't matter. He was simply delirious when he was reading the number. The point is the die itself.

That makes more sense. I'm on the same page. It's probably from the casino. That should be where we look first.

Okay, your compliments are starting to sound more like negging and I'm souring on you again. Go make us sandwiches or something before you piss me off some more.

Goodwill drained. I hate you again. Please get hit by a car on the way to the crime scene.

Not how Postcognition works, dipshit. It's a frozen snapshot of the crime scene exactly as it appeared when the first witness came upon the scene. We can't follow the trajectory of the die through time.

Also that.

Plus, it wouldn't matter anyway. The die by now has likely rolled so far from the crime scene as to no longer be related anyway. We could spend hours rooting around in the gutters for it, and all that would prove is that we found a die in a gutter.

Too bad Zange burned to death and isn't with us. His ability to recreate his memories in the form of a digital image would be perfect. What matters isn't physically having the die on us; What matters is proving the presence of a die next to the victim's body.

If he wakes up. If I was a murderer, I might be inclined to try again.

Yeah, that.

Not to mention, our window of opportunity to investigate this crime is shrinking. Slowly, but it is. If we want to leverage our Lucky Day powers to help solve this crime then we'll want to get a move on.

For our lucky number?

YES. I wanted to get that when we had our chance! Finally!

Halara's on the same page as I am about that whole "You should try some games of chance" thing. That reeked of casino shilling.

It's not that surprising. The diviner who super-accurately predicted our Lucky Day has to insert some paid ads into her fortunes to make ends meet. I think most YouTubers can relate to that.

"The stars are in a positive alignment for you today. You may even find yourself embracing a burgeoning new relationship. To improve your chances of love further, consider a free consultation with our sponsor Better Help, redeemable when you enter the promo code Crone Readings!"

HALARA DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM

I have no fears for my own wellbeing but I will drown him. I've done it before. Desuhiko would be no match for my Pied Piper charms.

Fubuki doesn't know what money is worth so would you accept a literal pile of cash? It'd be like doing a mystery unboxing, but inside it's just money. Who knows how much will be in it?

*sigh*

Okay. I guess this is the end for Team Alarm Clock. We made a great pair, Halara. Thank you for your Lucky Day-sponsored free investigative consultation. We wouldn't have made it this far without you.

[drewzelle]

“nine mutuals you want to know better” tag game!

Tagged by @sarenhale ! I didn't have access to my computer the past couple days so I'm a bit late, but this was a lot of fun!! Thank you for the tag <3

Last Song: lately I've been relaxing to the Hollow Knight OST (City of Tears best track) but in terms of lyrical music, I recently rewatched the music video for "Little Dark Age" by MGMT because its vibes are fucking impeccable and mesmerizing (I can watch it on repeat for hours)

Favorite Color: purple is my go-to answer (especially blue-ish purples), but I also really love dark greens and desaturated earthy colors so much

Last Movie/TV Show: I feel like I haven't been watching movies lately (I'm more of a show person because I like longer form narratives) but I think the last one I watched was "Better Off Dead" while I was visiting my family for the holidays. It was a weird/surreal but good time! As for shows, I finally got around to watching Scavenger’s Reign!! Every aspect was just amazing, especially the worldbuilding and visuals. 2D animation is probably my favorite medium, so I'm really glad we're seeing more animation for adults that wants to tell a story instead of being a delivery device for lame sex jokes and cringe humor. OH ALSO DUNGEON MESHI!!! For a lot of the same reasons! Excited to watch the new episode tonight :>

Sweet / Spicy / Savory: I have a HUGE sweet tooth, so if I had to pick one, that would be it. Savory foods are great and I love them, I just have a leftover "now's your chance!" impulse from not being allowed much sugar as a kid that I can't seem to get rid of. I'm also weak to the "I deserve a lil treat" trap if I've got a bunch of sweet snacks around, so I have to be careful. As for spicy….I am SO completely unable to handle spicy food it’s almost funny, but really it’s just tragic because I LOVE cuisines known for being spicy, like mexican and thai. If I eat out, I always have to be like “can you please make it mild?” and even then, if it's not seasoned for the babiest of babies, my mouth will burn and my weak, white-person tummy will hurt.

Relationship Status: I keep forgetting I’m getting married in less than six months. My partner and I got engaged like two years ago and have lived together for almost five, so my brain just defaults to "there’s probably a guy nearby" and doesn’t think much deeper on it than that.

Last thing I googled: "morels" because I was discussing mushrooms with my friend and those are some cool lookin' guys! Shaggy ink caps too!

Current Obsession: …….One Piece 😅 I was a big fan as a teen but only got as far as the Skypiea arc before I fell off reading/watching it. The hype over the new live action version reminded me the series existed, so I’ve been not so slowly making my way through again, picking up where I left off. I love how absolutely bonkers, there-are-no-rules, anime-ass-anime it is, but also how genuine and heartfelt it can be. I also enjoy how character-driven so much of the plot is which works because of how interesting the characters are (Chopper, Robin, and Franky are my favs). I just got to the timeskip, so I’m maybe…halfway through? between this and BG3, RIP my free time lol

Last Book: I've been reading through Seiji Yoshida's "Houses with a Story" (slowly, because I want to really take it in and savor it) and it's been a delight. Very relaxing and inspiring :> (up next, I finally got copies of the Locked Tomb series, so soon I will be enjoying The Space Lesbians)

Looking forward to: Being able to organize and enjoy my "new" office space after some hectic days! My partner and I realized we barely spend any time in our bedroom except for sleeping, so we swapped my office into the bigger room in our apartment! There were some complications with getting the internet working on my PC, but we finally got it all smoothed out. Now I finally have all my books and sewing/crafting/creative stuff in one place without it feeling cramped or hiding things away in storage :>

Thank you again for the tag! I'm tagging @justagoos, @icicleteeth, @lunarliart, @saltsparkle, @fael-draws, @juliedillon, @ninamodaffari, @crabdominalpain, and the final slot for anyone else who wants to join in - but please don't feel obligated, this is just for fun! :>

[tamarakkoarchive]

FE:3H livetweet thread (1/3)

i'm familiar w advance wars so it's not new grounds gameplay-wise to me but i still turned off the permanent death thing because well. this sure seems an annoying as hell feature

~

after spending almost a year playing nothing but smtiva this will be my palate cleanser for a wh- oh god damnnit

~

fond of this closer-to-how-an-irl-foreigner-speaks syntax approach rather than making the character speak like a caveman or just say random words in their own language

~

the eng VAs are honestly good and often give a special touch to some characters but i ended up muting the voices fast bc games using them in every existing text box makes me dizzy

~

actually nvm comparing it to AW, calendar system w rpg jobs is the actual cursed deal here lol wondering the margin of error before i get permanently fucked

~

set everyone to wear the uniform properly to please my ocd

~

i can't help but get irked by characters going overboard on being stylish in settings that wouldn't make sense, act like the church pawns you are!!!

~

slurp

~

me: hm so tea time is probably the equivalent to that swsh curry thing 3H: would you like to zoom and observe me: huh caspar: *gives me the horniest look* me: ?????????????????????????????

~

can you refuse romancing a character like in p5 or are you locked into the first mf that you are nice to... oh my god... sorry caspar you were the primary reason i bought this game but i refuse to betray my class and go yumejo even if it's you

~

the other day i saw someone commenting that mixing dating sim with other game genres leds to the downfall of not exceeding in any (obviously implying FE and persona) and like, i think you can perfectly dislike this mix for what it represents and what appeals to regarding these franchises but strictly gameplay-wise i think it's very old man yelling at cloud opinion to get mad inherently at the mix of genres lol.

for smt i personally don't feel the need of big breaks between character interactions and the rpg aspect bc the battles are short (and actually, the demon negotiations are by themselves them lol) so i'm meh for persona but for this flavor of strategy game where you can take a whole hour on a mission i think it's pretty natural to wanting to have smth else mixed to make it less heavy on the player. i'm finding myself surprised at how long i can stay playing this per session compared to AW

~

the story progression is kinda… idk the word we barely know anything abt the cast or what the story is going to be abt and edelgard trauma dumps her whole life in the first alone night w byleth and says edgy stuff out of nowhere like girl? i just learned to fish the other day?

~

~

pretty fond of krabappel

~

ive been trying not to pay 2 much attention to it but i don't rly see the point of showing byleth's reactions and making her speak so much considering she has the personality of a dry wall lol it adds nothing to the scenes and just breaks the silent mc immersion

~

~

3H: commoners are plagued by structural racism which also happens to have a lot of dark skinned ppl in It me: well yeah 3H: it's bc nobles are inherently born w dangerous magical abilities so leadership naturally falls to them me:

~

pretty funny to see a character in the wild and remember "oh yeah. this guy. one of the 3 gay choices for the male mc where it's onesided"

~

annette watch out!!!! a male version of me somewhere might be fucking your father!!!!!

~

girl it's one thing to teach but now asking me to pick up trash like excuse me?????

~

boy, forget flayn. dive into my chest right now

~

oneeshota church achieved

~

now THAT'S what i'm talking about

~

just like irl high school

~

byleth sadly staring at her feet from the thought that she has only attracted genocidal women and boys with no pubic hair

~

[laminy]

Hallo, hope you had a good week and have a good weekend (which is right around the corner, thank fuck lol). Any plans for the upcoming weekend? 

I took quite the break from reading ITBASM since things were just so much, tons of stuff happened and life life-d hard on me and I didn’t want to read your fic with a half-on brain, or write to you a half-assed message about your lovely work, so I just took a break. But I’m getting back into it and I wanted to say how much I envy and enjoy your writing. 

I’ve never been a fan of writing that had giant paragraphs, the dialogue isn’t understandable or remotely realistic (sometimes that part doesn’t always bother me, just depends I guess lol), or that a storyline is written in a way that makes it sound like a poem every other paragraph. I got nothing against those sort of fics or writing styles, it’s just hard on my English 💀

I truly enjoy reading your stuff because the writing is so easy to understand but it’s not bland or boring, it has tons of intricate details without being all morsecode-y. And I think I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, the plot is just awesome and I will always love found family moments and everything. You pace your stories along nicely and I admire that tons (as someone who kinda sucks at pacing ‘cause I just want action)!

You might think I’m over exaggerating when I say this, but you’re a pretty big inspiration for me, I’ve been in a writing slump for a little bit and haven’t been able to write anything decent lately, but anytime in the past, and again now, you’ve talked about your work and I see how your work and stories progress, it really does motivate me to at least try to write, even if it’s ass 💀 Reading your stuff, especially reading ITBASM, gives me all the good vibes.

(Also, on another note, I read your play the game fic although I’m not sure if I mentioned that before (hopefully I’m not repeating myself 💀), but anyways, I also enjoyed that one tons, even though I’m not a huge baseball fan, and I don’t know much about how it works. I loved how their dynamics changed throughout the fic, starting off hating each other to a sort of “denial” type of feeling (maybe?? it’s been a little since I last read it), to lovers lol. It was a fun read!)

Anyways, that was just a small part of me ranting about how great of a writer you are, and trust me… I’ve seen tons of authors and fanfic writers who lack what you excel at. Also, how’s your original story going? I was thinking about it recently lol, popped into my head while doing some paperwork. Again, hope you’re doing good and take care this weekend!

Hello! always so lovely to see messages from you!

Yes, I have a four-day weekend, so I'll go to the cinema today and then tomorrow I'm going to visit a friend and spending the night at their house just to hang out. she has a two young kids and it takes me a two hours to get there so I only go a couple times a year.

You have no idea how kind and inspiring and lovely this is! I really, really, really appreciate it. Always write! Write anything! Write for yourself, that's the most important bit. I think you're awesome. And it means a lot that you would be so nice, thank you.

I am on the third draft of my original story. The second draft was a lot better than the first, for sure, but the third act really wasn't doing it for me, I hated it so much, story and pacing wise, so a lot of this draft is going to be quite different. But I'm hoping that by the end of this one, I'll have a story that only needs an edit, not one that needs another rewrite. I am simultaneously enjoying it while also being very tired of it.

I hope you're well, please have a good weekend and take care!!